Some nights the passage of time doesn’t seem all that bad. It’s Sunday, so I had dinner with my mother. For a typically diminutive 83 year old widow-lady, she kicks serious ass. I’ll spare you biographical details, mostly because I tend to feel puny by comparison, but it’s nice to know that at that age, with all the concomitant aches and whatnot, she can still toss back a Bloody Mary at dinner and have an insightful conversation, not to mention a good laugh.
My favorite part was that when we came back here so she could catch up on this blog, I tweeted a line of hers from the restaurant. That’s not the great part. The great part is that she corrected what I had originally typed. That’s class. Why? See for yourself:
“If you hadn’t seen me drunk that drunk you wouldn’t say I was drunk.”
I’m still chuckling, and I bet so is she.
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