Entries in Miss G. (2)


The Acknowledgement

Last night Mrs. G's daughter called from Boston and whispered into the phone that a mouse was in her bedroom closet. 

"Why are you whispering?" Mrs. G. asked.

"Because I can hear him crawling around on my shoes. Mom, he's touching my shoes," she said as if this explained anything.

"Ok, tell me what happened," Mrs. G. said, her tried and true method of bringing family and friends off the ledge. Plus, she never gets tired of playing Mom with Wisdom. It's much more satisfying than the oft designated role of Mom Who Doesn't Get Anything.

"Well, he skittered under my bedroom door, there was a clear acknowledgement and then he skittered under my closet door," Miss G. explained.

"What exactly do you mean by an 'acknowledgement?'"

"We had a moment where we looked at each other and both knew we were in a bad scene.

"Here's the good news," said Mrs. G, "this is not a Quentin Tarantino movie. It's just a little mouse and he will probably find a crack in the closet to escape since he is as scared of you as you are of him. The bad news is that you are going to have to open the door and investigate or you will never sleep."

"Do mice lunge?" she asked in all seriousness.

"No, child, mice do not lunge. You're going to have to face your fear. I will not get off this phone until this situation is settled. You have to open the door."

Miss G. agreed and went to get a broom. 

She was gone a long time.

"I'm back," she said. "I went to shove a towel under Kim's (her sleeping roommate) door crack in case the mouse should run in that direction." Mrs. G's daughter is thoughtful and sweet even when she's up shit creek. She always has been.

"Have you got the broom?" Mrs. G. asked.

"I've got the broom."

"Slowly open the door and step back," Mrs. G. advised.

"Do mice travel in packs," Miss G. asked, clearly stalling.


Miss G. inhaled and opened the door and Mrs. G. could hear her beating the holy hell out of everything in her closet.

Several minutes passed, with Mrs. G. screaming, "Do you see it? Do you see it?" only to be met with the sound of a broom thwacking, perhaps, the entire city of Boston.

"He's not in here," she said, breathing heavily. "I've swept out all my shoes, turned over all my boots and jiggled all my clothing. He's not in here."

"I told you, " Mrs. G. said, "he found a crack or a hole and escaped. He's probably got an established route."

"So, you really think he's gone?"

"Yes, I really do." He's gone... gone somewhere else in that apartment, thought Mrs. G, but she kept that to herself. In regard to rodents, the truth is overrated.

"Thanks Mama."

Her shoes safe, her courage restored, Miss G. hung up the phone.

Benson, Stabler and buttered popcorn aside, Mrs. G. savors these calls. A mama needs her girl.


Yes, It's a Cat Video, People!

Mrs. G. wants to thank you for all the wonderful words of wisdom you offered her daughter regarding her brand new college experience. They really were amazing, and they generated many good discussions at Derfwad Manor. Miss G. is settled in her dorm room and Mrs. G. is settled in her bed with a gin & tonic in one hand and a tissue Reeses Peanut Butter Cup in the other. Last night Mrs. G. suggested to her daughter that the family go out to dinner after moving her into her new digs. That would be nice Mom, but, ahh, I have plans. Yes, she's adjusting very well. Thank you for asking.

So, affirmative, Mrs. G. is cat blogging, but she hasn't broken out the puppy jigsaw puzzles or donned a sequined sweatshirt. She's pacing herself. Plus she has this other kid to raise. He's walking around the house now looking nervous, picking up on the fact that it's now all about him.

If you want to see how Mrs. G. behaves if there is a cupcake in the house, watch the video. It's strikingly familiar.