In an effort to not disappoint the masses (and by masses I mean the 15 or so people who read this disjointed mess of mine on a daily basis), I will continue in that tradition today.
With one minor change.
I'm gonna really mean it this week. This person honest-to-goodness-really-and-truly-no-doubt-about-it-100-percent deserves to be thanked, again, and again, and again.
So, without further ado. I'm sending this one out to someone we all know and love: Mimi!
Today is her birthday. And, I'm not gonna disclose her age, but you can imagine, if I'm 25 (and I totally am), she's what, maybe 38 (ignore what that implies about her character)?
She pretty much looks exactly like this today, minus the unnecessarily large glasses, the mini-afro, and the hideous sweater vest.
See! Still as beautiful (I'd argue even more so since there have been marked improvements in hairstyle and overall fashion sense) as ever.
Regardless of her real age (or mine for that matter), she is a timeless beauty, a diamond in the rough, a gift from above, the one human being with whom I'd struggle to have made it through so much without.
So, Mimi, Mom, thank you.
Thank you for loving me and my little band of brothers so intensely and unconditionally. Your support and devotion astound me daily, and I pray that my boys will one day feel that I was even one tenth of the mom that you are to me (and at times to them).
Since you are the only one who appreciates these, enjoy!
Thank you and your welcome. Oh, and Mama Kat (Mistress of Writer's Workshop), guess what? I made this. Boo-yah, baby!
Card Reads: (Poem on top) Roses are red, tires are black. If you weren't my mom, I'm sure I'd be wack. I wouldn't be funny, or remotely cool. I'm certain that all, I would be is a fool. I'm glad you're my mom, what more can I say? Other than have, a happy birthday! (Words on bottom) Thanks a ton for only laughing a little (after you make sure I'm okay) when I fall down, and for always laughing the hardest when I say something funny. You are my biggest fan, and everyone needs a fan (preferably not of the psychotic-wear-your-skin-'cause-it-smells-purdy variety), right?! I love you. XOXO, Dumb Mom
All gifts can be forwarded directly to Casa de Dummies where they will be thoroughly inspected for appropriateness. Thanks!
