My mom can't come to the blog right now. She has thrown herself dramatically across the fainting couch while mumbling something about me no longer being her "Baby Dearest". I have no idea, really, what the heck this means, but I suspect that it has something to do with my Valentine's Day.
My girlfriend, Miss Carmen, always sends me a fabulous package full of wonderful things to remind me that she is my one true puppy love. This year was no exception, and as you can see from the photo above, I was spoiled with all kinds of lovely goodness. Isn't she swell?
Anywhoose, my stupid mo-ther has been moping about the house these last two days with a puss on, and I think it has to do with the fact the she hasn't had a Valentine since circa 1972. This would have been during her Athens, Tennessee years and I believe that Alan Carpenter was her kindergarten boyfriend. (I don't know this to be certain, but I gleaned as much when I read her journal from that year...something about him giving her a kiss in the lunch room and Mo-ther socking him on the arm in return.) (And she wonders why she's single?)
Then, just when I thought that the old lady would just give it a rest already, she whipped out the photograph of her high school boyfriend, and started to make kissy noises at it while wondering what color they would coordinate for the Prom.
She's nuts, I tell ya. Just nuts.
Valentine's Day doesn't normally send my mom into a tailspin, but based on the size of the salad that she hauled home from the Martin's last night, I'm guessing that this one was rougher than usual for her. I tried to give her love and affection, along with some sage dating advice, but all she wanted to do was sit in the Happy Chair and watch bad TeeVee. So I have to ask...what was I to do?
On the stitchy front, Mom did start Mr. Tony's Stars project, but she seems somehow confused by the color selection that had Aunt Ruth pull for her. She got a corner done and threw the canvas down while muttering something about it looking like appliances from the 1970's. (What the hell did she expect? You can't put Harvest Gold and Avocado Green and Chocolate Brown together and not reach for the macrame plant hanger.) She'll fix it though, since I heard her muttering to herself as she stepped into the bath that today would be the day that she would finally get her stitchy act together.
I've got a crazy little squirrel that keeps coming up to the back patio window to taunt me, so I suppose I better get out there and teach the little bugger who's in charge around here. I figure I'll lure him to me with the promise of some peanut butter toast and then we'll have "a talk".
With love from your pal,