Skip to main content

The Dreaded Mumble

My father has always accused me and one of my sisters (to protect her identity, I won't say which one) of mumbling. I think that both of us used to respond to this criticism with a "Daa-aad! I don't mumble!" but over the course of time I have come to accept the fact that I really can be a mumbler. I am trying to overcome this deficit, not least because I get irritated when I'm asked to repeat myself. (Maybe I just don't like speaking out loud in general.)

At any rate, I seem to have passed the mumbler gene along to my oldest daughter. Lately she is mostly incomprehensible. Last night I asked her how school had been and the answer was: "We mumble mumble gym mumble marble mumble mumble and then mumble mumble celebrate mumble mumble mumble with a mumble party."

"Huh?" I said, and got an exasperated "Mommy!" in reply. At least that came out loud and clear.




Recently read:

The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue. This was an odd book, both in subject matter (changelines, faeries) and in writing style. I liked the story but something about the way the guy wrote bored me intensely.

Pretty Little Mistakes by Heather McElhatton. Remember the Choose Your Own Adventure books? How I loved them when I was ten! This is a Choose Your Own Adventure book for grownups and I was all prepared to love it as well. However, although the writing is great, I got a bit bored with it after only a few adventures. And it's incredibly long so in order to go through all the adventures you have to reread pieces of it, and remember which choices you've already made, and then go back to page 54 and choose the second choice instead and...I got kind of tired just thinking about the work it would take to actually read every page and I quit. I guess I'm officially not ten anymore. If the author ever writes a more traditional book I'm there, because she is very funny. (This line made me laugh out loud: "Why was life so hard? It struck you as an excellent question." Okay, not so funny out of context. I seem to have written an awful lot about this book which I didn't even finish.

Abundance, a novel of Marie Antoinette by Sena Jeter Naslund. Am now infessed (tm Rhett) with Marie Antoinette.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I reallt think that both you and your mumbling sister got the gene from your dad! He tends to mumble also, especially on the phone!

Mom
Anonymous said…
I really don't know what you both are talking about. I mumble mumble excellent mumble talking.

As in the words of Willy Wonka (aka Johnny Depp): Mumbler!!
aimee said…
Yes, my other mumbling sister realizes, finally, that she has a problem too because she always has to repeat herself to her children. She, too, is working on it. I think one or both of her kids are going to be mumblers as well. And yes, she realizes that she got it from Dad.
aimee said…
Do you think I tricked anyone? :)
H Noble said…
Not for a second Aimee! ;)
Holly

Popular posts from this blog

A Picture Post

A poster Chris drew for the annual Harvest Day Bake Sale, proceeds to benefit Mallory's preschool: A poster Chris drew for Mallory's class. What did Phoebe say when she saw it? "El-mo!" She's good at spotting that little red monster, even when he's not red. Our beautiful new chair! Which actually matches our beautiful new couch! Phoebe looking pretty. Mallory looking goofy. My girls.

The Golf Course

There was a miniature golf course in my grandparent’s house. There were, in fact, lots of cool-if-kitschy things in my grandparents’ house. There were swinging saloon doors between the kitchen and the master suite. There was a toilet seat made of transparent plastic, with ticket stubs from horse races embedded therein. There was a globe wine bar (pictured!). There was a mounted goat head (the goat was named Bucky) on whose antlers my granddad hung his golf caps. There was a stuffed pheasant whose chest feathers were smooth as silk. There was a kitchen bar of green marbled formica and swively kitchen chairs of red pleather. There was an automatic ice dispenser on the refrigerator, which was a rare and awe-inspiring thing in the 1970’s. There was a mirrored tray holding bejeweled perfume bottles with atomizers in the guest bathroom. There were two huge oil paintings – one of my aunt, with beautifully frosted hair, holding a Pug, one of my older sister as a toddler sitting on a John De...

Merry Christmas to Joey, too!

Scene: After the Christmas pageant. Me: You did great, Mallory, we're proud of you! Mallory: What was your favorite part? Me: Hmm. I liked the "Whatcha Gonna Call That Baby?" song. Chris: I liked that one too. Me: But I also liked "Joy to the World." Mallory: Joey in the world? What's that? Me: No, joy to the world, the song you just sang. Mallory: Oh yeah. Me: That's one of my favorite songs. Phoebe: A favorite song is a song that's your favorite and you like it and you sing. (Pause) Phoebe: And you dance. Mallory, before the show, in front of our haphazardly decorated Christmas tree. Phoebe declined to be photographed. All I was able to photograph of the event itself: Phoebe, objecting to the camera's flash: Now she closes her eyes before I snap every picture. Sigh. But she's cute anyway! And so is Mallory! And their dresses match! We're thinking Arby's: Okay, that's it! Recently read: The Golden Compass and The Subtle Knife . ...