By Renee Andrews
National Readers selection Award Winner
Cake Icing, Butt Budder and Tea Lids has been defined as candy domestic Alabama, the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, sensible Magic and metal Magnolias all rolled into one. "In the South, if a girl is not married by means of age twenty-five, it is time for an intervention." this can be the root in the back of Delilah and Edna Thibodeaux's dogged decision to ensure their liked Jezze does not turn out an outdated spinster, like her mom and aunt. yet what occurs while the eccentric antics of the younger girl's loopy Cajun aunt and mom positioned her look for Mr. correct on a 25-year time limit to capability catastrophe? And why may still she need to end up that they're the specialists in marriage intervention, besides? simply because she loves them? Yeah, most likely. simply because they truly do not suggest any damage? That too. but if they make a decision her Mr. correct is T-Roy Bertrand, the butt budder salesman, does she quite need to agree? And if she's made up her brain, why does her middle refuse to hear?
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Extra resources for Cake Icing, Butt Budder and Tea Lids
Mama was mad because Aunt Edna wouldn’t agree to hire help. And Mama knew that Aunt Edna didn’t like her hanging out half naked in the kitchen. So Mama (and me) went half naked in the kitchen for the holidays, starting the year I turned ten. Basically, that was it. From that year on, I associated holidays with three things, instead of two. One, lots of money. Two, lots of work. And three, cold mosquito bites on my chest. Of course, somewhere up north, where it actually snowed, folks wouldn’t equate a Louisiana December to cold.
Yep, I’m buckled,” I said, thrilled that I hadn’t forgotten. Aunt Edna was in one of her “moods,” as Mama said. ” Aunt Edna quipped, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth to let me know how disappointed she was. “Oh, lighten up, Edna,” Mama said from the passenger’s seat. “She’ll go sailing right through this windshield if we crash,” Aunt Edna declared. “Is that what you want, Delilah? Why, Mama’d—” “Yeah, yeah,” Mama said, “I know. ” Mama twisted in her seat and looked at me. “Tighten your belt, sweetie.
She shrugged. “By the time I started first grade, I weighed more than most of the fifth graders, but I was only half as tall. ” She shrugged again, and I expected her to say her regular “No big deal,” but she didn’t. ” I asked. “I stopped eating the stuff at the Cakery. I got skinny. And I got tough. Nothing they said ever bothered me again. Nope, it didn’t,” she said, shaking her head with every word, as if she were trying to convince herself instead of me. ” “Nothing really happened to me, dear,” she said.