17 December 2010
a broken clock is right 2x a day. or whatever.
I used to make fun of my mother for certain things: stretching in public, her dance moves while cooking, wearing workout clothes hours after she had left the gym, and, let's not forget, her snowman mug. It was a large mug (some people might call it a bowl) and it was a Christmas gift from my sister years before. It was delightfully cheerful: perfectly winter-y and Christmas-y. My mother drank out of it year round. Including July. In my tween years, it was mortifying.
Now that we are in the winter-y, Christmas-y season, and now that my tween years are far, far behind me (thank Jesus), I have to confess: I have 2 Christmas mugs, one with a snowman and one with a pengiun. Amos brought them both into the relationship. I think they were Momma Amos' at one point. Regardless, they ended up in my cupboard. And I love them. Yes, even in July. But now that it's December, I can just nod and smile when I am drinking coffee and Amos comes into the kitchen and comments how festive and Christmas-y I am this morning.
I am my mother's daughter - what can I say? Though I'm drawing the line at public stretching. For now.