Hey all! Well, I survived the makeover and the early Thanksgiving dinner at Mom’s. We are now relaxing a beautiful hotel in downtown San Antonio, and in the morning we will drive to Chris’ Mom’s. Then on to Cressie and Austin’s Thanksgiving evening. That is a WHOLE LOT of turkey…
Well, I pulled up as stealth as you can in a uhaul and redid my Mom’s living room while she was at work. Mom had asked me if I would help her with it, but I was still worried she would hurt my feelings somehow. (My Mom ain’t exactly sensitive.) I took down her sacred life-size talking Elvis, her collection of unusual beer cans, her dancing M&M toy, her vinyl Pillsbury Dough Boy, etc. and put them in her room… which is a crazy mishmash of all her other similar treasures. (OK, I will admit that talking Elvis was a long ago gift from me.) I had won an antique oak folding gateleg table on Ebay, and stopped in a small town on the way to my Mom’s to pick it up. The table was a beaut and turned out to be the real focal point of the room. (In fact, it folded out so generously, we had dinner on it!) All my planning and coordinating panned out, and I be damned if that old living room didn’t look sweet when I was done. The best part… Mom loved it!
I know it sounds cheesy and you would have to know me to understand it, but the artist in me really is in love with beauty. I feel bruised without it. I sincerely started out re-doing my Mom’s living room out of kindness because she had asked me to, but after growing up in that ugly house with so much heartbreak and violent memories, decorating the living room in Mom’s old house gifted me with some surprising healing and satisfaction.
I still drove out of that polluted, nitty-gritty, shit hole of a town like a bat out of hell… just like I did when I was 16… but this time, I didn’t burn rubber. I just cruised. In a hurry.
I would never go back to that town if my Mom didn’t live there. I have (mostly) forgiven my Mom, and I do love her very much. She has a cruel streak and beat her children in ways that would have gotten her arrested, but I know she loved me as best as she could. I see she is bitter for her own reasons, and I understand her better now that I am an adult. Still, I am not going to pretend my childhood was anything other than what it was. Yeah, I didn’t get enough love, but that’s mine now. I believe I am making up for it with my own life. I try to love as best as I can too, but we are all human, afterall.
Anyhooo… tomorrow… Christine’s biggo family! It’s only been a little over a year that I have been allowed in her Mother’s home. The holidays. Joy. 
But for NOW… I got a bucket of iced beer, room service, and a pretty girl on my bed.
Happy thanksgiving, everyone!
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