Have you noticed that I have gone from writing about Sophia every day on my blog to writing my mother? Does this mean that my existence completely revolves around the woman I happen to be sharing my space with at the time?
In a week from today, my mother is going to retire from her job at Farrar, Straus, and Giroux Publishers. She has worked with the company since before she was married, and has seen drastic changes in the publishing industry over the decades. What does this mean to you, my dear blogger friends? This means you have one more week to suck up to me, thinking that somehow I can help you get your sleep-inducing “memoir” read by the company’s editor-in-chief. After that, you can stop reading this blog because I will be useless to you.
My mother does not like the Florida senior early-bird dinner lifestyle, but her friends have pressured her to sublet an apartment in “Century Village” in Boca Raton for three months this winter so she can try it out. Yes, she has officially become like Seinfeld’s mother.
This creates a dilemma. Do I stay here during the winter while she is in Florida?
Am I ever going back to Los Angeles?
Is there a direct connection between me returning to New York and the immediate collapse of Wall Street?
Imaginary Phone Conversation Between Sophia and My Mother
a one act play by Neilochka
Mom: How DID you live with him for so long?
Sophia: Now do you see what I was talking about?
Mom: And every night it is the same thing! He watches All My Children, yelling at the TV, saying “Don’t do it, Erica!” and then he locks himself in his room for an hour, making all these weird grunting sounds, like a caveman. What does he do in there?”
Sophia: You don’t want to know. If I were you, I’d get away from him this winter before he makes you crazy. Go anywhere. Go to Florida.
Mom: I hate Florida.
Sophia: Well, it’s your choice. Florida in the sun or three long months with…
Mom: Hola, Boca! Will you come visit?
Sophia: Sure. And I won’t tell him!
The two women laugh.
Yeah, I know I am funny. But, the only reason I have a sense of humor is because my mother is funnier.
After reading my last post, she bought me this as a gift: