Why I love my mother

Here’s an email from my mom, who is spending two weeks at a retirement village in Florida to take care of my 94-year-old grandmother. It’s full of bitching and I love it.
“Dad and I decided we can skip seeing Alice in Wonderland in 3D because we have fallen down the rabbit hole here and entered a world we do not recognize. How many times can you explain that dad is still working even though he officially retired and that college basketball players still go to class and that the Super Bowl is not the beginning of football season? And identifying the names of her 8 great grandchildren, even though we framed all the recent class pictures, and have repeated the names at least 50 times since arriving here. And answering the question “is Rose dead?” and trying to understand how going to church for one hour on Sunday would make her ill, but going out to eat 3 times a day is never a problem. Alice had nothing on us…this is a new dimension. 9 days to go….but, who’s counting. Love Mom.”

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2 Responses to Why I love my mother

  1. I see the apple does not fall far from the tree.

  2. Apollo Creed says:

    So how much acid do your parents normally do?

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