My Preemptive Strike on the World was Born in 1962.

I went to dinner with my family last night. More specifically, my older sister & brother and mother (...who is also older). I'm very close with my family, or as close as we can be to each other. We're not real mushy, gushy people. That's one of the things I love about us. That, and our relentless sarcasm.

One of my siblings' and my favorite things to do when we're around each other is talk about our mom. She's an incredible character in our life movie. No writer, no matter how creative and witty could ever hope to dream up a spirit as original as our mother. She's a million stereotypes in one yet she still manages to break her own mold every day.

She has told us numerous times that the Peanuts character Peppermint Patty is her as a cartoon. We've tried to explain to her that Patty is rumored to be in a "less than straight" relationship with Marcie (not that there's anything wrong with that), but our mother refuses to believe it.

"Peanuts is a sweet cartoon!" she'll say.

Apparently, my mother's only exposure to the "female gays" is Rosie O'Donnell.

On my 21st birthday, her advice to me was, "drink until you feel good."
Not "drink responsibly," or "don't drink," but "drink until you feel good." Knowing alcoholism runs in the family, I suppose she was merely accepting that I was going to drink excessively and wanted to share what she had found worked best to avoid vomiting.

Anytime she prepares a meal and the family has sat down to enjoy it, she does what my siblings and I have come to call her "preemptive strike on criticism."

Before a single morsel of steak, or mouthful of mashed potatoes has been raised from our plates to our months she quickly states,

"The potatoes are a little lumpy. And the steak is probably a tad burnt."

She is an amazing cook, just not great with promoting her product. We always end up reassuring her that her meals are in fact, delicious and (at least in my case) the best we've had all week.

After a night of hearing how chewy the pasta in the lasagna place before us was, my brother finally said, "I'm gonna take your word for it, Mom. Let's throw this crap out and order pizza."

We've eaten out more on our "family nights" ever since.

My mother has made me laugh, comforted me, let me down, and pissed me off. She's played drums in a band, built a slip'n'slide using nothing but a tarp and industrial-sized pipes (what she dubbed "Wacky Water World"), resuscitated a goldfish with a straw, and backed into my brother's 3000 GT 3 times.

She can annoy and inspire me at the same time, and everyday I realize how much I'm becoming her although others have said they don't "see it."

By the way, this blog is a bit long and dry. You don't have to leave a comment.

-ErMaster.