Short. Because I really should be in bed now. But this is too golden not to share right this minute. (besides, if I wait until morning, I’ll probably second guess sharing.)
Mom: I don’t know… it just really hit me when you turned twenty-eight this year…
Jen: Seven. D:
Jen: I’m twenty-seven.
My own mother doesn’t remember my age. What does that mean? =)
Also, we discovered that I tell stories like my dad.
Like something happens
(well, nothing that big)
but there’s really some big life application, so I tell the story. And when I tell the story, I ramble a bit
(just a little)
and get off track and drop in little parenthetical asides
(because backstory is important)
instead of just getting to the point.
I love that. It drives Mom nuts.
I kind of love that too.
(By the way, this is probably why I never finish my serious story/life lesson blog posts… they get long and rambly and disjointed and I figure nobody wants to read them so they hang out in my drafts folder until they’re irrelevant. Just sayin’.)