A Mothers' Day Memory

G'ma and Daddoooooooo never fought on Mothers' Day. At least not in the morning.

We three kids would be dressed and waiting for Daddoooooooo as soon as the sun was up. First stop was the florist for a gardenia corsage. Wrapped in a big box with an even bigger white ribbon it had the longest pin through the foliage. You had to be very very careful not to touch the flower or it would turn brown. That's why the pin was so long; Mommy wouldn't have to worry about brushing the petals with a pin that big.

Then we went to the bakery for a prune danish. We never bought anything else that morning, though we usually had fresh rye bread and rolls and cookies on Sundays. But on Mothers' Day we were all about Mommy. And only about Mommy.

Home to the kitchen, where eggs and toast and coffee (instant with just enough milk and 1 sweetener in the blue packet) went on a tray decorated with whatever craft projects our teachers had helped us to create that year. Lilacs or forsythia from the garden went in the green glass vase and then we carried it upstairs. Very very carefully. Very very slowly.

She was always asleep when we opened her door. She was always surprised by the tray and the danish and the corsage. She always wore it on her nightgown and then her robe and then her jacket and then her blouse. She didn't save it hanging upside down in the attic nor crushed in the bottom of her lingerie drawer - she was never the sentimental type. But she wore it all day on Mothers' Day.

What I liked most about Mothers' Day was that it was always the same. We knew what to do, we knew when to do it, and we knew what would happen next. No room for arguing or discussion. No one had unfulfilled expectations. Disappointment wasn't an option. Nothing could improve upon the plan. And next year would be just as good.

Explicatory Bloviating

The Big Cuter thinks I should divulge more of myself because, in this medium ("New Media, Gasp" said Princess Myrtle one day) bloviating is encouraged. The Little Cuter is my first follower. It's nice to be loved and supported and mentored by those you've loved and supported and mentored yourself. Maybe that's what G'ma means when she thanks me these days.

Ashleigh Burroughs has been with me since college, when I realized that I was never going to write the great American novel but that, perhaps, Ashleigh would. It's good to have dreams and it's awful when your dreams make your reality seem paltry in comparison - especially when your reality is a good one. Giving Ashleigh her own persona cured that problem lickety-split. Like her namesake from Gone With the Wind, her intentions are stronger than her actions. But that's ok. She's been waiting for just this occasion to shine.

The Edgar Rice Burroughs Martian series kept The Big Guy sane during boring summer jobs in his youth. He read them aloud on Carribbean beaches and at Floridian pool-sides and they prompted a 7 year old reluctant reader to become a literary junkie. Inspiring, exciting, provocative -- I'd be glad if the Burrow meets that standard.

When I really really really like a book I'll try to make it last by rationing the chapters I allow myself to read in one sitting. Herman Wouk's The Winds of War got me through my first lonely weeks in graduate school that way. The Hobbit kept me company on a cloudy week near Disney World, and Sam Gamgee and Bilbo Baggins (also great names) have been by my side ever since. Bilbo loved his burrow home, and never wanted an adventure, and fit right in with the community and his friends and went out and DID SOMETHING SPECIAL anyway. Home should be like that, I think - keep you cozy and toss you right out.

Ashleigh Burroughs is a great writer's name. A burrow is a great place to live and to leave. Living up to the name and enjoying the adventure - that's the challenge. Welcome to Ashleigh Burroughs in the Burrow.



"After all, tomorrow is another day"

Good Names

Roy Hobbs is a good baseball name. Dick Butkus is a good football name. Ashleigh Burroughs is a good writer's name.

Lots of writers have lots of initials. Most of them seem to be R ..... J R R Tolkien, George R R Martin......

Growing up, I didn't have any nicknames, which is funny now, because I have lots of them as an adult. Am I living my life backwards? I'm parenting my parent, and mothering my children. I'm living the cowboy songs I loved as a child.

Roy Rogers is a good cowboy name.



"Pick me a good one, Bobby"