Speaking of my Mom, she isn’t doing all that well.  Her headache turned into what I think is bronchitis… we will know tomorrow when we see our family physician. My Mom is a very, very independent person, and she is notoriously reluctant to ask for help.  I know how difficult it is for her, but how wonderfully appreciative she is, that I’ve been taking care of her every day with meals, medications and personal management things… to include laundry.

Ah, laundry.  And personal management of laundry items.  These are the lines drawn in the Tide between my Mom and me.  They always have been.  You see, my Mom is a true lady… inside, outside, and under.  Under means under garments… which, combined with her fashion sense, are the most lovely things. I don’t carry that particular gene. I’ve never paid much attention to lovely undergarments.  I could blame the 60’s, I suppose.  I remember many a conversation with my Mom about me going bra-less all those decades ago.  My Mom didn’t criticize me or judge me… she is just not like that at all.  But she would strongly recommend a femininely flattering bra and predict that my breasts would be down around my waist at around age 50 if I didn’t heed her advice.  Are perky old breasts a Mom’s dream for her adult daughter?  Maybe!

Maybe all those undergarment support conversations were my Mom’s way of getting me ready for blogging naked in 2010.  How could she have known?  But everything worked out just fine because, as I said, I don’t have lovely, feminine, beautiful undergarments to even consider blogging in.  (Although I may take Barry’s suggestion and add cowboy boots to the naked blogging resolution… )

But I digress.  Let me get back to the laundry.  No matter how badly my Mom is feeling, she is meticulously specific with laundry instructions… particularly related to undergarments.  Just this morning, as I was headed out of her apartment with a basket of laundry, she asked, “Now Sharon… how do you wash undergarments?”

“Ummm,”  I thought out loud, “in the washing machine?”

“But on what setting?” she continued.

Oh, no.  A test.  I didn’t want to tell my Mom that I toss just about everything in the same load… sweat pants, towels, jeans, running clothes, bras.  Bras that didn’t spend too much time looking lovely…

“UMMM,” I thought out loud as I time-machined myself back to those laundry lessons… just me and my Mom in our laundry area… my Mom pointing out settings and water temperatures in her expert laundry tutorial.  “Delicate?” I ventured.

“Oh, good,” my Mom answered, obviously relieved.  “And in cold wash, cold rinse?”

“Yes,” I lied.  Lord, please forgive me for lying to my Mom about undergarment laundry settings and temperatures.

Just when I thought I was free, my Mom leaped to the drying instructions.  “You do line dry, right?” she asked.

I couldn’t lie about this one.  “Ummm… no.”

Then it all came back to me. The retractable clothes line in the shower that I had to move when I wanted to take a shower.  No wonder my Mom’s undergarments always looked, and still look, so perfect and feminine and lacy and lady-like and silky and white.  (My Mom loves white undergarments.)  She line dries her panties, bras and camis.  Even now.

“Oh, Mom…” I explained, “I don’t line dry anything.”  And I added, “And I blog naked.”

Now, my Mom knows what blogging is.  She knows what naked is. But the two concepts together?  She laughed.  It was very good to see her laugh…

Butt…

Should I show my Mom the photo of me blogging naked and explain that undergarments and me have never been the perfect fit?

Or should I just launder all of her lovely undergarments on delicate in cold water/cold rinse, line dry and let her think that her only daughter is the perfect lady with perky old breasts?