Getting to Know Me

A thought occurred to me this morning. Scary, I know. We live 8000plus miles across the oceans from the U.S. and you know more about me now than you ever did before. Our lives are an open book talking to anyone who will listen. I often think about my mom who knows so much more about my comings and goings since I don't live there anymore. Maybe that's why she didn't stroke out when I told her we were moving. It was a Sunday, I knelt in church praying to God that she would be accepting of our decision and not freak out on me. Well, she didn't and I didn't understand why she didn't. Maybe on another level, she knew she'd be more a part of our lives than she ever had before. My Aunt Marge, who lives in the Hurricane Rita ravaged Cameron, Louisiana calls her faithfully every night and reads her the news of the day, however trivial it might be. Mom loves it, like only a mother could love. Now, Dad on the other hand is not patient enough to read it himself, much less listen to someone else read it to him. He's definitely a prime candidate for A.D.D. testing. Hey, no comments from the monkey section regarding the light bulb in your head that just went off enlightening you as to where I got my genes. Yep, Dad always said, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree".

P.S. Please do not mistake Aunt Marge's simulated red phone with the one that Hill wants to be answering at 3:00am.