August 2 marks the birthday of the woman who gave birth to the Rambler. Now, now, don't go chasing her with pitchforks and torches, not her fault that her infernal progeny would turn out to be senseless hack and overanalyzing prick.
Despite her provincial upbringing, mother dearest has tried her darndest to provide for the family even after losing my dad to pancreatic cancer some 4 years ago. Even before that, she would always find ways to put us through school or provide all the vices and pleasantries of modern life. The Rambler only wishes that he can achieve half of what they've done in this lifetime.
That's the great thing about GOOD parents. They know us more than we'd like but they never really rub it in our faces (unless it's the tired and tested "in my time, we were poorer" speech.) They may have their faults and most of the time we don't get them, but hey, we have our faults and most of the time they don't get us! Somehow, the saying "you'll understand when you start raising your own kids" begins to make sense. Trying to deconstruct such a concept is a waste of time. It's just true and you'll get it when you do get there.
So to my mater, I thank you and I know I don't say it enough. I love you.