My Mom's Blog

My Mom and were driving down the street yesterday, on our way to retrieve my art work from my show (don't cry, there will be other shows) when she bursts out with the following tirade as she swings around a corner:

Mom: "I am so going to blog about all the trash in my parking lot! What the hell does blog mean? Blog. B-log. Why do they call it that anyway?"

Me: (incredulously) "Mom, do you have a blog?"

Mom: "No, I don't but I have to complain about the fact that these idiots pull up in their cars and then just place their beer or Mountain Dew or whatever bottles right by their car! Oh my God, it's so hard to just walk five feet to the dumpster or take it into your apartment, where you're going anyway!"

Me: "Why don't you just tell that Chanelle chick who can't spell that is the manager of your apartments?"

Mom: "Oh yeah! She puts up all these notices that say, 'Take care of your home and pick up the trash' but it's really all her friends who are doing it! Like, what is this? A hotel for her friends?"

Me: (still wondering where the blog comes in): "And you're going to blog about this?"

Mom: "Well, yeah, I mean I have to say something about it! Get it out there, you know? Obviously, the dregs, and by dregs, I mean Chanelle, who run that place won't do anything!"

Me: "You really don't know what a blog is, do you?"

Mom: "No! But that is not the point here!"

Me: "It kind of is. I mean I get that you're angry about the trash, but you do know that blogs are not letters to important people who will smash an angry fist upon the trashy people?"

Mom: "Why are you always treating me like I'm senile?"

Me: "I'm not! Geez! You're all worked up about this trash but I'm just saying you have to have an actual blog to 'blog' about something. That's all."

Mom: "That's why I'm going to write one!"

Me: (looking out the window) "Oh look. A parking space by the door. Sweet."

Mom: "Yeah! Is that door even open?"






I have to say I am constantly charmed by my Mom's latest efforts to be "high-tech." At Christmas, she bought herself an HP Slimline PC and then there was a week where I had to try to explain wireless Internet to her. Finally, I just started telling her wizards were behind it whenever she brought it up. This seemed to calm her down. She paid to have Best Buy's Geek Squad show up and set everything up for her. She was amazed that the dork that showed up had a secret agent type uniform and remarked excitedly, "They drive a little VW Bug that says 'Geek Squad' on it! He even gave me his card and it has a 'badge number' on it!"

My Mom has discovered Amazon.com and various cloth websites. One of her favorites to cruise, though, is the FiestaWare web site where, not only can she pile up new colors and dishes, but she can get their "retired" dishes. The retired dishes are actually the best. They have the retro colors and the brightest colors the dish company is famous for. The more modern colors, ugh, are basically dumbed down for boring people who should be ordering from Laura Ashley or some shit. I always manage to come out ahead though when she cruises the retired section because they have odd rules about ordering. For instance, when she just wanted one small bowl in eggplant, the rule was that she had to order three. So she chose a yellow one and an orange one to appease the FiestaWare gods. Thus, I now own a small orange Fiesta bowl. I also have an orange plate.

Don't get her started on fabrics. She's a hardcore quilter. Now the Internet has entered her life, she's found an unending supply of cloth at her fingertips. The day the Dick and Jane cloth arrived was practically a national holiday. I was barely allowed to touch it, though I desired a dress made from it. Badly. However, I was informed that she only ordered a small amount because, for some reason, it's wicked expensive. She has since found some retro cowboy/cowgirl fabric that's pretty awesome and is convinced there is some Nancy Drew cloth out there. I would have to insist on a dress made out of this if I had to sell my soul for it. I would dig up all my money for enough for a Nancy Drew dress.

Amazon.com has provided her with a veritable wealth of new ways to do things to cloth. She has four books on Stump Embroidery, which I am actually going to try my hand at. Amazon can be a cruel bitch, too, though. One day, as we were walking from the car, the famed Chanelle approached us, excited, screeching, "Your Harry Potter book arrived! I have it in the office! Let's go get it!" Inside I was screeching, "Yes! Let's go get it! You ordered Harry Potter!" My Mom responded, quizzically, "I didn't order the new Harry Potter book..." To which I said, "Who cares? You got it, dude! It's here and I'm going to eat it up! Let's go! Let's go!" Turns out the brilliant Chanelle read the name wrong on the package. So I suppose it's not Amazon.com that can be a cruel bitch. Chanelle is just a grammatically incorrect Potter tease.

My mom also has an email address. She actually checks it, too. If you would like to write her a nice note and say hello, it's nita.ralph@yahoo.com. She loves mail from new friends. (As long as you are not Playgirl or the Hoveround folks. She didn't think that was funny at all...after two years. So, if you are either of those folks, don't contact her. I already played that joke on her).