Two Quarts and a Series of Sighs

I’m not sure how my mind found this old story (I’m not sure how my mind finds any story), but it probably had

My beautiful mom about the timeframe of this conversation

something to do with this 2 quart mixing bowl I’ve had for years. I love that bowl! I’d spent entirely too much money on it fifteen years ago (it’s Pampered Chef) and I have handled it with kid gloves ever since. Anyway, I was putting the dishes away earlier and got to thinking about a phone call I’d made to my mom when I was, hmm…maybe eleven. Because the way this story evolves likely won’t need an explanation, I’m just going to throw it out there with no commentary:

(Mom answers…)

Me: Do we have a quart measuring cup? I need two quarts.

Mom: Two quarts of what?

Me: Water.

Mom: Why, Donna? What are you doing?

Me: I’m cooking macaroni and cheese and the box says to boil the noodles in two quarts of water.

Mom: It doesn’t matter. Just fill the pot about halfway up.

Me: But the box said…

Mom: I know what the box says. You don’t need to measure it that way. Just fill the pot halfway full.

Me: Well then why would they put that on the box?

Mom: (Heavy sigh) I don’t know Donna. You asked and I answered.

Me: So we don’t have a measuring cup that measures quarts?

Mom: (Heavy sigh) Where’s your daddy?

Me: He’s not here.

Mom: What? What do you mean he’s not there?

Me: He’s not here.

Mom: Is his truck gone?
Me: Noooo…geez….he’s not in the house. I think he’s weedeating. So you’re sure I don’t need two quarts for the noodles?

Mom: (Heavy sigh) Go ask your daddy.

Me: He’s not here.

Mom: Then look in one of the cookbooks.

Me: Which one?

Mom: (Heavy sigh). It doesn’t matter, Donna. I’m at work. I can’t discuss this right now. I mean it – unless you or your sister is hurt or the house is on fire, do not call me with this silliness. Are we clear?

Me: (Heavy sigh of my own now) Yes mam. I’ll just make a grilled cheese instead.

I hang up the phone and now completely pouting, think to myself, “If I was some kid that called 911, she’d talk all nice to me and ask me real nice, ‘OK honey….is she breathing?’ But nooooo….she can’t talk nice to me. I’m just her daughter.”

I feel a really strong need to call my mom now and tell her how much I love her.

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5 thoughts on “Two Quarts and a Series of Sighs

  1. Pingback: Whipped Shortbread « It's All About the Right Writing

    • Oh yeah…it’s verb, don’t ya know? 🙂 I almost typed in “cuttin’ the grass” but I think most people say they’re “mowing the lawn”….we just don’t do that down here!! LOL

  2. I have been there and my mom hung up on me. I completely understand this episode times are a changin’ and we have to tell the future ” a half pot of water is enough”!

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