The anniversary of my mom’s death is coming up and, while I don’t dwell on such things, certain events do bring her to mind on a pretty regular basis. For instance, our nectarine trees bore a bountiful crop this year, so my freezer is full of luscious fruit. It’s easy and delicious to pop a few into the Bullet blender to whip up a simple smoothie. All that roughage makes for entertaining sneak attacks on one’s mate or dog-startling audible eruptions, especially if you “push a little” as Mum used to say.
Now, my mom was a world class farter, though she rarely used the word. Her “whiffers” have been remarked upon by neighbors whose jaded senses never even register their own dog’s barking. So, this morning, when I pushed out a particularly melodic burst, I thought of Mum. R.I.P.
Photo by Jacob Boavista on Unsplash
judyrutrider 
😂 😂 😂 While it’s funny that farts 💨 remind you of your mom, I am sure most of us will be in those shoes one day.
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Yup, that’s something that gets more difficult to control. Fortunately, as our hearing diminishes, we think we are doing it silently and if we don’t have kids to tell us otherwise, we toot along happily.
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The gas mask conveys the strength of your memories about your mother and her “puffs” , Judy. Perhaps was she eating too much nectarines ?
Whatever what is important is to maintain living memories.
Love ❤
Michel
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For a long time after she died, I could only remember her final days. But the more time that passes, those memories settle into better proportion. Now I can recall how funny and adventuresome she was before dementia robbed her of that self-confidence. Always strong and independent, it was especially difficult for her to accept her growing disability. Thankfully, she never lost her wind breaking talent.
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It seems to me , Judy, you look like your mother for a part : love of adventure ,humor and Independence. 🙂
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“Melodic.” Yuh, like we are going to believe that one.
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Seriously, Sadie was harmonizing.
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I wondered where this was going… pic with gas mask, nectarines, smoothies, who knew we’d end up in Puttertown? I’ve never heard my mom fart. Ever. And my dad tried to eek them out quietly at the dinner table. He would lift one cheek off his chair and let it escape, then joke that there “must be a mouse around here.”
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Obviously, you didn’t have a dog.
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Hysterically unusual remembrance!
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Judy Rutrider, still making me smile with your frank and honest observations.
My Mum was also a classy farter, and for at least 20 years inadvertently letting go much to her embarrassment and our amusement. Who’d have thought it. I wonder whether our Queen, who checked out just 3 weeks after my own matriarchal leader, also suffered the embarrassment or enjoyed the effect of her own gaseous emissions.
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Oh, that’s a fun thought, the Queen’s enjoyment of earthy delights. It’s good to hear from you after so long!
So sorry to hear you lost your own queen mum. It’s hard to get used to being an orphan, even at this ripe age.
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