Don't be the crazy dog-lady stepmom
When I realized my childhood friend was a real-life Cinderella
Substack readers, were you as excited as I was to see FX “Atlanta” return for a third season? I was — until I got to scene with the foster mothers and that dog in the high chair eating hamburgers. Just like that, one of my wackiest childhood memories came back to me.
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I joke with my parents all the time that I think they moonlight as hotel managers. (If you see the six bins full of wash cloths, hand towels, beach towels, bath towels and decorative towels my mother collects, you’d understand.) There was something else my parents were adamant about — feeding their guests. This duo damn near raised me to do cartwheels in the morning trying to feed guests breakfast, along with lunch and dinner. (It worked. Even during my own college graduation weekend, I woke up on Mother’s Day and made all the mothers breakfast. There are no days off when it comes to feeding guests, especially holidays.)