Tuesday, June 28, 2011


My mom is the second youngest of seven kids (Irish Catholic). She tells a lot of funny stories about growing up and it seems she has a silly name or story about nearly everything. We have a name for the space between two couch cushions (or between a bed and a wall or headboard), the paplukie hole (also see kerplukie hole as my cousins pronounce it); I have the privilege of knowing what a 'watch bird' is; and I know never to 'Jean the bowl' when baking. But most of all, I have a name for the tall glass of cold water that you crave the morning after staying up a bit too late and possibly drinking a bit too much.

That's right, it's a 'windmill'.

Apparently when you are the second youngest in a family of seven, it means that you are the willing slave to the eldest. So my mom's oldest brother, who was in high school at the time, would ask his elementary school aged sister to bring him a windmill on weekend mornings. Just for reference, my mom also calls a glass of ice water CIWITW - coldest ice water in the world.

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