I just read a commentary by Cal Thomas about South Carolina's governor Sanford..my thoughts.
I do not always agree with Mr Thomas on every issue. We certainly agree on this one.

In recent news I watched with a sick feeling in my stomach as the governor of South Carolina attempted to explain himself on national television. He has "begun a friendship" with a woman in South America which had (obviously) grown into something much more. In his his pitiful statement to the press he asked the public to understand. What is there to understand? He listened to the wrong voice. He certainly could have heard that voice of reason (which I believe is the Spirit of God! apparently Mr Sanford is a believer) but he chose to listen to a voice that has been teasing and taunting humans since Adam...."You will not die!" remember that one?
What is it about sin, adultery in particular that snags men so often? Is it the desire to be a stud to someone who in all reality doesn't give a rats butt what happens to you? Is it amnesia? A sweet young thing makes him feel needed and he "forgets" he's married? I have news for Mr Sanford, his Latin lover most likely has the same bad habits and hang ups as Mrs Sanford...he just hasn't been around her for years and years...they'll come out I promise! Of course, my first response to the whole situation is disgust. I want to see him tarred and feathered and humiliated in the streets but I'm sure the wife at home doesn't. I wouldn't if it were my man...she probably just wants to have a chance to cry without the cameras in her face. Unfortunately, her husband is in the public eye so their problems are too.
Anyway, listening to the right voice is a learned response to sin. Friends (men and women) if you are tempted to do something that you know in your gut is wrong- listen to people you know will steer you in the right direction! Go to the people who listen to the voice of truth! Particularly if you are having a hard time distinguishing between His voice and the one of that infamous serpent! Your enemy is not your friend who tells you to go home and talk to that spouse who's seen you through the good and the bad...Your enemy will always tell you to "Go on, you deserve this, have a little fun!" I'm sad that Mr Sanford didn't have that option or perhaps chose to ignore it.
A word to the wise....we are all wonderfully made in God's image...we are also ALL messed up. We are all one bad decision away from being in a lot of trouble! That's all it takes, one bad decision.
God forgives, he restores, he heals....it takes a lot of work to restore the faith of a woman though. If there has been a slip in your relationship and your wife doesn't "just get over it" you better know that she might forgive you but she will never have full confidence in herself or you again without divine intervention.
There is temptation out there everyday, you don't have to look for it, it'll come to you! Listen to the truth!
I said I'd never write a self help book for fear that the Devil himself would show up at my door to hand deliver the news that I am a laughable failure but here is a short list of how to keep your man at home....some are my ideas and some are borrowed, MEN, you can ask Michael if they work. Women, don't you dare!
1) Pray for him EVERYDAY...I've even been known to go in our closet and smell his clothes and pray that the spirit of adultery could not have any power in his life...
2) Make sure he knows that he is your Superman....Michael you are mine!
3) Never criticize him in front of your children or his friends!
4) Guard how you talk about him, even to YOUR friends!
5) Text message him with things that only HE needs to hear you say.
6) Go on dates and pretend you don't know each other...this is so much fun!!
7) Get away alone once in a while, walk in a park, or on the beach.
8) Kiss him in public (nobody cares, and if they do- smile and say "Sorry, we're newlyweds and can't keep our hands off each other")
8) Have secrets WITH each other not from each other.
If you've been married a year or fifty, I promise these things work to at least build intimacy if not protection into your marriage.
I'll be praying for the Sanfords, they have some tough ground to cover.

Michael Jackson

I remember the day that Elvis died. I remember my first thought was of my friend Laura, who at 17 was really way to young to be crushing on the "old man". It was 1977, I was at cheerleader camp with some of my best friends....a carload of boys drove by and yelled out the window, "Elvis is dead!" It was stunning, we all stood there sweat soaked wondering if we should do something different. Our leader broke the silence and got us back to work on the routine we were learning and nobody talked about it again til later that night. Today, I had the same experience, only now I'm the same age as the "old guy" and a teenage boy took three steps at a time to get downstairs to tell me that Michael Jackson had just died. I had the same response though, I was stunned.
I loved the Jackson Five as a kid. I had all the hit singles...and some of the albums. My main allegiance went to the Osmond brothers but I loved EVERYTHING Michael Jackson did. I particularly loved "I'll Be There". It was probably my favorite. It's surreal to think we won't ever hear a new MJ song. It makes me feel old. Funny, MJ always made me feel young before.
I am sad for his family and fans. I always wonder if anyone shared the love of Jesus with these people before they die. They are so hard to get to when they reach that kind of fame, but God could have reached him. I pray he did.

Planting

When I was a kid my parents always had a rather large vegetable garden. There were only three of us so the fact that we had a large garden is in itself kind of peculiar to me but at least at the time it seemed really big. I remember Daddy using a push plow after the whole area had been tilled and cleared. The purpose of that plow at least in my memory was to make the rows the seeds would be planted in. I can still feel the packed dirt under my bare feet when I followed Daddy up and down the rows careful to step only in his big boot prints. It was a game for me and I'm quite sure it was somewhat of a nuisance to my dad who's playful voice would call back over his shoulder..."if I needed you to do something useful you wouldn't be anywhere in sight". Oh, but I wanted to do something useful...it's just that as soon as he'd give me a real job I'd see a butterfly that needed catching or the perfect June plum that a great adventurous climb would retrieve and off I'd go. I loved to walk behind him and as long as nothing else caught my attention I'd be right there for rows and rows. Sometimes, he would get to the end of row making and pull a tiny brown paper bag out of his pocket and put a few smooth seeds in my hand...I guess this was his idea of letting me do something useful. He'd tell me to put two seeds together and then skip a space and put two more. This was the highest of responsibilities for me. I was actually helping plant! Then he'd give me my own paper cup and a bucket and we'd put water on each new little seed family. Then he'd go back with his push plow and cover up all the seeds in the row. I'd lose interest in the garden long before the first beans and peas could be harvested but this planting thing really was fun.
I wonder now that I am an adult if Daddy was just pacifying me or if he knew what he was doing. By letting me walk in his boot prints, and putting those seeds in my hand, he was teaching me about God. He didn't say it with words but he showed me that if we step in our father's footprints, and hold out our hands, he'll give us seeds to plant in the rich soil of people's lives. Carefully placed seeds will in time bear fruit. I haven't matured much in the patience department so waiting is still hard but I'm learning to stay and watch.
Someday there will be a great harvest, I hope I hear my heavenly father say that I was useful to him. I'm looking forward to that harvest.

My doctor had just written my prescription. He made the comment, "Your children saved you didn't they?". I smiled and nodded. He knew my type, the woman who is prone to depression but hides it from the world, who would rather stay in her closet all day or at least in bed but because there are children, that's never an option. I had lived with this darkness most of my life.
I remember as a teenager prying pills out of my mother's hand one winter afternoon...she wanted to give up but I wouldn't have any part of that cowardice. I may not have been there all the time but she was not going to do that on my watch. We spilled her pills all over the kitchen floor and she cried as I picked them up and put her back to bed. I was always told she was "sick". I didn't understand depression back then, nobody I knew did. The doctors would just prescribe high powered sleeping pills or Valium, something referred to as Milltown tablets or others that quieted the demons. They'd suggest hysterectomies and told the husbands to wait it out.
But for the children, this darkness was a frightening journey. I didn't know anyone else whose mother suffered like mine did. And after a few years she did emerge better... not quite what I'd call healed but better. We've never talked about it really. We've broached the subject but I don't believe she remembers it, at least not like I do. She remembers loving me and giving me everything I ever wanted. That's fine, I really don't want her to remember the other side.
I have a dear friend who loves the movie "Divine Secrets of The YaYa Sisterhood". She knows it haunts me though, I lived that life. My mother was a mystery to me. She was fun and brilliantly entertaining at times. I loved to please her. But then there were the dark times when nothing pleased her, she would cry and stay in bed or pick fights with my dad until Hell errupted.
My mother is a frail tiny shell of the woman she was back then. It is not my intention to hurt her in any way. I do however have to come to terms with this disease she passed on to me.
I have clinical depression.
It is not a spiritual issue.
It is a physical brain issue.
Don't preach to me about praying more or getting delivered. I love my Jesus more than life and he has this road for me to walk...my prayer is that I walk it with him, not free of illness. HE is the very one who has saved me...
~by giving me the promise of eternal life (no I am not the least bit suicidal!)
~ by giving me a husband who loves me in spite of my sickness
~ by giving me children who won't leave me alone!
This is what my doctor meant when he said those words so many years ago. "Your children saved you". I can't NOT live. I have too much to do.

God bless you today if you suffer from any mental illness. You are not alone.

Pound Cake

Ariel and I just put a pound cake in the oven. It's a Paula Deen recipe. I made Ariel write it out on a note card. It only took her 45 mins to get it all written out. It's not that complicated but Ariel likes to make things that way. She is very much like a butterfly. She writes for a minute then remembers she needs to see where Ollie the cat is. She finds her and pets her, tells her what she just did, created this lovely pound cake with Mama...and that since she is a cat she won't be getting any herself but will receive a full report of how good it is. Then she flits to the next thing...maybe looking at herself in the mirror then back to me where I point to the card and pencil and cookbook still on the counter, "Oh, yeah, that's what I was doing" she says. We smile, I understand. She writes a few more words and then asks me yet again what we are doing with the strawberries in the sink. I tell her they are for the cake after dinner, and she's off again...a sound from the laundry room has gotten her attention. While she's in there she examines her new swimsuit, hangs up her towel and is thrilled to discover her purple flipflops in the corner, she's been looking for those! How did they ever get in here...
"Mama, why do they call it poundcake?" before I can answer she tells me her idea...Ariel always has an idea... sometimes they are good ideas, sometimes not so good but she is always full of them, a regular Ramona Quimby she is, always thinking, always talking, always making new discoveries. Today she conquers pound cake....tomorrow? We'll see.

Father's Day

I was a fortunate child. I had a daddy who spent time with me. The Alan Jackson song "Daddy Let Me Drive" is a snippet into my childhood....my first memory behind a steering wheel was a fiberglass boat, shiny red. I learned to ski at six. My daddy used to brag that I "got up" on the little three foot long skis on my second try and he pulled me all over Lake Martin before he just stopped the boat in front of our pier because I was too scared to let go of the rope. There are pictures somewhere in my mama's house of me with those little skis and that red boat.
Daddy taught me to drive his truck on the muddy roads at the lake. I remember distinctly the seat pushed back as far as it would go with me standing up steering as Daddy worked the gas and brake. He was determined that I was gonna know how to drive. I learned early and as a pre-teen I remember him letting me back the truck up to put the boat on the trailer. I overheard him telling somebody once that "That girl can drive anything". He bought me a mini-bike when I was eleven. I had a street bike at 14. He just couldn't wait for me to have my own car so I got an orange VW Beetle at 15 and I drove a "stick shift" for the first time. I remember getting the crash course in all four speeds and reverse in five minutes...he paid the man and I drove that little bubble home, I'm sure my mother can attribute her neck problems to that experience. Daddy never said as such but he had a lot of confidence in me. He worried a bit about the hollow front of that VW though. He said many times, "Girl I know you love that car but it scares me to think of something hittin' you". The fact that I drove it like it was "Herbie" probably added to his nervousness...In December of my Junior year of high school Daddy showed up at the gym where we were decorating for the Christmas Dance. I thought something terrible must have happened because my daddy NEVER came to school. It turned out that he'd been talking to the man at the car lot and had essentially already bought me a new car. He made it look like I had picked it out but when we got to the lot he said"There are four cars right there in a row, you get in the one you like the best and it's yours." It was like a game show that I had WON! I had been admiring a friend's Olds Cutlass and secretly wanted one. I don't even remember telling Daddy about it but he knew. They were all beautiful but I was instantly drawn to a real "girl car". It was light green with white leather seats, an eight track and am/fm radio, it was the most beautiful car I had ever seen. It was brand new and it was mine!
I drove that car all through college. Michael and I left the church for our honeymoon in it and there is a picture of my daddy standing in the background smiling with his arms crossed as if he were saying, "There goes that girl who can drive anything, if she handles her life like I've taught her she'll be just fine". I never asked him, but if I had he probably would have quiped....."She's gonna drive that boy straight to the crazy house"which I'm sure is closer to the truth.
Thanks Daddy!

A Picture of Sweetness

I am never more humbled than when I'm sitting in the hairdresser's chair in the "before" mode. Why is it that the lighting is always so brilliant in these places? I can see every line and wrinkle on my face and it's downright depressing...I got my hair cut for summer the other day and I'm telling you it is super short! Even for me. I was thinking later about how old I look( not saying a word out loud) and my precious little Felicity came up to me and was looking at me. I imagined she was probably wondering what I was thinking when I told my stylist friend to whack it all off!!! But, in the sweetest tone my little precious said, "Mommy, you are sooo cute! and you have a great haircut!" Old or not, I can't help but feel better when I've got her as a cheerleader.
I know a day will come when she's embarrassed that people think I'm her grandmother. But today she's four and she thinks I'm cute.
I hope I grow up to be just like her.

Nana the Green Thumb???

Took Mama to lunch yesterday. She likes these little outings and I'm starting to enjoy them too. God is good.
Anyway, yesterday she was telling me that she had been eating a salad and got something under her dentures...I guess when you are eighty something it's acceptable to talk about such things, I remember a time when she would have kicked me under the table if I'd mentioned that she had "false teeth" but "times they are a changin' ". She said she slipped them out to see what was causing the problem and found two tomato seeds. Now, being the practical woman my mother has occasionally been known to be, she didn't want to just put the seeds on her plate and dispose of them, so she stuck them in a flower pot on the table...I had to laugh out loud when she told me that where she dropped those two tiny seeds the other day, now grows two little tomato plants. I knew she and my daddy always made the back breaking reality of gardening look so easy when I was younger but now I've learned that she can literally spit and make things grow
.....so unfair.

Little Peek Back at Childhood

Even though Michael and I didn't grow up together it sometimes feels like he's been right here with me my whole life. Considering he was ten days into his twenty-first year and I was twenty-two when we got married we have been together a lot longer than we were apart. Sometimes we seem to even blur childhood experiences into one life. I love when this happens.

The other night we had gone out to put something fun I'd found up in the play yard. This little area keeps evolving into a more and more magical place, especially at twilight when the "lightning bugs"( as we've always called them) start to do their thing. We got our project done and sat down on the settee to observe the moment. Of course, our little ones followed with their usual "Whatcha doing?" We watched as they started to notice the blink of the flying neons. We commented on how God must have put those things here just for kids. Why else would he have created bugs that light up? They ran around laughing and jumping at them. Soon Seth came out and joined in the fun. I suppose he is truly the combination of mine and Michaels childhoods rewired and revived in a six foot something "little boy". He is a joy to see with these baby girls. He went back inside and got a plastic cup and proceded to show the girls how a real lightning bug chaser gets the job done. They had three or four caught before I remembered we had an empty pickle jar in the cabinet. I retrieved it along with a piece of clear plastic for the top.
Michael and I watched as the four of them....Pooh, Piglet, Tigger and our own Christopher Robin chased and caught fire flies until it was too dark to see where they were going. Seth told them they could put the jar in their room and have a different kind of nightlight to sleep by. I whispered to Michael, "I did that". He responded, "Yeah, me too". For a second I could see him there as a little boy, big blue eyes, freckles perfectly scattered across his nose in some older brothers pajama pants, smelling like Ivory soap fresh from the bath. Holding up his jar of lightning bugs smiling at me.
What a gift, to get to watch as memories are made by the little ones (and not so little anymore). I pray they remember how their big brother loved them. How he taught them to enjoy the things around them that are free from God.
I am also praying for the girl who will marry that sweet boy, I hope she has experienced the love of a good family, and she's chased lightning bugs and watched them until she's fallen asleep.
And I pray for the little boys who will someday marry these girls. Let them be men who are sweet and tender like the men in their lives are now. I hope they are out there somewhere chasing lightning bugs.

Life Goes On

I just kissed my sweet grandbaby goodbye yet again. I don't know when I'll see her next. Her family situation is up in the air right now. Her daddy is looking for a job. They live in Virginia but have nothing keeping them there. Apparently "home" as in our hometown isn't a good place to look for a job these days. Funny, how some people can't wait to leave a place and others are desperate to get back. I suppose it's a matter of perspective.
I wanted to leave here once.
I did.
I went away to school, met my husband, worked a little while, discovered we were going to have a baby and then high tailed it back to Opelika where I had what little family I could claim and a whole lot of friends. That was important to us. I wanted to know my doctor, my pastor, the people at the grocery store. I wanted my child to grow up knowing her grandparents. I wanted her to go to school with the same children from K- 12 and experience a hometown where you are known and loved . We did that...and we love the life we have here.
But, every generation has to make it's own decisions about where to live and what to do. I have to learn to deal with it. I have two teenagers who are chomping at the bit to head on out of town and seek fame and fortune, while our younger daughter and her husband are moving from Tuscaloosa to literally next door.....
And funny thing is she was the one who always said she'd never live here when she grew up...she wanted her kids to have the experience of going to Grammy's and Poppy's to spend weekends and longer in the summer. I have to smile at how things turn around. She doesn't have any babies yet but when she does, they can still come to Grammy's to get spoiled and spend the night. And when Miss Aidie comes to visit we'll have sleepovers then too.
Near or far, home is home.
It's not about the house or the town, it's about where the people you love are. I pray that all my children, biological, fostered and adopted will always find the road that brings them back to me no matter where they live.
May God keep you safe on your long car ride my sweet Aidie.

Battling the "Burban"

One of the things I love about this big 'ol family I've got is our mode of transportation. Those who know me best are aware that fancy cars don't do a thing for me, I don't want anything new or fancy...mainly because things like Sharpie marker on the paint and a tick-tac-toe in some other permanent ink on the backseat would send me into orbit if we were still paying for a nice new ride. Instead, I clean it out once in a while and let the french fries petrify in the meantime. We have a 1999 GMC Suburban and it suits me fine. Even the way we came about purchasing the "Burban" as one of my kids dubbed it, was an example of the village stepping up and helping out. When we got the kids we had a smaller SUV which worked for a family of four. Both our girls were married and out of town. We actually added five children at once and we didn't all fit anymore. If you are at all familiar with the typical American family or vehicle you know that a family of NINE only fits in...a church bus, one of the newer Excursions or a Suburban. We started looking around. Michael talked to a friend of ours at church who just happened to be getting ready to sell a Surburban but it only seated eight. Turns out there's an extra seat that can be installed in the front to make it a nine passenger "bus". Our friend sold us his Suburban (at a more than fair price) and bought the seat for us, thanks Mark. Michael had it installed and we were on the road! I love this big old land barge...but yesterday I wanted to kick it's tires maybe just a little too hard.
We were going to Columbus to see our boys' end of theatre camp presentation. They were to get started at 1:00cst and it was already 12:15. We were strapping in child seats and getting everyone situated when I realized the left passenger door wouldn't close. Someone (who will remain unnamed but had black grease all over her chubby little fingers) flipped a little metal thingy in the door that locks it. Trouble is with these old doors when you do this the door is met by the little bar that would otherwise be grabbed by the metal thingy with a thud, then it bounces off. I had experienced this situation before school one morning....somebody didn't want to be on time that day either. I remember struggling and sweating to get it "unlocked" but not like today...this day it was taking much longer to figure out how to coax the metal thingy to drop back down to it's unlock position....did I mention it was 92 degrees? and I was parked in the noonday sun? It took me, Hannah, Madeline and our neighbor Lisa ten minutes ( at least) to poke and pull and hunt down a screwdriver, a pair of plyers and a garden spade (don't ask). We finally got it fixed and I told the little culprit not to ever touch the door of the car again!! I'm sure she had visions of sitting there in her seat for the rest of her natural life. We were really late to the presentation...but we did make it. One more battle with the good dependable old Burban. I hope it makes it a few more years...I'm gonna have one particular little lady with grease on her fingers drive it to school!

Much Better Now

I have been in a bad mood lately....actually I've been so moody I was giving myself whiplash. It all came to a halt today when first I met up with Micah to attend the governor's birthday party for the Alabama Birthday Wish. It was fun. Patsy Riley is a kind and gracious person but I was most impressed by the governor himself. I am not a very political person. I know people who are very Demo or Repu get outdone with me because I don't jump on anybody's band wagon. I think they are all lovely and ALL messed up. That's all we can expect from anybody. Regardless of what you think of our governor I have to tell you I liked him. At first when we met him we had just listened to several speakers try to keep it brief because we were all standing in the hot sun. We asked if we could get a picture and he said certainly and turned to walk away....I asked out loud to no one in particular "Are we suppose to follow him?" A casually dressed secret service guy (I guess that's what the gov's bodyguards are called??) said discretely "Yes", we did and ended up in the shade, under some huge tree. Governor Riley turned and waited for us all to get there. He shook our hands and asked where we were from. Then we took the picture and gave Micah a turn. I told him she was the director of a nonprofit for foster and adopted children and he responded positively....we were off to play on the jumping things, eat cake and ice cream and have faces painted. It was while we were at the facepainting table that he strolled over and sat with the children and had a football painted on his face....Now picture the governor doing this....When he was finished I commented on the color of the "A" on his face art. He teased about what color he had ordered. Then I told him Micah was a recent graduate of UA and he high fived her and said "Roll Tide"...he asked her some specific questions about BigHouse. He commented that it was an awesome undertaking to give of herself like that. He then said, "Let me ask you this, how old are you?" When Micah said 23 he turned to Michael and said, "I bet you are one proud daddy aren't you?" Michael smiled and said he was... Then governor Bob Riley said "You have every reason to be proud". He then turned back to Micah and said, "Let us know if we can help you." She laughed and commented that she sure could use his help, he laughed with her and he asked if she had met the new DHR commissioner which she hadn't. He said, come on then and off they went Micah and the governor of Alabama walking across a grassy lawn so he could introduce her. It was surreal for me. I am processing it still.
This organization, BigHouse Foundation is bigger than any of us. It is something God has started and nothing is going to slow it down. It's so fun to watch it all happen.
So back to my bad mood....when we drove up in our driveway I noticed Hannah and Michael's car. We hadn't expected them until much later. We were all so excited we raced to see who could get to Aiden first. Poppy had to park the car so Ariel and I raced for her. She smiled and came right to me.
At dinner tonight I had all my babies around the table, the little ones at the kid counter. The circus is in town. We are loud and silly and full of life. Good medicine for bad moods.

Funnies from the "Home"

As many of you know my mother is in an assisted living facility in Auburn. She says she is learning to tolerate it but I have a suspicion there's more than I'm getting from her.

They called me from Morningside today to tell me Mama had taken another spill and was being taken by ambulance to the ER. They said she wasn't happy about going but they felt it was necessary to make sure nothing in her brittle little frame was broken. I agreed and assured them I'd be there shortly to check on her and stay til they let her go. Once again, my friend and lifesaver Ellen came and stayed with the girls. I got to the hospital and was told where to find her, of course she was in X-ray and I had to wait. As they wheeled her in I resolved myself to make this as positive as possible....we've started meeting like this often and usually she sleeps and I stare at the wall. Today she was different! She was almost chipper. She asked why in the world they called me...she knew she hadn't broken anything and I'm so busy.... I told her they were supposed to call me and I didn't mind. She proceeded to explain how she got into this perdicament, this time....she always seems to have a story for her falls. This time she had sprayed air freshener in her bathroom and then spied one of her house shoes and instead of waiting for the bathroom floor to dry she slid across it to retreive her slipper, almost making it a pun. She pushed her emergency button on her little necklace from under her sink....Oh Lord, I have visions of doing this kind of thing myself...In a minute or two she had the director, the nurse, the dietician, two helpers and all her neighbors in her tiny bathroom trying to pry her out from under there. The nurse forbid them all from moving her at all so they called 911 and stuffed pillows under her. I get this vision and have to smile...it's really a wonderful place. She knows they love her and she would be lost back at home.
After her discription of the calamity that ended her up in the ER she said....well the gossips are talking. I'm not sure who the gossips are exactly but apparently Mama has forgotten what she always used to tell me, "If somebody will talk about someone else TO you, you can be sure they will talk ABOUT you TO somebody else". Dang, I thought that was so smart!! It colored my whole opinion of gossip as a young girl. I was always so careful not to join in when someone was being smeared through the mud for fear that tomorrow it would be me they were smearing...now, my mother was admitting she had joined the club and was afraid of what "others" were saying. I asked her what the gossips might be saying about her. She said as solemnly as ever "I'm talking to Fuller". I pinched a big old blue bruise on my leg to keep from laughing out loud. "You are talking to Fuller?" She said yes, I felt like I had gotten a third grade confession out of one of my children. I told her that she should never worry about what other people said. I also told her not to hurt his feelings because I have boys now and I would likely run over any girl who broke their hearts...these old people, they are like preteens! This is the first time Mama has admitted "talking" to anybody since my dad died in 2001. I am so tickled for her. She has started really being concerned about her appearance. I knew that. She even had me buy a ridiculously priced eyeshadow at the mall so she could get a skincare "gift" from one of the cosmetic counters. I hate the mall and even though she thought she was paying for all of it I ended up having to use my debit card because this particular store wouldn't take her check without a drivers license. I didn't want to get into all that with her so I paid $30 for a stupid eyeshadow and she was happy. It's just life with an eighty something.
Back to today, as we arrived in the circle where cars and vans load and unload and little old people sit and watch all that comes and goes she said, "There they are". I ask who "they" were, "The gossips", three little ladies sitting in rockers looking like magpies on a tree limb.They didn't hold candles to the rumormongers I'm sure my mother has faced down before, they looked completely harmless to me. They all stared at the car, I walked around and one of them said "Oh, it's Grace". One of them called out and asked if she was okay. When I replied that nothing was broken and she was going to be fine they spontaneously broke out in applause!
It was the cutest thing! She was getting out of the car and being greeted like a rock star!
Then the door swung open and all the staff poured into the common area to hug and kiss her and ooooh and aaaahh over how she had returned without a cast or anything! It was ridiculous but appropiate at the same time. She was totally in her element.
THE CENTER OF ATTENTION!
Now, she may argue that she misses her "home". I need to remind her that her home consisted of her bedroom and bathroom. She didn't take her meds correctly, hated to cook or clean or do laundry. I didn't check on her regularly enough, didn't pay her bills, didn't pay her any attention and now she has this! I am afraid if the truth was known she would have to be dragged kicking and screaming away from Morningside. Ahhhh, I am breathing again...and laughing my head off too.

Note to my children: If any of you get famous and can afford longterm care insurance, buy it for your daddy and me....we would so let you have our house and move in to one of these places...anybody up for BINGO?