In Sickness and in Health

I know  this is part of the marriage vows, but I think it should be true in families, too.

As ya'll know, I'm a dang cripple. Plus I've had some other things going on that don't seem to get much better these past few weeks.

Daughter has been ill since November, and hopefully we are at the tail end of that little mess come next week, when test results are back.

May I say I do not like having to wait while my child is having a procedure during which she is sedated.

Of course, the saga of Mother continues...but she ain't doing nothing about that, so there ya go.

Brother of Many Surgeries finally got the drain removed from his side.

It seems of late, we  have had our share of medical issues. I'm fine if our turn is over for a while. Really, I am.

But our good outweighs the bad, and I couldn't name all of the good if I had all day.

So, my prayers are full of thankfulness: Thank you God for  my family. Thank you for this good mattress and warm covers at the end of the day to ease my pain.  For that matter, thank you Lord for the medication  you have provided that allows me to get up and go at all. Thank you for my friends, my home, my church family. Thank you for our country, that (so far) is a place we can freely worship (or not).

Praise  You God for being You. I don't know much about You in the bigger sense. But what I do know fills me with praise, fear, joy and peace.

You have called me friend.

Wow.

Guess I don't have much to whine about after all, do I?

The Customer Is Always Right

Yeah, right.

At least I think that's what our waitress and certainly the "chef" (which was probably an eighteen year old fresh out of high school having a high old time) was thinking.

As you know, Daughter had a recent birthday. Since I had to back out of our traditional restaurant trip due to b.a.c.k. problems, we told her to pick a local place and we'd go to the favorite place this next weekend.

She did, and off we went. She was excited as everything was hers for the asking on the menu. (We are usually more frugal: water only, etc.)

She ordered a dip that she loves, among other things.

When the waitress brought all our food, it was indeed lovely.

Then Daughter tasted the dip. "Will you take a bite and see if it tastes a bit off to you?" she asked.

So I took a piece of hot crusty bread and did so. Errr....I asked Husband to taste it, too

"Tastes like spoiled milk."

Yep.

I finally caught the waitress's eye and told her I thought the cream or milk was spoiled in the dip. She made an ugly face, picked up the dip and walked off.

In a minute she came back. "The chef says he made it fresh from scratch and all the ingredients are in date."

"I'm not accusing him of using out of date products," I said calmly. "However; he needs to taste the dip or smell the cream or milk. Something is spoiled. He needs to check it out."

She asked Daughter if she wanted something else, and Daughter declined, saying the rest of her food was enough. She had a wonderful soup and bread, plus some steamed vegetables.

Husband's food was good, mine was good.

But where is the manager coming over to apologize? Where is the smiling waitress offering free dessert for our trouble? Where are manners? What happened to treating the customer like you wanted them to come back again?

I hope the chef smelled the milk and gagged. Better yet, I hope he took a big old swig of it.

There has to be justice somewhere.

Another Year Flies By

Today is Daughter's twenty-fourth birthday.

Wow.

She has received texts, facebook wishes, cards, a letter (from me), and a visitor already.

She must be pretty special, huh.

She was a beautiful baby on her first birthday celebration at age one:

and doesn't look too shabby now:

Happy birthday to my one and only chick.

I love you more than life itself.

Your Momma

Farmer Hill

Ah, the garden spot.

An even dozen tomatoes on the vine. More, please.

The beans are growing up the poles that Husband stuck last week. The vines curl like a skinny green snake, eager to reach the sky.

Onions are almost ready for the pickin'.  I love me some onions.

Butter beans ain't doin' so bad, either.

Squash!  Yay!

Red lettuce is showing up  nicely, too.

My favorite, potatoes, are peeking out.

We've spent enough money on this garden to keep us in groceries via the Piggly Wiggly for six months.

But I ask you: would it taste as good?

Nope. Not by a long shot.

Now, if I can just convince Husband to get out there and weed.

He will, he says.

Tomorrow.

From One Generation to the Next

I was lying in bed last night, thinking deeply about - something or other.

That's not the point, anyway. The point is, I shrugged my shoulder and made a particular face, indicating sort of disgust and apathy.

But when I did this, in my mind's eye, I saw my mother doing it, not me.

Hmmmm.  Well, at least I know where that gesture came from.

As I began to think about this, I could also see my grandmother performing this little movement. Made me wonder if her mother did the same thing.

Tilting my head, thinking about this: yep. Daughter does the very same thing!

You know what that means, don't you?

Someday I'm gonna have a little grand youngun strollin' around and thinking deeply.

And out of the blue, she'll shrug her shoulder and get that look on her face...

Life goes on, doesn't it?

Humans

Humans are a strange bunch, all in all.

I went to Lowe's today with Husband to pick up a couple of things, simply to get out of the  house and not be heading toward the doctor's or a hospital. We were only gone a little while; it was a nice break.

When we went into the garden section (which I can never resist) I could hear a rather loud voice. It was female and Asian. I couldn't hear what she was saying, just that lilt that told me English was not her first language.

When we finally moseyed over to check out, she was the check out person. The first thing she said to us, in her sweet little accent was, "How ya'll doin' today?"

Obviously, she's been here a while. It was hard to keep a straight face, though. But I managed.

Friend and I were on the phone later on this afternoon. We mulled over the mystery of mankind and pretty much figured out if we could rule, we'd do better.

She'd gotten a REFUND from our local hospital, saying they'd charged her too much. I was stunned, even if it was only fourteen dollars. "Where you gonna spend it?" I asked reverently.

"I ain't. I figure next week I'll get a bill telling me I owe it to 'em."

I said, "With interest."

Her property taxes have gone up, mine went down. That didn't make her happy, even though she's my "friend".

I explained it had nothing to do with  my house. I figured the houses around me weren't selling and it made the value of mine go down. Which is fine with me, since I ain't sellin' and druther pay lower taxes.

"Well," she huffed, "How can mine go up when there isn't anything but trailers and poor people all around me?"

"See," I explained, "They make you look good. That's why your taxes went up."

Laugh or cry, you gotta do one or the tuther.

We chose laughter.

A Busy, Busy Day

What a day. It's been a really long week.

Yes, I  know it's Monday.  Your point?

I don't  know why I think I can resume some aspect of "normal" and get a few things done at the house. I must be a fool.

Shut up.

Mother is progressing nicely and I am grateful for that.

But her care giver's leg started hurting the other day. She called a doctor, whose nurse called back and said it might be a blood clot, so she should go to the emergency room.

Well, well.

So, Daughter rearranged her plans, as did I. Brother of Many Surgeries was already there and assured me they would be fine until one of us could get there.

Then their electricity went off and Mother was sort of stuck in her recliner, reclined.

With a "I gotta go now" kind of bladder, that's a dangerous place to be.

So Brother Of found batteries and got her moving again. The chair and her bladder.

Meanwhile, I received an, um, interesting phone call from my ex-husband. Hadn't heard from him in oh, a quarter of a century or so.

That got my blood pressure raring to go. Up.

My house is in disarray. The flowers were drooping, there were no clean towels, both sides of the kitchen sink were full of dirty dishes, and both dishwasher drawers were full of clean dishes.  It seems every time Daughter or I come home from Mother's we collapse in a stupor and get nothing done.

 Husband doesn't do all the above because he "is pet sitting and Molly might have a seizure." That's exactly what he said, I lie you not.

Of course, he went to the grocery store and emptied the trash after only being reminded three or four times. Now to get him to the dump before the bears rip in to it all.

He has been a prince coming and going and staying regarding Mother's hospitalization. He loves her a lot; they have a cornbread kind of love.

Right now things are calm and I'm kinda hungry.

I reckon I better take advantage of the calm and feed myself.

Later, dude.