My kooky mother

My mother needs something to panic about or be angry at. Always.

Recently it's been the possibility of a NOLA style hurricane coming to Long Island and putting us all "under 20 feet of water." She reads logical newspaper articles and then contorts their content in her head to repeat that there WILL be one of these storms and that "you have to be prepared, Jennifer...it's not something you can just bury your head in the sand about and ignore." I explain to her over and over that I've read the articles too, and that I've done additional research on the internet...and that I'm simply choosing not to panic about it. It's so much nicer that way.

Last night she attended a lecture held by three former fire chiefs (so they MUST know all about the possibility of a hurricane, right? I mean, if they were talking about how to escape a fire, well, you know.) They pumped fear into all these people at the lecture. Well, maybe not. Maybe the other attendees were logical people and just took it for what it was worth and went home and had some ice cream. Not my mom. She paced her apartment all night worrying about having no place to live. About what to pack "in case you have to start over." She's calling her investment guy to send her a few thousand dollars so she can keep the cash in the house, according to the firemen's suggestion.

I explained again that I have TV and I have radios and I have the internet and IF there is such a storm on its way, I will prepare. I told her I'm not going to create a fucking bomb shelter in my house in the slight chance of one of these storms hammering us. She thinks I'm insane and stupid. In denial. Etc. I have a BJ's membership, I can go buy some large quantities of stuff and be on my way. The facts are that it is three times more likely this year that there will be a bad hurricane hitting our area. Not a tsunami, not a NOLA size hurricane. I can remember two hurricanes that were bad in my lifetime and they are saying this could be like those. With those, we didn't have power for a few days. My boyfriend at the time of the first one lived 50 yards from the Atlantic. They had power. Our house had none. But our house always lost electricity if there was more than 2 inches of rain. Downed trees suck, yeah. Power lines, etc. But to put myself in a state of panic over something I have NO control over, something that statistically will not happen is just absurd.

Ok, vent over. She calls me at 8:30 in the morning to preach about all this after both of my kids had me up all night. So not in the mood. Ick.

Dance class part deux

Ok, so Lily was really excited to see her bestest pal Lexi and they were showing each other their tutus. Super cute.

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Just one more thing...

My father was an avid tennis player. He had a few guys he played with and they became friends and socialized with my mom and their wives. These were my parents' friends at the time of my dad's death, almost 11 years ago.

One of the guys he played with was named Harris. Harris' son in law was my dad's dentist and my dad was with him when he died. Long story, don't feel like going into details...doesn't matter for this story anyway.

My mother lost touch with them (another long story).

Then I met Robert several years later. Robert plays tennis.

Since we lived in the same basic neighborhood, Robert started playing tennis where my dad used to play. No biggie. He used to play with the pro and joined a league so there wasn't anything really social about it.

Then last summer, Harris and his other friend had some falling out. So Harris is frequently in need of a tennis partner.

This summer Harris has started calling my house to arrange tennis dates with Robert. It's just surreal to me when I see his number and name on the caller ID. I refuse to answer the phone, it's just too awkward for me. I don't mind at all that Robert plays with him, in a way, it feels like a full-circle kinda thing...but I just get this sick feeling in my stomach when he calls.