My Mother's Daughter

My mom sent me an email last night:

Got a big kick out of your Memphis blogs. Could you tell Ev (a responder to your Gritz Synagogue blog) to read my response to her inquiry? Also, tell JustaGirl that her 'cue sense is right on target!

Love, mom

Ev is one of two fantastic writers at Nowhere, IL, a blog I savor only in part for its frequent write ups on tractors. The comment my mom referred to was this:

We're totally jealous of your trip to memphis. It's only 3 hours from our house, and we talk about going all the time, but we haven't done it yet.

I want to see Graceland, and feel the power that is Elvis. I want to see the Sun records studio and listen to blues music on Beale Street, and have a seedy liason with a cheap whore (okay...it mught be my cheap whore, but after a few beers, it's all good.).

Next time call first and we'll go too. Does your mom like dykes?

My mom responded:

To Ev,

I like anything that helps the environment by conserving water.

I have a very clear mental picture of my mom sitting in the basement in sweatpants and a blue navy baggy cardigan, slightly hunched over the keyboard hunting and pecking the letters to type this out. She is also chuckling maniacally. Just like I do when I say or write something that I find particularly clever and/or amusing.