House Rules, 2007

(Special thanks to the Cole Family, whom I found on the world wide interweb, for this picture, http://www.thecolefamily.com)

We can add to the above:
5) remove all pot, paraphernalia, and other offending illegal narcotics from the house.
This rule was arrived at, for those who remember the infamous "fuck you" situation, quite civilly. I have found the upside to having a mom who will let the "F" bomb fly at you, venomously. She will have a mutually respectful conversation with you about your current and on-going drug daliances without taking the conversation to the land of irrationality. 1 point mom!

I will be the first to air out the differences with mom. But, nuts and bolts of it, she is actually a pretty amazing woman. She sought out a transfer from the upstate New York area to try and save her marriage despite the wandering eye and other anatomical features of her recovering alcoholic of a husband. In a new state and city, she learned the hard way, once a cheater, always a cheater. Divorce came not-so-long afterward, and, with another transfer in the offing, mom and four of her five children set off for another new state and city. She, by herself, fed, clothed, educated, entertained, and, in so many other ways, provided for us. It should be SOOOOOO obvious why I can't stand this woman.

She's also far more naive (and in a good way) than I ever imagined. Her shocked response to my admission that I really have only enjoyed coke while at work was,

Well, jeez...you should feel lucky you never waited on a police officer.

Isn't that cute? Tell me the last time you had to then delve into the drug lingo to assure your mother that you weren't "cutting lines" (followed by a physical demonstration) but that you were taking "key bumps" (followed by a physical demonstration) and that you aren't able to ingest enough coke to have any discernible physiological tells. The above conversation is but one example why my life is so very great. That, and because my God is an awesome God.

Coolest part of it all? It was just a point-blank, even-tempered and voiced conversation. I'm pretty sure I will respect this house rule, (excepting of course for the two $20 bags in my shirt pocket.) (Oh, and the steamroller up in the bedroom.)

I'm fairly certain Norman Rockwell would have developed a serious twitch that would have been the undiagnosed sign of an impending aneurysm had he been tasked with painting my family. My family, and, most likely yours, is not the idyllic Rockwellian vision. We may have fights. We may have our differences. But we aren't barbarians. I mean, c'mon...we have house rules, for christ's sake.