1983

How did I become older than my mom? As I was digging through a couple of boxes of old photographs, I came across one of my first born son, Joey, at the age of 5 months, with me sitting on the couch. Just for the heck of it, I put my glasses on, took another look. Nope - not me in the picture. My mom. Four years younger than I am now. How is this possible? The original was taken with a Polaroid. I just took a photo of the photo, so it's a bit blurry, much like the 26 1/2 years that have passed since that day.

wii fit

It's all the rage. Everyone has it. Everyone is talking about it. We have one too. We talk about it too. Apparently; however, I am not so much wii fit! According to "my fitness coach" my center of balance is way off. My BMI is way too high. My weight is 33 pounds more than it should be. It seems that I cannot walk in place and swing my arms at the same time, or walk on a tight rope, twirl a baton, keep up a hoola hoop, have a snowball fight, operate a segway, ski down a mountain, do a basic step aerobic, nor breathe properly. It's amazing that I can dress myself! But here's the thing - it is so competitive that it drives you to keep going. I'm feeling muscles in my body that I haven't felt since tryouts for kickline in 10th grade!! Maybe I'll lose some weight and get into shape, but I'll have to put the bag of potato chips down first!

36 years with you - 15 without

Happy birthday Dad...

Christmas Dinner

I've been trying for over a week to write a story about Christmas dinner. I sign on and stare at a blank page, all the words jumbled in my head and I can't seem to make a sentence. After the 4th try I gave up. Today as I sit here, (attempt #5) watching yet another snow storm, I realized it's because of the weather. Rage takes over every power of my being and I can't even think. I know I complain a lot about the cold. I know there's nothing I can do about it. I know people don't like to hear me whine about it. I can't stop myself. This is the 4th storm this winter and it's only January 2nd. This one was fore casted as "snow showers." The hubby used the snow blower a couple of hours ago and it's covered again. Some snow showers.

Anyhow - Christmas dinner was a lot of fun. Those of you who know me know that I really can't cook very well. One thing I can make; however, is a turkey. I attempted to step it up a notch with my son's recipe for apple cider gravy (which begins with cooking the turkey in the cider.) My momma in law always makes oyster dressing. We attempted the preparing of this feast together. I prepared the bird, she chopped her little fingers to the bone preparing the dressing. The only thing I did to help was break up the oysters. I held the legs of the bird wide open while she spooned in the stuffing. I felt like I was aiding in my granddaughter's birth again, only things were going in instead of coming out!! I happened to say this out loud and for some reason Momma found it hysterical. The kind of laughter that makes tears. The spoonfuls of dressing were landing everywhere but inside the bird. "F---it" I said, just pick it up with your hands. So she did - hand fulls of dressing literally being shoved in the bird. We laughed so hard our cheeks hurt. We were all looking forward to this meal, especially the oyster dressing. A couple of hours later the house began to smell delicious. I basted and basted and basted again. Dinner was finally ready. Probably one of the most scrumptious birds I ever made. The oyster dressing; however, tasted like apple cider. Momma didn't find this flavor appealing to her palate. We did however; laugh. A lot. So much work - all for naught. Time well spent together, though. This is probably one of those stories best read if you were there. Nonetheless I felt like telling it. It was good to see you laugh, Momma.