This is how conversations with my mother go;
Me: Hello mom
Mom: How did you know it was me?
Me: Caller ID
Mom: You pay for all the bells and whistles.
Me: Yeah, that's me a big spender when it comes to cell service.
Mom: Do you know what I just read in the paper?
Me: Someone died.
Mom: How do you do that?
Me: Just special I guess. Okay, I'll bite...who died?
Mom: Mrs T.
Me: Mrs. T?
Mom: Mrs T, your old gymnastics coach.
Me: OMG! I'd have thought she died years ago. She was older than dirt when I was in high school.
Mom: No she wasn't. Her husband died several years ago.
Me: You know that when we were in high school we thought she was a lesbian. It was probably the meanness, huge muscles and the flat top hair cut. She was built like a man. Then we saw that little scrawny husband of hers. That just opened up more questions. Like how did those two actually have sex. I mean she was 8 inches taller than he was. I guess logistically that wasn't such a bad thing. If you think about it things probably lined up pretty advantageously for her.
Mom: Oh Michele....*sigh* Anyway, I thought I'd send a card.
Me: Well, that's nice of you.
Mom: I think you should send one also.
Me: Mooommmmm..It's been 32 years.
Mom: Well, since you can't come up for the funeral it's the least you can do.
Me: Ah jeez mom. Sure she was my swim coach, my gymnastic coach and my tennis coach but she was everyone's coach. Her son won't know me from Adam. She wasn't even nice. I broke bones for that woman.
Mom: All the more reason to send a card.
I guess I'll be sending a card to the son of the woman that made me swim for 3 hours without a break, would stick her knee in the middle of my back and press down as I was doing the splits, and would rocket tennis balls at every corner of the court just to see me run my ass off. Sadistic bitch. Yeah, that's going to be a hard card to find.