My mother, The Great White Chief, is kind of a genius. I called her this morning, feeling a little low about the now-former-boy and the choices I've had to make recently, my writing and my grad school applications, New York and... most things. Her response? A smack-fest about the behaviour of said boy, an exhortation to not care about whether or not I ever write anything again, a "who cares if your grad school application is terrible?", a "you can go wherever you want to if you're sick of New York" and then, the cincher:
"Go do something that's nice for you, that you enjoy, and take this crazy pressure off yourself"
"Ah, well I might go in to the city and go to a museum..."
"Hmmm...", deeply unconvinced
"And," fumbling for acceptable fun things to do, "well, I might join a Yoga studio..."
"Yoga?!?!?!" she replied in horror, "Look at your face in the mirror - you're my child! You're beautiful and you have the figure of a pin-up girl! GO ON A DATE WITH SOME UNCOMPLICATED GUY WHO THINKS YOU'RE HOT - for ten minutes, two hours or three days."
At which point, I had to laugh. "Ok, Chief, I'll go on a date, I'll flirt with boys and let go of this other thing for now and just go back to being me."
"Well, thank God for that. Have to go, darling," (aside): "Irene, turn off the footfixer, I better not be hearing that in background at 8 o'clock!"
"So the Swedish Idol season has started?" I asked.
"YES - 27 episodes. Daily. SO EXCITING! The auditions start today" (under her breath, snickering): "Yoga? What is wrong with with you, you silly girl?"
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That is one pretty cool mother you have.
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