Jill Murray
My mom is the coolest mom there is this week. After the 22nd, your mom can be coolest again, but until then, my mom will be curling in the Quebec provincial championship of the Scott Tournament of Hearts.
I’m not going to go out of my way to identify who my mom is or what team she’s on because unlike La S., she’s not that fond of being mentioned in this blog, even if it’s as positive as:
My mother, the supreme athlete of the universe, a woman who, unlike her daughter, injures herself only seriously and respectably with consequence, beat out enough people to win a spot in the provincial championship of curling, where she is now competing against people even younger than my little brother, most of whom probably even have the full use of all of their fingers– an unfair advantage if ever there was one in a sport that’s all about throwing and sweeping!
La S., in contrast, and very much to her credit, will be pleased to see herself mentioned in any context, even negatively or only in passing for absolutely no reason at all, in a post that has nothing to do with her.
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“even negatively” ? Yikes.
Yeah, there was that one time I made an oblique complaint relating to a group of things and you were bummed that I hadn’t specifically called you out, by name, for one specific time I didn’t totally agree with you.
I can’t remember what it was now. But it’s somewhere in this blog.