Sophie Sopherson

Finally, you can click here and see my baby.

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can't you pretend?

I spoke to my mom this morning, for perhaps about 10 minutes. She sounded much better than last time -- she says she barely remembers our conversation on Friday because she was still so drugged. She asked about my life and I spoke briefly about work and briefly about the dog. She seemed casually interested in both, and I could hear her shifting awkwardly while talking to me. How quickly the old patterns come zooming back, within days of emergency surgery in the ER. It's obviously frustrating. Is my life that boring? Even if it was, you're my parent, can't you feign interest? I mean, I know the real issue here isn't whether she's bored -- it's more about her feeling overwhelmed about talking to me in general. If I manage to get her talking about something she knows or likes, I think I can make her forget just for a minute that I'm the freak child. But if I'm speaking of something unfamiliar, she can't seem to move past it.

Back to e-mail, I suppose. There I'm never subjected to their awkward silences or obvious discomfort.

This weekend has been all about food -- Steak&Shake on Friday and later various snacks made tastier by being high. Saturday was grocery shopping in the afternoon and then dinner of Salmon with lime butter and parmesan asparagus. Today's bruch was a salsa cheese omelet for MelRo and just cheese eggs for me, and tonight I'm planning some menu surrounding the rotisserie pork loin I picked up for super-cheap. I love cooking. I can be creative, it involves food, and I usually listen to music while doing it. It's also a nice activity to do by myself, so I never mind if the person who's eating with me doesn't even enter the kitchen.

I suppose I should shower and dress since it's nearly 1 pm