"OK, I gotta go; I have to do some things before I go out."

"OK. Hey, before you go, I forgot to tell you..."

And we're off again. This repeats itself on average of three times before we're actually off the phone. Yet, the really crucial info: mastectomies and dead third cousins and relatives visiting from Florida or immediate family in the hospital, that gets left out entirely. Part of it is our genetic legacy, part of it is that we are such a massive family that we assume someone else has passed the word along first, usually my sister, who talks to both of us most often. Which causes its own problems when I am in one of my snitty moods ("NO, NOT YOU!" the masses are heard to cry) and yell that I don't know why I bother talking to anyone, since everyone talks about my business anyway, GOD. And then when I ask if someone knew that I was doing such-and-such, and no one did, and I get all "Why did nobody tell you" and Mom says "You don't like people being in your business!" and thus, the dysfunctional circle of family renews itself, world without end, amen.

That's just one type of conversation. There's the one that we had a couple of weeks ago, where she started her holiday baking and told me she'd made lace cookies for my sister, so Stef, pick a cookie and I'll make it for you!

"OOOOOOOOOH, I want mocha butterballs."

Pause. "I didn't get the stuff to make those! I'm sorry!"

Fair enough, they're a pain in the ass to make anyway. "It's okay, it's okay, um..." She's saying I can get stuff, I can get it... "No! No, it's fine, how about Big Grandmom's molasses cookies?"

"I don't have the stuff to make those either!"

Oh, Mother. "What can you make? I'll pick from there!"

"...lace cookies?"

"MA." And we both cracked ourselves up. She stopped by before she left to pick up my grandfather and was still promising cookies but really, she has enough on her plate this year.

The third type of conversation is the one conducted via third party. For instance, this evening. The phone rang around nine-thirty, I saw her number on the caller ID, and answered without the usual pleasantries. (I promised her I would never screen her calls, and I have kept that promise, but for some reason that makes me feel honor-bound to pretend I didn't look at the caller ID at all.) So I hit the button and said, "You guys get in all right?"

Turns out to be my brother. Yep, no problem, and we chatted about Wawa and work and so on and so forth and he says "OK, gonna go, Mom says she'll talk to you later on."

No problem, I'll chat with her then.

Mom, faintly in the background: "Is everything okay? She okay?"

Tug: "Everything okay?...Everything's ok!"

Ma: "Kids okay?"

Tug: "Kids okay?...Kids are okay!"

Ma: "Anything going on?"

Tug: "Anything going o--DO YOU JUST WANT TO TALK TO HER NOW? FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

Cue me and Mom, laughing like idiots. It gives me hope that some day, that will be Leah and me, if we don't kill each other first.