Ode to a Mom. Mothers. All this stuff about Mothers, Mother, this, Mother that…well, I guess they, Moms are pretty much deserving of every great thing and much, much more that one can laud on them, so, I will keep this blog going until I am fed up. Me, I am going to take my Mom to get the best lobbies around. Lobbies for you lay folk are lobsters! My Mom, will only have the best lobbies, a certain weight and from a certain town and from a certain store. It isn’t that my Mom is too particular or anything, but she is Mom. Mom is Mom. The old Mom, lobby tradition, at least on my Mom’s side of the family stretches back to way back when. Mom has lobby on Mother’s Day, her Mom had lobbies on Mother’s Day, and her Mom before her also had lobbies on Mother’s Day. I don’t think lobbies were invented before that. Gee, that must have been a skilliion years ago. Mom’s family was strictly Irish. When I say “strictly” Irish I mean the Pope kind of people or weren’t they just protestants and potatoes? Well, they were certainly strict; I guess that is where I got my strict appreciation for a pint; no pints. I can’t think of anyone who won’t deny turning away. Oh…but this was to be about lobbies and Mother’s Day. She knows what she likes, she will get what she likes. That is my Mother’s Day tradition, like it or lump it. You might say that it is a family tradition. Well, at least I know what to get Mom on Mother’s Day. Of course, I do the old flower routine, too. Mom loves flowers and potted plants. I can sometimes do the old hair route for Mother’s Day, but why? Mom likes what she likes. There are some hair things I could pick up from down the road but she has most of that. I am usually pretty hesitant to do the hair stuff, because it is almost like treading in unknown waters, throwing yourself into the shark tank, under the bus. Doing something like that, well, it is kind of “crazy,” kind of “wild.” At 76, Mom doesn’t really care for “crazy” or “wild.” I have a feeling that Mom’s “crazy” or “wild” will be, sitting down with a few of her cronies—or should I say 76-90 year old peeps with a good lobby and a gin and tonic. Mom likes her gin and tonics. It isn’t that she is a drunk or anything but what can you say to a Mom who has made you everything that you are? What do you say, “Mom, put down that gin before you hurt yourself!” No changing Mom. Besides, if it ain’t broke don’t try fixin’ it. How do you make improvements on a good thing anyhow? Don’t even try. I gotta run. I need to get to the plant shop before it closes, or they run out of those “special” flowers.
Daily Prompt: Hi Mom