Tuesday, September 27, 2005

I think I'm my Mother

For years now, I've been steadily turning into my mother. Today, I think the transformation is complete. Allow me to explain... As a child, I was very much like my father -- quiet, reserved, easily hurt. Physically, I also took after him -- tall, long feet and limbs, as well as flat feet and a flat derriere. There's more, but you get the idea. Some traits of my mother I knew I inherited long ago -- a love of shopping, a taste for the finer things in life, no patience for fools, etc. But over the years I noticed that I started picking up her habits -- leaving change in my pockets, buying gifts for myself, but today I noticed I have mastered her most amusing and possibly her worst habit. My mother names people. The monikers are always fitting, but not always appropriate. They endure because they are funny. For example: One of my sister's first boyfriends neglected to give her a Christmas gift after she spent all her allowance on him. We remember him as Cheapskate. Mommie spent 40 minutes in the back seat of my car with one of my friends who did not quite appreciate the usefulness of deodorant. To this day, that friend is known, within the family, as Stinky. A man who was deeply in love with my sister was, and always will be Boring. A previously mentioned ex, who was substantially older then me, became Old Seasoned One when he failed to show excitement for something accomplished that he had experienced long ago. And there are more. I admit I've christened some people. Old Seasoned One became Osama Bin Idiot. But Tuesday night, I don't know what happened. I was at a concert with some friends and the more I looked at the band, the more familiar they became. And then it struck me. One of the guitarists could have been a Hobbit in the "Lord of the Rings." He was small in stature, had the wavy hair, and his ears were slightly pointed. The drummer also perplexed me. By the end of the night, I realized he was a dead-ringer for the Captain from Captain & Tenille, complete with Greek fisherman's hat. Everyone laughed and I didn't give the names out of malice, but why did I do it at all?

1 comment:

Natalie said...

Like you, I don't mind turning into my mother as I think she is, to use your word, fantabolous. It's just, she's a Mom. I'm not a Mom and can't picture myself as one, so it's hard to accept that I'm turning into my mom. A very vicious cycle.

Humungo reminds me of one of my sister's exes. He worked out constantly and was really buff. One holiday, however, my sister had a sprained ankle and could not walk distances. We we to the movies together and instead of dropping us at the door and parking, he parked far away and made us walk to the theater. I figured since he was so buff and and big that he would carry or at least help my petite (5'3") sister. He did nothing. I carried her piggy-back to the entrance. Since then, he became THE INFLATABLE HLUK. The musles were for show only.