(Mom: "Is this for me?"
Me: "It has your name in it."
Mom: "Is he mad at me?"
Me: "...logic fail, Mom.")
After giving her the book, we went to Target to pick up my prescriptions for the month. (Yes, I am a grown woman. No, I do not drive. Yes, this sometimes means I ask my mother to run errands with me. No, I don't think this is a problem. I pay for gas, and it gives us an excuse to hang out without needing to find an actual activity that we have in common. Beyond playing with/tormenting the cats, flea markets, and going to Target, we mostly avoid that sort of thing.) As we waited, she asked me where I'd come up with some of the words on my new album.
"Like what?" I asked, all innocence.
"Epidemiolo-whatzit," she said.
Cue my mother getting a fifteen minute class on epidemiology while standing in the pharmacy aisle at the Target. Many people turned faintly green. Somehow, this turned into a vigorous explanation of recessive genes, why white cats are deaf, and why male pattern baldness passes through the female line. More people turned faintly green.
My mother's final verdict:
"I have no idea how I made you."
Neither does anybody else, Mom. Neither does anybody else.
February 12 2009, 22:10:47 UTC 8 years ago Edited: February 12 2009, 22:11:20 UTC
You probably meant to add "blue-eyed" to that sentence. And even then, not if they get the blue eye(s) from Siamese genes. The late lamented Satin (in icon) was essentially a Siamese in a white mink coat, but not deaf until the last few of her 19 years. Her very Siamese voice, though, frequently threatened to deafen *us*.
February 13 2009, 00:24:31 UTC 8 years ago
Just like our dear departed Boots, who somehow got the Siamese voice, but nothing (or very little) else. (Certainly not the Siamese brain!) Her meow was loud you could hear her over the phone.
February 13 2009, 15:04:17 UTC 8 years ago
February 13 2009, 15:03:51 UTC 8 years ago