I got an e-mail from my mother.
"I have read some of your articles today and I am so proud of you. They are very interesting and loving. I love you, Mom"
When she was here before Thanksgiving break and helping out with our school's Grandparents' Luncheon, my friends all told her that she really needed to read my "other blog". My "other blog" is rated PG and is highly sanitized, so I didn't think it would be a problem.
But yesterday I got a phone call.
"You smart alec, you!" was my mom's greeting.
Yes, she actually says things like "smart alec" instead of "smart ass". Clearly I was switched at birth.
"Um, what are you talking about?" I asked.
"I just spent a few hours reading back on your newspaper web thing." Then her speech started to rush together. "You know, when you hung that quilt in the dining room I thought it was because you really liked it. I didn't think it should be hung up. I didn't even make it, you know. A customer did. The only quilt that means anything to me is the one in the hallway."
She said all of this in one continuous breath. And she had more to say.
"You son of a gun! I had to laugh when I read about how you hate the quilts and you know you don't have to have them out for me. The only one that means anything to me is the one in the hallway. You son of a gun."
"Mom!" I had to yell to interrupt her. "You need to take it all with a grain of salt."
She had read a story on my "other blog" about how my kids had managed to tear a quilt hanger down off the wall and if I just left them to it, I could eventually and finally be free of my quilt decor.
Of course what I was thinking was that now I could take down all the quilts in my house (except the one in the hallway) without having to confront my mother about it.
It was a little awkward because my mother went on and on about how wonderful, funny and touching my writing is and how proud she is of me. It's pretty rare for us to have those kind of exchanges. I wasn't really sure what to say except for my muttered, "Thanks."
Now I can't help but think of every little thing I've written there and how my overly sensitive mother (my daughter had to get it from somewhere) would perceive it.
All I can say is that I'm glad she's not mucking around here. Oh sure, in the last few months I've been tame and boring, but there are some doozies in the archives.
Maybe it's time I started writing some non-mom-appropriate stuff here again.
Oh, and my mother's one other comment about the "other blog"?
"You use a lot of big words, you know. I'm gonna have to look some of them up."
Yup, me and my mom. We're two peas in a pod.
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