Regularly, once a week for an hour or two, sometimes more often. Try to talk to my brother that often, but his schedule is crazy and with kids, so a lot more IM these days.
Anya ,'Sleeper'
Spike's Bitches 44: It's about the rules having changed.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
and when I do call I get the "Oh, we have a daughter?" comment. No matter how often I point out that THEY could call ME.
They must have that special phone my parents have. Only works to call me on my birthday and when someone is in the hospital.
Which, drat, I have to call them.
Talked to my mom, she called my bro and woke him up. He's fine and had been trying to reach her AS I TOLD HER. However, I also found out why my mother has been so freaked out--my aunt just found out that my cousin B is going into rehab and I think that brought up all the old worry for her.
As for calling, I used to call once a week. A decade ago when my dad had his second heart attack and my mom had her first bout with cancer, I started calling a few times a week. Now I talk to my mom almost every day. Short talks though--she's 82 and lives alone, so I just check in and make sure she's okay.
They must have that special phone my parents have. Only works to call me on my birthday and when someone is in the hospital.
Their special phone doesn't work to call when someone is in the hospital. Tho' mom did call me every day while I was sick, to make sure I was okay and to see if I needed anything.
My mom is good about not demanding that I be the one to call, which is good because it rarely occurs to me to call anyone.
I talk to my mother daily or she assumes the worst.
It varies. If my mother is driving me insane (I know... I know... I mean more than the usual levels of insanity) but anyhow, if she's making me nuts, it's every few days. If it's normal levels of insanity, the daily or every other day.
I think at the moment she's pouting slightly over the almost definite impending cross country move.
I usually talk to my parents a few times a week.
Tylenol 3 update: ankle definitely hurts less. A lot less. I also feel really spacey -- I'm not getting the loopy feeling that I did from Tramadol, but just sort of like my brain is fuzzy and I can't concentrate. I definitely can't take this during the day if I want to get any work done, but it seems like it'll be good for taking at night. As long as I'm not too groggy in the morning.
Usually a couple times a week. I just called her tonight to ask her assistance on baking a potato. Then she called me back because she'd just remembered a funny story about my stepfather (whose memory is... not so great. Like, I wouldn't call him to ask about baking a potato).
Okay, so get this: she's telling him about some Welsh Arthurian thing or something (I got lost in the details) and he thinks this is the most amazing thing since Stanley found Livingstone (he thinks she's really smart, which of course she is, so go him) and says no one's ever made that connection to him before, not even when he was taking Old Welsh at Harvard. Old Welsh? says my mother. You took Old Welsh? Well, sure, says my stepfather. Well, it was Harvard, after all. Still, says she -- Old Welsh? Good lord.
She told me that it came to her after some time puzzling over it that of course he'd misremembered. Ah, says I, unsurprised to hear that. Yes, she says, of course what he actually took was Old Norse.
hm, it depends. I don't like to call people and my parents are included in that group.