My mom and I are sitting right in the middle of euphoria. I am on one couch, she is on the other. I have my laptop (switching between my blog, "Life is Sweet..." and Ree Drummond's blog, "The Pioneer Woman" - can it get any better?) Mom is reading a cookbook that Grandma VanVonderen sent me for Christmas, commenting here and there about recipes similar to ones we have in the South. All of the boys (Jim, Tim, Owen and Miles) are on a Walmart run. Peace and quiet. So here we are, my mom and I and the plum perfect cabin with the snow outside the windows - all snuggly and warm inside - with a pot of peach tea, the blogs, my latest book - and Andy Griffith playing in the background...
All of sudden Helga (my mom) looks up and out of nowhere says to me, "Now you see, Candace, Aunt Bea used to wear pearls everyday too."
What? What? I will tell you what. My mom is trying to tell me that maybe I should be comparing myself to Aunt Bea, instead of the iconic June Cleaver.
I give this a half second of thought and then quickly retort that Aunt Bea is short and round - and I'd much rather be like June Cleaver. June was taller, classy, trim, a wonderful mom - all of the things I try to be. As I ponder these two women, I realize that Aunt Bea wore aprons too... hmmmm.... Well, I refuse to think it! Now where did that feeling of euphoria run off to...?
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