Thursday, June 03, 2010

Ya Gotta Work

When I visited my mama yesterday afternoon, she was in a little bit of a snitty mood. Not sure if she's getting enough fiber or what. She wasn't much of a conversationalist but it's sometimes hard talking over a TV with the volume maxed out. I think she must listen via vibrations through her rib cage.
Anyhow, she asked me where Jilda was and when I said she was working, she seemed to chew on that a little. A while later, she said, well that's what you should be doing!  I must have looked puzzled because she said "you heard me! It's the MAN'S place to do the workin'!"
Yes 'em I said. Just because I'd worked almost every day for the last 33 years didn't cut the mustard with her.
She probably would have said - "well, that's a good start, you need to work another 25 more!"
My mama is from the old school. There's no such thang as women's lib in her book. If one of my sisters had burned their bra, mama would have duct taped them babies down. In her eyes, any man who "lay sorry" while their wife worked was lower than snail poop.
To my folks, retiring was a foreign term. No one who was able bodied quit work. You worked until you couldn't, no if's, and's or buts.
I managed to navigate out of the lecture by asking about the Braves. Fortunately they had just spanked Phillie's, so she cheered up noticeably as she gave me the run down.
Note to self. Never tell the mom unit that my spouse is working, while I'm goofing off.

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