One thing that always amuses me is something WordPress does (that’s the blog software). When you upload a photo there’s a space where you put an alternate description of the photo, and it says “i.e. the Mona Lisa.” Every day I have the option of calling my photo the Mona Lisa. Chortle.
So we’re back on family. I can talk about my beautiful boy fairly freely, because he doesn’t like the internet and neither do most of his friends. I still try to avoid his name to protect his privacy, but I’m relatively comfortable venting my pain, worry and frustration.
I have to be a little more careful when it comes to my mother. Granted, she’s almost 98, but she still goes on the internet daily (though she maybe be lying … er …mistaken about about that). She has younger friends who are writers, though, who might occasionally check me out on-line to see what I’m doing. The good thing, though, is they adore her and would never want to hurt her, so no one would let an old lady know her daughter was complaining. Still, I’ve changed my mind about stuff I’ve written about her, just in case.
So something interesting (to me) has happened this week. Because I knew I was going to be blogging this site–must support Sister Krissie–I started looking at things as Post Topics. I do this all the time on Argh, but I try to keep this kind of personal stuff away from there since it turns into a whine. No whining on Argh. Well, not any more. So instead of looking at my bathroom full of stuff and thinking, “I have to do something about this some day” and repressing memories of my mother saying, “Jennifer, you have to pay attention to your appearnce,” I looked at it and thought, “Re-Fab posts” and sorted out all the drawers and boxes, threw out anything that was too old or that I knew I didn’t like, and stacked what was left around the bathroom sink. Continue reading
Ah, my darling daughter. We’re about to drive her to the airport, where I plan to slow down long enough to open the door and toss her out, making a quick getaway.
Why is it daughters think it’s their role in life to deflate their mother’s pretensions?
We were on our way to see the new Muppet movie, since we spent so many years of my 27 year old daughter’s life watching the Muppets on tv. We were on our way in when Kate announces, “you know, Mom is just like Miss Piggy.” (No argument there). “She’s rotund ….” And then, after a good five minutes of shrieking from me in the back seat (and why was I sitting in the back seat, I wonder) she patiently adds “and overdramatic. Point in case.”
Ah, the little darling. Continue reading
I’ve been having really disconcerting dreams that I couldn’t remember. I knew they were disconcerting because I woke up disoriented, distressed. Then last night, I finally broke through. I’ve been time-traveling. Every night for the past month or so, I’ve been dreaming that I’ve been going back in time and changing something I’ve regretted and then playing out the new future that would have resulted from that. I only have pieces of some of them, but in the end, I always end up back here, not just because I wake up but also in the dream. Because I was always going to be here. Continue reading