POST OFFICE BOX
Peg is particularly incensed that I seem unenthusiastic about her renting a post box address at the local P.O.
"But Mother, you already have an address, why would you have need of a post box?"
"So people can write to me!" Peg says, sounding fed up with having to explain something so obvious."
"People. What people?"
"Fans! Friends! Christ! I owe over a thousand letters!"
"You talking about everyone who sent you birthday cards?"
"Yes! And everyone else."
"But--if they sent you cards, they already have your address! What's the big secret??"
I explained that last November I'd posted on her Facebook page that anyone--fans, friends--who wished to send her a card could message me privately and I would give them her address. I also told her that none of these birthday well- wishers had to be answered individually, that I could post a general thank you on Facebook. Peg told me to stay out of her correspondence and that she would handle it her way.
I believe--yes--no, am pretty sure I did mention, round about here, that, judging from the way she procrastinates, it was highly unlikely she would ever get round to answering any letters whatsoever ever again and by the way did she ever write to Brook Hart, her old producer's son, now an eminent lawyer in Hawaii, as I promised Brook she would, last April, a letter she in fact started five times, then misplaced in the chaos known as her room, and now I look bad because I promised him she'd write.
"Mother? Can you understand?"
"Why does everyone question what I want to do all the time! I'm sick of it! You have NO idea--NO IDEA!"
Peg said the money she's saved by cancelling her subscriptions to the New Yorker and other magazines that she loves (so much she's not looked at them in three years) can go towards the post box rental goddammit!
Time for New Subject. My turn. Getting almost as good as she is at it.
CHECKING ACCOUNT
It's time to re-order checks, I was told by Bonnie. The idea is we lose my father's name and replace it with mine. All set. All agreed. Then Bonnie says Peg wants to change her name, lose her married one--which would be dumb, because it's linked to all billing and local services plus her Social Security and so on--and replace it with her professional one, which would result in total confusion not to mention be a complete pain. Plus she does NOT want MY name on it at all, despite the fact that I am on the account and have been for at least three years. Bonnie said it was a HUGE issue with Peg and she went on and on about it to the point where Bonnie almost went home. But then, when I raised the subject with Peg, during outphoje conversation, all she said was: "Good idea, honey. Whatever you think." And then she changed the subject.
COLLIE DOG PUPPIES - TO HAVE OR HAVE NOT
I said I thought it was probably better if we didn't discuss it right now. Peg agreed. I nearly dropped the phone.
MY HEALTH
Peg always asks. I told her I had in fact just got back from a local dentist where I'd gone for some X-rays to see what in hell was going on with my sinuses or teeth or jaw or ear--all of which have been plagueing me for two months and lo and behold, no tooth rot, no gum disease, no sick sinuses, nothing, Bruno The Dentist immediately diagnosed Temporomandibular Joint Dysfuntion, meaning jaw slightly out of line and, because it's like Piccadilly Circus right there for nerves, it can cause referred ear, sinus, tooth, you-name-it discomfort. (When I asked what caused it, Bruno asked if I'd been under stress at all lately, anything causing me to clench my jaw unduly? I said hm, let me think. Nope. Can't come up with a blessed thing.)
"My voice sounds better, don't you think?" Peg says, when I give her the good news I've not got lockjaw or ear cancer or nine million pounds worth of dental implants to look forward to (at least not yet).
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