Giggles

One of my mom's favorite things to do was to wake me up and then to ask me what I would like for breakfast. Like, "Would you like eggs or pancakes this morning?" And I would contemplate that, and say "Eggs," or whatever. She would then smile and say, "That's nice. We're having French toast." I fell for for it every time.
I would ask her why she even bothered posing the question, and her reply was "Just curious."

That's my mom. But this is the quintessential story:

Growing up I had a fixation with being strong and mighty. (Some might say I still do...) To that end, my mom would serve me spinach so I would be "strong, just like Popeye." (Permit another diversion - I also liked to go to the pharmacy behind my grandmother's house to purchase these bright pink mints that we referred to as "Superman pills", as they were guaranteed to make you run and jump even faster than a pair of new sneaks...it was the 60's people, c'mon!)

So, many years pass and I end up going off to college. Whereupon I get invited to the Penpal's parent's house for dinner. Penpal's mom asks me what vegetables I like. I confidently reply, "Spinach!"

Fast forward to dinner. There is a pile of dark green stuff sitting on my plate. I stage whisper to the PenPal "What IS this?" She, rightfully, is bewildered. "It's spinach (you jackass - not verbalized but I still heard it.)"

So after a long and painful conversation, we deduced that in fact, FRENCH STYLE GREEN BEANS are not SPINACH.

Which also brings up the visit to the Penpal's Grandparent's house where I was forced to eat broccoli for the first time - but that is another tale...

Here's to you, Giggles. I miss you.