she was downstairs ringing the doorbell, meanwhile, i was upstairs beginning to wonder if she was truly incapable of following simple directions, or had stopped to get a coffee. the phone call that i received on the third floor from down below was classic and set the tone for the two nights my mom and i got to spend together outside of the home-warmed hell we like to call Neenah.

after the independence holiday, i started to really feel as though my movements were becoming systematically robotic and the space in which i operate in daily was polluted, my days concluding in headaches and drug-induced early bedtimes. and by the way, my thanks goes out Brenda Bass for the lovely Tylenol disclaimer that I tend to see almost daily... although, good recall cover-up? anyway, my mom made her appearance Friday afternoon, cooler in hand, ready to scope out my refridgerator shelf to make sure that i'm still eating. in tow were three noodle salads she made the day prior. this is normal.

sitting apprehensively on the hem of my bed, she watched on as i packed five outfits for a day and a half vacation. well, first she made it - the bed. then she sat herself, not saying nearly as much as i thought about how dingy it was and laughed when i said i really was the Little Girl of the Attic. so i packed large and ditched the place. mom and i got into a big discussion about that night's dinner plans. i had made a list of restaurants, detailed with locations and phone numbers, ratings and critic descriptions, and after settling into our delightfully clean, at least to me, Hyatt getaway, and after many phone calls seeking Friday night reservations, we made an unanimous decision (which was miracle #1), we arrived at The View, a restaurant and lounge on Lake Calhoun.

we got a spot outside (miracle #2) which absolutely tickled my mom and i caught on - it was 8 o'clock at night and comfortably 80 degrees. i found nothing to argue with there. mom ordered a Sonoma red wine and i enviously mumbled that i would simply have a water, as if i had a choice. we giggled at the men that stared and returned faint smiles. two sets of crossed legs and a laugh suddenly hard to tell apart from the other. we ate dashingly good food and watched a wedding party welcome their guests at the beach club nextdoor. i shared stories with her that i, somehow along the way, had forgotten, or chose to forget to tell. in return, she told me things i never once imagined or made up or pretended to happen to anyone that was close to me. shock, guilt and grief came up as the sun was going down. suddenly, the pieces fell, as if the box had been turned upside-down and shook. it was a decent sized puzzle - not understanding in full why she hounded me about my relationships in the past. and now, as if i was cleaning things up a bit and happened to find the missing piece wedged under the bed between photo albums or something. i felt like i should cry, and then i actually wanted to, but i figure that if i'm going to start to take some sort of resemblacne in other things, i might as well model her courage and self-respect. and then, when she asked me if i wanted to try her salmon, i said 'yes.'

just to top it off, we hit up the dessert bar, where we again were seated outside. this led to creme brulee and one very intoxicated man pointing at me and shouting, "YOU'RE NAKED!" so i guess, in review, THAT might have topped it off.

Saturday morning came quietly for a change, and of course my mom and i prepped for our 10am lattes and a day planned through lunch. we swung by Ann Taylor so she could meet my team, and then i showed her my next home-sweet-home, 625 Ontario, where she gracefully acquainted herself with John, the landlord, and his wife. (the lord of land he is... our deck is looking fabulous, especially with the newly installed lanterns). i think she's looking forward to me moving out of this crackhouse as much as i am. we met Hil and Linds for lunch at The Times Cafe and Bar, where our gap-tooth waitress announced that she had five favorites on the menu, along with the fact that she was "new here," and also apparently lonely since she rarely left us alone. Hil said 'fuck' about half a dozen times and Linds, per usual, tried seducing me with a game of footsie which i, of course, found hard to deny. after our flatbread pizzas and tipping 10%, i took mom by the MIA for a couple hours of museum enjoyment. we both like Cezanne and Matisse and as it turns out, neither us of could leave without swinging by a Rembrandt.

we dressed up, saw The Break-Up, and grabbed yet another outdoor table at the Newsroom, mainly beecause it was as far as our heels got us. two hours of talk and one bathroom photoshoot later, and even then we weren't done. we stopped along side the Presbyterian church, gawking, and wondering why make-up never stays put on my face.... we found our room and used it once more.

Sunday morning was early; we had plans to get out to walk around Lake Calhoun before a big brunch. there, we brainstormed names for my someday-to-be Boston Terrier puppy. we've got some good ones in the running. big things happen when you get a PR specialist and an aspiring writer together to come up with names. we grabbed breakfast at the Uptown Diner, where we had the option of bottomless coffee, where i finished her omelet's onions, where she said more than five times "make sure you always go running before it gets dark....", where i threatened to destroy a phone clip if she did in fact dare to buy me one, and where we read movie reviews and regraded them ourselves.

a stop for gas and at the market (she insisted), we found each other sobbing on the curb before she got back in the car to drive home. i didn't even shed a tear when she and my dad left me standing in my dorm room doorway after 18 years of attempted house-arrest. she's sick of always hanging out with the guys, and i miss yelling at her when she makes comments about my love life. but, i don't yell anymore... i tell her, "you were right." and i also told her that she did good, even with the attempted lock-down for most of my adolescent life. i mean, somewhere along the way, i learned to think for myself and sprint after what i want when it comes into sight. even in my own opinion, i turned out better than just OK. i'm starting to listen to her about osteoporosis and skin cancer, and i'm almost 50% down with the fact that i may look more like my dad, but i fight for things like my mom. taking it in strides, learning what i can. growing up is like throwing up - some things disagree with you, but you just hug that bowl tight and wait for it to pass. this past weekend was a defining moment in my young-adult life. somethings in life require moderation. and it's moments like these that make me feel lucky for puking my guts out. i think that feeling has passed......