Carmela’s Favorite Story
When my daughter was five or so, she was invited to her friend Dallas’s birthday party. Dallas was a preschool friend, and there was much excitement about the upcoming party. When we arrived, the first thing I noticed was that it appeared the Hell’s Angels had been invited as well.
There were about 20 Harley Davidson motorcycles in the driveway and the yard. Apparently grandpa is a biker. We met grandpa, and the rest of the gang (leather chaps, anyone?) on our way into the party. I stood chatting with the mom for a bit, and it was clear this was one of those “drop and run” parties, my daughter’s first, where the parents were expected to clear out and return at an appointed time. In the middle of our chat, another little girl ran through the house to the yard where the rest of the kids were playing. The mom called out, (I kid you not) “Dallas! Dakota’s here!” I snickered. Out loud. It just happened. The mom sheepishly said it must have been a year for vacations, or something to that effect.
I made my escape and returned in much less time than I was supposed to (there were bikers! and people smoking and drinking! and people who name their kids after destinations!) to retrieve my little one. She came willingly away, and in the car, we had this conversation:
Me: “How was the party?”
D: “Fine”
Me: “What did you eat?”
D: “Cake and sandwiches”
Me: “What kind of sandwiches?”
D: “Mayonnaise”
Me: “That’s it? Just mayonnaise?”
D: “Yeah. I didn’t like it”
Me: “Wanna get some lunch?”
Side story to this: my daughter was a terribly picky
eater at that time and invented what we came to call The White Trash Princess Sandwich. This specialty cannot be found in restaurants. It consists of ketchup on white bread with the crusts cut off. Disgusting.
Blogger’s note: Carmela, for whom I’ve blogged this story, is my very best friend (with the exception of my husband, of course.) This is Carmela with me (on the left) in our Heidi hairdos. But that’s another story, for another day.

October 6th, 2005 at 8:15 pm
Mayonaisse sandwiches - plenty of **real** mayo on white bread - that’s just the best!
January 28th, 2007 at 8:09 pm
[...] I said, “If you wanted beautiful cakes out of this relationship, you should have had Carmela for a mother.” Like he had a choice. Like it was his fault. Carmela makes gorgeous, delicious cakes. My cakes? They look like crap but usually taste pretty good. [...]