I’m genetically a whole lot like my mama. Growing up, everyone always said, “You look just like her!” (which was nice because she’s a good-lookin’ lady). I’d pick up the phone, and they’d start asking about Lamaze classes or some Boone UU function, assuming they had my mother’s ear on the other end of the line. Or they’d hear my laugh from another room and come in looking for her. Three years ago, I realized the one thing I didn’t inherit from my mom was her fire hoses.
(That’s not true. I got my sense of humor and ability to generate ear wax from my dad.)
Two years ago, I put on my big girl panties and bought a gas-powered mower. I learned so many lessons that day.
One year later and I’m still not in feelings. Pout. Stomp stomp stomp. Wah. Boo-hoo.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Omg, I don’t know how I missed that installment of Dadisms the first time around. I’m sitting here in carline laughing and crying and trying to breathe. N just told me in his very solemn way, “Don’t blow another vessel in your eye!”
Hahahaha. I know! I was laughing out loud when I went back to read it.