Posts Tagged stories
The last night at Camp, I tried to sleep, but I couldn't ignore my mother's sighing and heavy breathing from the next bed over. I would have never noticed the noise if Irina hasn't make such a fuss about it
the night before.
I tossed and turned for a while, counted sheep, and even tried to put a pillow over my head. Nothing worked.
"Anyu, are you okay? Why are you breathing and sighing so deeply?"
"Ehhh...my bra...it's too tight."
"What size are you?"
"36C."
"No way, mom, you're bigger than that. Even I'm a 38B."
"No vay you're a 38! You haf no boobs!"
"Gee, thanks. And '38' has nothing to do with boob-size. It's the circumference of my rib cage."
"Oh....really? Den vhat are dah letters for?"
"That's the cup size. For your boobs."
"Oooooh. Nobody ever told me dat. I just picked von up vhen I was 18 and I've been getting dah same size ever since."
"Didn't Nagymama ever teach you about that stuff?"
"You didn't talk about tings like dis vhen I vas young, Stephie. You veren't supposed to."
"Says who?"
"I dunno. You just veren't supposed to talk about anyting."
My mother eventually "unbuckled" herself, her heavy breathing hastened, and I...
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I handed Anyu some Mother's Day presents after I got her to settle down and
put on some pants. After dealing with
last year's drama, I decided to give my mother a GIANT bottle of Arbor Mist to help her relax during our weekend "vacation" at the LBI Bible Camp. Sure, it's totally against the Camp regulations to bring alcohol on the premises...but if the management tried to sleep next to my mother, they might pour themselves a glass, too.
"Oh, tank you, Stephie," she said, admiring the bottle, "Did you bring dah cups?"
"Yes, I have them," Irina chimed in. She pulled out several wine glasses from her bag. It was actually her idea to "drug" my mother with fruity wine.
Anyu made a face and sniffed them. "Are dese clean?"
Irina rolled her eyes, "Yeeees, Ildie, they're clean."
"Are you sure? You didn't just pull dem off the shelf from dah Dollar Store and put dem in your bag, did you? People probably touched them."
"NO, Ildie, I brought them from my kitchen cabinet."
Anyu thought for a moment, "Your kitchen cabinet is probably dusty. I'm gonna vash dem."
We both rolled our eyes as Anyu washed all of the...
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Awesome! Philly2Philly did a feature about "American Goulash" on their site! Thanks guys!Also, WOO HOO! This is my 100th post! Time for cake!
Get Your Goulash
By
Autumn Konopka at 1:40 pm on Wednesday May 27, 2009
Original Source
We’ve all got a crazy family story, the ones we pull out when a party gets dull to stir up a round of belly laughs. People might not even believe that Uncle John burned down the garage or wrenched an old lady from her burning station wagon, but they beg you to tell it over and over again.
Stephanie Yuhas has a blog’s worth of these stories. Since 2007, she’s been posting several stories a month on American Goulash (shinygrape.com/americangoulash), mostly about her Romanian mom (Anyu) and grandmom (Nagymama), their views of the world, and their unique style of child-rearing.
In a recent post called “Bath Time,” Yuhas explains that she had to sneak showers as an adolescent because Nagymama believed that excessive bathing led to: “Red Hair (which makes you look like a whore), All your hair falling out (well, at least it won’t be red anymore), and Kidney infections (resulting in death).” ...
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June 4th,2009
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News | tags:
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1 Comment
Last Saturday, I was waiting for midnight so I could be the first to call my mom and wish her a "Happy Birthday". I got up to use the bathroom for a minute, and by the time I came back, I had a new voice mail.
“Oh, my god, Stephie! Don't be dead! " I jerked the phone from my ear as I heard the screams of an irate Hungarian. "Your cousin said she hasn’t heard from you and she tried to call you two times. Oh, my god! Novon knows vere you are! Call me back if you're alive. Call me back!”
I called her immediately. “Vhat's da story, Stephie?! How can you do this to me?” she cried.
"What the heck are you talking about? I just talked to Irina a few days ago, and I just finished talking to her sister last night!"
"Bullsh*t. Irina said she tried to call you Thursday. I vanted to make plans for next veek, and den ve didn't hear from you, and she said she didn't know vere you vere and-"
"Anyu. I was hosting a film event all day Thursday. My phone...
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Listen to this story read outloud on WXPN.
"I am a prisoner in my own home!" my mother said, as she took a bite out of the questionable-looking broiled salmon at the Home Town Buffet.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Vell….It all started with a cat," she said.
"Uh-huh," I mumbled into my cup of tea, knowing that some horrible story was coming.
"So, I started feeding dah cat. It like to eat the Fancy Feast, like the commercial."
"You don't even LIKE animals! I asked if I could have a dog for Christmas, and you told me that if I ever got a dog, it would EAT MY FACE, mom!”
"Oh, no but this is just a cute little cat! He had the DIAMOND eyes!"
"So then why didn't you catch him, take it to the vet, get it some shots, and…keep it?"
"Vhat are you. CRAZY? It's probably full of DISEASE!"
"So, wait…over the last few years, whenever I ask about the random freaking cat food on all our windowsills, you told me that grandma buys it to keep out the robbers. I thought it was some…superstitious….thing.”
“Yeah, she...
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