Proving that Brunette is the new Blonde.
April 15, 2005
Mom and I don't see each other frequently, meaning I rarely go out to Terrell,
and when I do, it is only to see her. She met me for dinner last night at Olive
Garden, and persuaded me to "live outside the box." Read: don't order the same
thing you always order. Get something new.
After studying the menu, I turned to the waitress and ordered Chicken
Marshmallow. She just stared at me, as did my mother, with a confused look on
her face. "Oh � I mean Chicken Marsala" I said, laughing.
Later in the conversation, my mom and I were discussing gall bladders and
intestines. This is normal conversation, mind you. I like a variety of topics.
I told her that I had recently read an article about Leaky Gut Syndrome. She
repeated back to me, "Leaky Gut Syndrome?" I started laughing, and shouted
across the table (so she could hear me this time), carefully enunciating my
words, "No, Mom. Not Leaky Butt Syndrome, I said Leaky GUT Syndrome!" She
started laughing too, because she heard me correctly the first time and I had
just shouted "Leaky Butt Syndrome" to the entire restaurant.
Yes, Mother, THIS is the "little lady" that you raised. How have I strayed so
far from all that you taught me?
