The transition is official as of January 1st however I imagine my dad will be spending a bit of time helping the new owners adjust. Its in his nature.
He imagines that when I get home from Oregon we will be eating ice cream three times a day and opening the store at 2AM to make all kinds of privileged messes. He is even suggesting that on Christmas day we invite all of our friends and family to raid the store and eat as much ice cream as possible. If you're interested/within a reasonable radius I suggest you contact me for details.
I feel like my identity is being sold here. I mean honestly, I don't have clear memories of middle school beyond my first punk mix tape and repeatedly being asked,
"So, can I like... have free ice cream?"
And yeah, that was me in the cow costume for the good part of 2000- 2005.
What about all of the people along the way? All of those friends our family has made...
The "Moo Crew" as we called it. Laurie, Henry, Brooke, Sam, Tank, Eric, Steph, Michele, Carolyn, ohh remember Jeff!, Courtney, Ashley, Pablo!!! PABLO!
Remember when we first hired Pablo and we didn't let him serve customers for two weeks? We sent him to make hundreds of dipped cones in the back of the store and told him it was because he was Mexican.
(This event, against your judgement, was not racist. His hiring happened to coincide with an unusually large order for dipped cones, a first in MooHistory. )
No more cow- spotted pink and turquoise aprons or bandannas! No more large catering orders to juice up your forearms! No more bumming in the back and eating the "mistakes" whilst periodically slapping the CD player in order to turn it back on. No more nasty jokes about Creamy Coc(o)nut. (or the endless possible sexual innuendos related to milk and cream)
No more strange concoctions...like the infamous cement shake...
6 oz. chocolate 6 oz. cotton candy 8 oz. moo milk.
No more referring to milk as moo milk!
Who were the Abdullas before Maggie Moo's?
This feels epic! I wish it were like the ending of Empire Records where we all hustle to save the store from being taken over by the MAN and he host a DAMN THE MAN party and then whenever the preparation sequence starts, that will be the queue for that one 90s hit song that sounds " Nothing left to sing about this time/It's over now
/The word is out/It hit the polls/Claimed a place among the rest
/Of today's new things and/Last night's shows/The have-you-heards and/The did-you-knows/But I've got my place/Will you be still/And try to keep from buying"
Etc.
What a worthless homage I have done. There were times when I hated that store. There were those times when I just wanted to be a normal teenager along the lines of not having to scoop ice cream next to your dad after school while all your friends were getting high.
Well.
Wuuhhlll.
Here's to winning my heart over in the end. Cheers to you, Maggie. SALUD!
In other news I had the time of my life last night. I got pretty far with my mom's bread napkin. When I was midway done with the lettering people would stop and read "Mu Bread" and ask, "Muhh bread? Like, MY bread? Huh. Funny" But then I would say no, Mom's Bread. And then when I was done with the "O" the new question was "Mo Bread. HAHA! Like gimme mo' bread! Funny." But then I would say no, Mom's Bread.
But craft night was actually part Craft Night and part Dance Church which is only supposed to happen on Sunday mornings at 10 AM but Emily properly used the event as a demonstration, "See guys! This is what Dance Church is like!"
They were all convinced much like I am when I hear the African music and "wweeeee!" resonating through my walls. Mark your calendars. Dance Church: Sunday 10 AM 5335 NE Mallory Ave.
But there was also soup , of course, and poster-making for the Bizarre Bazaar this Saturday, along with some vagina- naming. Huh! What!
We went around the room and named each other's ____. Some people already had names for theirs.
Mine: Lolita, depending on circumstances maybe Dolores or Lola. (and yes, its a loaded name for such things, I know.)
Emily: Beony
Wes: Foggy (or Sebastian)
John: The Duchess
Carson: Syrah or, Sir Raw
Leila: Lily
Kenya: Bobbi
Seth: Tomatillo
I just realized we didn't give one for Bello. I'll bring that to attention next Thursday. Oh! I won't be in Portland next Thursday! =(
I will however be doing some much needed volunteer work with the family. They seemed to have packed my schedule jam. Err. Jam- packed it.
Everybodys dyin'. Its the recession.
My course list.
I hope to hear from all of you soon. Happy windiest/iciest holidays!
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