My brother John informed my mom that he was heading to the Korean grocery store to pick up some groceries, and, as usual, she gave specific instructions on what he was supposed to buy for maximum Asian deliciousness. This time around, she tried to force him to make a vanity purchase.

On Sunday I completed my first Ironman. I had been training for the race for the past several months and recently conquered the distance for the first time. A couple days before the race, I called my mom to remind her of what I’d be doing all day Sunday since she was too busy with her peppers to fly out and cheer me on. The call went about how you’d expect.

Of my siblings, my brother John is the only one who remains in Michigan. As such, he gets to experience the bulk of Mom’s, well, Mom-ness. He told me that whenever there’s extreme weather of any sort (when it’s either really hot or really cold), he always has the exact same conversation with Mom over the phone.

I recently turned 27 years old and got a giant card in the mail from my mom — it seems the older she gets, the larger the cards get. By the time she’s 70 I’ll get well wishes sky written across Seattle (if she knew how to book something like that). She called and left a happy birthday message, and I called her back for the standard somewhat-awkward-slash-amusing phone conversation.