I get it from my mama

No, I'm not referring to the killer curves I inherited from Mama Belle or her unyielding adoration for copious amounts of accessories. The old adage, "remove one accessory before you leave the house" did NOT exist in the KB household. Not by a long shot.

The title of this post is in reference to little mom-isms that I have caught myself doing:

1. Expressing disdain.

"Beg your pardon?" "Excuse me?" Please note the preceding expressions must always accompany a slightly tilted head to the right, raised right eyebrow, and left hand on left hip. Also the "a" in pardon and "u" in excuse are usually lengthened for emphasis. "Excuuse me?" That's all it takes for someone to know I mean business.

2. Accepting/tolerating dramatic friends.

I don't know if I'm getting more patient as I mature or what, but I have noticed that I am the go-to friend for my gals that are constantly in a state of catastrophe (real or made up) either personal, professional, metaphysical, etc. One dramatic diva friend of mine told me recently that she needed me, specifically, to vent to because I'm the friend that listens and doesn't tell her what to do. In all honesty, I listen because I find her drama often times entertaining, and it makes me feel good about my relatively drama-free existence. The reason why I don't tell her what to do is because I know she wouldn't listen anyway, so why waste my breath? And if it makes her feel better to drone on and on about some silly boy or lame co-worker, yap away. I'm all ears.

My mother has an amazing ability to accept the most trifling of friends. I'll describe two in particular which I still cannot believe she has remained dear friends with over the years.

The first is a friend she has known for over 30 years. Over that time, said friend has on average been approximately 3-5 hours late for anything and everything. When I was around 14, my mom was almost late for a flight because this friend was two hours late picking her up to go to the airport. I asked my mom how she could still be friends with this person? She said, "Ya know what Kel, years ago I had to decide if I could look past this person's faults and accept them, flaws and all. I decided our friendship was worth it, so I deal with her flaws and don't let them get to me." Usually, my mom just tells said friend to arrive 4 hours before the actual start/pick up time, and that usually works.

The other friend is basically a meaner, bougie, black version of "Ma" on the Golden Girls. She talks smack about everyone and anyone and knows everything about anything. She's loud, and just sooo extra. How extra? This b will rock her floor length white fur coat to church in April. ps: It's usually around 70-75 degrees in April in LA. But my mom somewhow tolerates the extra and her mouth and accepts her for who she is. Which is a mean witch in my opinion. I usually brush off her meddling ("I just don't understand why you are still single."), and when she starts bragging about her kids or fluffing up her resume I just feign excitement and pretend I'm impressed. What else does she have to do? She's a widow living in a retirement community. So brag away Sophia.

3. Being prepared to the nth degree.

When I travel, even for two days, I will bring no less than 14 possible outfits, a few frocks that I think maybe a friend would like to borrow, every hair and makeup tool you can think of, a few extra tracks just in case, and every toiletry you can think of. I'm also the one who, when we're out at a club, restaurant, etc. am the go-to gal for anything: a safety pin, nail file, lotion, band-aid, anti-bacterial hand sanitizer, lip gloss, bonding glue, you get it.

My mother arrived last night to spend thanksgiving with me this week. What did she pack? Chile, she opened up her suitcase and I was literally staring at the pantry in our house in LA. Who packs Thyme? Or chicken bouillon? Or a can of cream of mushroom soup? Or (and this one takes the cake) reynolds wrap?! My mom. I asked her what she was thinking, as I had about half of the supplies she packed. She said, "Well, I know you don't cook often so I thought I'd bring some supplies just in case." Gotta love her.

Meanwhile, I read yesterday that a tavern in Manhattan is serving an alcoholic turkey on Thanksgiving. The bird will be infused with 100-proof fruit flavored vodka (peach, rasberry, cherry, and apple) for three days prior to roasting. The gravy will also be laced with liquor.

Sorry moms, I'm going to NYC on Thursday.

Happy Turkey Day everyone!

-KelleBelle