The Last Time I Talked To My Mother: The Kill Me or Eat Me edition.

I'm still at my mom's house this week. Which is both exciting and terrifying.

Several of my Tennessee friends have called to ask if we'll be back home for the Fourth of July parties that they are thinking about having. And I sadly have to say, "No. We'll be here. Eating some concoction my mom made that doesn't have a name while watching re-runs of Frasier, where we will then turn in around 9:30. But y'all have fun!"

Hmph.

So I am assuming there will be no Fourth of July parties thrown in the state of Tennessee since we can't be back for them. And let's be honest, what's a party without me?

But tonight, I want you to take a walk with me. Down a little thing I like to call, Memory Lane.

No, not Mammory Lane. Memory Lane.

Chances are you have been sitting around this past weekend, sipping your lemonade under your ceiling fan, fanning yourself with a newspaper, and wondering, "Just what exactly is Melissa and her momma's relationship like behind closed doors."

See? I knew it.

Well, I'm here to tell ya.

So as Sophia from the Emmy award winning and always topical Golden Girls would say...

Picture it. Spring Hill, Tennessee. 2007....

I have just stepped out of the shower and now begin the first of my 12-step hygienic process. Applying Bio-Silk. Which makes my hair both shiny, manageable and tangle free.

It's gone. I look everywhere. It's gone.

I wrap myself in a towel. A small, cheap, hand towel. And stomp - only partially wrapped - down the hall.

I bang on "her" door. (Note: This is actually the guest-bedroom door. But she likes to call it "her" door and "her" room. As in, "Melissa, shut my door" or "Melissa, why don't you ever dust my room?")

No answer.

I bang again.

No answer. (Note: I can hear her.)

I bang, "MOM!"

"WHAT IS IT, Melissa?"

"WHERE is my Bio-silk?"

"I don't have your Bio-silk."

"MOOOOOOMMMMM! WHERE? IS? MY? BIO-SILK?"

"Uh, what makes you think I have it?"

"Because in the last two days you have borrowed my brush, my flat-iron and my toothpaste."

"I brought them all back to your bathroom....(under her breath) which you never clean and looks like a pig-sty."

"MOM! I CAN HEAR YOU! Now GIVE ME my Bio-silk."

"I don't have your stupid Bio-silk. MY hair doesn't need it."

"Would you open the door so I can come in there and look?"

Her door swings open. She is not happy.
She looks at me....slowly....up and down.....me and my little-bitty hand towel....
She asks...
"What is wrong with you?"

"I want my Bio-silk."

"I am not talking about your stupid Bio-silk, which I don't even know what that is. I am talking about you wrapping yourself in a towel and marching through this house like an idiot. I did not raise you to act like this."

"Like WHAT?"

"LIke an exhabitionist."

"Mom, I am not an exha..."

"Yes, you are. Yes, you are. You would join the circus if I'd let you."

"Look, if you don't have it..."

"Well, I DON'T have it. And if I DID have it. I wouldn't give it to you."

"WHY?"

"Cuz the way you're actin'. Look at you! I can't tell if your about to KILL ME or EAT ME!"

She SLAMS her door.

I STOMP back to my room.

I later find the Bio-silk which had been sitting on my counter top...the whole time.

And...scene.