April's Real Blog

Monday, January 07, 2008

Now ppl just call her "sea hag"

Mike has the next bit of reminiscing horror 2 share w/U all:

Formerly little sis. Believe it or not, I believe mom and Connie Poirier have decided to have a conversation reminiscing about age that may run on for the whole month. According to mom she remembers quite a few stories from back in 1979 to 1980 where she thought she was old. I said, “You mean like the one where you got upset when you found the first wrinkle on your face?” She said, “No, Michael. You couldn’t see wrinkles on my face in those days. I barely had a pupil in my eye. I couldn’t have crow’s feet for just a pupil.” I said, “You mean the one where your body made strange noises when you got up in the morning?” She said, “No, Michael. That was your father.” I said, “OK. Which one then?” And mom said, “Well, in the beginning I am looking at the meat selection in the grocery store.” I said, “No, mom. I know this one. It starts with the barber.” Mom said, “Grocery store.” I said, “Barber.” Mom said, “I don’t remember any barber.” Then I said, “Well, that’s because you’re too old to remember it.” Then mom started crying and I said, “Calm down mom. I’ll tell the story and we’ll start from the meat counter in the grocery store, and not the barber.”

So, formerly little sis. Once upon a time, in Milborough, mom was in a grocery store looking at a meat counter. The butcher was right in front of her, a bald man with a unibrow almost completely obscuring his eyes. He pointed to mom and said, “Have you looked after this woman yet, Jake?” Jake was a younger fellow with glasses, and I guess he hadn’t looked after mom yet. Needless to say, mom was deeply disturbed by the whole conversation, but didn’t say anything except to roll her eyes.

The next part I remember didn’t have anything to do with a barber. We were all walking together to the car from the grocery and I was licking a lollipop and I don’t know where that lollipop came from, except it wasn’t from a barber. Helping mom carry her groceries was one of these people who help people carry groceries, only this one was pretty stupid, because mom still had to push Lizzie in a stroller and carry groceries too. You would think he would just put all mom’s groceries in a cart, but this was back in the 1980s and people were stupider back then. In fact, this fellow said to mom, “-that your wagon over there, ma’am?” Not exactly a vivid description, but there was something about it which caused mom to stoop over a little bit more and make her left arm really long.

Once we were in the car, mom strapped Lizzie into one of those car seats which looked like a miniature trampoline. I suppose the springs around the side were supposed to help with the impact, if there was an accident. I don’t know. I do know it was fun to jump on, even when Lizzie in it. This was not my concern though. My concern was with the barber. OK. I can’t take it anymore. There was a barber. I got my hair cut. Mom was flirting with the barber in the way that she does, but the barber said to her, “Missus Patterson, that’s not appropriate behaviour for a married woman.” Mom wasn’t wearing her wedding ring, which is true for most people in Milborough; but the barber knew she was a missus anyway. So I said to mom, “How did the barber know you was a missus, Hey mom? Mom? Mom?” In the middle of that bad grammar, there was still that question.

Well, mom never answered that question, but years later I ran into that barber and asked him how he knew. He said, “Look, Mike. Your mom had 2 small children with her, her hair tied in a pony tail, she had a plain yellow scarf around her neck, and she was shopping in the middle of the day. It was pretty obvious she was a missus.” This was a silly argument because my lovely Deanna has 2 children, her hair in a bowl cut, and she does her shopping in the middle of the day, and that doesn’t mean she is a missus. As a point of fact she is a missus; but she could just as easily have been a slutty single mother, like Connie Poirier. So, what it boils down to, is the barber thought mom was a missus, because he didn’t think she could be slutty. When you think about it that way, it does seem like a logical conclusion.

That logic aside, mom started thought bubbling “Woman…ma’am…Mrs….What ever happened to ‘Young Lady’?” Yes, formerly little sis, our mother actually wondered when it was that men in Milborough started being polite and stopped using the old sexist terms like “young lady”, the use of which Canadian feminists had run out of town almost a decade prior, along with “girl” or “gals” or “chick” or “wench” or “coed”. I suppose it was being around dad all the time with his sexist language, which threw her off.

It was around this point in my story, when mom said, “No, Michael. I preferred to be called ‘young lady’ because that’s what I was called when I was younger. Those other terms like ‘ma’am’ or ‘woman’ or ‘Mrs.’ made me feel old.” Then Connie Poirier said, “Elly. The women’s movement made sure you were no longer referred to by that degrading language.” Then mom said, “It’s not degrading, if it made you feel young.” Then Connie said, “Treating you like you were younger than you were, was a way of taking power and respect from you.” Then mom said, “Taking power and respect was all right for me, if I felt younger.” Then Connie said, “Mike, I have a feeling this conversation may run all month. I think I need to explain women’s liberation to your mother.” Needless to say, I took the opportunity to leave, after I had eaten a few things out of the refrigerator, of course.

Michael Patterson
Reminiscing 4 a month? I believe it Mike. Hoped it wasn't going 2 B true, but totally believe it. After U left, Mom kinda grilled me abt if I liked being called "yung lady." I sed no1 callz me that, and that if I did, I wdn't like it, cuz it's insulting. Mom called me a Martian and told me 2 walk the dogz.


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  • At 7:01 AM, Blogger DreadedCandiru2 said…

    Your mother is insane. That's the only word I can think of that best fits her behavior. I can see her being flattered that she'd get carded once in a blue moon but to want to be treated some idiot kid because her repulsive vanity and lack of proportion lead her to believe that there are only children and seniors in this world means that she needs locking up.

  • At 11:27 AM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    mayB she can share a ward w/britney spears, eh?


  • At 4:04 PM, Anonymous jeremy jones said…

    april, u know i don’t like 2 tell lies, but i got rilly close this aftahnoon. wen we came home frum skool & there wuz ur mom & connie poirier in ur livin’ room & we were headed off 2 ur room 2 study & stuff & ur mom sed, “& just where do u think ur takin’ that boy, april martian patterson?”; i thot ‘bout wut u & ur bro have sed ‘bout wut ur mom iz talkin’ ‘bout these days. so wen i sed 2u, “april. u didn’t tell me u had anothah sister aside from elizabeth” technically thass true, cuz u didn’t. then wen ur mom sed, “no jeremy, i’m april’s mom, elly. i just look diff cuz i don’t have my hair in a bun & i have no makeup on.” then i sed, “well then, ur hair and makeup iz just like a young lady w/her natural beauty.” technically thass also true, cuz a lotta little girls don’t wear makeup & have their hair down (not countin’ ur niece, of course). then ur mom wuz like, “see connie. there r sum men in the world who say ‘young lady’.” & then connie poirier sed, “yes. sum sexist men.” then ur mom sed, “ru a sexist, jeremy jones?” then i sed, “no” which is true, cuz @least i don’t think i am. ur mom wuz all, “see connie. not a sexist. jeremy, obviously april haz converted u n2 a young man of good taste & u just plan 2 study w/april in her room & nothin’ naughty.” ‘course since i don’t like 2 lie, we prolly shud stop wut we were doin’ & do a little studyin’ 2. u know ur mom iz gonna ask

  • At 4:35 PM, Blogger howard said…


    I had to answer an odd question from my girls today, which was remarkably like the one your brother asked your mother all those years ago. I had just gotten a haircut of my clown red hair and gotten into the car when my daughters María and Ana said, “How did the barber know you was a missus, Hey dad? Dad? Dad?

    First I said, “That should be ‘How did the barber know you were a missus.” Then I said, “And I am a mister, not a missus.” Then María and Ana said, “But she had pictures of you in a dress standing in front of a sign saying, ‘Shamp-Ohs’.” I said, “Well, I used to work for Greta "Sugar" Van Rensselaer a long time ago and that was the style of dress for the job.” It was difficult to deny pictorial proof of something that I kind of remember and kind of don’t remember.

    My haircutter was a friend of yours named Marjee Mahaha and she said I was practically a “missus”; taking care of the girls for my husband Beatrice. There was a certain edge to her voice when she was cutting my hair. She kept muttering “Yellowknife” and I got worried, but her hair scissors were silver and not yellow. She loved the girls and said to me, “Howard. You’re such a good mom, just like you always wanted to be.” Despite this unusual gender misidentification, she loved the girls and gave them very good haircuts, with a quality surprisingly fine for Milborough. The girls were very happy with them. You should try her out sometime. Wait, I think she said you were one of her customers.

    Howard Bunt

  • At 6:27 PM, Blogger April Patterson said…

    so jeremy and i have been studying 4 a coupla hrs. mostly!

    howard, i was wondering how marjee was doing. haven't heard from her in a while.


  • At 7:08 PM, Anonymous Marjee Mahaha said…

    Hello, April. As you can tell from Howard's post, I'm back after having taken, well, I guess it was a kind of leave of absence.

    You probably remember that Warren Blackwood broke off his engagement with me when he believed that he had a chance with your sister. After he escorted her to your brother's party in Toronto, he believed that they were about to become significant others to one another.

    She seemed agreeable when he let her know that he couldn't make plans on a weekend she'd thought he'd be off, because he had a job out in Yellowknife. As he explained to Liz, he was going to be hung up there for a while, but as far as he knew, she'd be ready to pick up where they'd left off once he returned.

    But, as you've no doubt heard, the pilots in Canada have this incredible gossip network. And while he was up in Yellowknife, he heard through the pilot-gossip grapevine that your sister had told her friend Candace that Warren was "just a friend" and that she was going to ask her old ex-boyfriend from high school, Anthony Caine, to be her date to Shawna-Marie's wedding.

    Warren suddenly realized he'd never had a chance with Liz after all. I happened to run into him, because I was visiting my [adoptive] mother, Maggie McConnell Mahaha. As you might remember, she's a pilot, too. She was also working the Yellowknife job.

    Warren told me that ending his engagement had been a terrible mistake and pleaded me to take the engagement ring and become re-engaged. I was wary, but my mom is partial to fellow pilots, and she she urged me to give him another chance.

    Even though the Yellowknife job had ended, we sort of semi-permanently settled there, as it had become a special place for us.

    We were happy for a while. We started to plan our wedding, and I know it sounds clichéd, but we were going to be married on Valentine's Day of this year.

    But then when the holidays came and went, Warren heard that Anthony had still not proposed to Liz. And he saw a picture of her from the day you had your Christmas dinner. Her hair was down and flowy, and while staring at the picture, Warren got a wistful look on his face and said something about how he hadn't seen her with her hair down in years. Then I knew what was coming. He got tears in his eyes and told me that if Liz had actually gotten through the holiday season without getting engaged to Anthony, that this meant he still had a chance to win her back.

    He got the ring back from me, climbed into his helicopter, and said, "You won't mind getting a ride back with your mom, will you?" He didn't wait for an answer.

    So I got a ride from my mother, came back here, got my old job back from Sugar Van Rensselaer, and next thing I knew, I was cutting Howard's hair. He was acting kind of butch and suddenly, he's a stepdad and husband. Weird. I sort of knew about that from checking in with your blog from time to time, but still it's strange to actually witness it. I felt a bit sad, since we used to be so close, and now he seems to only barely remember me, like as an old acquaintance.



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