Mulli of the MidWest

Exhausted.

I am completedly exhausted. Worn out.

At 8:47 am this morning Mom turned the ovens on. Soon the Mulligan Compound was filled with the cinnamony goodness of baking coffee cake. Shortly thereafter, the air inside of the Mulligan Compound was freshened by the permeating odor of baking cherry pie.

Must.

Have.

Pie.

I found myself relegated to the foyer and living room sections of the house. Oh, what a cruel, evil woman! And here, I thought that on this, the 19th anniversary of the death of Mom's Mother, that Mom and I could perhaps spend the day together, watching a movie, sharing a pie, or two or three, yet I was gated out from all family activity. Alienated. An outcast.

I focused instead on the stash of Boy Scout Patrol Food in the basement. Middle Lad is camping this weekend and it is his turn to purchase the food for the Mallard Patrol. The Mulligan Compound basement is brimming with hot dogs and ramen noodles and buns and I was determined that if I could not have Pie that I would get that Mallard Food.

No. Mom foiled my plot. One lonely cup of kibble was all the ration I had all day, to keep me going during my desperate watch of the gate in the faint hopes that somehow, someone would leave the gate unlatched.

I got close once. Dad left the gate unlatched and Mom caught me with my lips and tongue mere millimeters from a cherry pie. Are ALL women so cruel and evil or my Mom particularly so?