The Irishman has taken to calling me daily. I like it!

Tomorrow night we're going to the planetarium. Mars, you know. I'm guessing, though, that thousands of other people have the same idea.

You know that I love my mom. I really, really do. But can someone explain to me why she NEVER begins a conversation. Last night, after several attempts to draw her into conversations on various topics, I decided to see how long I would have to wait for her to start one. We sat in silence for fifteen minutes.

What's up with that? No matter what I try to discuss with her, she answers whatever question I've asked and then NOTHING. No attempt to carry the conversational ball. Help me out here, mom!

Also, last night we were at F_ilene's Basement. She kept pointing out pieces of clothing and saying, "Oh, isn't THAT cute!!?" Well, I didn't think they were cute. Our tastes in clothing have diverged completely in recent years. I like things that are tailored and have interesting details. Because I live in a gritty city and use public transportation, I wear darker colors. Lately I'm gravitating toward higher heels and more fitted clothing. My mom, on the other hand, is drawn to brighter colors. She tends to like flounces and frills, and things that hang on the body. She lives in Kansas, so this makes sense. I dressed like that in Kansas too. (Um, in the 80s, but okay.)

I was diplomatic, but I'm not interested in a big boxy jacket that hangs to mid-thigh, or pleated pants, or tunics of any sort. I've figured out what styles work for me, and these are not them. She seemed to be taking it personally that I didn't want to try on any of those things.

Given all of this, I think it's an excellent idea to spend the evening with The Irishman tomorrow. Don't you?

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