Ten-Finger Exercises

All caked up

I am, indeed, all caked up.

Our diet for the past two or three months has excluded bread and potatoes and cake, all the sweet and starchy things. I made some desserts from Splenda for Thanksgiving and Bill's birthday, but that was all. So yesterday, when we went out for lunch after church, I had a waffle with strawberries and cream. Then, because Bill told them it was my birthday, they sent me home with a free dessert. THEN, in the evening while I was talking on the phone and playing on the computer, Bill came in with a single layer birthday cake for me with candles in all colors that looked like letters: H A P P Y etc. So I didn't even eat supper, just cake. He had a very small piece, and his blood sugar was up this morning, so that's all of that.

He's had a hard day today, picking up the airplane buyer at the airport and escorting her around until her flight out left. Then, as things go when you're trying to tidy up before vacation, all sorts of things went kablooey. He isn't home yet to explain, but sounded very weary when he called. So I'm blogging early to get it out of the way.

Went to a funeral this morning for an old retired English teacher. She and her husband had had to keep their marriage a secret for two years before the town gave them permission to marry. They wanted their teachers single in those days.

Her son had several funny stories to tell. He began by saying he knew exactly where his mother had been 69 years ago: today was his birthday. He said it was probably an easier birth than that of his younger brother, who was born with a 7-ft fishing pole in his hand. His mother never swore, she had too good a vocabulary to bother with that. Her granddaughter said she had heard her occasionally, when sewing, say, "Grand Coulie Dam, I'm going to have to rip that whole seam out."

It was really touching to hear the reflections of her grandchildren, now in their twenties and thirties. They talked about camping in her back yard, and the smell of the old canvas tent, and the song she'd sing as she'd march them off to bed. She had taught them how to cook and sew, listened to their reading and helped with their math. And important things like how to play fair, and win or lose a game with grace.

Do you ever stop and think, now that's something I hope my children will remember me for? Do you think you'd do anything different if you thought about that? I might add some things, for my grandchildren. Too late for my kids now.