lizblackdog (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lizblackdog) wrote2010-02-10 04:09 pm
lizblackdog) wrote2010-02-10 04:09 pm
Entry tags:
Don't you know she's famous for it
Went out with Mum today, for the first time in a long time. I've been avoiding her for weeks. I couldn't deal with worrying about her as well while I was driving myself up the wall with the DWP shit. But we need each other, so we're picking up where we left off.
I've got over being angry at her. I only touched on the drinking thing once; I told her that she'd known perfectly well what she was risking when she started to drink again, and I asked her what she was thinking when she made that decision.
Actually, I already know what she was thinking. I've been there and done that. I don't need her to answer that question for me; but she needs to ask it of herself and look hard at her answer.
Then I changed the subject and we were back to normal for the rest of the afternoon. We didn't do a lot, only went to the pet shop for dogfood and cat litter and a grooming glove for her cat, and then to the Turkish grocery over the road from the pet shop.
I love the Turkish grocery. It's full of tasty stuff with strange brand names you can't get anywhere else. I came home with taramosalata and German assorted butter biscuits and vanilla-scented toilet paper (I KNOW RIGHT. But it was the cheapest toilet paper they had, and it actually smells really, really nice.) I resisted sage tea and waffles and canned fried aubergine in tomato sauce and unreasonable quantities of cake. The two adorable good-looking Turkish cashiers flirted with both of us, and one made me burst out laughing by eyeing Mum while she was paying - "You two are sisters, aren't you?" he said.
Oh yeah, she's still got it.
I ought to be feeling better, but I'm not. I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop - fiddling vainly on volcano day while the ash clouds gather on the horizon. But I suppose it'll pass.
I've got over being angry at her. I only touched on the drinking thing once; I told her that she'd known perfectly well what she was risking when she started to drink again, and I asked her what she was thinking when she made that decision.
Actually, I already know what she was thinking. I've been there and done that. I don't need her to answer that question for me; but she needs to ask it of herself and look hard at her answer.
Then I changed the subject and we were back to normal for the rest of the afternoon. We didn't do a lot, only went to the pet shop for dogfood and cat litter and a grooming glove for her cat, and then to the Turkish grocery over the road from the pet shop.
I love the Turkish grocery. It's full of tasty stuff with strange brand names you can't get anywhere else. I came home with taramosalata and German assorted butter biscuits and vanilla-scented toilet paper (I KNOW RIGHT. But it was the cheapest toilet paper they had, and it actually smells really, really nice.) I resisted sage tea and waffles and canned fried aubergine in tomato sauce and unreasonable quantities of cake. The two adorable good-looking Turkish cashiers flirted with both of us, and one made me burst out laughing by eyeing Mum while she was paying - "You two are sisters, aren't you?" he said.
Oh yeah, she's still got it.
I ought to be feeling better, but I'm not. I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop - fiddling vainly on volcano day while the ash clouds gather on the horizon. But I suppose it'll pass.