A mood swing

Eight-feet tall, on River Road

She was good today. Bright and unafraid. We did Easter church -- "Big Church," as she said -- and she followed well. Put her on the right page and she knows from a long life of church-going what the heck is going on. She complained about the length of the sermon -- she was right to -- and at the end she didn't want to brave the huge coffee hour. "I want to go home," she said.

They had quiche in the Bistro -- it needed ketchup -- and cut-up asparagus topped with shredded mozzarella cheese. Mom told one of the cooks it was awful, and tried to give it to me. "I got my own," I said.

She said, musingly, "It'd be nice if you and I could get organized and take a swim class together."

I said, without saying so, it wouldn't really be that nice.

We shared a piece of French silk pie for dessert -- lots of chocolate, topped with cream, with more chocolate drizzled over the top. Mom dug in. "That's like too many sermons," she said. Too much of a good thing.