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You'll Love My Mother

My dearest darling motherís Christmas gift comes to fruition tomorrow morning.

In a spasm of holiday generosity, I stuffed her Christmas card with a plane ticket to London. I had no idea I'd be unemployed and actually have to entertain her when I conjured up the idea. Nor did I think through the fact she'd want me to meet her at Gatwick when her 7:55am flight arrives. Rapture.

To all of Great Britain: I apologize in advance. It's only for a few days and I'll try to keep her as quiet as possible.

To all of Ohio: Enjoy your reprieve. You owe me.

By all accounts she's as giddy as Halle Berry winning the Oscar. And just about as sane. It's her first trip to England. Actually, it's her first trip out of the country. She's going to have a blast, and I'm truly glad to have her coming over.

We'll play tourist, hang out at home, and listen to her tell me all the family gossip (which she's most likely already told me 3 or 4 times on the phone). She does like to chat, my mom.

I guess I owe one more apology. To the person who ends up sitting next to her on the plane ... I hope you brought some earplugs.