How Do You Know When Your Mother’s Mad At You?

Photos
All photos from yesterday's walk.
Top left: looking north from the boat launch area.
Top right: casualties of many years of flooding.
Bottom left: mushrooms climbing a dead tree.
Bottom right: anybody home?

As I flew out the door yesterday, my mother sang out the usual, “Have a good time.” The words were the usual; the tone, however, was different and I wondered if I heard verbal frost.

You already know I had a good time on my walk. There was never a doubt about any other outcome.

When I got home, I immediately went into the den where my mother was waiting for the basketball tournaments to begin.

“Hrumph! All the men’s games are on CBS. The women are pushed off onto ESPN! That’s the usual discrimination for you! Anyone who doesn’t have cable can’t watch the women. That’s not fair!” She finally came up for air.

This is how I know my mother is mad at me. She takes it out on something else with great gusto. It didn't matter that I explained to her that there are so many games no one network could not possibly air all of them. Nothing else mattered. She didn’t want to hear ESPN probably out-bid the other non-cable networks. That usually brings up a stream of consciousness about greed. Thank goodness we skipped right over that one.

She was mad at me for enjoying 2 hours of freedom and she can’t get out.
She was mad at me for enjoying 2 hours of freedom.
She was mad at me for enjoying.
She was mad at me.