Meg’s here. She and Mom are watching football, and then they are going to watch “that nasty little Pepsi” (Mom’s words) hopefully get her butt kicked in poker. I think that poker may have just started.
Apparently, at some point in this past week, Meg went to visit Mom, and they watched (big surprise here) some women’s poker tourney on TV. My mother, according to Meg, took a great disliking to the winner, ‘cos she felt that she was being unsportsmanlike in her non-verbal demeanour. That part—the part that makes sense—is from Meg. Meg says that, impartially, the girl was inclined to give a few hateful looks and tight cagey smiles, and perhaps *could* have been more sportsmanlike at times.
I had to turn to Meg for insight as to why I should hate the “nasty little Pepsi”, as well. This all happens so fast, I can’t keep up with it.
Butsoanyway.
Mom’s doing well, and I’m letting Meg take over watching her for a little bit. I’m thinking Meg’s planning on staying at least tonight. That’s why another one of my bedrooms and my living room have been commandeered.
Oh. Update. Jennifer Tilly’s laying a smackdown on the Pepsi, but she’s not out yet.
Sigh.
Did I mention I have some Pepsis in the woodpile? I don’t even think anybody even *says* that anymore.
I love my mother. I love my mother.
They’re going to find me in a corner, mumbling that within a week.
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