Okay ... so I call my mom yesterday morning. I say, "You should read today's post."
She says, "Why?"
I say, "Cuz it's about you." ("And that way, you can be on your guard - be prepared to defend yourself," I'm really thinking).
She kind of gets excited and says, "Well (in her "it's about time" tone)". And then, because she's now thinking real hard, she says, "What? But ... I don't get the paper." (And in my mind I imagine she has already gone towards the front door to retrieve the Post - when this epiphany hits her).
*Note: It wouldn't matter (duh) if she did get the paper, cuz ... as you all well know ... this was not the sort of post I was speaking of. Not to mention that our local paper doesn't go by the name Post (that's in Washington DC) - we live in Texas - ours goes by the name, The Express News.
This is where I just either stay quiet for a moment - long enough time for her brain to catch up to our actual conversation, or sometimes I just blurt out the obvious problem. This time I just stayed quiet (so as to preserve her pride a while longer).
Then she says, "Ohhhhh, (*mom giggle - drawn out a bit - implies what a ninny she thinks she is*) I thought ..." and I cut her off before she actually has to tell me what she thought (cuz ... I already realized what she thought ... waaaaay back at the uppity "Well.").
I say, "Are you with me now?" and she just laughs, "Ho, Ho, Ho."
Then I say, "Now I have to write about you again tomorrow."
This telephone conversation, that I intended to last - oh say ... 15 seconds - went on waaaay longer (visuals and all) than I ever intended. This happens often.
Sometimes my mother is adamant that it is me ... not making myself clear or talking in a low tone that she can no longer hear (cuz she's got that hearing like dogs do - she now hears in decimals or something). Sometimes, she's right. Sometimes I just ramble the information out there - and hope she gets it. Like I'm throwing a football at her - sometimes she catches the thing and sometimes she is fumbling all over the place ... arms just-a-flappin'-in-the-wind.
This was one of those arm-flappin' moments.
On the upside ... maybe one day I'll become a real writer ... write a real article about how much I love her, how smart she is, what a wonderful mother she is ... and have it published in The (Washington) Post ... for all her friends to read. For now ... she'll have to settle for a little humiliation on the world wide web! Sorry Mom (you could always get a blog of your own and write crap about me).