First off, I have a fully functioning computer again. Not the laptop (pray for my baby, y’all), but Pookie has this old desktop up and running very well. He gave me back my Youtube, which I’d been jonesing for ever since Neil Diamond was the mentor on American Idol.
Y’all might recall that I have had a crush on Mr. Diamond for quite some time. I may even have referred to him as being ‘elderly hott’. I continue to feel that way. I continue to be mostly unashamed of that fact.
Saturday is my oldest’s birthday. Nate will be 21, which since he’s a soldier, means he will now be able to legally drink all the alcohol he was gonna drink anyway. Y’all feel free to give him a little shout-out,since he has no minutes on his go-phone, apparently, and I won’t be able to talk to him and there’s a chance that his birthday card won’t get there in time.
Also, Pookie’s birthday is on Monday. He will be 45, which is pretty much the perfect age for a man to be. Happy Birthday, Pookie! I won’t spoil the surprise, but your presents will be sex and meatloaf (not necessarily in that order) (but maybe).
On to Mother’s Day:
I thought I’d share a couple of my favorite memories of my mother, and I thought if anyone else felt like it, they could share their memories. Of their mother. Share their memories of their mother. Not my mother. Unless it’s one of my brothers, in which case their mother is my mother.
Ok, this first one I might have already told y’all, but I’m gonna tell it again. My mother and I were in her room. She was sitting on the bed and I was lying across the end of it. The radio was on and she was reading a book while I half listened to the radio and half daydreamed.
Randy Newman’s Short People Ain’t Got No Reason To Live (click link for video) came on and after a few seconds I started giggling. I was about 10 at the time and was a little taller than my mother. I had gotten great entertainment out of being taller than her and this song always tickled me.
So I’m giggling and it’s getting harder to pretend I’m not. Soon enough I was laughing my smart little ass off and my mother, who had been trying to maintain her dignity, gave up and kicked me off the bed. Literally. With her foot. Off the bed.
Apparently short people have freakishly strong legs and feet.
Anyway, the reason it’s one of my favorites is the look on my mother’s face when she booted me and I hit the floor. Half shocked, half pleased. Then she started laughing too.
I ended up reaching a height of 5’10”, to her 5’3” and I made sure I was always out of kicking distance when that song came on, because there was no way I’d be able to keep from laughing.
My other favorite memory of my mother is a little strange because she was FURIOUS with me at the time and would gladly have kicked me again, only this time with steel toe boots, if she’d been able to catch me.
This story takes place when all my mother’s children were grown folks, for the record.
Me and two of my brothers had managed to piss her off very, very badly. I don’t remember how, but the reason isn’t important. My mother was…fiery, I guess you could say. It didn’t take much to piss her off. It also didn’t take much to make her cry. So more passionate than fiery, I suppose.
Anyway, she was angry and we, like Matt Lauer, were being very flippant about it. We thought the tiny screaming woman was hilarious, frankly. She finally picked up the candelabra off the piano (really.) and took to chasing us around the house with it.
So she chased and we ran. We had to stop and catch our breath several times as it is really exhausting to run and laugh harder than you’ve ever laughed in your life at the same time. Of course, stopping to catch our breath allowed her to catch up with us, so she’d be right up on us, we’d be giggling and panting, we’d spot her and scream and take off again.
It was awesome.
And eventually, the humor of it all filtered into her rage filled brain and she finally stopped trying to kill us all dead.
The moral of these stories is that if you could get my mother laughing, it was all gonna be just fine.
This was a strategy we employed quite a bit as children, by the way. We managed to talk her out of many asswhippings using this method. Thank God she was an easy laugher and not real inclined to beat her children. As a result, I personally, got 85% less asswhippings than I deserved.
So, what’s your favorite memory of your Mom?