Our Very Own Tiny Dancer.

Sometimes you blog about something not because you want to, but because someone asks you to.

And hey, I gotta give the people what they want.

So today I am blogging this silly little post not because I necessarily want to hurt my mother - because let's be honest, I don't. But because several members of my family want to hurt her. And if you can't "be there" for family then really, what is it all for?

So here goes.

Oh, and mom, this hurts me more than it hurts you.

Uh....

How do I say this?

Do I just come right out and say it?

Okay, I'll just come right out with it...

My mom looks like Elton John.

And I'm not the only one who thinks so. Other people have said it, too. So now you know it's true. And it's not like she looks like him all the time; I wouldn't go that far. I mean, when she goes to the grocery store she looks just like any other woman who enjoys a good pair of capri pants and knee highs.

But when she plays the piano...she looks just like him.

For several reasons, really:
1. When my mom plays the piano - she really plays the piano. She gets all into it, moving her head and grinning from ear to ear.

2. She wears glasses. But not just your average pair of reader glasses, oh no. Last I saw she was interchanging her lion print glasses, her colorful YSL glasses and then there's the one pair that has miniature palm trees on them.

3. And last but not least...............................her arms. She has these really short arms. Really short. Did I mention they're short? Really short. Not like dwarf size or anything, and not so short that if you saw her in the grocery store you'd say, "Hey lady, can I help you reach that box of cereal on the top shelf" or anything, but short. And when she starts throwing them around while singing Ain't No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down and banging on those keys, well, it just makes you think of Elton in his I'm Still Standing days.

Which is why the first time my cousin Jimmy came to church he saw my mom playing the piano and leaned over and whispered to his wife, "You know who your Aunt Net looks like?" and she replied, "Yes, Elton John. We all do." To which he replied, "Yeah...that's pretty freaky."

And herein lies the moment my family has been waiting for me to write about. Like I said, gotta give the people...

A couple of weeks ago as we were sitting around discussing which one of us would wake up at 3am and throw the newspapers for my Uncle Donald while he is in the hospital my mom preciously volunteers herself.

Keep in mind this is the same woman who is on a first name basis with all the highway patrol in the 75904 due to her driving record. (Let's just say: It ain't shiny.)

Here is what we heard from those sitting around the table:

Meridith: "Aunt Net, you can't throw the route, you'd have to get up at 3AM. You don't wanna do that."

Bubba: "Aunt Net, it would be too hard to come back home and get Mallory ready for school."

Me: "Mom, you don't even know the exact route - it would be too hard to learn it at this point."

My dad: "Anette, I don't want you driving around town at 3 and 4AM."

But when all else fails, leave it to your mother to really tell you the truth:

My Granny: "Annette, how do you expect to throw those papers with those little bitty arms? You could never do it!"

Sorry, mom. I know this hurt. But I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues.
That wasn't really necessary, was it?