She Found It!

Well, Mom found my "blob" as she calls it. And, she was not too flattered about the way in which I spoke of her.

I don't understand the problem. However, speaking of a vintage woman as "the old block" somehow rubbed her fur the wrong way. So, I must do penance of some sort. At this point, I am not sure what form the "sort" will take.

I have lived through a lot with my mother--and every moment has been one blessed second after another--not!

Perhaps, the Seven Dials fiasco is an example of what Mom has put her son through. Mom loves birds, but not all birds. Only some birds. She likes birds that are potty trained for the outdoors, birds that know their place, birds that have good table manners in the wild, and most important, birds that clean up after themselves when they use her bird bath. She especially likes the kind of birds that don't leave a ring around the bath.

She so loves birds, that she must have been one of the first to buy a "bird clock." I affectionately call these devices such because in my mother's mind, when they chime, they sound like birds chirping in the wild. When first I visited my mother after she acquired this device, I was scared out of my wits--what few I have--when it went off. I did not hear birds chirping. I heard a turkey in its last moments of its miserable existence. Although I cannot with certainty speak to the whole of the turkey's existence, I can speak to this turkey's death. And a horrible death it must have been. Then every 15 minutes, this same turkey died. And every 15 minutes I jumped five feet in the air. And Mom laughed.

When I commented on the screeching sound, Mom explained it was a cheap clock but it did sound like birds when one got used to it. That was when I had my first clinical evidence that her hearing was going. Well time passed, years melted into years, and Mom found a better bird clock. By this time she had moved from her home into an apartment and this bird clock actually approached the likeness of some birds in the wild. The better sounding birds would actually leave bird poop on the floor beneath the clock.

That Christmas, when I unwrapped my present from Mom, I got the dying turkey.
So, you wonder why I speak of Mom as I do? And you wonder why I am like I am?