A little softshoe?
Alright, I hope I don't go to hell (any longer than I already am) for this, but I'm gonna include my dear sweet mother in the discussion here tonight. I know, I know, this is no place to bring a lady, but I never said I had any compunction whatsoever about trottin' my "interesting" family out for y'all's amusement.
As I've probably written before, Mom is the nicest lady you'll ever meet. She's a gracious Southern city gal, transplanted to the iceberg on a witch's tit that is Michigan. Mom is an excellent classical pianist, can help with Latin or Pure Castillian Spanish homework, and she bought me many, many grape Pop-Tarts when I gave up cigarettes in '88. I love her with all my heart, and that said, let's get to the good part.
Mom marches to the beat of her own drummer. She dresses how she wants, and fashion bitches can just kiss her refined ass (of course, she'd never say it like that). She thinks how she wants, and especially since Dad passed away, she's become more politically vocal. Mom writes a lot of letters to the editor (on her typewriter - she was a secretary back in the day, and has passed along to me an utter fascination with office supplies and non-bathroom paper products). She's one pissed-off liberal, and she tells it like she sees it in much nicer language than her baby uses.
Mom also acts how she wants. I'd like to share one particular incident that stands out in my mind. A few years ago, Jim and I were visiting my brother's house, and most of the family had also come over. We were all sittin' around in chairs, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Mom was kind of starin' off into space and her feet were sort of...dancing? I watched her for a long time, tryin' to figure out what she was up to so I wouldn't have to ask. Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I leaned over to her.
"Mom, what are you doin'?"
She came out of her reverie and looked at me, replying, with no hint of shame at bein' busted, "I'm tapdancing to a song in my mind."
Well, that left me, for once, with not a thing to say in response. But Jim, my Jim, did I mention he's so sweet? He came over and sat next to her, and she explained she could think of part of the song, but not what song it was. So they sat there together, shufflin' their feet and piecin' together what turned out to be Tea for Two. It was totally surreal, and pretty cute, too. But that should get y'all started on the road to knowing, if one can ever truly know , my Mom.
Wow, with her actin' like that, it's a miracle we all turned out so normal and wholesome.
As I've probably written before, Mom is the nicest lady you'll ever meet. She's a gracious Southern city gal, transplanted to the iceberg on a witch's tit that is Michigan. Mom is an excellent classical pianist, can help with Latin or Pure Castillian Spanish homework, and she bought me many, many grape Pop-Tarts when I gave up cigarettes in '88. I love her with all my heart, and that said, let's get to the good part.
Mom marches to the beat of her own drummer. She dresses how she wants, and fashion bitches can just kiss her refined ass (of course, she'd never say it like that). She thinks how she wants, and especially since Dad passed away, she's become more politically vocal. Mom writes a lot of letters to the editor (on her typewriter - she was a secretary back in the day, and has passed along to me an utter fascination with office supplies and non-bathroom paper products). She's one pissed-off liberal, and she tells it like she sees it in much nicer language than her baby uses.
Mom also acts how she wants. I'd like to share one particular incident that stands out in my mind. A few years ago, Jim and I were visiting my brother's house, and most of the family had also come over. We were all sittin' around in chairs, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Mom was kind of starin' off into space and her feet were sort of...dancing? I watched her for a long time, tryin' to figure out what she was up to so I wouldn't have to ask. Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I leaned over to her.
"Mom, what are you doin'?"
She came out of her reverie and looked at me, replying, with no hint of shame at bein' busted, "I'm tapdancing to a song in my mind."
Well, that left me, for once, with not a thing to say in response. But Jim, my Jim, did I mention he's so sweet? He came over and sat next to her, and she explained she could think of part of the song, but not what song it was. So they sat there together, shufflin' their feet and piecin' together what turned out to be Tea for Two. It was totally surreal, and pretty cute, too. But that should get y'all started on the road to knowing, if one can ever truly know , my Mom.
Wow, with her actin' like that, it's a miracle we all turned out so normal and wholesome.
Katy Barzedor proclaimed this to be so at 8:05 PM
15 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
"I'm tap-dancing to a song in my mind". Lord Jaysus ... if that's not a book title, it totally ought to be.
God give us all the grace to find our own personal music - and the courage to dance to it wherever we are.
Acorns and trees, darlin ... acorns and trees.
... and, as we all know (and has just been illustrated) ... acorns are nuts.
Bless you, my child.
I am the only one who ever says this (in blogworld at least), and I have heard it vehemently denied by you and at least one of your sibs, but I'm going to say it again, with this post as evidence: you're sweet. And your mom and your husband ROCK. And TAP.
And Tardist, I'm doing the Lambada to Amazing Grace. In my mind.
I got back over to the house before I realized what I'd seen here. I got Rosie to comment. And then you have to get the freakin' Pope. Well, my magic bubble lasted about a minute and a half. I am so not THE SHIT anymore. Here's THE SHIT crown. Wear it in good health.
What's the pope doing in here? I can just see Mom doing that with no qualms. She's always been a kid at heart. And I'm sure Tardist is right. He and I are the, um, normal ones. Tap, tap, tap. That's my keyboard, not my feet.
she's one pissed off liberal AND tap dances in her mind! I love her already!
That rocks. My mom just has conversations with people who arent real.
For me personally, I feel like its 74 degrees in my head all the time.
AND WHAT IS THIS? A Papal Poser? A Pope Nope?
Did he serve the papal weenies? I think not! Did he get his Popemobile painted purple? No. And who here has taken on both Bush and Martha? Hmmmm??
Its gonna be a throw down in here, the Papal robes are coming off...
I do this all the time.
Seriously.
My feet are always tapping to some mysterious beat that only I can hear.
Your mom sounds pretty cool.
First...Susie, are you givin' me THE SHIT crown to attract Booty Flies?
Onward: Yes, my normal siblings, just wait until I start to snap pictures. You just wait.
Mr. Benedict in a Beanie: Thanks for stoppin' by, and your blessing is welcome. However, understand that I do not recognize you as the True Pope, as I was a member of the stateside conclave that elected Pope Pius the Kitty over a week before your whole white-smoke charade. You are of course welcome to drop by anytime, but you should know that the "Pope Parking Only" spot will generally be taken by the Purple Popemobile, and not that pussy white thing you drive around in. No offense.
And, while I dispute rumors of my own sweetness (I'm more of a kung pao flavor), y'all are right about one thing: My Mom is the coolest. And she's also a riot to pick on. And put cigarettes in her bouffant.
Your mom sounds great. Like she totally coulda been in Benny and Joon.
I think I love your mom, Bucky.
I've always got a song playing in my head. I usually find myself singing along, but I have occasionally found myself dancing a little.
I would totally tap dance to Tea for Two with your mom.
transplanted to the iceberg on a witch's tit that is Michigan
I can't believe no on picked up on that line. Maybe because it's so true.
I love your mom already.
What, like we all don't have a song in our head all the time?
Who hasn't tried to play the desk?
And I'm just happy that someone else has a lust for office supplies and paper products! I'm a total pen whore...
so sad...
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