Phone call

Mom: They make a cute couple. They look very compatible. I'm happy for him.
A.: Good, good.
Mom: Tell him to open the bag with the bulbs, so they don't get moldy. I would have opened it but I didn't realize he wasn't leaving for another week.
A.: I told you.
Mom: No you didn't.
Dad: Yes you did.
Mom: Well, I missed it.
A.: This is one of those moments where I'd be worried about your memory, but I know you've always missed stuff like that.
Mom: I just didn't hear it.
A.: We discussed it for five minutes.
Mom: Really?
Dad: Yeah.
Mom: Well, I was tired.
A.: I understand. I'm glad I don't have to worry.
Mom: What was I going to ask you? Oh yeah, what was that play you saw the other night?

One of my least favorite exercises in the world is talking about names of plays (or books) with mom. Especially ones she hasn't heard of. She asked me on the phone on Friday. I told her, and told her she wouldn't have heard of it. She insisted. I was unwilling to speak loudly or spell it out, hooked-on-phonics style, in the theater (where I was, having just picked up my ticket, when she called).

A.: Venus in Fur.
Mom: What?
A.: Venus. In. Fur.
Mom: What?
A.: Venus, as in Vinyera. V myekhakh.
Mom: A furry Venus?
A.: Not quite. Venus in Fur.
Mom: I haven't heard of it.
A.: I know.
Mom: How did you know.
A.: It's relatively new.
Mom: Was it good?
A.: It was excellent.
Mom: Good, good. I'm glad you're going to the theater regularly. It's a good thing to do. Oh, dad's going to send you a picture of the bunny that was playing in the backyard.
A.: Sounds good.
Mom: Okay, bye.
Dad: Bye.
A.: Bye.