Thursday Threesome

::Fluffy Bunny Rabbits::
Onesome: Fluffy-- is as fluffy does! It's almost lemon meringue season at that pie shop. Do you do fluffy pies? ...or is it fruit all the way for you? (Okay, Southerners: go ahead and expound on rhubarb...)

Er? Fluffy pies? I've had fluffy chocolate cream pies. [drool] For pies a no-sugar-added apple pie is my favorite (except for the one we got at Shaw's—or was it Stop & Shop?—in November 2004; yeeeeech). Sam's used to have a terrific no-sugar-added apple pie but I haven't seen one in a while. I like squash pies (like pumpkin, but made with butternut squash so the flavor is a bit milder) but no one seems to make them any more, even in Rhode Island. :-(

But those aren't fluffy.

Twosome: Bunny-- slippers? Yes? No? Barefoot? Shoes? What do you schlep around the house in when it's cold outside?

I have "fuzzy slippers," sort of a fake suede on the inside and imitation sheepskin on the inside. (Can't have real sheepskin; I'm allergic to wool.) I have a pink and a blue pair and alternate them so they won't wear out so fast.

Threesome: Rabbits-- Have you ever had little furry pets? What varieties? Are there any in your future?

Furry pets as in bunnies? No, never had a rabbit. Mom wouldn't let me have a guinea pig or a hamster; she said they looked too much like rats and mice, which she was terrified of. (When she was a little girl and lived in tenement houses, she saw a baby who had been bitten by a rat. After that you couldn't get her near a rodent. She would have nightmares about them.)

Mom used to tell a funny story that wasn't funny to her at the time. After she and my dad got married, they lived with her parents while they saved up a down payment so they could "go housekeeping." One night my mom got up to use the bathroom and in the dimly-lighted hall spotted a mouse. She froze in the hallway calling "Ma! Ma! Ma!" until my grandfather, not her mother, heard her and came out to see what was wrong. Mom said she pointed at the corner the mouse had disappeared into and stammered "Mou-! Mou-! Mou-!" (she was so terrified she couldn't even say the entire word). Luckily Grandpa understood and went after the mouse and told her to go back to bed.

Next morning my dad asked, "Why didn't you call me?" My mom didn't know. I guess sometimes no matter what you always have to call for your mother!

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 9:20:00 AM

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