This morning after rocking a 12-mile run (and tallying up another PR), I took a little nap and then Mom and I went shopping where she got me some "fuck me pumps." We're thinking a guy made up that phrase. I couldn't wait to wear them.Tonight we took a cooking class at Central Market, which really meant that we sat there and ate 5 courses and drank about 9-10 glasses of wine and watched some other people do the cooking. At first I felt weird taking a taxi to Central Market, like I was some hobo, but not having to drive after this drunktion paid off.
So Mom has never met a stranger, just so you know. And it's important to know because she is feisty and funny and a "life of the party" kind of gal. And she's 61 and you don't even see it coming when you look at her. We met up with Cori at The Belmont for a fashion show, where we were asked to leave the upstairs rooftop because there was going to be a private party. Having Mom around made the staff more courteous, but it's not like she hasn't been kicked out of bars before. Because she has.
So we made our way downstairs to some chairs because, as I'd predicted, fuck me pumps are for sitting and not for walking.
My Mom met Cori and her husband Trey just after I moved to Austin over 4 years ago when Cori was pregnant with Remi. She just had a little boy 4 weeks ago and looks amazing and even more amazing is that she was out and about. So Cori had a big heart to heart with my mom, and my mom told her about the "peanut butter/sunscreen" story, which we had just reminisced about (randomly) when I picked her up from the airport the day before. And at the age of 35, I can totally relate to that feeling and even thought it was fucked up and I've never done anything like that, I can totally see how something like that can happen. She was like, "I'm so sorry if I scarred you because of that." And I was like, "Trust me, I have never rocked myself in the fetal position in the corner because of that incident." Mom, it is not one of those bad childhood memory recalls. There is only one thing that's made me rock in the fetal position and you had nothing to do with it, and I think you know what I'm talking about here (1992).
Meanwhile, mom made a new friend. Some "producer" in town for the Austin Film Festival and he was totally chatting her up and saying she's just someone he felt connected to. And mom wasn't even wearing fuck me pumps.
I was like, "Do you realize you are speaking to a former Rodeo Queen here?"
So Producer Boy said that Woody Harrelson and Ron Howard were upstairs, and she SOOO wanted to meet Opie. So they concocted a plan to sneak her upstairs (where we'd just been kicked out), but it didn't work out because Ron Howard had left the building. Mom's look on her face was of betrayal. She felt like she'd just been led on. I felt so helpless that my Mom was emotionally raped like that, in like a matter of minutes, by a stranger.
In the taxi on the way home, she was still bewildered. She said she felt abused. I was like, "Welcome to my world. Guys tell me things all the time to blow smoke up my ass. Maybe I'm just numb to it now." I'm glad she got a little taste of her daughter's single life in bars in Austin, Texas.
Then she said, "How'd your fuck me pumps work out?" I said, "Well, didn't really come to fruition tonight because I'm going home with my mom."
She said, "Maybe next time." Aww, Mom. Thanks for the encouragement! I love you!
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