Like Mother, Like Daughter

They say if you want to know how a girl will turn out, look at her mother.

My sister, annonymous, seems to think Tim should have looked more closely twenty years ago. Although she disagrees, I think, that of the two of us, I dodged that bullet more successfully than she did.

Like my mother, I may exhibit a certain lack of coordination, but, unlike her (and Pat) I don't tempt fate.

In her fifties, my mother took up skiing. In her sixties, she went parasailing. And last year, at seventy-one, she jumped out of a plane in New Zealand.

Skiing? No thanks. My first (and last) attempt ended with a trip to the first-aid station to bandage my thumb which, after an unfortunate encounter with a ski boot clip had no nail--at all. Sitting by the fire sipping a hot chocolate is definitely more my speed.

Parasailing?!?! The only way I am getting off a boat in the middle of the ocean is if it is sinking.

Sky-diving? I had a massage while she was plunging to the ground from nine thousand feet up. Trying a new massage oil is enough of a risk for me.

Like my mother? Please. I consider driving my four-door sedan three blocks to the store without a seatbelt an unnecessary risk.

My sister though, is just like her. Skiing? You bet! And this after she broke her arm twice (in the same place) rollerskating. Hellooo? Having wheels on your feet was not dangerous enough?

She has also jumped from great heights...attached to a bungee...over concrete. No soft, water landing for her. That's for sissies! Even my mother bypassed this opportunity in New Zealand.

And then there are her motorcycles. One is for going fast. The other is for going faster and farther. She and my mother even attended the motorcycle convention in NYC last year (Hell's Angels, watch out!) . I have to take a valium just to get into a NYC cab.

Pat has always been far more the daredevil than I. Years ago, on a trip to the Catskills, we were all in separate cars. Somehow, two trucks got between Pat and my father and refused to let her pass. She solved that problem by creating a middle lane for herself between them (This was the same trip where, when Tim got out of the car with a sunburned arm, she told him not to worry...he could even things out when his other arm burned on the way back---definitely shades of Mom!).

And finally...you know you are just like someone when you are the only one who understands what the heck they are talking about.

Some time ago, the family got together for dinner, and, appropo of nothing, my mother suddenly informed us that, "Wood is on shark". Silence greeted this announcement as we all struggled to decipher her meaning. Had she seen some National Geographic episode the rest of us had missed? Was this code for, "I'll have the surf and turf"? Had she lost her mind?

We all gazed at each other, helpless, until Pat decoded it for us.

Apparently, James Woods was set to star in a new show called Shark !

Yeah, she's not at all like my mother.