Hello, everyone! I'm in California until May 30, but MB has kindly agreed to upload some pre-prepared posts for me while I'm away. I promise I'll read any comments you leave me when I get back, so please don't be shy!

Hope you like!   xoxo ~velocibadgergirl

The Story of My Dad and the Kool-Aid

For the fabulous Miss M, who wanted some favorite stories about my parents.


When I was about four, my dad and I were home alone while Mom was out shopping. Dad made me some Kool-Aid to drink with my lunch, and I complained that it didn't taste right. Dad assured me it was fine, so I choked some down (and I'm sure I was a total drama queen about it). When Mom got home, I complained to her that my Kool-Aid didn't taste right, so she tried it.

According to family legend, she tasted it, then asked my dad, "How much sugar did you put in this?"

To which my dad responded, "Sugar?"


Poor Dad has never lived this one down. My sister, who wasn't even born until a year and a half later, even teases him about it.

The Story of My Mom and the Mouse Skeleton

I don't remember what year this story took place, but I know I was in high school at the time. This story is not really for the faint of stomach. You have been warned.

I was at my aunt & uncle's house for Easter dinner with my family, and someone noticed a dried-out puddle of cat vomit on the breezeway porch with something peculiar inside. I went over to look at it (and I guess my mom was there, too), and noticed that in the middle of the former puddle, there was a perfectly articulated mouse skeleton. At this point, it was still my plan to go to college and study vertebrate paleontology, so I was quite interested in the skeleton, even though I was alarmed by the cat puke.

I don't remember what words (if any) were exchanged, but the next thing I knew, my mom had procured a shoebox from my aunt and pried the dessicated cat-puke-and-skeleton pancake off of the concrete. When we got home that night, she took the box of pancake straight to the kitchen, where she meticulously extracted the entire skeleton from the dried puke matrix, arranged it carefully on a bed of Easter grass inside a clear plastic Aussie hair caplet container, and presented it to me.

I told this story to someone in my mom's presence a few months ago, and she had no memory of it happening, but it's one of my favorite My Mom Kicks Ass stories to tell. And I still have the mouse, of course.