Sunday, May 9, 2010

My Mama

She once worked as a gift-wrapper and included a note in one of the boxes: "Help me! I'm being held prisoner in a gift-wrapping factory!" Her boss was not happy.

She can make a face like a cat. And a lizard.

She does a wicked Cartman impression.

She writes poetry. About egg salad sandwiches.

She told me to relax and drink a beer when I was freaking out about my grades in college.

She can row a canoe and rig a fishing pole at the same time.

She takes seven minutes to tell a two minute story.

She's the Scrabble queen. A shit talker and a poor loser.

She feeds her grandKid ice cream and brownies at nine o'clock in the morning.

She is constant laughter and optimism. I don't call her enough, but when I do, she is genuine encouragement.

She is me in 30 years. I could do worse.

1 comment:

  1. I just finished reading all your latest blogs. I really liked the one about the lady with the ponytail who served as inspiration to help you get back in shape after being pg with Baby Girl. And the one about your Mom--well, I think your Mom is an incredibly lucky woman.