Who Burned My Effin' Sausage? Oh, Yeah...

This weeks Writer’s Workshop had a prompt that asked us to talk about a favorite winter memory.

Now, I’m sure I have some that are sweet and mushy and all that.

But the one that stands out in my head is the one where I almost burned down the house and ruined Christmas for EVERYONE including my little cousin who was desperately waiting for Santa Claus to come visit her.

Don’t ask me the year. I’m too old to remember the 1990’s.

Not really, but I seriously don’t remember what year it was. They’re all mixed up in my head.

The usual tradition for our family is to go to my grandmother’s house for Christmas.

Back when we lived in Florida and New Orleans, this would normally mean that we would STAY with my grandmother.

Now, for all you Yankees and hottie Canadians, I don’t want you snorting your Starbuck’s and Tim Horton’s through your nose when I tell you what I’m about to tell you.

It got cold here one year.

Yep…it got so cold…the pipes FROZE and our electricity was cut off due to a storm.

All we had in the house to keep us warm was a large free standing wood burning heater.

Yes, wood-burning.

Yes, free standing.

Yes, this was our ONLY heat source.

So, we’re all in the house and it’s breakfast time.

If you know Mama Dawg, you know she likes her pig. Preferably in the sausage variety. Preferably at breakfast time in the links variety.

I had gone and gotten a pie tin and put a few sausage links in it but of course, no microwave or stove to heat it up.

So, bright idea….I’d set the pie tin on top of the free standing wood burning stove and let it heat up that way. And, while it was heating up, I’d go outside and find a quiet spot to take care of bidness (cause when the pipes are frozen, you can’t flush…for real), leaving the sausage all by its lonesome on top of the free standing wood burning heater.

Brilliant, right?

WRONG!

Why, oh, why, did no one ever tell me (cause I was a teenager and couldn’t figure this shit out for myself for some reason) that sausage produces it’s own grease? Even after it’s already been cooked?

And that if you add something that has grease in it to a hot object, the grease melts and begins to pop?

And that if it happens to pop inside the free standing wood burning heater, it would cause smoke like you’ve never seen before come roiling out of the top like Dementors Gone Wild?

Yeah…….that’s my story about how I almost ruined Christmas for everyone.

Luckily, we found it in time and were able to stop the smoke and the beginnings of the flames.


Needless to say, Mama Dawg didn’t get her sausage that day (that’s what she said…that was for the MIA Steenky Bee).

Later,

Mama Dawg

P.S. If you wanna read more stories, go on over to Mama Kat's for more.

Writer's Workshop

This assignment was "What would you say to a mouse who could talk?"

Mama Dawg: WTF? I can not believe a damn mouse has gotten in my drawers again! This is like the 20th damn mouse.

Mouse: Excuse me. Please don’t cuss. My ears are sensitive to negativity and your cussing just makes it worse.

MD: ?

M: Don’t look at me with that stupid expression on your face. You’ve suspected for years that animals could talk. Or at least understand.

MD: ?

M: Yeah, hello * waves tiny paw in face * you there. I’m talking to you.

MD: You spoke.

M: Um, yeah. I think I just went over that. What are you, stupid?

MD: And you insulted me!

M: There we go. There’s the famous Mama Dawg all us mice have grown to know and love.

MD: I’m famous?

M: For sure. All members of the animal community conversate.

MD: Conversate isn’t a real word.

M: You have a talking mouse in front of you and all you can think to do is correct my grammar?

MD: Sorry, habit. I have an 8 year old, you know.

M: Yes, I do know. She’s cute.

MD: Thanks!

M: So….. * twiddles fingers *….how ya doin’?

MD: Good, and you?

M: Doing real well, actu….

MD: Wait a minute. I’m pissed at you.

M: Come again?

MD: You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. I’ve had to throw out about 6 sweaters and a couple of shirts from where you’ve either shit so much on them that the stains are forever set or you’ve chewed massive holes in inappropriate places.

M: Language, dear, language.

MD: Um, in case you haven’t noticed, this is MY house. And I’ve already killed like bazillions of you already in those death traps.

M: Also, please don’t exaggerate, it’s not becoming.

MD: Uh, whatever. Seriously, what’s up with all the chewing?

M: It’s simple my dear. We like your laundry detergent. It’s got a lovely aftertaste. Especially when combined with a cotton blend.

MD: Really? That’s why you guys do it.

M: No. We’re mice, stupid. It’s what we do.

MD: Oh, yeah? Um…I got nothing.

M: Yeah, that’s what I thought bee-yotch. Now, go get me some cheese.

MD: * walks away grumbling * F*&%ing mouse.

M: I heard that!

MD: * comes back with some cheese on a wooden rectangular “plate *

MD: Here you go, some fresh Gouda on a platter.

M: That’s better. Utensils?

MD: Seriously?

M: But of course. We ARE civilized mice.

MD: Well, I don’t have any tiny enough to fit in your paws.

M: Fine, I’ll just walk on up to the cheese and eat it with my paws.

MD: Knock yourself out.

M: * starts yanking on cheese with tiny paws *

M: What’s up with this cheese. I can’t pull it o……SNAP

MD: Who’s the stupid bee-yotch now?

Later,

Mama Dawg

P.S. This little writing exercise was brought to you by Mama Kat. For more stories and posts, click here.

Writer's Workshop

I'm taking the easy way out.

I'm doing the 6th photo assignment that reads:

Tag! Post and write about the 6th picture of the 6th folder on your Flickr (or similar) account and then do the same for the 6th picture of the 6th folder on your computer.

This is the 6th photo I have on my ONLY folder in Flickr.

This is a picture of my dog Max racing my cousin dog Bailey at my grandmother's place. All Light of My Life is lacking is a pair of capris and a scarf in her hand and this would totally be the scene from Grease when Cha Cha DiGregorio "assisted" Danny and Leo in their pink slips race. You know what scene I'm talking about. Quit frontin' like you've never watched Grease.

Bailey is clearly the winner in this picture. I chalk it up to her being an older female. Cause we ROCK!

This is the 6th photo on my ONLY folder of pictures on my computer.

What's with all the dog pics?

I guess I'm living up to the literal title of my blog!

This is Bailey telling Max "You're just a stupid little puppy. You will soon learn that I'M the queen of the universe. That's right, you little runt, bow...I said BOW!"

And Max is totally giving in. He's a little whipped. Sigh......boy needs to grow some balls.

Oh, wait, that's right. He does have them. Just ask my right leg.

If you want to read more stories, check out Mama Kat's lovely blog.

Later,

Mama Dawg

P.S. Oh and regarding my last post? I'm not worried about finding love again. I don't want it. At least, not right now. I'm not at that place in my life where I could handle that. And even if I was in that place, I simply DON'T want it.

Waiting for Rejection

*Updated to add that people are now responding and I have "spoken" to some people I haven't spoken to in years. My heart is happy to reconnect with some of these people.

*Update 2: Just so you know, I just sent out the request yesterday. This hasn't been an ongoing thing. It's not even been 24 hours. I'm just ANTICIPATING rejection...it's not been long enough to get rejected...yet.

*Update 3: One of my most favorite people in the whole universe (at least from my high school days) has gotten in touch with me! And, he has his on blog. And, he has a beautiful wife and son. And, I'm so exicted to hear from him!!!!!!!!!!! Can you feel my excitement?

Ugh.....I've gotten sucked into Facebook.

For real.

My stomach's all in knots.

I found a guy I knew in high school.

His name's Phil. That's all I'll tell you about him.

Except...he was (and probably still is, you tend not to grow out of these things) funny as hell.

Seriously funny. Very dry, very witty.

So, I found him. And he has like a bazillionity friends.

Most of them from high school.

I recognized about half the names. The others I didn't recognize because I didn't go to high school with them.

"How can you be sure, Mama Dawg?" is what you're asking yourself right now.

I'm sure.

I'm sure because I have the memory of an elephant when it comes to the names of people I went to school with. I might not have the recall to tell you their names, but if I see it somewhere, I'll recognize it and know immediately that I went to school with them.

So, I checked out his friends list.

And found some people on there that I actually liked in high school.

More were people I knew but never hung out with. They were just in classes and whatnot.

I found 2 girls that I was real tight with while in school. One was from middle school (I've posted about her before in the post with the pictures from 8th grade) and the other was from high school.

I have the most memories of the one from high school.

I sent out about 10 friend requests.

I only heard back from Phil so far.

He seems to remember me.

I don't know why I think people wouldn't remember me.

Not that I'm NOT memorable.

But just because it was such a long time ago.

Or, maybe I'm not memorable.

Nah...that's not it. I have a healthy sense of self.

While I didn't make my mark in high school, I didn't necessarily piss people off all the time.

I don't think.

I can never remember what I was like in high school.

Correction, I know what I think I was like in high school.

But I'm not sure if others think the same way.

And I'm not sure that I care.

Yet, I have those knots in my stomach.

Sigh....this brings back memories.

And it reminds me why I hated being a teenager.

Does anyone else feel this way? Are any of you friends on Facebook with people you went to high school with? Have any of you put yourself out there like this? Have any of you gotten rejected?

Even though I didn't start off writing this for Mama Kat over at Mama's Losin' It and her Writer's Workshop, it actually fits the assignment of something that bothered me this week. If you wanna read more assignments, click here.

Later,

Writer's Workshop

Here's another segment from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. If you wanna check out more stories and writings, click here.

I thought I saw a hobbit.

I swear.

It was in the basement of the hospital.

I was on my way to a workshop. The classrooms are located in the basement. I had gotten separated from my co-workers (on purpose…I couldn’t take the incessant chatter a moment longer) and was a little lost. I still don’t know my way around here too well.

While wandering further and further in the bowels of the hospital, I smelled…mushrooms? WTF? Mushrooms in a hospital?

I just chalked it up to mildew. It all kinda smells the same anyway.

*turns head quickly*

What was that?

It looked like a moss green cloak.

But that’s impossible.

The bottom was only a foot off the ground.

I don’t think there’s any midgets that work here.

But I could be wrong.

There’s that mushroom smell again.

And footsteps.

Behind me.

So soft. Like an Indian. Stealthy like.

But when I turn back, all I see is the same moss green cloak ducking behind a recycling bin.

Then…impish laughter.

Now, I’m freaked out.

I think a hobbit’s following me.

Later,

A Really Crappy Poem

This poem is part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop that she hosts over at her blog.

One of the assignment choices was to write a rhyming or non-rhyming 16 line poem about an incident in my childhood that changed my life for the better.

While I had many incidents like that, this one stood out in my mind.

And yes, it did change my life for the better. I can now look at a man's pee-pee without going "ew". If that's not a check in the positive column, I don't know what is.

And for the record, I was 7 in 1984, so don't go calling the cops on me and screaming "Pervert at Mama Dawg's". Cause while that may be true now, it wasn't then. I was only 7.

Please, hold your applause and accolades until the bitter end. Only cause it really doesn't get any better and I'd hate for you to expend all your energy at the beginning only to have to do it all again at the end.

Without any further delays (you really need to beg me to delay this cause it's really THAT bad) here's my poem:

I think that I shall never see
Another boys wee pee-pee

Like the one I saw
Back in eighty-four

That belonged to Chad
Who was oh, so bad

But was an awesome dude
Who while rough and crude

Was my best friend
Til it had to end

Because he dropped trou
And I didn’t go “wow”

But instead went “ew”
And then I threw

A pinecone at his head
And now he’s dead.

Later,



P.S. And as far as I know, he's not really dead.

P.S.S. And no, this isn't the Chad we all know and love and goes by another name on his blog. Completely different people. I think. Unless he's been lying to me all this time. Have you been lying to me all this time?

Breakable

Wow.

That’s a long way down.

I mean, a really long way down.

I hope no one bumps me.

I’m bottom heavy, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

Still…..it’s a long way down.

I’ve never been thisclose to the edge before.

It’s scary.

I’m breakable, you know.

In so many ways.

I could break into a million pieces.

I’m THAT fragile.

Yet…I’m strong.

I have to be.

In order to do what I do, I have to be.

I have to hold a lot in.

If I fall and break, things could get messy.

Someone could get hurt.

I hope no one bumps me.

It’s a long way down.



This post was brought to you by me for Mama's Losin' It's Writer's Workshop. If you want to read more awesome posts, click here.

Later,