As I stopped by the supermarket, the woman at the checkout counter asked if I was a mom.

"Oh, no." I replied. "But I'm a daughter, and I'm cooking for my mother in a few minutes."

Please note that "cooking" is rather a grandiose term for throwing together some pasta, cut melon, and a green salad—and keeping the dog away from the table while my husband and mother were having dinner. (No, no: I ate, too. I'm not that codependent.)

Happy silly Hallmark holiday; kiss the folks you love.

Not bad for 72, huh?

Posted by: Attila Girl at 10:25 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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