True Courage

That's the look, anyway, the taxi driver who picked us up from the Christ Statue gave me when he realized that the two women in the back seat, chatting away furiously in English, were my mother and mother-in-law. Together. With us. For two weeks.

He found us very amusing, particularly as I spoke Portuguese and was unwilling to be bullied into not using the taximetro. (Darn tourist spots and their scams!) Labeled me an "Amerioca" which would be American+Carioca and a pretty decent compliment.

But we didn't feel particularly courageous in inviting both our mothers to come for a week of work and fun in the sun. (The sun barely came out, to our dismay, but much work was accomplished!) It just seemed like the sensible thing to do, seeing as we'd apparently been raised by the same person, albeit in two separate countries and with a few years between us.

Mom P and Mom S got along as if they had been separated at birth. It was giggling and frenzy from morning to the wee hours of the night. Paint was lavished on more walls than truly deserved it, there was patching up and painting happening like mad, and at one point, we walked in to find someone wielding a sausage poker for the grill that had been heated in the gas stove to plastic-melting temperatures. They played with fire, dear readers, FIRE!*

They also did the dishes, made food, and were reprimanded on several occasions by shopkeepers and security guards for their energetic picture taking. Apparently, people don't like you snapping pics in the grocery store or by shop windows!

All in all, it was a fun, low-stress visit and it was such a blast having them here. Now that the house is quiet, I can resume my normal schedule and start blogging again. Maybe even from the comfort of my sparkling new writing room...

*It was all to fix a broken chair, and their door hinge+bolts solution worked splendidly once they'd heat-drilled holes for the screws. Inventive, these women.