bloggers

Moms Be Trippin, So Don’t Order the Chicken

As I mentioned here 2014 will be the year of bloggers, for bloggers. Influenced by this, and dedicated to Lexicon Ninja, please enjoy the following. 

I’ve followed this Ninja for almost two years now. On a regular basis he’s offered up the funny, sometimes at a most necessary time. The first post I read was this one about traffic in Seattle. I’m pretty sure I snort laughed the first time I read it, and I offered another hearty giggle while reminiscing this time around. I’ve visited Seattle several times and know exactly what he’s talking about. I’m not sure what kind of traffic he gets on his site, but I think we need to bring some more people to it. That’s the kind of traffic I don’t mind, and he deserves it.

The skyline of Seattle, Washington at dusk. In...
The skyline of Seattle, Washington at dusk. Interstate 5 is the freeway that cuts through downtown and Puget Sound is visible to the left. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Okay, back to the Moms

About once every month or two I would meet my mom for breakfast. It was great for her because we got to sit and catch up. It was great for me because, hey, free breakfast! (Just kidding mom) We would usually meet at one of two diners. On this particular day we decided to meet at the one downtown. We were also graced with the presence of Grandma J.

We all got settled in, ordered and proceeded with the chit-chat. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but I’m sure it had something to do with either work or her impending hair/nail appointment. I doubt I was involved that much in the conversation, especially with Grandma J there. We arrived to the point in the dining experience when one starts to wonder why it’s taking so long. At this point it’s usually customary for someone to remark something to the effect of “Hey, I wonder what’s going on back there. You  think they had to butcher that cow/pig?” This is what normal people say. Do you think this is what my mom said? If you said yes you’d be wrong. No, this is what she said…

“Hey, I wonder why it’s taking so long. You think they’re back there choking them chickens?”

I’m going to let that sink in for a moment.

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

Again, she said “You think they’re back there choking them chickens?”

In my sternest, loudest hushed whisper I responded “Don’t you ever say that in public again!”

She really had no idea what she had just said. I had to explain that it was a term for something guys did, hopefully in private, and surely not in the kitchen of a local diner. After that she just thought it was a hoot. After we settled down a bit I looked over at Grandma J and noticed she had a little smirk on her face. I probably had a questioning look on mine, because after a couple beats she said “Even I knew what THAT meant.”

Gotta love family.

26) She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. 27) She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. ~ Proverbs 31: 26-27


*Featured Image Credit: https://twitter.com/SocialMediaNNJA

Enhanced by Zemanta

6 thoughts on “Moms Be Trippin, So Don’t Order the Chicken

  1. 1. Loved it, and now I’m really confused as to why it’s taken me this long to start following you.
    2. My mother has done something very similar as well, and it’s hilarious.
    3. Seattle! 😀 I love that place! And yes, the traffic is horrendous.

    1. 1. Thanks! No big deal.
      2. This is probably a normal thing for most mothers.
      3. It’s wonderful up there. I think we’re going to visit around Father’s day this year.

      Thanks for coming by!

You Know You Want to Say Something...

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s