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Language Log

Thursday, Dec. 22, 2022 - 7:07 p.m.

Went to the dinner with everyone. Am rather worse for the wear. It seems to have knocked me out of whatever positive mood I was in. The kids were fine, at least. But my mom sat next to me. She kept touching me when she’d talk to me, I don’t like it.

She started off for some reason complaining about my father not talking pictures of her at her wedding or the boat christening. Again. Not long ago J asked her to tell the kids about him and that’s all she had to say. And here she was repeating it. “Here he was a photographer, and he didn’t even…” “NO ONE took a picture of me” and I wanna say, listen, typically if you want to be sure a photo is taken of you, you hire someone or ask someone. You don’t just assume and then bitch about what is essentially your own failure for the next 50 years. But no, it’s all about her, always, and people’s failure to consider HER feelings.

Anyway then my father in law asked me how business was, asked me what I was making for my own enjoyment these days, which is of all questions, the right question to ask me. I got started talking about it and mentioned the sweater and said that she had given it to me, thinking she’d appreciate the shout out, but then she broke in to point out to everyone that she had never been thanked for it. And what else had she given me? She had never heard a thing about it.

So that was the end of my attempt at communication. I wish she didn’t have to come to the other things. “I never see my daughter” she also said, when she entered the room. Still too often, mom. Still too often.

Not in much of a mood now.

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