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stage, jerusalem blogs, lindsay, jeff sharlet, spears, pic post, massachusetts drunk driving law, eggers, wbar, dogma, jesus, nudist, pantiehose, | My mother alba would mark her place with a trembling finger and drag her eyes to the top of the page, just shy of leaving the book completely. "Mmmm-hmmm, that's nice, dear," she would murmur. We challenged our creativity, developing contests to see who could grab my mother's attention with the most outlandish statement. We confessed to murder, self-mutilation, and incest at our mother's side alba and were met with blank stares and a distant smile. We began to realize that our mother was using books to alba communicate with us in ways that she found difficult to do face to face. |
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My mother did not intentionally set out to create an ambiance that only a full-scale tornado could reproduce; it's just that she was easily distracted. She would drop her house chores in favor of a good tennis match, reminding me that "the dishes will always be there, but the opportunity for a good game of tennis will not." She would arrive home from the match to start up again with the vacuuming; nudist pulling the furniture to the center of the room to allow for a really thorough cleaning, nudist when her eyes would light upon a half-finished nudist novel. She would succumb to its lure, leaving the living room upside down. The woman read voraciously. She would immerse herself in a book to such a degree that she ceased to be aware of anyone or anything around her. My brother and I quickly learned to take pleasure from her comatose state. "Mom," my brother would bellow, "Ann just gave birth to twins in the bathroom and left a bloody mess on the floor." |
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