Phone call

Mom talked to me. She happened to be on the computer when I Skype-called and she picked up. She called dad over and we all chatted. I showed them the roses, and then the cat. Mom made happy faces at the cat and even said she was pretty. Mom has expressed mixed feelings about the cat in the past (though who hasn't?).

She asked me what I was doing over the weekend, and when I said I was going to a wine tasting on the waterfront, she asked, accusingly, how I was going to drive afterward. I told her I would walk. It was good to have the 'old' mom back, quirks and all. So good that, when I spent at least half an hour wrangling with this heavy, bulky blanket that she insisted on bringing me--and hurt my arm/finger in the process--I made an active effort to keep my mind out of the "I'm so sick of all this stuff mom has shoved upon me" rabbit hole. That rabbit hole has crossed my path regularly over the last few months, as I've engaged in a continued process of decluttering, but I've come to the point where I welcome "shove things at me" mom in place of bitter mom.

At this point, I'm confident that I'm as decluttered as I'm going to get; I've given away and tossed a lot of stuff. Does anybody need a twin mattress, or an exercise ball or two, or a bike light? Or lots of clothing-store shopping bags? Or a gazillion volumes of the Vegetarian Times?