Diva Dispatches from San Antonio

My sister Toni once said, “If Mom gets bored, she gets pissed—and it’s everyone’s fault.”

Turns out, this isn’t just sibling shade. It’s a widely accepted truth among Mom’s inner circle. One afternoon on Mom and Super Dave’s expansive back patio, Toni casually dropped this observation. The Aperol Spritzes were flowing—courtesy of Dave, who was mixing drinks like a seasoned resort bartender—and within seconds, Mom’s girlfriends burst into laughter. Not one of them disagreed.

Apparently, when Mom’s boredom flares up, it sends a signal across the neighborhood. A metaphorical flare shoots into the sky, and the group text thread lights up like a command center. “Someone go play with Callean!” they say. It’s not a request—it’s a mission.

And honestly, that’s 100% my momma. She’s said it herself: “I’m not getting any younger, and who in their right mind wants to sit around watching boring TV or cooking all day when there are so many activities?

The Bruno Mars Incident

A while ago, I called Mom like any good son should. I wanted to discuss a video Toni had captured the night before—Mom dancing her heart out to Bruno Mars.

“I heard you had quite the night,” I said, bracing for what would inevitably become an impromptu interview.

“Oh, I had such a good time,” she said. “Thanks to Toni, of course. What do you expect? I dance, play pickleball, and drink wine.”

I heard the clinking of glasses in the background.

“Sorry,” she added. “I’m prepping for a little wine tasting party tonight.”

I knew I was in for a good one. “Oh, really? Is this going to be like the last one?” I asked, grabbing my notebook.

“Gosh, no. Last time we used big wine glasses and had way too much. This time I’m using small taster glasses. Six girls, six wines. It’s perfect.”

I couldn’t help but tease her. “Didn’t you once say you only drink out of proper wine glasses?”

Flashback to 2009: Mom visited my bachelor pad in downtown San Diego, took one look at my red solo cups, and declared she’d rather drink straight from the bottle than out of plastic. The next day, she bought me my first set of wine glasses.

Without missing a beat, she replied, “I’m using special glasses for tasting. Then, when we’re ready to drink, I’ll break out the big wine glasses for proper wine drinking.”

“Is that a wise idea?” I asked. “Maybe just stick with the small ones?”

“Please, Travis. These girls are drinkers. We all enjoy a little aperitivo.” (She even threw in the Italian term for wine and small bites, to keep it classy.)

Dave, Reels, and Slime Gifts

Suddenly, Mom shouted, “Really, Dave!”

“What’s Dave doing?” I asked.

“He’s watching football way too loud and also watching reels on his tablet. I don’t understand how he can do both with the volume that high.”

“Dave watches reels?”

“I think so. Or something else. I don’t know. It’s just annoying.”

“Who’s winning?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the Rangers… I don’t care.”

“Mom, Rangers aren’t football.”

“Like I said, I don’t care. I’m going into the other room to think. He might be looking for a slime gift for this charity we volunteered for.”

“A slime gift?”

“Yes! Every year, we buy gifts for underprivileged families so kids have toys to open on Christmas morning. It’s a big deal here in San Antonio.”

“That’s awesome.” I responded, knowing how much both she and Dave love helping children.

“I also volunteered for phase three of the program. I’ll be at the warehouse helping hand out toys to families just before Christmas.”

“That’s incredible.”

Just then, I heard Dave’s voice in the background.

“I’ll take them now,” Mom said to him, then turned her attention back to me. “He asked if I took my memory pills.”

“You’re taking memory pills?”

“Well, sort of… when I remember to take them. Isn’t that funny? Pills that help with memory, but I forget to take them.” Mom's laughter cuts through the phone. 

“Don’t you have one of those weekly pill cases?”

“Yes, but these I have to take two or three times a day.”

“Maybe keep some next to the sink or coffee maker?”

“I don’t know. We already have enough crap on the counters. Our house looks like an old person’s home. Dave’s eye drops are next to the coffee—pill bottles by the blender. Flip flops by both the front and back doors. Why both? It’s all so tacky. We’re turning into your grandparents in their later years.”

“Can you slow down? I’m having a hard time taking notes.”

“Travis Dale, are you writing another damn blog? That’s it—I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“Come on, who’s your favorite?”

“Toni is, you little shit.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

Butt Stuff and Misunderstandings

“Speaking of Toni,” she continued, “she hasn’t called me today. Her butt was sore last night.”

“What? Gross, Mom.” I responded trying to get my mom back on solid talking points.

“From the gym! Her trainer had her doing all kinds of butt stuff.”

“Mom, please stop.” I’m now laughing almost uncontrollably. “That has other meanings. You mean squats and exercises, right?”

“Yes, of course. What else would I be talking about?”

“Fair point. Never mind, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Well, let me get off here so I can finish setting up. I guess I’ll call your sister since she hasn’t called me. I swear, if I didn’t call her, she’d never call me.”

“That’s not true. You often don’t answer when she calls.” I made sure I corrected her, as I know for a fact she often ignores my sister's calls, and Toni calls her multiple times a day. 

“Well, okay. That may happen sometimes. But still—she should keep trying.”

“Yes, ma’am. Love you. Drink lots of water tonight.”

“Of course. Lots of water. Love you too.”