priorities

[Ring....Ring...]

A.: Hello?
Mom: Well??
A.: I haven't looked at it yet! I've just settled down and I'm getting other stuff done.
Mom: Well, look at it!
A.: I'll call you back later.

"It" here refers to something she forwarded me. Unbeknownst to her, she's prolonged the time for which I won't look at it, because I have something to blog about.

Previously (perhaps half an hour before the above phone call):

Mom: Where are you? Why are you walking and not driving?
A.: I'm walking home from the gym.
Mom: What do you do at the gym?

Okay, we've had this discussion myriad times. It's up there with "you don't like coffee?" and "it's so politically correct of you to wear sunblock." It usually plays out with my saying "I lifted weights," and my parents saying, "oh, you shouldn't lift weights! why do you lift weights?" And that's exactly how it played out tonight:

Dad: Oh, you shouldn't lift weights.
Mom: If you're going to lift weights, why not do it at home?
A.: The gym has better weights. [And an elliptical for me to warm up on. And a sauna, although children and the parents that let them run rampant have a way of putting a damper on that experience].
Mom, Dad: It's probably not a good idea for you to lift weights.

It's kind of funny that my parents don't remember that we've discussed this. Sure it's also funny that my parents dish out advice about things they don't understand, since lifting weights is quite healthy. Perhaps they worry that I'll bulk up, which, apart from being physically unlikely, hasn't happened yet and I've been lifting weights for, oh, going on five years now. But my parents must not realize that because they're surprised every time it comes up.

Some of you may recall the most classic conversation about my weightlifting. The actual conversation preceded this blog, but I may have written it up anyway. In any case, here it is, early 2005:

Mom: Why were you unable to pick up your phone?
A.: I didn't have it on me, I was at the gym.
Mom: Are you home now?
A.: I'm walking home.
Mom: What were you doing at the gym?
A.: Lifting weights.
Mom: I don't think you should lift weights.
Dad: I don't think you should lift weights. I saw this program on the fitness channel...

[My parents just got cable a few years ago, and they overcompensate by watching every channel].

Dad: I think you should take up... gymnastics.
Mom: I agree with your father. It would help. The way you walk is totally not sexy, and I imagine that the way you dance is also without grace.

[This is also not the first, or last, time I got the "the way you walk is not sexy" speech.]

Mom: What are you wearing to Julia's wedding?
A.: A pink dress. [The same one I wore to Rachel's wedding, see photo in one of the October blogs].
Mom: Oh, I have cute red shoes that would go with that.
A.: Red doesn't go with pink.
Mom: You're so concerned with what society thinks!

Anyway, that is just one of many times in which we've had the "oh, you lift weights? you shouldn't" conversation. My mother apparently doesn't recall after each one that I lift weights. My mother doesn't remember a number of things that have been established many a time (I don't like coffee, for example).

Yet, she does remember, or claim to remember, things she read once. Tonight, after admonishing me about weights, she said:

Mom: Have you seen previews for "Love in the Time of Cholera"? Why is she brunette? Why isn't she blond?
A.: I don't know?
Mom: She was blond in the book.
A.: I don't remember. [And I really don't care].
Mom: Do you have the book?
A.: I think it's at your house, but I think it's in Spanish.
Mom: Yes, a lot of your books are at the house.
A.: I don't remember her hair color.
Mom: Could you check?
A.: I don't have time to reread "Love in the Time of Cholera"!
Mom: It's at the very beginning.
A.: I've read a few things by Garcia Marquez, and I doubt it's at the very beginning, but it any case, I absolutely do not have time to look for it. So, no.

Impressively, she didn't launch into an attempted guilt trip about how she'd do it for me. It would be hard to justify Fermina's hair color as urgently-needed information. Nonetheless, I'm reminded of the extent to which my mother does not appreciate how busy I am.

Mom: It won't take long, just look it up.
A.: I am not going to look it up.
Mom: What did you think of the "kitten and crow" video?
A.: I haven't looked at it yet.
Mom: You haven't??? Call me as soon as you've looked at it.
A.: Okay but I have things to do so it won't be right away.

Ten minutes later (on the same phone call):

A.: Okay, I'm hope, I have to feed the cat.
Mom: Oh, are you home?
A.: Yes.
Mom: You didn't say you were home.
A.: Sure I did.
Mom: Okay, look up her hair color if you get a chance.
A.: I am not going to look up her hair color. Bye.
Mom: Bye.