Originally published Saturday, June 7, 2008
My mother taught me to knit. She died on June 1st. Her passing was very peaceful, and it is a relief to know that her suffering has ended. But no matter the circumstances, it is still very difficult to lose a parent.
My mother had a very wide circle of devoted friends, and many of them brought food to my sister’s house, as is traditional in small towns. One of my mother’s dearest long-time friends brought a Bundt cake. My sister asked her husband if he wanted a piece of Bundt cake, and he thought she said butt cake. Butt cake? No, Bundt cake.
If you knew my family, you would not be at all surprised that “butt cake” became a running joke. Have a piece of butt cake; it’s assalicious!
I wish I could tell my mother our little joke. She would have laughed her ass off.
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All Kinds Of Knitting 