I'm waiting on my Mother to get through in the kitchen so I can began on some chocolate chip cookies. And sugar cookies. She's baking and cleaning and generally buzzing around like usual. I'm constantly amazed at how agile she is for an octogenerian. Living away from her was somehow easy to imagine her feeble and doddering around. I must have only remembered things about her when something was wrong with her. Her gait is much slower, but she still carrys on and that does my heart so much good. I want to barge in and volunteer for some tasks, but try to keep the balance between helping out and letting her do her thing like always.
Anyway, back to the cookies and refreshments. At the grocery yesterday she bought some eggnog. We ALWAYS have egg not at Christmas time. The liquor cabinet is still stocked -- It used to have a lock on it. Let me brag a moment and say that I haven't even looked to see if it's there. I'm a recovering alcoholic, as most of you know. I DO still have one or two drinks every 6 months or so. Never more than one and seldom finish it. I realize that I'm playing with fire, but I know that my strong desire for alcohol isn't what it used to be. To make a long story short, (too late) Mother came to me with a bottle of Johnny Walker and said
"Will this be alright for eggnog?" I said, "That's probably scotch, Mother. See if you have something else brown."She returned with a bottle of Crown Royal to which I announced,
"That'll work!"So she and I will toast the evening with a spiked eggnog with fresh nutmeg this evening and be thankful that we have each other.
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and here's a toast to two lovely, talented, energetic ladies. Hear hear!
My dad, who is 72 and battling with prostrate cancer (that the doctors seem to pretty much given up on and just sent him home to deal with the progression of it) called me yesterday to tell me he starts his new job today. The last place he worked at closed shop 6 months ago and my dad went out and found another job because he said he can not sit around the house all day. He is driving one of those little town commuter buses for the locals of his town. What a hoot he is! and an inspiration. Our parents are inspiring. My Gramie was splitting wood and making kindling for her wood cook stove when she was in her 80's. I am so hoping this is genetic, however, I can take a nap every afternoon if I can get away with it, so I am not so sure about the 'industriousness' of myself to carry on any inherited genes with honor. At 51, my gramie and my dad and your mom make me feel like such a slacker. In my 80's, all I'll be doing is taking 2 naps a day instead of one. LOL.
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