This is Bossy’s mom’s house, and last night the family was invited over for a special Mother’s Day dinner, and what made this Mother’s Day dinner special was the fact that the meal was catered entirely by Bossy’s brother and Bossy’s husband:
The two men planned and shopped and schlepped and chopped and cooked and assembled:
But what Bossy failed to realize about dinner cooked entirely by two men, was how much free time Bossy would have available to sit around and chat with her mom and sister-in-law. And drink wine. Lots of red wine.
After a melon and prosciutto appetizer, the family sat down to their meal: spaghetti with meatballs and sausage, and a mixed green salad with blue cheese and apples:
And for the next hour Bossy ate like the thirteenth starving child in a family of fourteen. And she drank wine like the thirteenth starving child in a family of fourteen—assuming starving children from large families drink wine.
And then Bossy scarfed a bowl of bread pudding and a dish of chocolate ice cream and more wine, wine! And why won’t the wine come out of the bottle when it’s empty?
By 11 p.m. Bossy was home in bed, where her troubles were only beginning. The first problem was this:
It’s an article in the New Yorker, and Bossy decided it would be a terrific idea to read it as she was falling asleep. It’s about a very promising young chef who found out he has tongue cancer and radiation treatments have ruined his taste buds and now the poor fellow can’t taste his creations and what is this sore on the inside of Bossy’s right cheek?
To cheer herself up, Bossy stayed up even later reading the following article in the same magazine:
It’s about a famous photo retoucher named Pascal Dangin, and when you see all of those perfect women in all of those perfect magazine layouts you can blame Pascal.
The article details Pascal’s ability to seamlessly reshape shoulder blades and redefine cheekbones, and before Bossy knew it she had drifted off into a dream, and in this dream she was a photographer.
And in this dream, Bossy’s assignment as a photographer was to shoot photos of a very wealthy man, because when you are a photographer more famous than Annie Leibovitz you don’t take pictures, you shoot them.
And speaking of the wealthy man in her dream, Bossy has no idea who he was but she will now attempt to capture his essence:
And then Bossy awoke to the tortures of a bedside lamp still on, her eyeglasses crumpled under her throat, and her liver enzymes breaking down the complex sugars of last night’s Fetzer Merlot.
That’s a very cute kitchen, with the exposed brick and track lighting and stuff. And I see you two shop for green paint together.
blue cheese and apples! YUM! I think VUBOQ needs to start VUBOQ’s Day, where everyone gives him fantastic presents, and cleans his house, and cooks for him and pours wine from an always-full bottle. And, wait, did you say skinny ties are back? Say it ain’t so, BOSSY. Say it ain’t so.
I love a man who cooks.
red wine dreams are the best! skinny ties, wealthy men, famous photographers and all. yea for red red wine!
Hmmm, was Mr. Bossy injured while making dinner?
So many of my problems would be solved if I could not taste anything. My kitchen mistakes, for one. My love affair with red red wine, for two. And my colossal butt, for three, although that should have been number one.
Bossy’s Mom looks much more hip than my Mom and Bossy’s husband is a good dresser and Bossy’s brother is cute. And Bossy’s bed looks too small for 2 people to fit in it.
Bossy’s mom has a cute house and an nice kitchen….big enough for two men to prepare the feast with red wine.
Mr. Lootiato looks all fancy and spiffy in that picture. He loves the ladies, I can tell.
Resemblances… You have your Mom’s smile. Your son looks like his uncle. Glad you had a great time despite the worries of the late night. And Fetzer Merlot.. yum!
Skinny ties and mouth sores, what a night.
WOW….your Mom and me ( I??? whatever) have the very same clown shoes….er, I mean red crocs. They make my feet sweat. I want a refund.
I can clearly see that I need to drink more red wine.
May you rot in untouched h*ll Pascal Dangin…
BOSSY? You mean you fell asleep before you got to the article about Dr. Pepperberg and the 30 solid years she spent conducting English lessons with her amazing giant parrot?
Lucky.
Red Wine .. mmmm .. Happy Mothers Day to the Mother of all Mothers. Lynn wants to know who much Fetzer Merlot IS per box, er, bottle.
I love Bossy’s Mom’s house! And, although it seems you are suffering today, it sounds like you had a fabulous Mother’s Day.
Too much metzer ferlow for me too.
And guess what.. I rushed out the door to see if the house number had disappeared from my door…still there, so I realized bossys’ up to it again.
but why cantcha use those skills to disappear some of that miles and miles of black outfit I have on.
I’m amazed that BOSSY has the wherewithal to compose such a lovely post when surely she must be enjoying a severe case of the spins and driving the porcelain bus. Because I’m enjoying a contact case of both just by reading about all the wine.
Bossy, I seriously can’t believe you had a dream about a wealthy man in a skinny black tie and it wasn’t John Cusack! Does this mean you have forsaken him and that he is now eligible for the rest of us JC lovers to marry?
Is BOSSY wearing lovely modest pink pajamas in that photograph, or is she sleeping in The Nude?!
I love Bossy’s Mom’s front door.
Sounds heavenly – except for the magazine part.
For someone who hasn’t had Fetzer Merlot, would you like to describe it so I can decide on if I want to go buy a bottle?
I love Fetzer anything!
I have a husband who cooks, but a brother? Unfathomable to me.
Green with envy!
I love bossys moms KITCHEN..Sorry about your neck and the glasses-ouch–I hate it when I leave the light on..
greetings from the beach-
Lisa
coastal nest
It’s clearly Barack O’Boyfriend.
Jeebus. Did they slip something into that wine, ’cause that’s some funky dreaming.
Was Bossy dreaming about one of Blues Brothers?
Damn. I dreamed I was Miley Cyrus and Bossy was taking my photo. What was in that wine?!?
I feel asleep on the couch, pretty much same thing but woke up the annoyance of the Military Channel.
Seriously Bossy, I eat like the 9th child in a family of 11 b/c it’s really true! YES WAY!!!
Happy Mother’s Day, Bossy! Hope you are able to lie down today. Perhaps for the WHOLE day? I’m eating a pound of See’s Candies for you – just to see if I can catch up to that hangover feeling. Hopefully I won’t dream that I AM Annie Leibowitz and have been SHOOTING pictures of Billy Ray Cyrus.
I finally had to give up drinking because the vodka would not come out of the bottle when it was empty. This led me to many tantrums and then to rehab.
If the Goof is male, does he have a wife? Because I’d like to apply. Even if the Goof is a female, I’m fairly certain I could play for the B team for the Goof’s sake.
I had one too many Mint Julips last week and, if I may say, it was better than acid.
God, I don’t trust a skinny chef. How the hell am I supposed to trust a chef without taste buds?
I’ve been reading about Pascal Dangin today. He’s got a lot to answer for. He’s also got unfortunate facial hair – I wonder if he touches up his own holiday photos?
Hey! Did ALL that red on the spaghetti come from tomatoes? Because that Band-Aid on the Hub’s thumb looks like it’s leaking.
Hope Mother’s Day was good to you and your Mom, even if the next day wasn’t.
Sounds like your Mother’s Day about did you in! But it’s okay, because that kitchen was beautiful beyond words.
I love the New Yorker, but last night was all about endless Survivor dreams, after the three-hour season finale.
What is with that little flesh-ball under Pascal Dangin’s chin? Couldn’t he have photoshopped that nasty thing away????
This is why I read US Weekly before I go to bed. Because worse case scenario, I’ve stepped into the life of Nicole Richie and I can eat all I want because girlfriend needs to put on some damn weight.
You need some FLUFF on your nightstand, girl. Pure fluff.
I am very impressed that Bossy can read after ingesting copious amounts of red wine. Those kind of nights are made for Law & Order reruns.
P.S. That sore if from kissing too many husbands on your roadtrip.
Just kidding, Bossy’s husband.
I am very impressed with Bossy’s husband, who clearly has something to teach the rest of the men in this world about HOW TO DO MOTHER’S DAY. (hint: the mothers don’t have to cook the meal and then clean it up)
But wait, you didn’t mention the stained glass window made out of rock slices! Or maybe you didn’t get that far in the New Yorker.
I just want to marry your husband and your brother. They are the epitome of adorableness.
I read that article on Pascal Dangin… I mean, I *knew* some photos were retouched, but just to read the breadth of his reach… I’m not trusting any photo, ever again. Unless it’s one that Bossy shoots. Unless it’s of your mother’s door, and you’ve wiped out the numbers. I’m sure that’s the only retouching you’ve ever done. ‘MIright?
Carbs and red wine, what could be better? With a light rain outside….hmmmm
Just realized that Bossy’s son looks a lot like Bossy’s brother. Strong genes in your family.
Also, your mom? Just from one picture I think I love her. Think she’ll adopt me?
I am surprised that with all the red wine and pasta you stayed awake.
Very nice of Your Men to treat you all to a fine meal. And, from the looks out it, without having to use shock collars.
Do you think my landlord would be too upset if I laid brick over one of my kitchen walls and installed red-and-white tile? That kitchen is adorable. As is your family – your mom looks like fun!
It sounds like Bossy had the same Mother’s Day as I did, only I had all the wine and none of the dreams, because dreaming would imply there was SLEEP.
Oh, and one other difference? My mother, who also was partaking of the wine, wandered barefoot out into the yard, weaving back and forth in the pouring TORRENTIAL rain, and returned with bird crap on her shirt. And complaints about her stomach. Which left me pondering whether to call 911 (for her) or WINE ONE ONE (for myself).
And the final insult of all after all these events and no sleep was I had to go to work today.
Thank God this only comes once a year.
Mmmmmmerlot! I heart red wine.
Wait. Has that photo of Bossy sitting up in bed been retouched? Surely not.
You make me laugh so hard!!!?
I love the Goof!
“What is this sore inside my cheek?” (or thereabouts anyway) I laughed out loud for at least a full minute. And I thank you, I needed that laugh…. Oh, and I love Bossy’s mother’s kitchen.
Hmmm, that’s kind of how I woke my own self up at like midnight. Takeout Mexican was my Mom’s day dinner of choice (safer than dear hubby cooking), plus gin & tonic with the neighbors… and, well, you know.
This sounds like a most perfect Mother’s Day!
Bossy, you have nothing to worry about. I on the other hand, would just be thankful if my liver enzymes were working at this point.
And… why are those sugars so darned complex?
Tonight I shall also drink some hooch and hopefully dream that one day my kitchen is all filled up with grown up men cooking and it will look exactly like Bossy’s mom’s house.
So if men did all the cooking, all women would be drunks.
Honey, put on your apron!
The good news is…you did not say you are the same color as your mothers door from the Fetzer.
But I am….with envy. Your family is the tops!
Bossy, I just found your blog and I think I love you. You are an oasis in a sea of stupid, boring blogs of people’s pics of their kids, stupid scrapbooking projects, endless recipes and photos of them, blogs that are hardly updated, blogs of photos that really aren’t good, blogs of get rich quick schemes and blogs written by 13 year olds. And I’m sick of Dooce. Dooce, Dooce, Dooce, doesn’t anyone for criminy’s sake read anything other than Dooce?? I think iambossy should be the new Dooce!!
Oh, Bossy…would not have pegged you to make such a rookie mistake.
Never read the New Yorker after a wine bender. As you learned, the articles will completely eff you over. But if THEY don’t, the nonsensical cartoons will confuse you to the point that your head will spin, and you will probably vomit.
Oh, poor Bossy…I feel for you, really I do. For you see, I was in a similar state last night about 1am, after a lovely meal cooked by my children, and several bottles of wine and about half a bottle of port…and I had to work today. Very, very slowly.
Um, just an FYI,
Starving families with lots of kids, they dont drink wine.
I know this, because I watched the Duggars.
Can you imagine the Duggars all lit up on a barrel of wine?
hmmm, OK, I am thinking that perhaps I have found the Mothers Day that might actually beat mine. But Bossy’s husband loses points for not dressing as Ninja while serving dinner.
Then it would be immensely better.
I think I want to spend Mother’s Day at your mom’s house next year.
Happy Mother’s Day to Bossy and all the wonderful moms out there!
Dang. I will never get to bossy’s comments at under 10. It’s a goal with me. I’m aggressive like that.
Bossy’s brother seems to know presentation is everything with that salad.
maria wants bossy’s moms’ house. Is that grammatically correct. I at least want the kitchen floor. And, as remodeling is in my future, I will have it. Oh, yes, I will.
Unfortunately for him, now you know that he can do it. So how about some more dinners by hubby?
Yes, the dangers of Merlot and the New Yorker. Perhaps you might do better with USA Today.
I was drinking Fetzer Merlot the same night…
The liver is your best friend. Never forget that.
I want that screen door, how adorable is that!