Tuesday, October 11

I think I'm everyone's mom

I've been blog obsessed lately, and I think I know why. In this crazy head of mine, I have unintentionally decided to act as mother to everyone near me. "Near" can mean that I cherish our relationship in my heart, or it can also meant that you are simply within physical earshot of my opinion.

No, I won't make you feel guilty for not calling me enough, nor will I nag you to put on your jacket on your way out. (Well, I may sometimes be guilty of the jacket reminder thing.) Basically, I feel like I have a lot of important things to say, information I have to relay to my peeps, or their lives won't be the same without hearing these things from me. And now my voice can also live on a computer screen. Oh, the wonders of technology!

These "important things" certainly won't impact anyone's Darwinian survival. They're more along the lines of increasing the pleasure factors of everyday living. If I discover a great restaurant or new wine, I want to tell everyone else to try the yums too. If I find a good deal, I need to make sure my friends won't miss out on getting the big bang for their buck. If all I have to share is a silly story or picture, I like the idea that someone is getting an extra giggle in their day, even if it's at my expense. Speaking of amusing pictures, can you please take a look at my Scrabble letters from last night? Wine or no wine, I was destined to lose! (And I think I was missing Lee...eeaa...)

I just can't keep my mouth shut. I really can't.

The other day, I was eating the ahi poki wasabi bowl at Pacific Catch. (Big Yum! I crave this stuff.) The gentleman eating next to me at the counter was obviously a tourist, and he was trying to tell the waiter about a German restaurant in the city he visited, but the waiter was also new to the city; neither of them could name it. I knew with absolute certainty that they were talking about Suppenkuche. And it was killing me. Killing me. I tried really hard to keep to myself and quietly eat my meal with my friends, but I eventually had to turn to them, "Excuse me, I couldn't help but hear..." Yup, that's right, I'm that person.

And now I'm that person here. Sorry, kids! I'll try my best to keep myself under control. Actually, I won't; I lied. I will have to accept the fact that I'm slowly turning into my mom. I guess that's not such a terrible thing after all.

When I think of my umma, I picture a tiny ball of energy, bursting with love. She's 5' tall on a good day, and she's 60, yet she still tries to carry heavy things for me. She always attempts to feed me without even thinking about the fact that she, herself, hasn't eaten a thing all day. After every visit home, she sends me away with a bag of oranges (my favorite fruit since childhood), even though I live within walking distance of a market with great produce. She tries to mother her customers. She brings cookies to the workers who change the oil in her car. Everyone loves her. I'll be lucky if I turn into my mother.

And for now, I think I'm yours. Don't forget that jacket - it can get cold out there!

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