Mom's GayS

I forget -- unless I happen to be at her Church -- that my Mom has her very own set of Gays. For her peer group, her age, and deeply, deeply Southern sensibilities, it's  sort of adorable. Her Power Pocket Gay looks and talks a lot like the character actor Leslie Jordan.

As we were hanging up tonight, she said, "guess where he is going?" (I couldn't imagine; the guy retired with more money than God, and has been everywhere since.) "Antarctica!" Why? "On vacation! He's taking his...'Friend.'"

She attributes all this wanderlust to his new Sweet Young Thang. She said, "Oh yes. They have been to New York City and London and Paris and he has bought this boy braces so I think it is gettin' prittty serious."

This was all sandwiched in among her instructions for making the black-eyed-peas for New Year's Day, which included a to-do list of advice that she honestly doesn't mean to sound insulting, "light some candles for God's sake; turn the heat on; it is so STARK in there. It is not one bit homey. What else are you making? People can't just eat peas. They'll starve to death. Are you at least giving them some bread? Something? Did you check the date on that stock, because I swear, you are going to keep on until you poison us all."

It is just too bad my brother is straight, because somewhere, my Mom is missing a gay son.