Sunday, September 06, 2009
Conversations
Although I talk to my mother fairly frequently, she has a habit of saving up everything she wants to tell me until I walk through the door for a weekend visit. Then it all comes pouring out in one long stream of consciousness narrative, over the first day and a half or so that I am there. And so, for instance, during dinner the first day:
"I saved an article for you about that one case your firm worked on. Did you see that? I know you didn't work on it, but I thought you might want to see it. And I was talking to Jessica Cantwell's mother the other day and she said you should give Jessica a call when you're in town. Did you know Jessica had another baby? And apparently that Kellner boy got married the other weekend. You know, the one with the pee problem? By the way, I have a Bed Bath & Beyond coupon if you need one."
And then while I was checking my e-mail later that night:
"Did you see that forward I sent you from Janice in my office? I know you don't like me to send those forwards, but I thought that was a pretty good one. What would you think about getting one of those take n bake pizzas from Papa Murphy's tomorrow night? You kids always seem to like them. I'm worried about this health care mess. Did I tell you your grandmother got into a fight with her mailman?"
Then the next morning, as I was doing situps:
"Do you maybe want to go to the Shoe Carnival while you're here? There's a big Labor Day weekend sale. Your sister said she thinks that one singer is creepy. Do you know who I'm talking about? Your father and I were thinking about getting an ice cream maker. The dog did the cutest thing two weeks ago, did I tell you?"
The saddest part is, by the time she gets back to a normal conversational tempo, it's usually time for me to leave.
Although I talk to my mother fairly frequently, she has a habit of saving up everything she wants to tell me until I walk through the door for a weekend visit. Then it all comes pouring out in one long stream of consciousness narrative, over the first day and a half or so that I am there. And so, for instance, during dinner the first day:
"I saved an article for you about that one case your firm worked on. Did you see that? I know you didn't work on it, but I thought you might want to see it. And I was talking to Jessica Cantwell's mother the other day and she said you should give Jessica a call when you're in town. Did you know Jessica had another baby? And apparently that Kellner boy got married the other weekend. You know, the one with the pee problem? By the way, I have a Bed Bath & Beyond coupon if you need one."
And then while I was checking my e-mail later that night:
"Did you see that forward I sent you from Janice in my office? I know you don't like me to send those forwards, but I thought that was a pretty good one. What would you think about getting one of those take n bake pizzas from Papa Murphy's tomorrow night? You kids always seem to like them. I'm worried about this health care mess. Did I tell you your grandmother got into a fight with her mailman?"
Then the next morning, as I was doing situps:
"Do you maybe want to go to the Shoe Carnival while you're here? There's a big Labor Day weekend sale. Your sister said she thinks that one singer is creepy. Do you know who I'm talking about? Your father and I were thinking about getting an ice cream maker. The dog did the cutest thing two weeks ago, did I tell you?"
The saddest part is, by the time she gets back to a normal conversational tempo, it's usually time for me to leave.
