Parental Friday Fun

Today’s fun is in honour of my parents – for two reasons.
(i) On this day thirty years ago, on an island far, far away, my Dad was ordained.
(ii) It’s my Mum’s birthday on Tuesday.

I didn’t get that much notice on number 1 – it’s not a date that features in my diary (though this year I’m writing it in, because having had the 25th and 30th catch me by surprise, I’d better be ready for the 40th!). This meant that I didn’t have enough time to get to a religious bookshop and scope out a suitably cheesy ordination card. Trust me, such things exist.

If I was a truly devoted daughter, I might even have headed over to Ship of Fools for some classic religious tat – I’m thinking he’d particularly like God Trump Cards (individuals whose views might trump God’s skills…), or perhaps some fridge magnets depicting the various components of Mass. Oh, so many things to choose from! Lest you be thinking ‘but who would actually want such religious tat?’ I should point out that in my kitchen there is currently: a Jesus on a spring; Jesus pencil topper; and a Virgin Mary toast maker – my atheist friends never fail to reaffirm my faith in their gift-giving!

In honour of my mother, I’d like to share this particularly wonderful story from Passive Aggressive Notes. A girl, still living with her Mom, writes a blog which her Mom reads. Sometimes her Mom wants to comment on its content and rather than use the comment form or even have a conversation about it, she chooses to leave notes for her daughter in random places – like a cereal box. Wow.

“Stop cussing so much on your blog, please.”

My parents read this – sporadically, I think – and occasionally it gets mentioned, usually in a ‘I hope that’s not going to end up on your blog’ way. I think Mum feels mis-represented, and I do apologise for this. So, for the record I’d like to say that any mis-representation has been unintentional. It’s really not my fault that my parents are good at providing comedy blog fodder. After all – they created me and my sense of humour, so it’s all their fault really. Oh, and love you!

Given the last conversation I had with Mum on this subject, I feel I should clarify the following:

  • Her wedding dress looked very little like the one I found in my cupboard.
  • She doesn’t think I’m obsessed with shoes, she’s just not sure that I’ve got over the trauma of being a teenager with size 8 feet at a time when size 8 shoes were difficult to come by, and therefore tend to buy more pairs than I might need.
  • Erm, there was also some issue about my saying that she was exasperated at my lack of single male friends but I can’t remember what she was particularly concerned about – I think it was more of a misinterpretation of what I’d written. I may sometimes paint a picture of Mum being a little bit like Bridget Jones’ Mother – desperate to set me up with someone, but she most definitely isn’t. 

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