Mommies and telenovelas

So, my eye surgery didn’t happen. The sniffles I mentioned in a previous post decided to turn into a full-fledged cold, complete with fever and hacking cough. Apparently those symptoms are not desirable when one is about to go under general anesthesia. Who knew?

Instead of my mummy taking care of me for my eye, she took care of me for my cold. Healthy, veggie-infused meals, strange concoctions of orange peels and honey and goopy, Vicks Vaporub were all forced upon me with glee. Mom’s health assault was somewhat successful as the only remnants of the disease being a squawky voice and a Kleenex addiction.

I’m not sure when this transformation took place, but my mother has morphed from a little Colombian guilt-trip inducing mami into a Japanese photo-taking tourist. Few people would think that an image of someone curling up on the couch, with a bright red nose and bleary, I-just-had-a-fever eyes is prime photo shoot material, but my mother does. For a week she was my own personal paparazzo, snapping pics of me doing such interesting things like opening a window or using the remote.

Once I was well enough to venture back in to the world, I had to practically wrestle the camera out of her hands for fear she would start taking pictures at Target. And don’t get me started on the morning photo shoots before I left for work.

When she wasn’t snapping pics of me she was spoiling the cat. I now have to buy another little rug for the living room so that my beloved fuzz-butt can sit on it and watch TV. (In case he doesn’t feel like being on the sofa, where he usually is….variety is the spice of my cat’s life apparently) This was after making my TV stand more cat-friendly so Nutmeg could use it as a jumping pad for reaching the window. And based on the desperate meowing, I’m pretty sure she did not keep him on his diet.

I also became very familiar with Spanish soap operas. I don’t mind a good telenovela every now and then, but I generally don’t watch them unless there a really hot hottie in the cast. My mother isn’t quite as discriminating with her shows and I had to endure a week’s work of “Yo amo a Juan Querendon.” Mom tried unsuccessfully to get me interested in the show, but as I am shallow, the thought of watching a overly hair gelled, mullet-wearing Mexican in overly unbuttoned bright shirts was not appealing. Sorry, MexiClaus.

Much more tolerable, but waaay more confusing was “La Traicion,” but when the yummy Mario Cimarro (appropriate use of hair gel and fashion) is on screen (in a dual role, rrrrwwwwwwaaaaaarrrrr) the plot really is unnecessary. (something about twins and epilepsy…and a mine?)

Mommy has returned to her nest in Florida, leaving behind a very organized pantry, new, matching towels and a slightly pudgy kitty. She returns this summer when I have re-scheduled the eye-stabbing. This time I’m hiding the camera and staying away from the Carebear.


~ by pithycomments on April 28, 2008.

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