First of all, it's true that many folks around here do say ee-clipse, not ehclipse. Live with it.
Secondly, Mother watching the moon darken the sun almost didn't happen.
The Sunday before when we were discussing it at the supper table, she said she was afraid, it sounded scary and she didn't want to be by herself.
I must say we all looked at her like she was nuts. We reminded her there had been eclipses here before (although not quite as complete).
"Yes," she replied, "But nobody made such a big deal of it; about it blinding you and such."
I opined it was because we were tougher. If you were stupid enough to look at the sun, you were stupid enough to deserve blindness. I don't know about other reasons, other than we weren't bombarded with media 24/7 liked crazed gophers or something.
She firmly said she would not be a part of it, she'd stay in the house. Would we still have electricity?
Yes.
Would it be safe to watch it on TV?
Yes.
Fine. Okay.
But you know how peer pressure is. You hang with an older crowd, they are bound to talk you into stuff you never dreamt you'd do.
Exhibit A:
Nuff said.
I have had some really great reviews on amazon for "Bensy and Me". Husband decided to read them.
As Husband is wont to do, he began looking around. Something caught his eye, and he was amazed.
Someone has listed "Out on a Limb of the Family Tree" for sale for only $2,797.00!
Now,why was he amazed by this? Has he no faith in my success? Apparently not.
However; I know for a fact that I can get you a copy cheaper than that, and signed, too!
Why, I'll even go half that price, and pay for shipping and handling. I'll even hand deliver if you're close by.
Heck, for that price I'll throw in a cooked dinner, too. I'll even clean up the kitchen.
I must close for now. I'm sure I'm going to be very busy in the next few minutes.
I may have bragged boasted mentioned that I have lost twenty pounds - which took about a year, because I did it by changing when I eat, so it was a slow loss.
Apparently, from looking in the mirror, eighteen of those twenty pounds were lost in my neck.
Gobble, gobble.
My neck looks like crepe paper, and not in a good way.
I've become obsessed with it. When I look in the mirror, it's all I can see.
At first, I thought, well, I'll stop looking in the mirror.
But if you eat spinach, that's a bad idea.
So I have started fantasizing about having my neck done.
Except I'm terrified of anesthesia, since the one and only time I ever had anesthesia I woke up to my life being changed forever. That wasn't in a good way, either.
I'm also terrified of nerve damage. I have neuropathy in my lower body. I can't imagine how much more horrible it could get with it in my upper body too.
And a hack job. I'd hate to look worse than I already do!
And, oh, yeah. Money. I imagine it costs a bit to get your neck fixed.
Oh, well. What's a few wrinkles/turkey neck/crepe papery skin among friends?
Sigh.
Yesterday a large part of daylight was spent at Mother's going over funeral stuff.
Yes, it was as much fun as you imagined.
I now know who she wants to preach, who are to be asked to be pall bearers and honorary pall bearers, but that's all.
"What do you want sung?"
"Oh, you know the kind of hymn I like, 'Beyond the Sunset', like that."
Well, no actually, I don't. But I will remember this one song. Oh, and she said she'd like it if I could sing one of the songs I've written. Did I think I could do that? Not that she would ask that of me. (didn't she just?)
I told her I wasn't sure I could do that, but would if I felt like I could get through it. (I didn't say without having a heart attack or stroke, but that's what I was thinking.)
She also told me who she wanted to play the piano and sing something else, but she didn't want them singing my song, if I couldn't do it, it shouldn't be done.
"What do you want to wear?"
"Well, I don't care. I won't be there." She looked at me like I was nuts for asking. Then continued, "But don't let anything be high up on my neck. You know I cain't stand anything touchin' my neck." Alrighty, then: won't be there, doesn't matter, no high neck, she can't stand it...
Told her she didn't have to worry, because Daughter and Niece both hate anything touching their neck, they wouldn't let it happen. She agreed.
She showed me where she put this information, as well as where her insurance policies were. "Don't spend a bunch of money on a casket. But I do want a vault. Don't forget that."
I told her I wouldn't. I remember my granddaddy being adamant about having a vault, so that shouldn't be hard to remember.
She also keeps saying (for the past 2 years) that she wants us to all get together (The Brother of Many Surgeries and The Other Brother and myself) so she can talk to us. I've said, "All you gotta do is tell one to be here Sunday afternoon when I am here (other one lives there)."
I don't know why, exactly, she doesn't do it, or what, exactly, she wants to say. At the rate she is going toward asking, it may forever remain a mystery.
I vowed to be more comfortable hearing all this from her than I was from my grandmother. I turned a deaf ear to her because I didn't want to know she was going to die soon (she lived to be 2 days shy of 84).
But it's hard, ya know?
When we built our house in 1987, people expressed concern over it because it was so small with only two bedrooms and one and a half baths.
The concern was resale value (but we had no intention of selling, we told everyone and they just shook their heads). You never know what might happen. Well, that's true. And you never know what might not happen, either.
Our house finished was 1698 square feet. Now, granted, this was when all the McMansions were being built, the bigger the better. I mean, so what if you couldn't pay for it, right?
We have since added a sun room, bringing the square footage to just under 2000 square feet. Still considered a "cottage" in the Victorian era, and also for a lot of people today.
But now, ladies and gentlemen the challenge is to live in what they are calling tiny houses. Like a square foot, maybe.
Seriously, they range from nearly no square feet to no square feet. Like, 148 square feet to 450 square feet. My kitchen is 275 square feet. It's an eat in, but still. That gives you some idea, especially if you've tried to squeeze in more than three people at the same time around the stove/sink area.
And here's the kicker: These tiny doll houses cost up to $100,000.00 to build. That's right. Count the zeros.
Now, I am a little claustrophobic, I admit. And thinking about living in a whole house possibly smaller than my kitchen with Husband, Daughter, 3 cats and a dog makes me short of breath. And the article I read mentions lots of cats and dogs in the home.
My hat is off to these people, though. Good for them. I guess.
But me, I like just a little elbow room.
I bet they don't cuss the cat much, though. Ain't room enough to cuss a - well, you know.
*This blog brought to you by the worlds "square feet"
