April's Real Blog

Friday, December 21, 2007

A la mode, A la mode

Mom was baking pies, and she was all, "April, if the piez R dun, will U take them out of the oven, pls?" I was like, "Sure!" As I was taking the last one of three piez outta the oven, Dad was all, "Whoa!" from outside, in silhouette, and I was like, "SNIFFFFF.... MMMMM" B-cuz Pattersons totally overreact 2 baked gds, and sumtymez I just can't overcome that. Dad opened the sliding door in2 the kitchen, revealing that he was wearing his choo-choo outfit under his winter coat, and he declared, "....I cd smell apples and pastry and pumpkin all the way from the workshop!" Dad flung his coat on the floor, grabbed a knife, and started 2 cut in2 one of the piez. Mom was like, "Hey! Don't touch thoze!" And dad was all, "U're kidding! ...Y not?" And Mom was like, "Well, 4 one thing... they're too hot." As Mom gawked @ him, Dad got sum plates, cut out 2 pieces of pie, put ea on a plate, got sum vanilla ice cream from the fridge, scooped sum on2 one of the pies, handed me the pint of ice cream, threw his hat on2 his coat, sat @ the table, started 2 bring a forkful of pie and ice cream 2 his mouth (while Mom held the plate w/the other piece and I plopped ice cream on it), and finally Dad replied, "Another reason God made ice cream."

Then I cut myself a small sliver of pie and a teaspoon of ice cream, ate them slowly, and then changed in2 my sweats 2 run around the neighbourhood a bit. Did I mention I've developed exercise bulimia? NEway, when I got back from running abt 8K, the pies had all been eaten, Mom and Dad were sitting at the table holding their guts while kinda groaning, and then Mom sed, "Aw nuts, now I have 2 go back 2 the grocery store, buy flour, sugar, pumpkin filling, and apples, and make three more pies. Those were 4 the Xmas dinner! Did I 4get 2 mention that after I sed, '4 one thing .... they're 2 hot'?" Dad was like, "::groan:: 4get? Who're we kidding. U knew what was going 2 happen when U baked those so far in advance!"


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  • At 12:41 PM, Blogger howard said…


    As it so happens, I was eating lunch today and ran into your father. I mentioned your quotation of him saying “Another reason why God made ice cream” was to cool down freshly-baked pie. He said, “Yes. Howard. God made ice cream to have many uses. When my car overheats, I use ice cream. When my grandchildren get a fever, we use ice cream to cool her head.” I said, “Are you kidding?” Your dad said, “No. Of course we don’t always have ice cream available; but if it is, we use it. That’s what God made it for.”

    I said I thought the ancient Persians were credited with creating ice cream. Your father looked at me and said, “Howard. My religion teaches God made ice cream.” I said, “I thought you were Anglican. I don’t remember ice cream as one of the Anglican theological teachings.” Your father said, “When have you seen me in an Anglican church?” I had to think, but I remembered that when some of your family went to church last Easter, your dad was not among them. I said, “Not since your son got married?” Your dad said, “Exactly. And I only went there because of the food at the reception. My religion is called Fryingtology, established by the writer F. On Cupboard.” I said, “F. On Cupboard? What’s the ‘F’ stand for?” Your dad said, “Food, of course.”

    I said, “I have never heard about this religion before? What’s it about?” Your dad said, “It’s pretty simple. The spirit is represented with the Greek letter 'eata' is the true form of man and can exist exterior to and/or independent from a body.” I said, “I don’t think ‘eata’ is a Greek letter?” Your dad said, “Do you want to hear the theology or not?” I said, “Go on.” Your dad said, “Fryingtology describes the physical body as "a carbon-oxygen eating machine" of which the spirit is the chef.” I said, “So what does a Fryingtology practicioner do?” Your dad said, “Eat, mainly. Sometimes, a good burp is a sign of a balance between the spirit and the body. But mostly, eat.”

    I said to your dad, “From what I have seen of your family, you are great Fryingtology people.” Your dad, “Why thank you, Howard. My family thinks you are lying, scum who should still be rotting in jail; but I can see you have some redeeming features.” I said, “Thanks, I think.”

    Anyway, if your father hasn’t mentioned this religion before, I suppose he must be one of those people who likes to show his religion more than talk about it. That’s something, anyway.

    Howard Bunt

  • At 1:17 PM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, omg, ur gonna kill me. i just had that muffin, cuz i left the house 2 l8 4 brekkie & mom handed me the muffin 2 eat on the way. wen i ran n2u & u sed, “snifffff.... mmmmm", i thot it wuz sum kinda neat greetin’, ‘till u grabbed my muffin (& i mean the baked goods kind).

    but this runnin’ & runnin’ ovah lunch break 4 this exercise bulimia iz gonna kill me. i swear i won’t bring anothah muffin 2 skool. plus it’s rilly hard 2 text this 2u while i’m runnin’. can we go back 2 skool now?

  • At 1:22 PM, Anonymous michael patterson said…


    Formerly little sis. As I said earlier this week, there is no way any desserts mom made are going to make it to my house for Christmas Dinner. I thought we used to have the family Christmas Dinner at mom’s house because she had the biggest house (next to the Sobinskis); but now I have a feeling we had the Christmas Dinner at mom’s house for no other reason than if we got to the food just after it had been cooked, there was a chance we could get some before mom and dad ate it all. Next year, mom should be put in charge of making some kind of food she doesn’t like that much, like…um…well, I am drawing a blank there. Any ideas?

    Michael Patterson

  • At 1:48 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    phew, gd thing they have showers in the locker rooms! sorry abt that, jeremy. i mite hafta get sum therapy.

    mike, mayB mom shd b in charge of crudités? u know she wdn't eat that.


  • At 2:17 PM, Anonymous liz patterson said…


    I have seen your ass, and there is no way you are running that much, it is still all soft and pudding-like, just like every good Patterson butt, why are you always trying to act like you're better than us?, accept your heritage already, like me, for example, when Anthony suggested we should go for a walk after dinner last night, I taked him into staying in and helping me devour a whole Christmas trifle I made for Christmas dinner, and you know who wouldn't participate?, if you said "that skinny, rotten French spoilsport child," you're right, after we each ate like three pounds of cream and custard and cake and jam apiece, Anthony and I were lying on the couch, using permanent marker to draw faces on our stomachs and then squeezing the fat rolls to give them mouths and making them "talk," well, if you think you are too good for that kind of Patterson activity, you can get out of the family Miss Priss!


    P.S.--Only Patterson men exercise, real Patterson women are too busy with housework.

  • At 3:10 PM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    Leave it to John to have a theology based on food. I'm guessing the founder of Fryingtology is the IT manager of an American construction company with the odd-sounding name of 'Dagwood Bumstead'.

  • At 3:58 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    omg, liz sed i have a patterson arse. i'm changing in2 my sweats and running now.

    i will gladly leave the fam if it meanz i don't hafta have a patterbutt.


  • At 5:26 PM, Anonymous Eddison Lee said…

    Everyone refers to your mom as a "Patterson" when it comes to family traits even though she is genetically a "Richardson."

    Query: Did she have her genetics altered when she married your dad so she could become a true Patterson?

  • At 5:57 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    edison, u r close, mom is genetically a "richards." actually mom believes that a patterson is a 2nd-rate richards, but b/c of the patterson-richards accord of 1979, she is supposta pretend they r equal.


  • At 2:26 AM, Anonymous liz patterson said…


    Well, you no doubt will be happy to hear this, but it is a great tragedy, the salad I so lovingly prepared for our Christmas feast was destroyed, I couldn't lift it, so it had to stay at Anthony's, and then Anthony couldn't fit it inside his refrigerator, so he put it outside in a snowbank to refrigerate it, and Anthony's neighbor accidentally ran over the bowl with his snowblower, there were bits of macaroni and breadsticks and cheese all over the front yard, the whole place smells like ranch dressing, well, when I went over there (as I do every night after school) Anthony was already making a salad to replace it, it was one of the kind you like, with real lettuce in it, well, I had to laugh, Anthony played this game with Frenchy, he was cutting up carrots to go in the salad, since he heard they are Dee's favorite, and he pretended to chop his finger off, and said it got lost in the salad with the carrots, Frenchy was freaked out, it was hilarious how he messed with her mind as he pretended to look for the carrot, then he told her we would just have to eat the salad anyway and call it "finger food," I almost swooned, wordplay AND he is warping his daughter's little French mind, he's a dreamboat!, oh, and did I mention, he never told Frenchy the truth about his finger, so on Christmas when Frenchy tells you there are fingers in the salad, play along, we're hoping this "joke" will be a wonderful Christmas "memory" to cherish for years to come!



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