What a waste !
What a waste !
“I thought your family made guns, Magazine being your surname.”
“No, my parents are writers, you might say, I come from a family of “Guns and proses”.
“I am three years older than you, but I could never have come up with this pun.”
My daughter was talking to her FB friend, a tall, handsome guy, who had come to meet her at home. They sat in the drawing room and I moved around discreetly from kitchen to drawing room, studiously avoiding the eyes of my daughter which were throwing fiery darts at me.
They prattled on for a couple of hours, laughing, bantering, back slapping like long lost friends.
“Was he not cute, mom?” She asked, when he had left.
“Cut…..e? I did not noti…..”
“How could you notice, mom? You , who are so very reluctant to leave your writing table, had gone all berserk to-ing and fro-ing between the drawing room and kitchen ,one eye on my friend, and his clothes…and the other on the boiling cauldron in the kitchen- I bet, the vegetables were singed beyond recognition…”
“No, they were not!”
“Really? I do not believe you!”
“But I definitely noticed that he was wearing such an obnoxious colour.”
“Huh?”
“Yellow shirt with red flowers.”
“Oh mom, it is just a pigment of your imagination, he was wearing a lemon colored shirt, with maroon stripes.”
“Are you hinting that my eyesight is weak?”
“No, but you see only what you want to see, not what you ought to.”
”Well…
“Well me no wells….mommy, I have no intention of drowning in your wells!”
“Ha, Ha.”
Ignoring my sheepish guffaw, she shook my arm, reading aloud a WhatsApp message, “Baby corn to mama corn, “where is popcorn?”
“Ha ha, this is so cute.”
“It is cute all right, but where is MY popcorn?”
“Your dad, you mean?” I said, surreptitiously popping a huge chunk of left over muffin from the delicacies I had laid out for the virtual friend who, I had noticed, had been trying too hard to be real!
“Mom, you are going the wrong weigh”. She threw a pun at my back, which weighed a ton. I knew she was in a vindictive mood. Anyway. I was adept at taking things in my stride.
“You go for these so called morning walks, and then brazenly cheat by polishing away the leftovers. What a waste!”
My hand stopped in midair, my mouth in mid chew and my eyes furtively went to my waist.
Were all the walks and dieting really a waste?
“I thought your family made guns, Magazine being your surname.”
“No, my parents are writers, you might say, I come from a family of “Guns and proses”.
“I am three years older than you, but I could never have come up with this pun.”
My daughter was talking to her FB friend, a tall, handsome guy, who had come to meet her at home. They sat in the drawing room and I moved around discreetly from kitchen to drawing room, studiously avoiding the eyes of my daughter which were throwing fiery darts at me.
They prattled on for a couple of hours, laughing, bantering, back slapping like long lost friends.
“Was he not cute, mom?” She asked, when he had left.
“Cut…..e? I did not noti…..”
“How could you notice, mom? You , who are so very reluctant to leave your writing table, had gone all berserk to-ing and fro-ing between the drawing room and kitchen ,one eye on my friend, and his clothes…and the other on the boiling cauldron in the kitchen- I bet, the vegetables were singed beyond recognition…”
“No, they were not!”
“Really? I do not believe you!”
“But I definitely noticed that he was wearing such an obnoxious colour.”
“Huh?”
“Yellow shirt with red flowers.”
“Oh mom, it is just a pigment of your imagination, he was wearing a lemon colored shirt, with maroon stripes.”
“Are you hinting that my eyesight is weak?”
“No, but you see only what you want to see, not what you ought to.”
”Well…
“Well me no wells….mommy, I have no intention of drowning in your wells!”
“Ha, Ha.”
Ignoring my sheepish guffaw, she shook my arm, reading aloud a WhatsApp message, “Baby corn to mama corn, “where is popcorn?”
“Ha ha, this is so cute.”
“It is cute all right, but where is MY popcorn?”
“Your dad, you mean?” I said, surreptitiously popping a huge chunk of left over muffin from the delicacies I had laid out for the virtual friend who, I had noticed, had been trying too hard to be real!
“Mom, you are going the wrong weigh”. She threw a pun at my back, which weighed a ton. I knew she was in a vindictive mood. Anyway. I was adept at taking things in my stride.
“You go for these so called morning walks, and then brazenly cheat by polishing away the leftovers. What a waste!”
My hand stopped in midair, my mouth in mid chew and my eyes furtively went to my waist.
Were all the walks and dieting really a waste?
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