Mouthful of Rue

Now, of course, I'm backpedaling (learned this trick on the exercycle at FitLite), trying to understand why I thought I liked Dweez. Why I sought his good opinion. I'm a mother-in-law, butt of jokes by misogynist "comedians" and real people, too. Name your type: clueless, overbearing, ditzy, fading belle, tennis shoe wearer (Yes!) and there'll be certain to be a mother-in-law of your unfortunate acquaintance who fits description. Never mind that she almost swallowed a bee at a Big Brother and the Holding Company concert at the San Jose fairgrounds, where Quicksilver and the Ace of Cups also performed. Or that she used to sing on the street corners. Or that she can play the harmonica. Or maybe that she holds title to the best damn chocolate chip cookie recipe in the whole world. Or has never owned a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes and wouldn't wear 'em if she owned them. Or that she's decided not to buy any new clothes or shoes for a year and Macys has stopeed sending her promotional solicitations and cards offering 15% off, storewide. You know, who cares?
But this is about Dweez, or anyway the shadow presence. I found myself excusing him (mentally) yesterday for prioritizing his French class over Pippa's need for someone's supervision. Even though I totally doubt that he will ever speak French and a French class is only a place to meet women (chicks, babes, whatever), he does have it scheduled on a day that he is not usually responsible for Pippa. And - this is key - he's not a mother, so it does not occur to him to sacrifice his plans in the interests of his child.
Now that I've imbued him with the slightest tinge of blamelessness, shall I like him for it? I guess I still do like him, viscerally. A little. I keep thinking he'll come to his senses and stop treating Thespia like the enemy. Or at least realize how much damage could be done if she wasn't still protecting his interests.