Check, please

Boy, time flies when you are busy. 

Mother surgery: check. 

Other Brother surgery: check. 

Forty-leven doctor appointments: check. 

Dog/Cat Vet visits, including dog surgery: check. 

Trying to recover from each trip made regarding the above: check.

Mourning the death of cousin: in progress.

Blog written: check.

Okay, sorta.

Some of you know I had a birthday last week. It was raining hard, all day.

I remember my sixth birthday, when it rained hard all day. But believe it or not, I was thrilled.

My next door neighbor, Vicki, gave me a child size umbrella as a birthday gift. It was dark green and red plaid, and I was able to put it to immediate use. I ran outside with it and let it rain all around me.

I remember my tenth birthday because I got to have a party. I remember helping clean the house. We had pin the tail on the donkey and Bullwinkle ring toss. It was a very special day for me.

And my sixteenth must have been on a Wednesday or a Sunday, because my mother wasn't at work, and she fixed my favorite meal for supper and let me invite my boyfriend to eat with us.

I remember getting upset on my twenty-first birthday because I was really, truly an adult. It made me sad.

On my twenty-seventh birthday I got to see the Monkees (well, all but Mike) in a small club somewhere in the metro area. I was thrilled.

On my twenty-eighth birthday I was eating in a restaurant with another couple. I had only just met them, but they were very nice. He excused himself to the restroom, and in a few minutes all the guys from the bar came to the table and sang a loud, off key, somewhat drunken rendition of the Happy Birthday song to me.

I understand some of the other patrons complained.

No joke.

I coulda crawled under the table.

My fortieth birthday is well remembered because Brother of Many Surgeries and Other Brother did a "lordy, lordy Kathi's 40" in the paper with the worst childhood photo they could find. You know what I'm talking about; frizzy hair from a perm gone bad, big teeth that you could drive a Volkswagon between, that kind of photo.

You know you have at least one.

Oddly enough, I don't remember the big 5-0. Or much about any of the ones in between the ones I have talked about.

At least I remember this last one.

For now.

It Gets Worse Every Time

It was that time again.

Time to get my driver license renewed. 

Oh, how I dreaded it.

This time, I had to prove I ain't one of them illegal aliens that has everbodys britches in a wad.

I've only had my driver's license since 1971, so I can understand the government's suspicion.

So I took a week and managed to find all the documentation required. 

(Do you get the feeling I am slightly irritated about this? You are wrong. I am VERY irritated about this.)

So I  haul my suspicious looking rear end up there and wait in line. And wait in line some more.

Then I have to show all my precious documentation and answer questions like, "Are you a twin?"

Then, of course the worst comes. They take my photograph.

Which has not been changed on my driver's license for seventeen years.

The last time my picture was struck at the DMV, Daughter was a little kid.

At that time their building was the size of a wide hall. Everyone was crammed in there like sardines. When it finally came my turn, the state patrol had noticed Daughter was curious, so she said, "Come around here and you can watch me take your mama's picture."

When the photo was snapped, Daughter shook her head and said, "Oh, Mama, you're not gonna like this."

Everyone in there burst into laughter.

But this one?

I look like a vanilla Moon pie with yeller hair.

UGH.

NEW WEIGHT LOSS DISCOVERY!

Believe it or not, I weighed twelve pounds less this morning that I did yesterday morning.

I am willing to let  you in on  this secret for only one buck a weigh.

Of course, you must weigh on my digital scale, and no other for the weigh in.

Weigh were you usually do, then come on over and weigh on my scales. I guarantee you will weigh less.

What better bargain could this be? You can send a video or a photograph to your doctor or your weight watchers group instead of going back. 

They'll be amazed! 

Recommend this to your friends - remember, only ONE dollar for this amazing weight loss.

*Offer good only until battery is replaced in scales

May It Never Happen!

Some writers are plagued with a thing called writer's block.

This occurs when one is trying to complete a task (novel, speech, etc.) and suddenly one is blank as a shot shell.

Nothing comes to mind. Nada.

I hear the writer begins to sweat, tries to force creativity, and often cleans the bathroom.

                                 May it never happen to me.

Happy Anniversary Baby, Got You on my Mind

Ha! Now you will hum this song the rest of the evening, not knowing the rest of the words.

Me too.  All Day Long!

Today marks the 32nd anniversary of our wedding day. I don't know if I've blogged this story before, and am far too lazy to look back over 600 blogs, so I'm tellin' it again.

Live with it.

Husband was very romantic in the way he proposed. He was living in another town, and try as we might, could not stay off the phone with each other.

This was before cell phones.

Our phone bills that month were a little high. His was just over $300 and mine was just under.

It was alarming. So he said, "Well, I guess we might as well get married."

Be still my heart.

Anyway, he came to my house as usual the night before we were to wed. I cooked supper, we cleaned up and watched TV for a little while. About ten p.m. he decided to call it a night and go on home to his mama and daddy's.

We opened the door and gasped.

There was ice hanging from trees and power lines. The yard was covered in it. And it was snowing with a vengeance.

I called the gate and asked if he could make it out. (I lived at Lake Arrowhead for those of you who know, and for those of you who don't, the answer was, "Lord, no!")

The tiny, narrow, winding mountain roads were not to be traveled upon.

After a few hours of hysterical behavior (Husband, not me), I decided to go to bed. He'd made the dreaded phone call to his mama telling her he was spending the night. I shared this information with my mother about a year ago. Only because she overheard me telling the story to someone else.

I went to bed with Husband pacing the living room, muttering, "I've waited 35 years to get married, and now this."

We called the gate the next morning, and the answer was still a resounding no. However; when I told them we were supposed to get  married (!), they changed their minds. Husband had a front wheel drive. The guards at the gate made a plan. If we weren't there in fifteen minutes (for a usual five minute ride) they would start looking for us and pull us out of whatever ditch/ravine we were in and get us to the church on time. (another annoying tune to get stuck in your head!)

By creeping we made it, and many minutes later made it into town.

We went to the florist. We were the only customers there, and she'd just made it in. She told us she couldn't take any orders because she was the only one there and had to make deliveries, there was a big funeral that afternoon.

Once again, when told we were getting married that afternoon, her plans changed and she threw caution to the wind and made me a small bouquet and Husband a boutonniere.

By the time we arrived at the church, we were pretty much done in.

But the worst was yet to come, as they'd forgotten to turn on the heat in the church and it was freezing in there!

We did get married, despite all the barriers (one I didn't mention because who knows who's reading this? But it was by far the most, um, amusing.)

Here we are, 32 years later, still married.

And they said it wouldn't last.

Grow Old Along With Me

"Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be." So said Robert Browning.

What a crock.

Either Browning was very young or pretty drunk when he wrote this.

I admit, when Husband and I married, I thought it was so sweet, and prayed we could grow old together.

Not that I still don't want that, I do. I don't know what I'd do without Husband.

But at that time, I was young (not drunk), and I romanticized it.

In a rather soft focus daydream, we were white haired, slightly wrinkled and retired, but otherwise unchanged.

We will be married 32 years in four days. I was almost thirty-one when we married, so do the math.

I'm not that old (yet), but due to an accident, I ain't in great shape as far as physical pain and abilities go. I am very, very changed.  I know it will only grow worse with age. I shudder to think the shape my body might be in when twenty years pass.

Of course, modern science might come up with a fantastic drug that will take away all my pain.

Yeah, right.

I was thinking about all this because of our upcoming anniversary, as well as my next birthday two weeks from today.

I want Husband to continue to grow old with me, but the best? Is not yet to be, it has done been. At least for me physically. 

I thank God Husband loves me. And I love Husband dearly.

And it is still a sweet thought that we might be there for each other for another twenty years or so. I pray it be so, if the Lord sees fit for us to stay on this earth.

The best is yet to be?

 Maybe. But only in some ways.