My Own Personal Grey

And now, the shopping….

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While I struggle to write a critique for a friend–the problem is not that the book is bad, but that it’s very good under a bad start, which is among the happiest circumstances of critiquing, but often hard to break down in a useful way–I have to start considering what to get my mom for her birthday. She’s, umm… officially a Senior Citizen now and her birthday happens to fall on Thanksgiving. Since she’s currently homeless and living out of her car and occasional nights over in a friend’s guest room it’s a little hard to buy her much, since she has no space and I don’t know what she’s got or not got, what she needs or doesn’t need, what she’ll get back from her ex-girlfriend and what she won’t.

I wanted to get her a teapot. But where would she keep it? In the glove compartment?

Sweater? I don’t know what size she wears.

Winter hat? umm… yeah… no.

Maybe I should just get her a gift certificate….

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