I'm going back to Indiana this weekend to continue judging for their high school dance team circuit. Sally Field, who has a friend in Podunksville (our destination) is joining me for the road trip. This means that our car conversation will consist of the following topics:
- the upcoming weddings of friends (and the ramifications of those events on my life, including hypothetical talk of my own wedding where she will pepper me with questions, hoping that I've changed my opinions about certain things like enormous pew bows, unity candles, gerbera daisies, and carrying a bible with me during the entire ceremony)
- my ongoing (and not yet made) decision to buy a condo
- my dog (Sally wants a dog badly, but is allergic to many, and Dick Cheney won't allow it, so she's living vicariously through mine)
- dancing, and why I'm not doing any of it anymore
- books (and book club and while we're on the subject, what is that book about that we're suppose to read for March, and did it take you a long time to get into our February book?)
- driving, and how I am always speeding
Should be a barrel of laughs - literally. Sally is one of the few people on earth that I allow to chastise me one minute, and laugh at me the next. And I still like her, not just because she's my mother...because someday I'm going to turn into her whether I like it, or not.