Fuck.

Second blog again today. Not sorry.

This one is called letters to mom. Thinking this may become one of the blog formats. It would join the sardonic sermon, rando r&b, subpar poetry and petty bitch hour.

Of the two mothers I have, I honestly only care about one. Bio mom died last year leaving only a trail of lies about me in the minds of those she knew. Yet, adoptive mom ALWAYS KNOWN AS MOTHER- (yeah, I chose. Respect goes to the ones that raised me. That chose to pick up the mistake you made and turn it into a tragically good human being)- has a terrible disease that is causing her to lose her mind.

After last years fiasco, I’ve elected to finally reconnect with her. Kindness is afforded to those in the times when they need it the most. It is our responsibility to return the kindness we’ve borrowed when the time is right.

So opening this series, I am going to post the same thing I text to her. Memories are what we make them and this is where I choose to store mine.

Good Morning Mother. Boy, did I have a crazy day yesterday.

I’ve been working through a freelance app down here sporadically for the last couple of years.

Yesterday I worked traffic control at the Pro Em golf tournament in Scottsdale.

Besides my extreme pettiness when it comes to fake eyelashes and women who can’t connect the damned eyeliner so it looks like they have a ratchet gap between… I’ve come to fully embrace my absolute confusion at clearly smudged lines defining classy.

It was 45 and raining and these hos be out here wearing less than the good lord gave them. Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off in the middle of an intersection wearing 5 layers of clothes and a plastic bag.

Now I’m taking $40 and buying a retro pencil dress because I want to wear it around my house. Ffs. Is this what middle age is like? Being constantly confused and downright sarcastic because the shear comedy of ignorance in society?

I’m so the “Get off my lawn” granny in training. 😂🤣