I’m turning into my mother…

The plan was to get up and take my reglear nucular tagger walk and get back in time to schlep over to Zingerman’s@PlumMarket for a Queen Bee croissant and coffee with Lizard Breath who stayed the night because last night turned into an actual Family Dinner and since frozen precipitation was not in the forecast for the next 48 hours and there are brand new sheets in the “guest room”, why not stay the night? [Note that this post provides a few photoooos of Tahquamenon that have nothing to do with the content.]


I didn’t get up quiiiiiiite as early as I had planned to. I woke up on time but my phone proclaimed something like -15 degrees. I knew that was probably not accurate anywhere but down in the hole at the Planet Ann Arbor airport but I still dragged *ss for 10 minutes longer than usual. So, when I got back from my walk (which I cut short even though it was maybe minus 1 and I was dressed for it), I was jumping around going hucklety-buck trying to unload the dishwasher, make a lunch, trade Eskimo clothing for bizcaz, and I fergit what else.


I knew that my “kid” would be ready to go *on time*, whether or not her mooooom was. That’s why I was jumping around going huckle-ty buck. And bugging her. “Do you want some more fabric?” “Here are your coffee ground containers.” “Don’t forget this or that or that other thing” Sigh. That was about the point where I turned into The Commander. I’ve said this before and I’ll probably say it again: it used to drive me nuts when I was trying to leave the moomincabin or her house and she would follow me around with stuff she didn’t want me to forget. Noooo Moom, I need to focus! Once, in a rare moment of clarity, I managed to step outside myself and look at the whole situation from afar. I grabbed a grocery bag, handed it to her and said something like, “You take this bag and put anything in it that you think I might forget.” She had a mission and I could focus on mine. Note to self…


“Moom, settle down.” Indeed. At any rate, I love that I don’t have to grab a plane to meet either of my daughters for breakfast and being with Liz this morning and then watching her peel off to the right to turn onto Jackson and catch the I94 18-wheel Clogway back over to Detroit (on DRY pavement!) buoyed me on to my own job.

I would end with that but a few minutes ago, I heard “You Don’t Own Me” faaaar up in the back room. Lesley Gore died today. I am not gonna get maudlin about this but I did shed a few tears. And then there is this. So much fun.

Love y’all, KW!

One Response to “I’m turning into my mother…”

  1. Margaret Says:

    Aren’t we all turning into our mothers? 😉 I work hard on not fussing or overtalking, but frequently I catch myself doing them. Sometimes at the same time. I wish I didn’t have to catch a plane to see my daughters. Wahhh! Alison is 12 hours away. Ashley will be about the same when she’s in Senegal.