1.0 link 65073 http://www.huffingtonpost.com/felicia-c-sullivan/mother-love-not-required_b_65073.html We face one another picking apart our chicken cutlet parmesans. While my mother complains about the thieving coked-up whores in her diner, I assemble piles of mozzarella cheese -- eyes transfixed on the clock. I keep time; will it to pass by. It's 1996 and my mother and I sit through one of our semi-annual lunches, which consist of filler talk with minor variations. We dine in Long Island cafés rife with stale breadbaskets and tepid beef. Today, while my...

]]> 2008-03-28T02:47:00-04:00