Monday, October 9, 2006
I have been sooooo tired all day from yesterday's ordeal. Even Alesia was tired all day. Bronwyn canceled out on tutoring and we skipped pottery class.
Happy 47th birthday to my brother. I called and sang Happy Birthday to him on his answering machine. Mother told the story at breakfast of her 4 days of labor and near-death experience having him.
He's a great person, I just wish he would quit chewing tobacco and find a nice woman to share his life with - one who is attracted to certified geniuses who drive pickup trucks and prefer jobs involving carrying guns...
We were talking at dinner tonight about Mother's Yahoo group for recipe collectors, and how the weird girlyman who runs the group - yes you heard me right, called "Grandma's Recipes" or some such - is being a pain in the butt. He whined about not using canned goods in recipes until mother pointed out that canned goods have been around since the 1700's.
Mother started talking about a recipe where one of the ingredients is Worcestershire Sauce - which, she points out, was first bottled in the 19th century. She can't say it correctly so she calls it "wooster" sauce.
After Mother had said the word a couple of times, I noticed Alesia had a peculiar look on her face, a mixture of absolute horror and revulsion she normally reserves for talking about peanut butter.
Alesia: "Wait a minute. What kind of sauce?"
Mother: "Wooster."
Alesia: "ROOSTER Sauce?!"
We both started laughing so hard. I managed to say "No, Sweetie, Worcesteshire sauce." I did NOT pronounce it "wooster."
Alesia looked greatly relieved.
