bonny, that sounds like a conversation that is going to be tough to have.

Ironically, my disillusionment is working for me for once in this case. It'll be tough, but...to quote a couple of our favorite characters...my days of taking him seriously are definitely coming to a middle...or maybe three-quarters. And, I'm coming perilously close to being paralyzed with the not caring.

Okay, that last part is a lie, but my grief will be less severe than if he hadn't been such a twat.

Beautiful pendent, Cash!

Conversation ~ma for bonny

Thanks hon, I really appreciate the support.

I was in the changing room of a department store as a child, and saw my mother switch the skirts on a pair of suits she was trying on. The jacket of one fit, the skirt of the second fit, both were black, et voila, a suit that fit.

I was at church every time the doors opened, Sunday School, choir, GAs, Training Union. Bible stories at home, Ten Commandments, the whole magilla, at her bidding. And having had those lessons instilled, I knew in my heart of hearts what she was doing was wrong. And I knew at that moment that no child of mine would ever see me break my word, or not live as I taught.

I lied, stole, fudged, made excuses, and was not really a very trustworthy person, until I had kids. With their eyes on me, I had to try and live like the people I wanted them to be. I made mistakes, and I admitted it and apologized and tried to do better. I never made a promise I wasn't completely sure I could keep. And every step, from one year to the day they left home, I explained why, and also how, when they asked.

They lied, of course they did. But they knew that I *decided* to believe them, and would defend them. If they complained about mistreatment from a teacher, I got ready to confront the teacher. About half the time, before the meeting I'd get told something closer to the truth.

Gods know my kids didn't turn out to be Nobel or Pulitzer material. But I think they understood the world and how it works better than some.

My horn, I must toot it once in a while.

Beverly, that is the kind of parent I would like to be, should the occasion ever arise.

Can I just hug you Beverly?

You truly are a gift.

Yes.

Just be aware, I also bite, on occasion. But for hugs, I'll be good.

Also? Not a gift. Just a huge honkin' load of responsibility mixed up with some freefloating guilt. Not so fun at parties.

Today, I got a message from a guy who said that he'd seen my profile on a Jewish dating site and wants to know if I'd be interested in meeting his brother. He gives no information about his brother other than which law school he's attending.

Any chance your Mother has set up a dummy profile and started poking around Jewish dating sites?

Hey, omnis. You're in Dallas, yes? What theatre are you at because I just found out a guy I went to high school with is the props master at DTC. Thought it would be very small worldish if you were there, too!

Just be aware, I also bite, on occasion. But for hugs, I'll be good.

What if I want a little nibble with my hug??