flashingreds...
mistakes, i've made a few
(2003-06-21, 10:38 a.m.)
My mom�s out at garage sales. I should�ve been more specific in my message to her yesterday, but it�s too late. I�m now the proud owner of a green and white checked sofa and beige lamps. Solid colors, Judy. They�re timeless, or at least slightly more timeless. But she thought it looked �country,� and isn�t it significant that she bought it from the woman who�s the secretary for the school district? Why, they even said they�d really like to keep it, but simply haven�t any room.

Sigh. Poor Mom. It�s far more about who she�s buying from than what she�s buying. But she meant well, and if her pastor�s willing to lend her a truck and a hand to get it to her garage, I�ll be grateful. My 80-year-old back ain�t gonna be of any use.

I just don�t believe we�re related.

If only I�d been home this morning, when she tried to call for my opinion, instead of waking up in someone�s guest room, wearing clothes that aren�t mine, wondering why Friday nights lead to such bizarre circumstances, where my skirt is, and where I lost my righteous anger.

I�m so midwestern clich� this weekend. As Kate and I discussed, nobody but midwesterners invites people over to get in the hot tub after the bars close. Save Canadians. And what do we do? We look up at the sky and point out constellations. We doze. We go to bed.

I�ve killed two birds with one stone. Two birds with one car. The hot tub was lovely for the aching muscles, and the conversations last night and this morning were good for giving me reason to run far away from this boy who drew me in with his shyness, his smart taste in music, his sense of humor and his broken heart. He behaved badly. It gets worse each week, but I�m drawing the line.

And so now we do laundry, apologize to the cat, and pack for a work trip to St. Louis. We find directions to Vintage Vinyl. We eat something. We make plans to see North Mississippi All-Stars and Bruce Robison next week. We move on.