Yesterday and today there were workers in my office trying to fix the HVAC. It is seriously 83 degrees in my office. That is only pleasant if there is a sea breeze and a drink with a little umbrella. Anyway, I asked the guy how the work was going and he said it was nothing to write home about. Here I meant to think to myself, but I spoke (Does that happen to you? Please say yes.). I told the guy I had already written my mom about it. Now I didn't mean to say this because of his resultant expression of confusion. So I begin to ramble, I explained that nothing really happens in my life and nothing really happens in Mom's life but we like to talk. More confused expression. I continued to say that Mom doesn't feel like something is clean until she tells someone so when she cleans a toilet or something she writes me. Continued confusion, then he said it "couldn't be that bad". I responded with "Oh it isn't! It's great!" Then I walked away because he still looked confused and bemused.
My Mom and I have a relationship that is unique. I know no one else that has this sort of relationship. We are really close, like telepathically, crazily close. Do you know the show that used to be on, Gilmore Girls? We are like Lorelai and Rory. We LOVED that show because it was so us (besides the sleeping around, that's not our style). We have our own "bits". Two of them are long running. I'll share them with you.
When I was young we read books called the Mandy series. It was set in the early 1900s and had two maids who spoke in the stereotypical southern African American dialect. To make cleaning more fun we pretended to be these maids. Mom would throw herself into it giving a long monologue and then I would reply "yuh" cause my dialect sounded more like I had a hairlip than anything else. My accent has improved greatly though and we still carry on these conversations. Sometimes I will even email Mom entirely in this dialect. Example:
Lawsy, I can smell yo cleanin' supplies all da way up inta town! Thay house sho is gonna shine like a fancy new penny by da time Miz Mandy and Missuh Joe be comin down ta celebrate da holidays. Whatch you goin cook? I do shorely hope you goin make sum of yo famous dumplins. I kin eat a whole pot of dem without movin from my place! I betta go get my own work dun fo' my Missuh come hollerin' that I ain't worth my keep.
Big Lou and Jenny were the characters but I bet you picked up on that.
Our other long standing bit is The Boy Scouts. Mom hates to get rid of stuff that might possibly be ever in any way useful to someone else. One day she came to me and asked if maybe the Boy Scouts wouldn't need some broken item, they did, after all, come around and collect canned goods and it was canned goods time of year. I assured her that I thought they would indeed take whatever broken item it was and that their special receptacle was the trash can. At least a couple times a month she calls and asks if the Boy Scouts are doing a drive for broken Swiffers or old remotes or something. The Boy Scouts are always doing a "drive" with their special receptacle.
My Mom is great and I love her. If I had been more attuned to the date she would have been super high on my Facebook list of things I'm thankful for but, yeah, I totally forgot to start on the first and I don't like to be late. It's sort of like having a stream of consciousness outside your body. I can call and say "you know that blue shirt" and she knows instantly. I can say "do you remember that one time...at the beach..." and she remembers. I don't have to start the conversation with the pleasantries I can jump right on in to "You would NOT Believe what just happened!" I hope if I have a daughter we have relationship like that, but I don't hold my breath because I think relationships like this only come around once every hundred years.
This picture pretty much perfectly sums up our relationship (and everyone else in response to our relationship):
Edited to add: I literally this second got a note from Mom saying the Boy Scouts really are coming for canned goods this week. I rolled. She hadn't even read the blog yet.
After reading, Mom would like to apologize to anyone who reads about us and feels confused. That is apparently the default reaction to us, our antics, and our odd relationship. She sends special apologies to anyone in a foreign country who is reading this, though I think Americans are equally bemused by us.