Finally, a Normal Christmas

In 2008, Mom died on December 20th. Last year, I was hobbling around with a walker at Christmas, recovering from a fractured femur. 

Things didn't look too promising for this year's Christmas. After two months of worrisome abdominal pain, our daughter had surgery yesterday at 4:30 PM. It was no emergency, but the doctor wanted to get it over with before Christmas.  She was able to come home last night and says she is "happy as a clam" today. 

Our grandson's two-month-old health problem has also resolved itself. After an ultrasound and a visit to a pediatric urologist, he's been told to drink more water and pee more than twice a day. 

I missed choir practice last night, because we didn't leave the hospital until 7 PM. I'm going to sing at both the early and midnight services anyway. I think I know the music well enough.

Tomorrow everyone's coming to our house for dinner.

"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night."

You Better Not Laugh

. . . because Santa Claus has already come to town and left Ramsey this beautiful winter coat. Who says a pit bull can't be a fashionista? 

(I'm sure he'll grow to love it.)

End of the Larry King Era

Mom loved Larry King. Until macular degeneration left her nearly blind at age 97, she watched him faithfully. She loved the way he dressed. One Christmas she asked me to buy a shirt and a tie for her to give to Phil. I didn't buy the tie, because Phil rarely wears them.  I bought him a nice flannel shirt, his winter work uniform.

Mom took one look at the shirt and sighed with disappointment. "I wanted him to start dressing up more for work. He should wear shirts and ties like Larry King." Well, even if I'd understood what she wanted in the first place, it was never gonna happen.

Christmas in Prince George's County

It's not that I have nothing to write about. I have a long list of topics for another day. Another day when I don't feel plowed under by family health problems involving our daughter and grandson. Problems both physical and mental. Our daughter doesn't handle stress well. Neither do I.  I'm frayed at the edges. 

Even so, life has its moments. Mom died two years ago this month, right before Christmas. She was a forlorn and cantankerous old lady, living (she thought) with strangers. At least she had Georgie.  Here she is, napping with the Cat of Cats. We adopted Georgie from a shelter a few months after Sadie died, even though Mom had said, "I don't want another cat." Georgie became her  live-in Teddy bear. 

Georgie was 3 or 4 years old when we got her in early 2007.  No longer a kitten. Sometimes she'd chase a laser light, but mostly it was, "Ho-hum. Why don't you chase it?" Yesterday, out on the screened porch, she suddenly noticed a tiny stuffed mouse she'd ignored for months. She stalked it, pounced on it, tossed it in the air, dashed madly about.  She put on a great show for two minutes. Perhaps it was her way of saying, "'Tis the season to be jolly."