Hair of the Dog

My son is gifted in the hair department with more growth in his eyebrows than most men have on his head.  I can’t wait for the ear hair to start.

Anyway, he didn’t know his sister’s phone number had changed and he sent her this photo of his beard progress along with several other outrageous texts last week.  Some poor state worker  who was assigned her old phone must has thought the Devil was stalking them.  They may have even turned over a new leaf and gone to church today.

 

What I’ve Been Up To

My little granddaughter, Leda, has her priorities straight, dividing her time between Peppa the Pig, Spider-Man, Captain America, and numerous other superheroes.  She addresses Bud and me as Grandma and Other Grandma. Before going to preschool she put a bandaid on her shin and had me roll her pants leg up so it would show. Additionally, she applied a huge one to the center of her forehead just before getting out of the car. She was very satisfied by the fuss the kids made at her entrance. That evening at home, she plastered herself with about twenty and proclaimed, “I am so beautiful!” She was right!

It was so refreshing seeing the kids at her school. One morning a little guy met us at the door wearing a tutu and fireman’s helmet while a little girl danced around in a cowboy hat and hula skirt. After a day or two they all greeted “Grandma.”

Leda kept us busy. She had to have at least one Grandma at her side at all times. Other Grandma had to justify not being at her beck and call.

This friendly giant is our grand dog, Leda’s buddy.  He tries to stay between Leda and the grandmas all the time.  Below, you can see him wrapped in a shawl he snitched from my daughter.  He competes for Leda’s treasures, ferreting them out and cuddling them before chewing them up.

Croc with his grandpa.  He managed isolate him for a short time while Leda was running wild.

Hard Time Marrying, Addendum

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These two photographs look over my shoulder as I settle in to write every day.  The first came down to me in a group of old unmarked family photos.  I bought the second  at an auction because It looked like it needed a home.  These two haunted me till I wrote Hard Time Marrying.  I hope my story pleases them.

 

If I Were a Rich Man!

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I hate this.  After the recent storm, we had a leak around the flashing around our chimney.  Bud is perfectly willing and able to do repairs, but I hate seeing him pull out the ladder to climb on the roof.  He finished the repair and was back safely on the ground in ten minutes and saved the cost of a repair.  He’s always reminding me he’s not a rich man, but I believe he would still do this if he were.   What you don’t see is me waiting and watching below.  We are both retired RNs, with extensive experience taking care of those who have fallen of roofs.  Thank God, all went well!

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That’s Their Problem

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Mother has three closets jammed with clothes.  Last time I counted, she had thirty-two outfits with tags.  Last Sunday when she stopped by to score a meal, she was sporting this stylish ensemble.  Since it was a tad nippy, she’d donned the purple, long-sleeved shirt I’d given her when she got caught without a sweater at my house several years ago.  As you can see, it’s extremely roomy. Paired with these charming cropped pants she’s been wearing for at least ten years, she was really styling.  For a finishing touch, she slipped into ankle-high nylons and loafers, accessorized by her pedometer, since her current obsession is walking.

I couldn’t help remarking, “Mother, you do know that’s a hideous outfit, don’t you?”

“I don’t care!  I’m old enough to wear what I want to,” was her reply.

“Okay, but you know since you’re past eighty, people may get the impression you have Alzheimer’s.” wasting some more conversation here.

“Well, that’s their problem!”

I need to find her a shirt that says, “Despite appearances to the contrary, I am not demented.”