on closure

for a change of pace, this time i want to share some advice i gave my mother. brace yourself: this may be the smartest thing i've ever said.
when i was six, i left the resort where my family was staying and hiked up a wooded hill all by myself. my parents had gone into town and my sister was crying because she missed them. so off i went to solve the problem: the plan was to hike to the nearest resort, then to the next, and finally find my way to town, where - i imagined - it would be easy to find mom and dad.

in the meantime, my parents came home, realized i was gone, and freaked out. eventually, they discovered where i was and my dad came to get me. i didn't know what i had done wrong, but i felt horrible. somehow the plan was inherently flawed. then dad explained the problem: i had made three mistakes. i had left corina alone, i had hiked by myself, and i hadn't told anyone where i was going. (the last one was technically untrue, but we'll move on.) then he told me that my mom was back at home, and very upset.

i had never seen my mom cry before, and that was pretty scary for me. somehow, though, i was able to offer her a little wisdom: "mom, lie down and try to forget it ever happened."

on the irony of senility

mom: today i couldn't remember the word "alzheimer's."

on the necessity of mental respite

me: gleegleegleegleegleegleeglee

dad, bewildered: seriously, how can you watch this show?*

mom, magnanimous: oh, leave her be. she needs this. she spends all day writing about wars... and churches.

* this from a man who very much looked forward to watching 2012, enjoyed all the action/destructo sequences, but audibly (read: sarcastically) sniffed whenever there was a tender (read: uber-cheesy) scene.

on very rough drafts

mom: you wouldn't believe his paragraph even if you read it. it was a cabbage! i gave them plenty of time to work in the library. i said, "if you want to show me your work and get some feedback before your final submission, you can." and still - a boot!

me: wait, is it a boot or a cabbage?

mom: he is a boot; his paragraph is a cabbage.

on specialization

me: you're truly terrible at this.

mom: i know. and i love to hear someone say, 'you have no talent in this area at all!'

(after she has recommended some good answers...)

mom: am i still bad at this?
me: oh, yes.
mom: good.

on love

me: i love you.

mom: when you say that, i know what you really mean is, 'mom, you're a little nuts, but i tolerate you.'

on sleuthing

mom: why doesn't he just go have lunch, stare at his cane, and find the answer?

on using the force

me: i can never do up the closure on a necklace on the first try.

mom: if you close your eyes, it's easier. it's like "star wars."

on punctuation

mom: wake up and smell the colons!

students: [blank stares]

mom: that didn't come out right.

on labels

mom: i have dress for you from... what's the name of that racist?

me: tommy hilfiger?

mom: yes, that's it!

p.s. we have since learned that the whole tommy hilfiger racism thing was a hoax. all the same...

on laundry

me: i think it's "dry clean only."

mom: let me check... it's made in china; it must be ok in the washing machine.