The Mothers

Dear Diary,

I've invited my mother and my smother-in-law for brunch on Mothers' Day. Why? Because I'm an IDIOT. I don't know what I was thinking. They'll both show up with food, because they both think I'm incomptent (do you remember the tin foil incident????). It's all I can think about. I'm a total stress case. Frittata or omelettes? Bloody Marys or mimosas? (both, duh) Hydrangeas or peonies? Pants or skirt? I want to make sure everything is perfect. I think the way tackle this, Diary, is with a checklist. So here goes:

- Pick cigarette butts out of yard
- Remove dead ferns from porch
- Hide recycling bags full of empty booze bottles
- Remove beer cans from bathroom/guestroom/office
- Pretend we use forks and napkins
- Hide all traffic tickets/outdated jury summons/utility cutoff notices
- Pretend we use our wedding gifts
- Get a salt shaker (Adults use salt shakers, right?)

OK, that takes care of the big stuff. Now I just have to remember how to set a table.

Love, Fluffy