I’d Rather Be Happy Than Right

I love my mother. She cracks me up. She also lectures me to point where my eyes glaze over and spittle collects at the corner of my mouth, but that’s not important now.
My mother has a teeny tiny bit of German in her. Which means that, in addition to elevating the phrase “as stubborn as a mule” to biblical proportions, she really, really likes- no, scratch that, LOVES- to be right. So the other night when I mentioned that she was Godmother to my cousin Michele and she insisted she was not, I sensed the opportunity to actually be right for once. Now, I’d like to state- for the record- that I would really rather, as Douglas Adams says, be happy than right. But still, I have that vulture-like Salustri thing that overtakes me every now and again, and I became unwilling to let it go.
And I was RIGHT. My mom was WRONG. It was a beautiful moment, and I just wanted to share. Plus, (tee-hee) she now has to make up for over 30 years of not lecturing and looking out for Michele.
I’m looking forward to her diversifying her efforts, actually.