I have turned into my mother. How fitting, on Mother's Day.
Actually, I turned into her last night, and informed her of my transformation this morning. She is quite proud. She of depression-era parents, raised by a lead miner who shopped at the company store, who became distraught when one of my mom's three brothers threw her shoe out the window of the moving car as a prank. Oh, how they searched the roadside for that shoe. But it was not to be found. So my mom had just one shoe until her daddy could afford another pair.
Maybe that explains my mom's...um...how you say...thriftiness. Perhaps it's the reason she washes styrofoam cups and plastic knives and forks, sometimes rinses out zip-lock bags, and puts half her entree on a roll and wraps it in a napkin and stuffs it in her purse. Or maybe she's a latent hoarder. But last night, I did her proud.
After the weekly sortie to The Devil's Playground, I stopped at Sonic to feed my Diet Coke with Lime addiction. It being Sonic Happy Hour, I also sprung for a Sprite for The Pony, who additionally requested two corn dogs. I can't say 'no' to The Pony. He wanted some ketchup, which they never throw in the bag with corn dogs, because let's face it: normal people eat mustard on their corn dogs. The Sonic dude gave me a heapin' handful of ketchup packets on request, and The Pony dumped the unused ones in the sack.
Throwing away The Pony's leavings after putting up the groceries, I could not bring myself to toss the plethora of ketchup packets. Never mind that I have two plastic cups full o' ketchup in my minifridge at school, thanks to my mom's generosity, and a stuffed zip-lock bag of them in the door of Frig which need to be trashcanized.
So I did what any good daughter of a daughter of depression-era parents would do, and got out my bottle of Save-A-Lot ketchup. I took off the lid, ripped open a dozen foil ketchup packets printed with the Sonic logo, and squeezed that free ketchup down into the bottle. It raised the level of ketchupy goodness about an inch. That's half a serving for The Pony.
Never let it be said that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom can't pinch a penny with the best of them.