My Saintly Mother Has Not Bought The Farm
May 4, 2012 § 15 Comments
I haven’t spoken of my dear Mother very much on the blog lately, and I know that when people get to her age and you don’t hear anything, you assume she’s facedown in her garden, shotgun still clutched in hand, with a raccoon performing a slow, respectful victory dance on her head. But no, she’s alive, kicking, and mean as ever (see post on Facebook, a recent tool of evil she has co-opted and perfected.)
Ma’s been going around on book promotions with me.
I took her to Portland to the book party/reading there.
(Watching my friends Jason and Mark rustle up her margarita) I think more people should be gay because they are so nice!
(looking around at the $40 million office of Wieden and Kennedy) They didn’t waste any money on paint.
(After the reading) No one asked me to flip the bird with my toes, and I even got a pedicure.
(To TSA agent after her pair of NASA-issued titanium shoulder sockets set off the alarm) A pat down? Yippee! That’s the best offer I’ve gotten in years! *
So great seeing so many of you, and thank you for being so nice to my mother. She’s back home now, protecting innocent garden tomatoes from the scurrilous paws of interloping varmints.
*TSA agent’s reaction: Amused bewilderment under a translucent mask of bureaucratic stoicism