
I honestly never understood the yoyos. Mama and I were such very different people. She loved to sew, crochet, knit, you name it. If it involved taking a piece of string and turning it into something, she could do it and do it well. I hated these activities and refused to learn them despite her strong wish to pass them down to me. In retrospect I simply didn't have the talent that Mama had. Even trying these activities was a frustrating experience.
But of course now I do understand the yoyos. And that is why I feel particularly bad about always referring to them as "those asshole looking things." As in, "When are you going to stop making those asshole looking things?" From now on, I think I'll call them yoyos.
You may be beginning to grasp how hard it was for my Mama to raise me, so I thought I'd also share the picture of me shown below. My other brother, Clay, gave it a title.

The Demon Seed


Salon.com
Comments
The woman made a damn fine yoyo.