So, the boyfriend and I are off to breakfast and the Saints game with my dad and brothers.
I know, it sounds kinda frightening (not unlike dove hunting with the bubbas)–at least it does to me. Personally, I can’t stand sitting through football games. Baseball, tennis, even golf tournaments, yes. Football and basketball, no. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that I fairly suck at football or basketball…
Still, I love spending time with my dad and brothers…. Well, most of my brothers: the Bible-thumping one right behind me (conceived at almost the very moment I was adopted), grates on my nerves, but the others are cool. Maybe if I saw them more often, that wouldn’t be the case, but since we cross paths only a couple of times each year, it’s a novelty.
My mom, on the other hand…. She’s one I just don’t get. Her version of family visits–especially Christmas–really bugs me. I’m in her house for two minutes and she’s already sobbing about how happy she is to see me and getting all smarmy and cranking up the Perry Como Christmas album. Imagine Sally Field in almost anything, and you get the picture. I’m sure that makes me sound like a monster in the first degree. All my friends who meet her think she’s adorable.
The problem is, I feel like I’m friends with my dad and most of my brothers. My mom, though…we have very little in common.
sturtle [dot] com 