Let us praise him.

I know it's been a long time since I've posted. I'm a horrible blogger.

Meanwhile, I've been looking into refinancing my place. Interest rates are low. Why not try? I tell this to my mother.

Mom: Well, thank God your car is paid off.

Me: Thank God? He didn't have anything to do with it.

Mom: What are you talking about?

Me: You just said I should thank God. God didn't make the extra car payments.

Mom: Don't get nasty!

Verbatim.

I thought I'd just share the email my mother sent this morning. Bear in mind, there was no "hello," and I haven't talked to her since yesterday.

my mom is very sick. swollem glads, sore throat, coughing, just generally lousy. you know, the older you get and you get sick like that it could mean the end of your life. that is what happened with grandma bklyn. she caught an upper resp. infection, and could not get better.

Good morning to you, too, Mom.

So what.

A few months ago, my mother asked for my opinion. (It doesn't even matter what the topic was, so don't trouble yourself with curiosity.) She actually listened to me, and even followed my advice. But then, last night, she reversed her decision. This is fine with me - it's her prerogative. This is how she explained it:

I know you are going to say I'm wrong, but you know what? So what.

That's one viewpoint.

Mom: I'm going to say something and I know you're going to disagree and I know it's going to start an argument.

Me: Then don't.

Mom: Don't what?

Me: Don't say it.

Mom: Why? I'm allowed to have an opinion.

Me: Of course, but I'm just saying, if it's going to start a fight, why bother?

Mom: Everything I say to you is always wrong.

And Now, a Moment of Reverence.

My honorary godfather died last week, and was buried earlier this afternoon. Of course, my mother came to the funeral. Going into public with her is always a terrifying prospect, and she rarely disappoints in terms of humiliation. Today was no exception. The rabbi got out of his car and walked into the small group of people standing in front of me, my mother and my father.

Mom: "Holy God, the rabbi got so damn old."

That sounds like an extensive list.

Nana: Do you still use your cooker (crock pot)?

Me: No, not really.

Nana: Oh, because you don't eat meat anymore.

Me: Right. There's not a lot I can think of to put in there most of the time.

Nana: All right. So now I know there's another thing you don't do.

Technology kills.

I believe this is a very loose paraphrase, but you - my ever-understanding reader - will understand.

My mother: I don't like putting personal information into forms on the internet. That's how they broke into the Pentagon.