The first thing we are going to say is….I am at DD’s home in Chicago this weekend. She and I have decided (I have not DICTATED) that we are going to do a TEAM blog today. Hooray.
Hopefully we will be able to transfer our hilarity to the page…this is not always the case. Sometimes when we get to laughing the keys get blurry.
Here’s the set up: One of us will start and the other will chime in where the other leaves us hanging off. Go with it people, it’s our first TEAM blog. I will be in regular type and DD will be the voice in italics. Actually, I will type until I get bored and then DD will finish the thought. This should be fun while two whiney husbands and three adorable children swirl around us vying for our attention. We’ve decided to tell a story using only this computer and our diet coke addled brains. enjoy. or. don’t. We know we will.
Here goes:
The Nut doesn’t Fall Far from the Tree
by nana and dd
It was a cold, windy night. Was that the wind in the trees howling or was it something else? The two women walked away from the disabled car wondering how far they would have to go for help. And then…
The lovely younger woman cursed again beneath her breath. Her mother had gotten her into another tough spot. She would rely upon her creative genius to get them out of this one. It wouldn’t be the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Luckily, she was in fantastic shape because her mother would probably want a piggy-back ride next. And then…
…the gracious tall statuesque slightly older Bella ignored her daughter’s normal delusional state and looked ahead through the driving rain catching sight of the silhouette of an unlit house thanks to a sudden bolt of lightening. Once again she wished she had gone with her own common sense and worn practical shoes and a heavier coat. But no, as usual, her daughter (always a slave to fashion) had insisted upon the 4-inch heels and the thin but stylish pashmina. Fortunately, due to menopause and it’s power surges she could usually pacify her daughter’s tyranical demands for fashion first. Was that movement she caught a glimspe of in the trees beside the house…
…Katiana’s taut body sensed the danger before the animal could spring. Her years of special forces training (her mother thought so unladylike) were once again going to save the day. Before the ferocious beast could harm her elderly mother she effortlessly deflected the pouncing animal into the bushes…
…the kind, benevolent Bella picked the kitten up out of the bushes and checked it’s nametag. With a withering glance to her overzealous offspring she gently placed the kitten under the shelter of the porch of the old house and said, “Stay safe ‘Fluffy’, I won’t let her hurt you anymore.” They then ascended the creaky and probably unsafe steps to the porch and slowly approached the large, intimidating door. Slowly the door opened…
…Katiana had trailed her mother up the steps. You never know when someone her age is going to fall and break a hip. As the door opened she sprang ahead to put a protective arm in front of her elderly (did I mention elderly) mother. It must have been the wind. Nobody was standing in the doorway. Katiana, always concerned for her mother’s safety (and well-being, and happiness, etc…) said, “Stay here. I’ll check it out. If you hear anything suspicious run and get help”. She giggled a little to herself after she said that, knowing that her mother couldn’t probably get ten feet in those heels walking, much less running. Amateur. Civilian. Katiana knew it was up to her, but she always liked to throw her mother a bone.
As soon as Katiana’s Ruebenesque derriere got through the door, Bella, knowing that she, in fact, knew best (after all, she’s the mom) quickly stepped back down the steps and hustled around the corner to the nearest window and peered in. The four inch heels came in handy at last, she could actually see into the house. And what she saw shocked her…
…Katiana was laughing and talking loudly. As she had entered the house Katiana’s eyes had quickly adjusted to the darkness but she would have given up her eye teeth for a pair of her favorite night vision goggles. And then, there it was, lying on the floor — a cell phone with a blinking green light indicating that it had some juice. With nary a glance around, she picked it up and held it to her ear. A few buttons pushed and she was talking to her husband, Biff, regaling him with the story of yet another Bella escapade.
Hearing the conversation and it’s tone, Bella made an instant decision. She WOULD have the last laugh. She ripped off the four-inch heels and ran, gazelle-like (Katiana had no idea that Bella had secretly been training for the 2008 Olympics) to the car. She arrived at the car, quickly diagnosed the problem, and used her natural mechanical aptitude to fix it in a flash. Jumping in through the driver side window, she did a victory lap around the house beeping and waving her pashmina. The surpised look on Katiana’s face would have made a great Christmas card this year. Bella disappeared down the road and into the night. She had the last laugh once again.
…Katiana quickly ended her conversation with Biff and dialed “911”. “Yes, I would like to report a stolen vehicle.”
The nut never falls far from the tree.
