Bless Be The Ties That Bind

Visiting my friend all day had me reflecting all the way home.

I've known her since sixth grade. And while our closeness waxed and waned during our young adult years, the affection never did, and we easily reconnected.

I have friends whom I have had for so long I don't remember life without them. We were born close together in years and in geography, and the rest, as they say, is  history. Our history.

I have friends that I've known since early adulthood - only thirty, twenty, fifteen years. Newcomers, you know.

I am favored with friendship from all walks of life - from doctors to the woefully unemployed.

Liberal and conservative and a lot of in between.

Male and female. 

Older than me, younger than me, the same age as me.

Christians, non-Christians.

Red and yellow, black and white...

I love and am loved.

Bless be the ties that bind, indeed.

It Takes a Village

I just ate supper. I am full as a tick that just fell off a hound dog. (Look a lot like one, too, swole up and all. I really need to lose a dozen pounds, and I'm willing to share them if you want 'em. I'll even deliver (which is what I look like I'm about to do).)

I needed a bracket to put outside my two parentheses up there, but there ain't no brackets on the keyboard!

I digress. Scampers back up off the rabbit trail and gets back on the main road.

I prepared part of this food - but let me tell you about the rest. I was on the phone with my bestest friend (yes, she is taller, blonder and can sing AND play the piano, outshining me at every turn, but hey, I love her anyway). We were planning a play date, because school is finally out. She is still hanging on, not retired yet, but I have everything crossed but my wires that this upcoming school year will be her last so we can play more often.

Anyway, we started talking about food right outta the gate because she was grilling zucchini and squash. Then she told me about a salad she was marinating, and by the time she finished, I was drooling into my ears (I was lying down, resting my stupid back).

Since Husband was doing a grocery run in a few, she insisted he come by and she'd send me some of both.

Then Mother called and had a big old dutch oven full of baked beans, and gave instructions for Husband to pick some up.

So, he came back from the grocery store laden with not only the regular fair, but real food ready to eat.

I added to it, we ate like pigs, and the rest is history, so to speak.

We Southern women show our love often times through feeding those we love.

Today, I was shown a lot of love.

I am thankful for this love - I have shown it myself from time to time.

You make sure your baby is well fed. A man's heart is through his stomach. Romantic dinners, breakfasts served in bed.

The list goes on and on.

Now, can someone please help pull me out of this chair so I can waddle into the kitchen for clean up duty?

What's Left Behind

Those of you who know me, and many who don't know me well, know I love my cat.

Now, we have three cats. One for me, one for Husband and one for Daughter.

My cat is Eli. He is a white Maine Coon. He weighs around twenty pounds. He is not only a stunning specimen, he is alpha animal, territorial, possessive regarding me, and sweet as surgar when he lies upon my chest, purring.

Putting it simply, he is my boy.

One thing he isn't, is brushable. He cannot tolerate being combed or brushed; never could, even when he was a two pound kitten. The vet says he has very sensitive skin (like someone who is tender headed, I guess.)

The sad and pathetic result of this is matting of his fur. It has been pretty bad before, but this time it was terrible. And letting it ride a couple of weeks too long due to illness and injury didn't help any.

So, today, we went to the vet for mat removal.

After a bit of sculpting by the vet. tech., this is what we left with them. The rest of Eli came home with me.

Looks like a polar bear rug. Or a flattened fuzzy dog.

Whatever.

May it rest in peace.

And may Eli grow a new, shiny, unmatted coat before winter.

She's Everywhere!

I made a joke today on facebook that every time I tried to take a selfie some old woman jumped in the way.

It struck a chord.

Over twenty people (so far), mostly women, have agreed.

We have to do something, people!

This is obviously a psychotic individual who is in dire need of an intervention.

Perhaps she has a diagnosis of being an ego maniacal self centered psychopath.

She obviously has stalking tendencies.

Gives me the creeps.

So, we need a plan.

Any ideas?

My doors are already locked, as are my windows.  I just don't know what else to do.

Wanna Buy a Book?

Selling books is an interesting thing. I've sold 18 in the last week, plus I checked at a store in a near by town and they'd sold 7 of the 8 they purchased from me.

That's wonderful. That's how I get to get another one published. You have to know your books will sell or they won't get published.

But that's not where my heart is. My heart is in writing.

Don't get me wrong, I want my books to sell, duh.

I have limited physical abilities, and I wish to spend most of them writing.

One thing I love about the sell, though, is people. I get to read out loud sometimes, and boy, I love that. I guess I'm a ham. I love to make people laugh (and cry;I admit it). It's a magical thing that happens between the reader and the listener. I've been on both sides, I love both sides.

During our whirlwind company coming last week, Husband took it upon himself to tie folks down and make 'em listen to me read from "Out on a Limb of the Family Tree".

They laughed. A lot.

Whew!

So, if you want me to come read to you I will. There are a few rules: I won't read to you if you are naked (like in the bathtub). I won't read if you are drunk (although singing for a drunk crowd one time brought me wild applause, whistles and a standing ovation), and I won't read if you won't pay attention.

Fair enough?

Then, if you like, you can read to me.

Returning from the War

After eight relatives, one small intestinal blockage, one severe bad back spell and a whiz bang of a time in spite of it all, I'm back.

We've had Yankee Cousin (who flew away home today), two Cowboy Cousins, one Husband's Alabama sister, husband, younger daughter and two chirren we had never laid eyes on for company plus my own, down the road folks.

Mother, once again, decided to get really sick in the midst of some of it and scare us all to death. (She has to stop doing this!)

And, of course, not to be outdone, after standing/sitting in the ER for a few hours (eleven), I couldn't stand up or sit back down without crying like a big old baby and needing help to do that.(Sitting, not crying. I cry by myself very well.)

Yankee Cousin and I had an adventure on our own, as she volunteered to drive me to a chiropractor in the next town up, IF I could get in the car, which I did.

The car decided to get in on the act and I knew something was wrong by the unusual and persistant whir it was making. So we went to the garage instead; explaining our dire circumstances.

Nephew, who I claim as "First Born" because I practiced on him before Daugther was born, declared thirty minutes to repair after parts were delivered. It was twenty minutes before my appointment, which was growing more and more needed by the second.

Gazing upon my crooked and pained self, he said, and I quote, "Drive my truck".

What he did not say was my "honking, four door, six feet off the ground, monster of a truck."

It was almost worth it when we turned the corner and Yankee Cousin gazed upon it. With a tiny voice, she said, "Oh, I can't drive that."

I encouraged her to just sit behind the wheel to get a feel for it, asked First Born nephew if it was automatic (it is), and slowly began the uphill climb into the seat in my pained state.

Yankee Cousin gulped, looked at my crumpled body and said, "I guess I'm driving it..." and away we went.

Even the chiropractor winced when she saw me, and the new tech guy got all giddy when he looked at my back and exclaimed happily about how swollen I was.

Yankee Cousin was ecstatic after her wild adventure of driving such a huge vehicle, and we dubbed her a redneck for sure, now.

She treated me like a baby the rest of the time she was here. Not used to seeing me act like one, I guess it shook her up pretty badly.

Maybe by next week I will be back to my normal every day pain, Mother will be feeling okay again, and we can resume normal as we know it.

Thank God the refrigerator stayed fixed.

Pardon Me

I am in a food coma.

Yankee Cousin said "I want to cook dinner."

I said "Okay".  I'm not stupid, you know.

I felt a little guilty because she's in there cooking and I'm not, and I am the one who always is...

Anyway, I did some laundry, made a phone call, etc.

Then the food was ready; we ate like hogs.

Although we forced ourselves to clean up the kitchen, it was extremely difficult. Sorta like running through water that is up to your neck.

Got her done, though.

But I am barely functioning.

Need a nap. Too late in the day to do so....

I'm in  a food coma, sitting upright.