Traveling with my mom is a hoot. A couple years ago we went to visit Blondie… We got on the crowded bus for the rental car and I spied two seats right by the door: “Hey, Mummy! Perfect!”
Worried look. “But deah. Ahhnt those fore disabled and eld… oooooh.” Yeeeah. I love you, Mummy.
Then, during the five hour drive she was knitting a hat. The wool was…well, multicolored. Best described as neon earth tones, and the color changes are frequent and not subtle.
“Mummy…what color IS that, exactly?”
“Dogsick.”
I swerved into the other lane as Mummy peered at the roll of wool.
“Mmmm. Well, it actually says Northern Lights, but I think my description is more accurate, really.”
Above is Mummy (“Granny”) with the vomitty hat in progress. If you look at the bottom rows you’ll best understand the description as she started the hat.
It ultimately would up with my goddaughter, who said, and I quote, “I’ll sport “Northern Lights, but I like dog throw up better as a name. Belongs in a crayon box.”
ExaminingMisadventures 