"Don't you talk to me in that tone Missy." That was my mother's typical response, and my name is not Missy. It's Eliza Smuthers and my friends all call me Liza. My mother, Cher Smuthers - originally Charlotte - yes she renamed her first name after the star. For me, she seems to think Missy fitted me better ever since I've given her more trouble than a life raft with holes in it. My mother has a fitting resemblance to Cher when she dies her hair black and gets a curl. Right now, her hair is blonde, platinum blonde, and I am neither. I am five foot six in height, single digits when I'm good, blessed with a rack that I did not inherit from my mom, hers were paid for. My hair is the same light brown I have always had in a cut that was very stylish, oh about three months ago, right before I lost my job. My eyes are average blue, but if you make me mad, it's like someone turned on the neon, and they glow an eerie blue color. My best friend Gail can contest to it. I have never won a pageant or been asked to be a model, not that I ever tried, that was my mom's gig. My mom was still talking while I was thinking over the finer point of how the two of us are very different in looks and personality. Which left me with a fleeting thought of what my father looked like, but I will get to him later.
"And another thing..." Ok here is where I walk around my apartment, listening to my mother while I toss away past-due notices of bills into the trash, get in a load of dishes and get dressed for my dog walking skit that I am due for, oh - about five minutes ago. However, that is the beauty of working with a dog, they just bark at you when they greet you. They don't care if you are late, only if you have a smile, soft hand to pet them and a leash dangling from your hand. The wagging tail and licking is about the only action I have seen in a while.
I let my mom go on for about ten minutes describing this Bernard Gooth as I tackled as much as I possibly could get done around my place without listening to a single word she just said. I finally was ready to head out for my dog walking job, so I did the only thing I knew that would get my mom off the phone.
"Mom, that's my other line. I think it's that job I'm trying to get."
"What other line? I didn't hear your phone beep? What job? Are you still applying at places? Did you check out that new supermarket chain that is opening up next to my house? I heard..." And she was off again. My mom could talk your ear off.