The Hungry Cottage

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is the story that most mothers and daughters would understand, it is about the intricate, supportive and humorous experiences that a mother and daughter can completly identify with.

Submitted: February 10, 2008

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Submitted: February 10, 2008

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It was a cold winter morning in the cottage that I was residing in. I found those days, especially the morning quite remarkable and serene. The mist and slight drizzle of rain invoked strange yet familiar days of cuddling under the covers and gorging myself with any magazine I could read. A mere fortnight was the only time I had at the cottage but it was pivotal in changing the course of my life for years to come. The scenery at the cottage was breathtaking; the grass green as emeralds with flowing hills that you could look at all day and never get bored. It was if the hills knew things that we mere mortals had no chance of ever knowing.

Often I would stare into the hills and have to jolt myself back into reality. Photography was one of my passions at the time and I was fortunate enough to take magnificent pictures of the hills and also capture the spirit of people and town I was a part of for that short, but magical period.

 

My companion for this period was my zany mother. She was always a good supply of entertainment. She had an engulfing sprit, which at certain times made me proud and other times, desperately wanting to hide from the embarrassment.

Another way to describe my mother is hippie chic. On the one hand, she was obsessed with finding spiritual answers and promoting world peace, and on the other hand, had a narcisstic compulsion in her search for eternal youth.

Eternal youth was my mother’s holy grail. Attempts at a youthful complexion have included everything from acupuncture to yoga and even pole dancing, much to my horror.

 

 While at the cottage, her answer to this quest was a martini with three olives with every meal, which usually consisted of same Asian cuisine like sushi or miso soup. On top of that, she also used a homeopathic anti-ageing cream that had fruit extracts in it resulting in her smelling like a fruit salad. I also figured the quickest way to staying young and vibrant was too “cheat” in a way. A visit to the local plastic surgeon would quickly fix any fine lines and age spots within a few short hours.

Those martinis however had been the social lubricant of the cottage, and resulted in many a fun filled evening at the cottage.

After one evening after many martinis, my mother and I decided to light a bonfire outside the cottage. But it wasn’t just any bonfire. Due to my mother’s numerous avenues of interests, the bonfire represented the light of the earth and we had to dance around the fire to absorb all of the fiery energy of the fire. According to her this was surely to result in an increase in inner wisdom.

Part of this great wisdom we were about to receive, was to open up and reveal things about yourself, therefore opening yourself even further to greater wisdom.

“As you know I was a child of the 1960’s, the climatic time of drug use but I was one of the minority that never dabbled in any drugs whatsoever and since we are both grown women, I really want to try cannabis with you” my dear mother said.

I literally choked on the remaining martini I had and said” But mom I thought you were completely against any drug taking of any kind?

“This the autumn of my life and I want experience all avenues of life including the portal of the unknown” she uttered in the midst of sips of her martini

“ Well then lets do it then, tomorrow evening, old man Jim that sits at the pub can get us some” even while I was saying this I couldn’t believe I was actually going to having this strange experience with my mother.

My dear mummy had tried absolutely everything homeopathic known to man, so it still was hard to believe that she hadn’t tried one of the most common weed around.

 

I had many experiences with this mysterious plant, the times I had with it were mostly a blur of giggling and chewing gum. The association to me is still a mystery to me. I distinctly remember the first time I smoked it was when I was in Brazil, when I was only a babe of twenty years old. It was on one of those warm summer nights that make you feel alive but yet at the same time in unison with everyone you are with. I had gone to Brazil with a group of girlfriends for a holiday. We were hoping to put some excitement to our lives. We wanted to believe that there was more to life than what our lives were. Also we had the stories of the sexy and alluring men that inhabited Brazil.

We met a gorgeous group of men and they were our companions for the holiday of a lifetime.

So one night we all decided to head down to the beach for a few drinks and just to have a laugh. As one thing led to another, one of the guys suggested that we should smoke some pot to add a bit of spice to the evening. We all agreed that it was a fantastic idea. We smoked the marijuana and before I knew it, we were all in the ocean, bathing in the coolness of the seawater with our bare skin plunging into the exquisite water. We all also spoke with such intellect, but looking back on it, it was really only talk amongst friends that made no sense.

 

Of course darling mother had no idea that what I did in Brazil and also that while I was there, I had received a surprise proposal from a gorgeous Brazilian man. Unfortunately I had to refuse, he didn’t speak much English and I was only fluent in English. I will always maintain that he was the best kiss I ever had.

The reason I never told my mother this and I never will is that she feels that she needs to know everything about me, which is okay by me, but everyone person needs to hold a little back just to have some secrets to themselves, its what makes them yours. My matriarch was always claiming that she could handle anything that I needed to tell her. She was a practicing counsellor and in all fairness she had a really good track record for being supportive to me when others would run for the hills.

 

After that Brazilian interlude let me continue onto the experiences I had at the cottage.

I decided that if my mother really wanted to do this we had to do it properly. I stocked the cottage with tons of snacks in order to prevent munchies mania. I then popped into the local pub to chat to Jim about the acquiring the magic ingredient to the evening. I was absolutely terrified of the conversation that was about to commence. What on earth would he say?

 

 

 

 

 


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