(I call my mom in Virginia because I am sick and that is what moms are for. It’s just a cold, but it’s a miserable one with fever and inflamed sinuses and so much fluid from every hole in my face that I’m a giant, drippy, sore-throat mess.)

Mom: “You should gargle some hot salt water, or I like to get a little cup with equal parts vinegar and honey and drink that. If you can drink it straight, it’s better for your throat than diluting it with water.”

Dad: “Or you could just eat a bag of salt and vinegar chips.”

Me: *thoughtful pause* “I’m going to go get a bag of salt and vinegar chips. For medicinal use.”

(I could practically hear my mom’s eyes rolling through the phone.)

(I have recently passed my 48th birthday. My mother has been demanding that we do something to celebrate. I am very low-key and like to keep to myself; my mother prefers to draw attention to herself and “embarrass” me by behaving outlandishly or telling strangers stories about me, and she is disappointed that my personality is not more like hers. For these reasons, I have been reluctant to celebrate with her. This occurs shortly after my birthday when I am helping her run errands.)

Mom: “I have something to tell you and you’re not going to like it.”

Me: “Okay…”

Mom: *launches into a long story about how Disneyworld is putting on a big celebration for Mickey Mouse’s birthday this year* “And Mickey Mouse’s birthday is the same day as yours!”

Me: “Oh. Hm. Okay.”

(As we are out and about, my mother manages to slip into conversation with several total strangers that I recently had a birthday and was upset that it was the same day as Mickey Mouse’s birthday. Some people wish me happy birthday, but all seem as confused as I am about why I would be mad about Mickey Mouse. Later, we are out for lunch with a neighbor, and my mother, of course, tells this story both to the neighbor and our server. During a lull in conversation…)

Mom: “So, how old are you, little girl?”

Me: “What?!”

(I heard her, but I am surprised that she would publicly ask me my age, and that she called me “little girl.”)

Neighbor: “I was always told that you can ask a lady what day she was born, and what month, but never what year.”

Me: “Thank you, [Neighbor]; that was my understanding, too.”

Mom: “But we have to ask you, so you can be reminded that Mickey Mouse has the same birthday!”

(I am just tired of hearing about Mickey Mouse, so I Google his birthday on my phone.)

Me: “Mickey Mouse’s birthday is November 18. My birthday is [date that is NOT November 18].”

(My mother went silent for a moment then, but a few times as we conversed, she interrupted me by belting out, “M-I-C! K-E-Y! M-O-U-S-E!” She is still annoyed with me that I didn’t celebrate my birthday with her.)

(At Thanksgiving dinner, my Grandma, age 102, and Granny, 93, are talking about their medical alert buttons.)

Grandma: “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” *giggles*

(They pull out their necklaces and compare.)

Granny: “Yours is bigger than mine.”

(They both broke down giggling until they were red in the face.)

(My father, stepmother, and I have just watched a movie. We are now watching the credits.)

Stepmother: “You know, credits used to only take up a single page.”

Me: “And now they take up like ten minutes.”

Stepmother: “Animators, ‘character rigging,’ editors… They really do credit everyone.”

Me: *jokingly* “Hey, I walked on set and gave you a coffee; put me in the credits!”

(Not ten seconds later, we see the heading, “Caffeination,” and a name is credited.)

Stepmother: “Wow, talk about perfect timing!”

Me: “I was kidding!”

(While visiting my family, the conversation turns to how well-meaning people can still say ugly things.)

Dad: “You know, at a party back in college I was chatting with this attractive Asian woman. I told her I was really impressed with how good her English was, since I was still struggling with my own accent. She gave me a look, and said, ‘My family has lived here for two hundred years, and we run one of the largest ranches in the state.’”

Me: “Ouch, you were That Guy.”

Dad: “It gets worse. A month later I was at a party chatting to an attractive Asian woman…”

Me: “Oh, geez, same person?”

Dad: “Yep.”

Me: “Seriously? I should be glad you’re so inept with women; otherwise, you’d have found someone before Mom, and I wouldn’t be here.”