Category Archives: The language of families

140 KM an Hour with Tears in my Eyes

Posted on October 19, 2019 by Mrs. Spit

I have struggled with how to start this. The lab results they handed to me. The sinking feeling. When I thought my knees might buckle. I could start with the scene in the kitchen – the part where Christie looked … Continue reading →

Posted in The language of families, the nieces and nephews | 6 Comments

You Can Have Me

Posted on September 12, 2019 by Mrs. Spit

In the middle of contract negotiations last February, I got a call. The people in the room were asking me a question. I pointed at my phone, sort of shrugged and walked out into the break out room. . My … Continue reading →

Posted in The language of families, the nieces and nephews | 7 Comments

Return to Sender

Posted on September 17, 2018 by Mrs. Spit

I thought it was the window cat bed. Which I ordered. Because it was $17 on Amazon and maybe it would keep the cat off the chair. Nash likes sitting there because he can watch the birds. I came home … Continue reading →

Posted in The language of families, the nieces and nephews | 5 Comments

And a Safety Pin

Posted on June 12, 2018 by Mrs. Spit

I crossed the stage this morning, the University conferring upon me the degree of MBA, with all the rights and privileges thereunto.  I shook the right hands, in the right order and did not fall over. Cheered for classmates. Hugged … Continue reading →

Posted in Friendship, Grad Student, The language of families | 5 Comments

Also, My Mother

Posted on April 29, 2018 by Mrs. Spit

I am fighting with Netflix. I realize it must look like I am blogging, but what I’m really doing is fighting with Netflix. Also, my mother. I’ve been fighting with my dead mother since Monday at about 8 am. That … Continue reading →

Posted in MS Gets on Your Nerves, The language of families | 1 Comment

Like her and . . . Not

Posted on December 3, 2017 by Mrs. Spit

I stood in the line at the grocery store, ordering my groceries so they got bagged in a simpler order. I walked through the parking lot, looking at the at the hefty receipt. I was muttering “I’m so glad I … Continue reading →

Posted in Adult Dating, The language of families | Leave a comment

Hers, In Mine

Posted on July 5, 2017 by Mrs. Spit

I am on a new medication and it gives me a dry mouth. My solution is to keep a ziploc baggie of scotch mints in my purse. They sit next to the package of kleenex. Which makes me my mother. … Continue reading →

Posted in The language of families | 2 Comments

Dance in the Rain

Posted on February 2, 2017 by Mrs. Spit

My mother was many things. It’s no lie to say that she hated me. She hated how I threatened her, how she could not control me, she lived in fear that I would eclipse her. But she loved me too. … Continue reading →

Posted in The language of families | 2 Comments

Tea Towels and Wooden Spoons

Posted on December 1, 2016 by Mrs. Spit

I see her around. Well, not really because she is dead, her ashes put in to the ground by my own hands. Except that I see her. In a well dressed woman of a certain age. A tone of voice. … Continue reading →

Posted in The language of families | Leave a comment

69

Posted on June 27, 2016 by Mrs. Spit

I drove out to the garden and paid my admission, walking to what they call the Iris Dell, and what I irreverently refer to as ‘the place we tipped your mortal remains into’. Iris Dell sounds nicer.   There’s a … Continue reading →

Posted in The language of families | 2 Comments