Old People

Suddenly, somehow out of nowhere, I am one.

So is Tim.

When people mention something from thirty years ago, I tend to think they mean the seventies, when I was barely a teen.

They don't.

They mean around the time when our oldest son was born, who is now almost in his mid thirties.

Talk about a wake up call and slap in the wrinkled old face.

When we were recently purchasing our home here, the entire process with our lender was borderline comical...unless you worked in the lenders' office. 

Then it was just a hoot, I'm sure.

Tim and I aren't all that behind the times, and are actually two pretty cool old peeps. 

But ask us to do something new or different on a computer, and it's a struggle.

Lucky for us our youngest still lives at home and is a millennial mastermind in this new world of  "Everything World Wide Web(ish)."

#itsalwaysleftclickmom

The problem is, she doesn't mind helping, but prefers to do it for us rather than teach us how.

#slowlearners

Case in point:

Tim's bank account got hacked with several fraudulent charges the other day. He needed a copy of his long form birth certificate and tried using a website which ended up being bogus. Unfortunately they got enough info before he cancelled the transaction to access his account. It took him over an hour on the phone with our credit union and with Wells Fargo to get everything straightened out.  Cards cancelled,  new cards issued and fraudulent charges removed.

I was cooking dinner as he sat at the kitchen table talking with the credit union. He finally thanked the person for all of their help, once everything was resolved and replied "You have a good day as well."

Once Tim hung up, I didn't even turn around... just said "You know what that guy at the bank just said to the employee sitting next to him, don't you?"  

"Old people...sheesh!"

Tim said "That's probably exactly what he said."

At least we know, acknowledge and own our weakness.

I care nothing about learning any more about the cyber world than I need . I simply want to be able and survive in it.

I'm a pen on paper kind of gal. I like snail mail. I kinda miss having a land line. Texting is okay (after a rocky start in the nineties) but Instagram, and all those other silly sites like Snapchat simply don't interest me and couldn't care less how they work or how to use them.

Maybe if I took a good selfie it'd be a different story, but I don't, so it ain't.

I read an article about Elton John. He doesn't own a cell phone.

Never has.

That's my kind of guy.

Of course he pays others to do it for him, but still...good for him!

If I had never raised kids, I could totally see me without a cell phone until I needed a Jitterbug for survival in the old folks home in case my 'Rascal/Hoveround' ran out of juice while on a jaunt around the grounds...searching for a way out.

I'm content to simply bumble my way through this whole explosion of technology, which in my opinion, is highly over rated.

For me, a smile and tight hug beat an emoji and GIF any day of the week, any way you look at (or feel) it.

At least I'm still swinging ...when most people are just clicking.

#lazy!

Change is good. As long as you remember where that change came from.

Til next time, 

COTTON

...Careful What You Ask For

It's been a change for me, living here in Orlando. I've been a 'waitress' for almost forty years.

In other words, been there,  done that, seen that... more times than I've cared to.


Now I'm suddenly living in central Florida at the age of almost sixty and still a waitress.

 'Server' always creeped me out.

I'd rather wait on you...

Anticipate needs before you have to ask for them and hopefully wow you because I did,  during your time sitting at my table, in a freaking restaurant...  rather than feeling like I'm a  servant, begging for a scrap from royalty.


The better job I do the more I get paid.

It is a job which has served me and my family well. I think every person should be a server  at some point in their life. It is a humbling profession.

Suddenly I've looked up from the tunnel vision our life has been  the past decade and finally realize what our saving grace has been all along.

We don't always get it right but we always try.

Working full time was beginning to wear me out so I took Tim's advice and dropped to four days a week. It has made a world of difference and was perfect timing...Tim just got a pretty significant promotion.

Go Jed!

Granny needs a new pair of combat boots!

Summer officially begins this week but it has been summer here in Orlando since late February after our three week winter.

The restaurant where I work has several different dining rooms, one by the bar, a huge open dining room in the back, a nice solarium where the windows, screens and walls can be raised or closed and we also have an outdoor patio area.

For the life of me I can't understand why people ask to be seated out on the patio on a hot steamy Florida day.

I'll see the hostess guiding a group of people to a lovely booth in the comfort of our air conditioned dining room but when they pass that patio door often ask if they can sit outside instead.

Great...just great.

NOT!

So the hostess of course happily complies, sets up a table for them outside in the sweltering heat and goes to find the unlucky server who has to go wait on them.

Then what really kills me is when they suddenly start complaining about the flies or heat once food begins to arrive and asks if they can move inside instead.

I feel like saying "Instead of what? Instead of eating where we tried to seat you to begin with? No, I'm sorry, that boat already sailed so you just sit out here sweating and swatting flies like you're on a picnic and enjoy the seats you chose for yourselves...you know what they say, the customer is always right!"

It's a running joke with us at work.
On a really hot day when they veer out that side door wanting to sit on the patio instead, we feel like locking the door to keep them out there...idiots.

If the hostess comes up and tells you that you're seated in the 300's that means outside...dammit.

It would be different if we were in tank tops, shorts and flip flops but we aren't. We are in long pants, socks, shoes, long sleeve shirts, a long apron and constantly toting heavy dishes to and fro.

Lucky me (not) I suffer from hot flashes as well.

I realize it's Florida and most people are tourists wanting to enjoy the warm weather and that's all fine and dandy...just not while you're trying to enjoy a nice meal on a sunny ninety degree afternoon.

The one thing I can say about waiting tables is that it has given me plenty of laughs over the decades, along with a few tears but all in all a wonderful experience getting to know the public and letting the public get to know me.


On another note, Father's Day was this past weekend. I've been (literally) working on a present for Ole Jed for about a month now.

They had a contest at work. The server who signed up the most customers for our rewards program in a four week period would win a $100 gift card to the  recently opened PGA Drive Shack right up the street from our restaurant.

I can win some contests in a restaurant...been there done that, time and time again!


When they have contests, all you have to do it push or promote whatever they ask you to and you'll win.

I've worked with servers who come into work and do absolutely nothing until someone comes up to them and tells them they have a table. Then as soon as they are told they are cut, do nothing more than what it takes just to get them out the door. If they have to aimlessly hang around an hour or so while everyone else does the bulk of the work, that's okay too...as long as they don't have to do it.

Pathetic at best, and totally don't understand how much money they could potentially make and walk out with after every shift if they did the job right.


If they ask me to sell something...I sell it. It's not like they have asked me to dig a four foot hole with an espresso spoon.

Needless to say, I won the gift card for Tim. He doesn't know it yet, he's working in Virginia this week. I told him I was getting him an awesome Dad's Day gift but may not be here in time for Father's Day.

We (me) may or may not tell him I won the gift card instead of buying it, but I know Tim...it wouldn't matter to him either way.



I remember one time many years ago, they had a sales contest at Longhorn when I worked there. The grand prize was an Xbox and I really wanted to win it for my younger son, Zach.
 We had to push all our new appetizers and push them I did.

Specifically I remember waiting on a couple, about my own age. I told them, in great detail, all about the two different shrimp appetizers we had and asked if they would like to try one of them?

The husband slowly took a swig of his beer and said "Sure, why don't you just surprise me."

I didn't miss a beat and calmly said "Okay then, I'm pregnant with your baby."

His wife's margarita, which she was currently sipping, shot out of her nose but her husband took another sip of his beer and said "Well that did surprise me!"


My husband tells me I have a PhD in BS.

I think he may be right.

Now that I only have to put on four shows (what I call shifts) a week, it is so much easier to laugh and enjoy the work.



It's almost like I'm young again.

I still look young, don't I?




Plugging along down the road of life like an ole fart, just happy to be on this side of the dirt...


COTTON

  

As Jed Clampett Would Say, "Pitiful... Just Pitiful"

Dang it, I've struck out the past two days at  the store and it ticks me off. I've had some people come by and seem very interested always promising to come back. I even had  two people call back to ask questions after they left and one guy come by twice. I still have tomorrow so I'll have to make it big tomorrow...it could happen! I Facebook a lot of pictures and offers and have made three big sales just from social networking so maybe tomorrow will be MY DAY!

Then you  get that ONE person come in. She was in her sixties wearing her bedazzled jeans, wrists loaded with bangles, fingers weighed down by  tacky rings big  as a watch, a watch  that was even bigger and the strongest smelling perfume I've ever smelled. I could still smell it a hour after she left.

She didn't want to buy, I think she simply wanted a friend. She got me.

My LAWD, she talked for almost a hour. Her husband (Richard, I learned) was at  the Dollar Tree next door. He needed a comb and she told him  to go right on in there and get him one. At first I was pumped, she started out talking about how they had spent three thousand dollars on a Temperpedic and it killed her back. She tried out every mattress in the store and told me a different story while on every bed she tested.

 I finally got tired of following her around when she launched into the story of her only  pregnancy at  the age of twenty one which ended in a miscarriage. I plopped down on a huge memory foam mattress (my favorite one) and asked if she minded me laying down for this one?

She didn't bat an eye, just came over and joined me on the king size bed. Then I heard all about the forty acres they own and always intended to build  but the time just never seemed right. They are still in a subdivision, but  you'd never know it. They said  they were going to put up a sign for the subdivision when they built but never did. You just have to look for the street sign.

Once she got comfy on the bed beside me I heard all about her aunt who died out of the blue. She never knew her aunt was sick, she seemed healthy but just like that she was gone. She wished she had known her aunt was feeling poorly because she would have gone down to her house and taken care of her.

Then Richard (her husband) walks into  the store looking for her. I asked him  to show me the comb he bought but he was looking at his phone. I didn't know a Jitterbug had text capacity but he looked busy so I left him alone. She told him to come try out the bed we were on, which immediately got me up.

Then she started telling Richard all the things she had been telling me. I heard all  the stories yet again and after her asking for his input, he had nothing to say but continued to stare at  the screen of his phone.

Then she launched into  a story about a woman at her church who was helping with Wednesday night dinner when somebody spilled grease on the floor and didn't bother to wipe it up. Poor old Inez, who already had a bad hip slipped on it and has been laid up ever since.

I started thinking to myself that probably wasn't  even a phone Richard was carrying around.

Then after she told me about their trip to Biloxi with a bed in the hotel room so uncomfortable it made her own bed feel like heaven. I had to stop her before I killed her. (totally kidding)  I told them it had been great chatting with them (her) but guessed I had better get back to work.

Then she said the most bizarre thing. (like the rest hadn't been bizarre enough) She wanted to know when I worked and told her Tuesday through Thursday.  She said "Will you be here about six months from now?"

I  told her probably so and she finally followed Richard (who was still looking at his pseudo  phone) out the door.

I'm no doctor (although I could play one on TV)  but almost feel like Richard  takes her out places to save his OWN sanity.

I didn't sell squat but had plenty of spare time and think I made a woman who's mind is in the beginning  stages of "Exit stage left" pretty happy and gave Richard a hour off.

I didn't make any money, I didn't make a sale but  made a woman happy for one hour.

Not sure what the commission is for that but it ought to be something.

So maybe it wasn't a total loss for me today, it certainly wasn't for my new friend who never even told me her name. I'm not sure she knows it either but at least she was happy for one hour.

Til next  time...COTTON

It's Me Friday!

Finished up about an hour ago at  the mattress store for the week. It wasn't  as busy  as yesterday but made a few sales and made a few contacts who I think will be back.  My last sale was to a tiny lady who walked with a cane. She bought a twin mattress for a day bed she bought on Overstock.com. She was all worried about how to get  it home and wanted to know who was there to load it? I told her she was looking at  the Loader! She said she drove a SUV and asked if it would fit inside? "Heck yeah!" was my instant enthusiastic reply.

So she drove home with her driver's seat pulled up so far she could have steered with her boobs and the mattress was smack up next to her so she had to lean towards the door while she drove but off she went!

My sister and I are going to visit my Diddy's cousin, Frances tomorrow who is in a hospice in Griffin about twenty miles away.

She's a firecracker... at least she was before her kidney failure which landed her in hospice. We didn't meet her until my Diddy  met her about fifteen years ago and she came to a family reunion at my sister's house. She was mentally sharp as a tack. Very computer savvy, paid all her bills online and always contributed to our family website. She was deaf as a post and you had to holler at her to be heard but she had a great sense of humor and we all fell in love with her. After my Diddy died we stayed in touch with her. She lived by herself in a tidy  tiny house off a state highway right down the road from  the cemetery where my parents and grandparents are buried.

A few years ago some idiot doctor botched a catheter and she had to go to rehab for an open wound the size of a postcard on her leg . All her immediate family lives out of state so my sister, Massey, Zach and I went to visit her several times a week during her six week stay. She was always upbeat and never, ever complained. The rehab facility was also a nursing home so it was pretty  depressing to walk in and see people on gurneys in the hallways looking lonely. The more mobile old peeps shuffled about the place on their walkers with  tennis balls attached to  the front legs or in  wheelchairs propelling themselves along with their socked feet. Franny owned a cell phone but you  couldn't call her on it because she couldn't hear you. Massey left for band camp and offered to let Franny use her lap top so she could communicate with family via email, check her bank statements, read the family website and read my "Blob."  You could tell her ten times it was a BLOG but every time she said it, it came out "Blob."

I took the lap top to her on a visit and showed her how to use it. The place boasted  "WiFi" friendly areas but they weren't. The only place we could connect was in the front lobby so we would wheel Franny up to the front lobby and let her do her thing while we watched the other old peeps gaze at her in wonder as they either wheeled or shuffled by  on their walkers.

The next time I went to visit was with Zach in tow. It was a Sunday and we had to wait for her to get out of the church service. It was a glass enclosed room and as we waited outside noticed most all their chins were on their chests. I looked over at  Zach and said "I don't think  they're ALL praying." While we waited a woman beside us mentioned she was waiting on a patient. She was a physical therapist at  the facility. I mentioned that we needed another roll across the bed  table like they had their food served on for my aunt to put her lap top.

The woman looked around her on both sides and said "Well I tell my patients when they come in here, not to bring  their valuables, don't bring  your rings, watches or don't even bring your teeth. Things have a way of walking off. I 'm not saying it's employees but maybe some random visitor walking down the hall seeing something valuable unattended in a room and simply walking off with it."
Well  that freaked me out. Massey's lap top wasn't even totally paid for yet.

The next  day I visited, came in with a hard plastic tool box large enough  to hold the computer with  the shelving taken out,  a bicycle chain to chain the tool box to the bed and a padlock to lock the box. I had the forethought to type up a letter for Frances to read explaining why we needed to lock up Massey's computer when she wasn't in her room. It seemed better than going into her room and having to scream at her "There are thieves around here!"

She looked at me funny when I walked in with all my gear but two of her friends from church were there to visit so I explained it all to them. Then handed Frances the letter to read I had written. She read  the letter with her mouth silently moving as she read the words.  She got to one part of the letter, looked up at her friends with squinty eyes and hollered to them "THEY SAY DON'T EVEN BRING YOUR TEETH TO THIS PLACE!" I held both my hands out palm side down waving frantically up and down to keep her quiet. It didn't work.

Classic Frances moment.

Frances' outlook doesn't look good. She's refused Dialysis. She also had open heart surgery a couple of years back and think she's just tired of being cut open, poked at, worked on and having to be in the hospital.

I told my sister tonight on the phone after firming up plans for tomorrow's visit that if Frances does pass, I am asking her nieces and nephew (all out of state) if Cindy and I can speak at her funeral.  I don't want her funeral to be a sad depressing affair and they better not play Amazing Grace. Don't depress us, lift us up! The Battle Hymn of the Republic would be a much better choice. My sister says she wants that at her funeral and after listening once again to the words I totally agree. I want it to be filled with fantastic funny Franny moments! I want it to be a tribute to what a feisty, gutsy and determined woman she was.

My sister has the most hysterical story  about picking Frances up from the Atlanta airport when she came home from an out of town family reunion. I reminded my sister of it tonight and we both started laughing just talking about it.

That's the way Frances should be remembered when her time comes, with a smile.

Til next  time...COTTON

Age is Just A Number

This is a picture of my Diddy's aunt Frances who we affectionately nicknamed Franny. For those of you new to my blog, Diddy is my late father who died from West Nile Virus in 2002. None of us met Franny until she came to an extended family reunion in the late nineties at my sister's house one summer. This photo was taken at her eightieth birthday party almost two years ago. She's a pistol. She's computer savvy and sharp as a tack. She's also very hard of hearing and you have to almost yell  for her to hear. She lives on her own in a small tidy house right down the road from the family plot where both my parents and grandparents are buried.

Around 2010 Franny had a catheter put in but the doctor botched it and hit an artery. She had to go to a rehab facility for a couple of months in a neighboring county. Her closest relatives live out of state so my sister and I volunteered to go by and check on her a couple of times a week. It was great getting to know Franny and every visit was a hoot! She was in a semi private room with an older woman who was in pretty bad shape. The woman's daughters were there every  day but  the woman couldn't even feed herself or speak.

Every  day or so either Cindy, my sister or Massey and I would pop in for a visit with Franny. It was always interesting. Frances was always upbeat, never complained and made us all laugh. The part she was in was a rehab facility but for all intent and purpose  was a nursing home to most, and their last stop.  Reality can be brutal.

We decided to put a bird feeder outside Franny's room so she could watch  the birds. I made the alarm go off as I walked out the back door to hang it, got locked out and am pretty sure was on a caution list after that. We were always loud when we were in the room with her because number one: I am a loud person and Number two: We like to laugh a lot.

About one week into her at minimum eight week stay, my  daughter went off to band camp and I offered to bring her laptop for Franny to use. The place offered free WiFi and Franny was very computer literate. She paid all her bills online, checked the  family website daily and most importantly read my Blog.

I took Massey's laptop to Franny the next day and was right off the bat disappointed about the boasted WiFi connection. We wheeled Franny around the entire place before we could pick up a signal. Once we found a signal (in the main lobby) the old peeps on walkers with tennis balls on the front and old peeps who  had been wandering the halls in their wheelchairs for years by scrambling themselves forward with their feet instead of arms were all looking at us like we were from Mars with some new gadget from  another universe and since they all had nothing but time left wanted to see us use  this futuristic device.

The next day was  Sunday, my son Zach and I went to visit Franny. They told us she was in the church service and we waited outside the glass enclosed room. All their heads were bowed and commented to Zach...I don't think ALL of them are praying, I've been known to snooze through a sermon too!

While we waited for the supposed prayer to end we met a therapist waiting for  patient as well. I mentioned I had brought a laptop for my aunt to use and wondered if they had an extra desk for her to keep it on? She said "Well I'll tell you what I tell most of my patients. "When you come here, don't bring valuables, rings or even your teeth, they have a way of walking off." She added it didn't necessarily mean employees but anyone walking through the facility who may see something they could simply walk off with unnoticed.

That made me start thinking, The laptop wasn't even fully paid for and now had to worry about someone stealing it.

When we wheeled Franny back to her room, then up to the front lobby  to log in as all the long term peeps followed us I began to worry.

The next  day I went to buy a case to lock the laptop in but all were soft cases anyone could cut through or walk off with. I ended up at Home Depot and bought a small hard case tool box I could store the laptop in, a bicycle chain to attach the tool box to her bed with a combination lock to open  the  tool box holding the laptop. Dang, was my aunt living in Gitmo or a Turkish prison?

My next  concern was telling her why I was walking into her room with a tool box, bicycle lock, combination lock and putting the laptop inside of it without having to scream at her to understand "They got some thieves around these parts and we gotta lock up the computer."

I printed off a letter for her to read explaining what the therapist had told me so she could read it instead of me screaming it out for everyone to hear.

Franny took my letter and started  to read while two of her church friends sat on her bed. She mumbled along quietly as she  read  and suddenly looked up at  them and said loudly "They say don't even bring your TEETH into this place!"

That's my classic Franny moment. I love this woman. She's a pistol, she got out of there in a few short months when  all the odds were against her. She is still living by herself and over eighty. Yes she has health problems but at least she's not scooting around the hallways of a nursing home in a wheelchair with her feet with nobody to visit or love her.

Massey and I stopped by  a few weeks ago on the way  back from the Sock Shoppe in Griifin to drop off a hot dog from Griffith's Drive In  but  need to  go by  more regularly and check on her. I don't want to  grow old unless I do it like Franny, with a sound mind and a loud voice!

Franny has another birthday coming up in a couple of weeks and I'm gonna be sure to drop by and holler at her!

Wish I could get my sister to comment on picking her up at the airport...Franny is a delight and always makes you smile!

Til next  time...COTTON

Update On My Friends

Massey and I went back to the rehab to visit the wife and fill up her bird feeder the other day. We filled her feeder before we even went inside so we could surprise her when we opened her blinds. We walked to her room and Massey noticed first. She said "Her name isn't on  the door anymore." My heart dropped. We opened the door and sure enough her room was empty.

We went to the front desk and asked where she was? The lady seated at  the desk said (much to my relief) "She has been moved over to the assisted living facility where her husband is."

We left...first stopping back outside to retrieve the block of bird feed we had installed in the feeder and then headed over to the assisted living facility.

It was a MUCH nicer place. There was a sign pointing to  independent living and another pointing to personal care. We decided personal care must be where they were. We walked in and no one was at the desk so in usual Cotton fashion we just roamed around looking for our friends. Massey found their name on a door and we knocked. We knocked again. We could hear a TV but no one answered. The woman at the rehab facility told us she thought they had separate rooms for now, with her needing more medical attention. I really didn't want to open the door so we wandered back up the the still vacant front desk and leaned over the counter til we found a sticky note and  pen. We wrote that we had come by  to visit and would come back soon. We stuck it to their door and left.

I went into work today and opened. I got off around 2:30 and had to be back by 5:30.  I called the assisted living place and asked if they had any dietary restrictions and could I bring them food? They said they weren't sure about her but he could have anything. The owner's son cooked the husband up some Nonna Bistecca, one of  the his favorites and I headed over.

I knocked on the same door Massey had found the first time.  After knocking harder the second time I heard "Come in" over the TV playing loud enough for Helen Keller to hear it.

I walked in and Walter was kicked back in a recliner watching television AND reading a book.  Dang... he's over 92 and is still a multi tasker! Both his legs were wrapped in these huge blow up compression devices but he looked happy to see me, sitting there in his WWII Bomber shirt. I was impressed that he could read a book, suffering macular degeneration but noticed the book was in a font larger than a small billboard and his glasses made him look like his eyes were the size of golf balls.

He was  happy to have someone visit so we chatted away,  with hm never muting or even turning down the blaring volume on the TV set. We just sat and hollered at each other for half an hour.  That's a man for ya. I put his food in the little refrigerator and he said he looked forward to having it for dinner. He can't see or hear well and has a hard time getting up or walking but the man is still sharp as a tack. He told me when his wife first went to the rehab...which was really a hospice, they gave her 2 months to live. He said she had stopped eating and lost so much weight she weighed just over ninety pounds. I only weigh 95 and know I'm too skinny but at least I'm not in a hospital bed and Depends. (yet)

She battled back though and started eating. She regained some strength and the doctors bumped her demise back to at least a year. Heck, if you are over ninety another year is like a decade to someone my age!

I went to leave and leaned over to kiss his cheek and hug him.  He hollered back at me over the blaring TV, "Hey, don't get an old man all excited!" He gave me directions to his wife's room, which were spot on and I knocked on her door, hearing the TV on. She weakly called out to come in and the minute she saw me, muted the TV. (That's a woman for you)

She looks much better than last time I saw her and after  telling her I brought her husband some food from the restaurant, asked her what she felt hungry for?  I told her I was off all day on Sunday (which I'm not) and would love to  bring her something.  She said she would like a pizza with... and held up frail fingers in the shape of an "O."

I said "Pepperoni it is and I'll be here with it tomorrow!"

I'll never make it to ninety. With the stress I have in my life I'll be lucky to make it to 53. But what I CAN do...is  hopefully secure myself  a club level seat in  Heaven by helping others while I'm still here. If I'm wrong about my final destination and go the other direction, I hope I rate a window seat....These hot flashes are already killing me.

Going by to drop her off a pizza tomorrow and fill the bird feeder. Working tomorrow night to try and catch up with my own life, bills and problems...which after today seem trivial. Both served in WWII, over ninety, still aware, lucky enough  to be together.


Count your blessings people...name them one by one.

Til next time...COTTON

Chugging On...

This is a pic of me with my oldest and dearest pup. He's my baby, has been the "Good" dog since my sweet Rosie passed. (His Aunt) The past year he has gone blind. It kills me I can't afford to help him see. My husband used to call him Andruw Jones. He could catch a  ball on the fly or jump a six foot   fence like it was a baby gate. One eye went bad, he learned to deal with it and was still okay. His other eye is almost glossed over too from cataracts but is somehow still fumbling and sniffing his way through life.

I went into work today and was surprised to see one of my absolute favorite customers. Mr. Ferrari. He and his wife are ninety two years old. (today was his birthday) His wife was absent...as both of them have been for over a month which already had me worried. They are both sharp in the mind, always dressed to the nines. Walter is losing his sight but in my opinion the world isn't such a pretty place to look at these days so maybe he is lucky in that respect. He was a bomber pilot in WWII. His wife was in the Navy.  When I first  started waiting on them over two years ago I had her bring me a picture of her when she was young. She was still so beautiful at the age of ninety that I just had to see how gorgeous she was when she was young. She brought me a pic of her sitting on the hood of a little MG convertible. It was taken in the early fifties. She looked just like a young Jackie Kennedy!

I always love waiting on this couple. They should have been one of the interviews in the movie "When Harry Met Sally."

Her husband was in today with his children, who are of course my age or even younger. Seems my beautiful Jackie Kennedy look alike has been diagnosed with cancer and it doesn't look good. She is in a nursing home and he in assisted living.

One year ago they tottered into our restaurant at least three times a week. They knew their limitations and came early to be home way before dark.

Now they are separated and it upsets me greatly.  I spoke with the daughter in law as they left today and promised I would visit Ruth tomorrow. I also promised Walter I would visit him  as well.

I told the daughter in law...You know what? They had over ninety years of health and happiness. I'd call that a "Win."

I told Walter I couldn't promise too many visits because I am so loud and boisterous I usually get kicked out after one visit. He just smiled, not even being able to see me clearly but when I hugged him, I knew what I needed to do.

Go see his wife, chat her up and try to cheer her on. Then I will go visit him and try to do the same.

If I make it to ninety it will be a miracle.

This couple IS a miracle. They lived and loved. They have lost but also experienced more of life than I ever will. They made it through the great depression, they lived into their ninties with grace and clear minds.

I am heading over to see Ruth first tomorrow. I've heard she is down and plan on holding her hand,  and reminding her how absolutely great she has made my life by just meeting her. Then I will go visit Walter.

I constantly think how tired I am and how old I am getting. I need to back up and be grateful for every day and make the most of my life.

"There but by the grace of God goes anyone of us."

I can assure you after both my visits, there will be a blog worth reading. Til next time...COTTON

Keeping On Keeping On...

I went into work at 10:30 this morning and got  home at 10:00 tonight. As you can see from the above picture I came home and kicked off my pumps. Obviously this isn't a REAL picture of me because the room around me looks entirely too clean to have been taken in MY house.

It's not like I live in a dump but having two teens at home I have decided at  the age of fifty one, if they don't mind dust and dog hair...neither do I.

Just in the last few weeks I have noticed how the past two years have aged me. I HAVE to quit using my magnifying side of my make up mirror. My face looks like a tangled up piece of Saran Wrap.

Jeez...I have to smile all the time or I look like Cloris Leachman really pissed off. When I smile it seems to dissolve some of the wrinkle action but when you have three kids, two of them still at home it ain't easy.

They wonder why I get so ticked so easily? At least they can still jump on a trampoline or sneeze without wetting their pants.

I am a server but when I card people for their ID I have had to fake it some times when I don't have my glasses on me. One woman today had "Check ID" on the back of her card. I read that when I was running her card but left my glasses on the computer when I took the check back to the table. I asked for her ID and when she showed it to me I said "This all looks like gibberish without my glasses but the picture kinda looks like you...if it's not leave me a really big tip cause it ain't your money anyway."

I get home from work at night and my feet feel like I am walking on pegs with spikes going through them. My shoulders feel like I have been hunching them all day saying "I dunno."

My sister and I used to laugh at my Mama when we were younger. She would be pushing a shopping cart down the aisle of the A&P and cross her legs when she sneezed or coughed. We thought it was a hoot...now I know it was because her era was waiting for "Depends" to be invented.

I am only fifty one...I like to use the word ONLY hoping I make it much farther. But with the hairs I see sprouting out of my face and the aches in my back and the creaks in my knees and the pains I feel in my feet, I'm not really sure anymore.

You know us women...we will keep on keeping on until we can't bitch any longer and then  blame it all on our husbands.

So I still weigh what I did when I was fifteen...that's gotta count for something doesn't it?

Some days I wake up and think I can't do it anymore. Some days I wake up and think that it is getting better. Some days I wake up and think "Thanks for letting me wake up!"

I am trying to be a positive person that has a suddenly wrinkled face and mucho gray hair...At least I WOKE up today... "Put that shovel down grave diggers...it was just a HOT flash."

Til next time Hottin Cotton

At Least I'll Be One Hour Younger Tonight

Don't know how much longer I can keep up the pace. It's not all the work killing me, it's what surrounds "It."

Number one I've started to grow facial hair...how gross is that? I don't mean an Amish beard,  but fuzz  has sprouted out of no where with a random curly hair that  some wicked witch  transplanted to my chin when I wasn't looking.

I'm thinking that weighing a hundred pounds counter acts random one inch hairs..."Yep" that's my theory and I'm sticking to it!

Getting old isn't for the faint hearted...especially if you are a woman.

Number one: If you are a woman with kids you probably work WAY too hard and get WAY too few kudos.
Number two: Somebody give me a menopause manual because I find the rules very hard to follow.

I was okay when the night sweats began...it was like sleeping while  working in the yard in late August at noon. I can deal with the heat...I'm a Leo.

It's this gray hair shooting out of my head like fireworks and these monthly, semi monthly twice yearly cycles that are killing me.

For two months I thought I was done..NOTHING!
I almost threw myself a tampon bonfire party. But after a dry spell (so to speak)...it is crazy. After three weeks I wonder if I am becoming  anemic? I don't know if this is normal or if I should go to a Doc in the Box?

Sounds weird to put this in my blog, but I tend to put EVERY THING in my blog. Since I have no insurance I thought I would put it out there to the 27,000 hits I've had on my blog...surely to goodness one of you is a doctor (or knows one) that enjoys my writing enough to give me free medical advice...or free tampons. (Super Only)

I blame it all on Adam...the weak little %$@*!&% *  ... it was ONE apple, can you NOT live without eating ONE stupid apple? I bet if he hadn't eaten the apple, Men would have had the babies, periods, hot flashes and menopause.  So what Eve gave it to him, she was probably tired of cooking. Thanks a lot guys...once again you dump the problem in our lap and of course like the "Fixers" we are we take care of it.
smhs...

I just recently learned what "smhs" means. I thought it was a yiddish type sound like "SCHMUAH!"  (kinda like Yadda Yadda). My daughter told me it was a texting thing that meant "Shaking my head slowly."
I say Fo Shizzle, True That and BAM!
Now  a lot more FB posts make sense and I feel pretty cool again! (Massey will be "smhs" when she reads this)

Gotta work another double shift on Sunday but with the time change I will be one hour younger...

Til next time...OLD COTTON

"It's Like Butta..."

I worked another double shift today. I opened the store and had a great lunch. I was the only server besides the bartender, Oopsy and  made more money than I did on the evening shift.

This morning I had a party of four older women. The fist two to arrive got there early and said they wanted a table instead of a booth because they didn't want to have to bother the others when they had to leave the table to use the restroom. (I hear ya!)

Taking their order is like listening to their life story. Some tables sit down and say "We'll have a Mozzarella Caprese as an appetizer."

These women sat and one said "You know, I usually always order the Brie...it's delicious but we've been looking at this mozzarella caprese and it looks like it might be fabulous, what do you think? The brie is divine and I sometimes get it as my entree but this caprese just looks so appetizing, what do you think?''

I told them it was an excellent choice and once they tossed the idea around between the two of them they settled on it. After serving it another Ya Ya arrived and they told her how good the caprese had been.."It was divine, to die for."

They had already been there for an hour and decided to move on with the meal. Two of them debated between the cream of crab soup and the tomato soup. I stood there for a good two minutes before they made up their minds. When you are in your eighties, thirty minutes is like a nano second. The Queen Bee said "Dear, can you clean off this clutter of dirty dishes" (two bread plates) and I said I would do that immediately.
They were all dressed and accessorized immaculately... from earrings down to their support hose and comfortable flats. When they go out for lunch they go all out. Big earrings (probably clip ons) necklaces and bracelets. They all have that little hook you hang on a table to keep your purse off the floor and most have a really nice cane hung on the back of their chair.

This was followed by a discussion of whether the other one would show up and should they wait for her. I cleared their "Clutter" and came back to hear the Queen Bee announce "We'll go ahead."

They ordered salads and once the order was put in the last Ya Ya arrived. They described the mozzarella caprese to her with vivid detail and said "It was to die for."

These women know they are getting near to the end of the party we call life, but they ain't going out sitting in a corner..."Nobody puts Baby in a corner" from Dirty Dancing came to my mind as I shuffled around their canes draped over the backs of their chairs and cleared more of the "Clutter."

Every thing was a discussion with this group. Every idea every decision and every order was tossed around the table and put up for debate.

I absolutely LOVE waiting on seniors...heck, I'm almost breathing down their necks! I felt like giving them my cell number to include me on their next excursion. "Just hit me up on your jitterbug...heck, we can all ride in my car and stick yawls handicap sticker on my windshield to get a good parking spot."

Once the soup went out it was another "That soup was like Heaven...I mean it...how do they make it so creamy and delectable?"
There's no "How's your plastic hip holdin' up Edna? That mole looks suspicious and who stepped on a duck or did one of us just fart?"

They are senior women but acting like sophomore women,  still going out to eat and meet once a month and not shy about taking all the time in the world to have a simple lunch ...milking it for all it's worth.
The first time I waited on them it started out strained but I won them over with my PHD in BS and by  the time they left  they loved me.

Now I wait on them every month  and love the heck out of them. I call them "Gettin' it Grannies."

I want to be old like that.

They stayed for three hours having soup and salad. They loved me fawning over them and to be honest I loved doing it.

In my opinion if you live to grow old, it must be in an upright and mobile position and you deserve all the respect you are due. I want to still have my mental faculties and have the option of bitching when I want to and everybody still smile at me.

 What they do behind my back won't matter unless I catch them doing it.

At least I already have my ears pierced and won't be wearing clip ons. The support hose sound wonderful..I already own two pair.

Hot Time Summer in the City...

These gliders are one of the  precious memories I have about summer in the south. EVERYONE had one. Almost all of them had been painted over several times but  never seemed to quit "Gliding" and most had the rocker to match. You sat in them and just passed the day looking out over the neighborhood. People sat in them for hours on end. The nosy woman who lived next door to us sat in her glider at least ten hours a day and knew every thing about every neighbor...and what she didn't know she made up (and us kids believed her.)

Summer wasn't as hot back then (proving the Al Gore theory.) We grew up without air conditioning in our cars, which also didn't have seat belts and never had central air in our house. We considered central air the attic fan  in the ceiling of the hall that ran from the kitchen in the front of the house to the back where our bedrooms were.

Houses were built differently then. They were built for cross ventilation, every bedroom had three windows and our living room had two huge picture windows that were always open. Heck...our front door was always open and  only locked when we went on vacation. I never remember it being too hot to fall asleep or too hot for Mama to cook dinner.

I plan my meals...the two a month that I cook around not having to turn on the oven. I used to cook on our grill but it rusted away when our financial good standing did and has yet to be replaced. I cook on the stove top but try to deter from turning the oven on. How my mother survived hot flashes in a house with no air conditioning totally amazes me. Hot flashes must have increased as well with  global warming because I know for a fact she would have been a puddle on the floor of our kitchen if she felt the way I do now...and WE have central air.

My hot flashes started about a year ago and have increased along with the facial hair I now have. I went to get my hair cut the other day when I received my $6.99 coupon in the mail. With a hundred percent tip I walk out spending less than fifteen bucks. My kind of a hair cut...and it's not even a barber shop! The woman who cuts my hair is young, in her mid twenties. The first time she cut my hair she cut it exactly like I wanted so I wanted to remember her name. When you have a short hair cut there isn't room for mistakes so you gotta stick with a good hair stylist when you find one...especially for seven bucks! She said her name was Samantha and to help me remember she told me her mom was a big fan of Bewitched and that's where she got her name. The next time I got it cut I just walked in and she was working so all I had to do was point and say "I want that woman to cut it."

When I went to get it cut the other day I called while I was in my car on  the way to have my name put down for a hair cut. It's a walk in only salon but I wanted to try anyway. When they answered I was caught off guard while maneuvering traffic and was stuck for the girl's name. The Bewitched association came back to me and I asked "Is Tabitha working today?" The woman sounded puzzled and said "Excuse me?"  I realized I was off by one generation and quickly said "I mean Samantha."

When I walked into the salon they all looked up and one woman said "Are you the one that just called?" I wanted to say no but wanting to save my spot in line, just nodded yes. Ole Sam gave me another great cut and had the electric razor in her hand trimming around my ears and neck when she suddenly made a quick pass across my cheek.

Guess she saw something there  that needed trimming  too and  was just glad  she never made mention of it or included a charge for the shave. For fourteen bucks I can put up with a little humiliation and just thankful this young girl is looking out for my best interest.

So now I have constant hot flashes and am growing a beard at the age of fifty one...sounds sexy  don't it?

It ain't easy growing old but it beats the alternative!!

Til next time..."Hairy Cotton"

It's Hard to Keep Up When You're Old...But I Try!

Just got home from work and it was another good shift. Everyone drank wine and most all ordered appetizers and even a few desserts...that always helps my cause!

The last two shifts have helped me get back on track. In my world that means back in the black in my checking account. Red must be my favorite color because that's where I spend most of my time.

I was at the bar at work tonight and one of the regulars was talking about trying to access an  account he rarely used and said after answering his security question was told his answer was wrong. He said he tried again and the answer was wrong again.

You know me, I piped right in "I know what you mean, I logged into my checking account today and they told me my answer was wrong when I KNOW it was right. After two tries I logged out of FireFox and went back in on Internet Explorer and got right into my account with the same exact security question answer...I think someone was trying to hack me."

Never one to be ashamed of small steps forward I said "Hey... I have $1.41 in that account and don't think I'm not keeping a close eye on it!" He laughed,  thinking I was being funny when in fact I was sorta bragging. It's taken me over a week to get my balance up to $1.41 and I was feeling pretty good about it.

Small steps are better than NO steps and I'll take what I can get. It's getting better every day and before you know it, BLACK will be MY permanent status in the banking world. I know my bank will be pissed, I've probably built them two new branches with my NSF fees and should be thrown a party by the evil bankers that shove the big check through first so all the little ones bounce too.

On another note, the heat has been oppressive here in the south the past two days. Granted I am fifty one and break into a sweat at two in the morning while sleeping under a ceiling fan on high in a house that is air conditioned and has the thermostat set to seventy seven. Before I started having hot flashes the thermostat never went below seventy eight but "A menopausal woman's gotta do what a menopausal woman's gotta do!"

I  thought child birth was rough...that was a walk in the park on a nice breezy day compared to what my body is going through now. Thank God I'm still skinny...at least being in the red for two years is good for something. I couldn't imagine being a big girl going through the change...it must be absolutely horrible!

At work I wear long black pants and a three  quarter length shirt, covered by a work apron. I start sweating the moment I walk out of my house and don't stop til I get back home and peel off my pants socks and shoes and slide into my flip flops and daisy dukes with a tank top (my daily summer outfit.)

At work the other day I asked the owner why we couldn't wear skirts and he said we could. Dang...I must have missed THAT employee meeting!

 The next day Massey and I went to Ross Dress For Less, which she and I call Ross Mess For Less. It's a great place for bargain shopping but everything is mis- sized misplaced and it's like a hunt to find something without an OBVIOUS flaw but if you spend time you save a bundle and look pretty good unless you run into Paris Hilton on the street.

Massey found me a skirt for six bucks that was labeled a size five but fit my size zero body perfectly and was the exact  length of my work apron. "BAM!"

I am already tan enough from the hours I spend doing yard work to not have to wear hose but on the downside now I had to shave my legs. When I was younger I shaved my legs every day. Now I make myself feel better by thinking that the prickly hairs help keep my socks up...nobody likes having to hike their socks up every fifteen minutes and mine stayed up as long  I had them on, even if they were my husband's and way too big.

I walked into work with my skirt on and it was like an entirely new world. Of course I got a couple of stares from the kitchen help but I think they were just jealous. Where I stand in the kitchen is ninety degrees. The other side of the line where they cook is at least a hundred and twenty. Sucks for them... but it is incredibly cooler for me. I told the owner I felt so good I didn't think I needed ANY days off now...I could work seven days a week in this new outfit. If he could just lower the lights in the dining room where my varicose veins  didn't show so bad I might even make better tips!

In life you have to take the good with the bad. In life you have to make the best of the cards you are dealt. In life you have to go with the flow or be swept into the drain. In life you have to make lemonade with the lemons thrown your way and be grateful for the love you receive and  love  too often taken for granted.

One thing I HAVE learned is to  remember... ALWAYS remember your life is a heck of a lot better than millions and millions of other's.

Count your blessings, name them one by one and you will see what The Lord has done.

 He's done a bunch for me and I feel pretty good about the strides I am making as well.

Til next time...COTTON in a skirt!

Another Day..."That's a Good Thing"

Click on the photo... So it would only be ONE more dog...I would KILL to have her legs (and her pool.)

Went into work at 11:30 AM and got off after 9:00 PM. Spent at least two hours trying to get in touch with Zach. He is supposed to work tomorrow at 8:30 AM for the owner of my restaurant doing some heavy duty cleaning. Of course to my boy...any cleaning will be "Heavy Duty."

You supply your teens with cell phones so you can stay in constant contact. Unfortunately that "Constant" part is up to them.

"My phone died." "I turned the ringer off by mistake." "I don't know what's wrong with my phone."

I bet if he got arrested or needed money his phone would work just fine. I never want that to happen but wish I was as strong as my parents, who would say "Hello...I can't hear you, the line is breaking up...Hello?"

Fortunately for me he ambled in well before midnight and said he was headed to bed . Of course it's me that worked a double shift today that has to get up and have him at work by 8:30. After all he IS 18 and if you think I am turning him loose in MY car (read the post about his driving quiz) you're dumber than my bull dog, who is close to making Gomer Pyle look like a rocket scientist.

When you have teens you have to take the good with the bad...give them credit (even small credit) When they surprise you with being somewhat responsible.

Massey is generally smarter than my boys...always calling me "Mommy" and telling me when my butch haircut looks good on a particular day (usually on a day that she wants something.)

But I AM female, and that "pumpin' up" works for this beaten down fifty year old woman.

One day my two sons will be married and realize how much influence the words of any female can carry...especially when directed at them.

I was just happy to be able to lock the doors shortly after midnight and know that all my chicks were safely in the nest.

I think I need to start a blog totally about my kids because they sometimes seem destined to be the cause of my unanticipated early demise.

I will continue to love them and be really nice to them because they mean so much to me ... more pointedly "What if I live to be 100?" They will be in charge of picking out my nursing home .

I want a nursing home that only has one floor...makes for an easier escape.

I don't want a stinkin' walker with tennis balls attached to the front legs...I want a "Rascal!"

No wait a minute...maybe it's a "Hoveround" I want. And I want me one of those built in tubs that I just walk into. Tim will have to get his own. By that point , if we live that long..."He's own his own anyway, grateful we are on separate wings of the home." At least Massey called me "Mommy."

She'll probably even give me a "Jitterbug" for Mother's Day...I hope that she doesn't call block me.

I hope that the kids give Tim a "Life Alert" for Father's Day so I can beep him over to my hall to help me get on "Johnny" to give the home that well trimmed look I want to stare at out my first floor window.

All written in jest...but as I have already reached the half century mark and my teens have made me feel like it is the centennial mark...you have to look ahead...even if it's a short peek into what your life may eventually turn into...I want to have my say while I can I still can.

I've already instructed Massey "If I get real bad off...don't remove the pillow til my little legs quit kicking."

I truly think my last coherent words will be "Massey...CLEAN YOUR ROOM."

Cool Mom...or Just One Trying to Keep Her Cool ?

Massey informed me today that I "Wasn't" COOL. She finally relented to the point of me being cooler than most but "Def' not totally cool.

I can accept that.

No one has to tell me I am fifty...I feel all fifty years every day when I wake up with creaking knees , ringing in my ear and especially when my ulcer flares up. I used to be proud of being slim but now wonder if it is just me shrinking to my stooped over granny weight. I gotta check out that Sally Field commercial about osteoporosis.

I embarrass Massey on an hourly basis and luckily most of it is done within the walls of our house .

I got home from work tonight around 9:20 and after checking weather.com knew that rain was coming. I cut the yards yesterday but ran out of time to do the weed eating before work and to ME the yard isn't done until it is all trimmed out with my secret lover "Mr. Weed Eater." Please don't tell "Johnny" he'll be ridiculously jealous...you know how those motor heads are.

When I got home tonight, bringing fabulous gifts of home made meatball subs and chocolate amaretto mousse from work I told Massey that I was going to go out back and weed eat before the rain hit. I made the mistake of asking her if she thought it was too late..."MOM...do NOT go out there and crank up the weed eater!" I told her one of our next door neighbors, Mr. "Slow" Lee and his wife were in Hawaii and the other next door neighbor (my next door husband) worked at night only has teenagers and they probably weren't home.

I turned on the flood lights out back and cranked 'big boy' up. HEY! I was done in ten minutes. If anyone called the cops about me I would back in the house with the weed eater hidden in the garage and the leavins' dusted off my shins. Massey rolled her eyes at me and went upstairs to her "hovel of a mess" that we call her bed room.

You know, if they made a silencer for a weed eater and I could get me some of those night vision goggles I could be in business 24/7. I wanted to weed eat the front yard but decided as long as I was out of view in the back yard from the cars and neighbors trying to take a relaxing night stroll maybe they wouldn't know which yard the racket was coming from.

All finished... and tempting as it was to go rent flood lights from a utility company and set up in the front yard I decided to call it a night (without complaints other than Massey's.)

I came on inside and settled on FB'ing and blogging.

One of my good friends had commented on one of my posts and her new profile picture was amazing. She is short as *&#* to begin with and has been doing the weight watchers thing. In the words of Massey...OMG. She looked totally different. She looked so much like her daughter that I thought it was a picture of her daughter instead of her.

Being funny like I am (in my own small mind) I sent her a message and told her she would be in a thong by the Fourth of July.
Her response was "Eeewww....no."

You know, I don't even weigh a 100 lbs but if you catch me in a thong...it'll be because my undies are so old that the back ripped out of them and I didn't know it. Wedgies drive me insane and I just can't imagine wearing a thong. Maybe Massey is right and I'm "NOT THAT cool." I know they look good on girls in Playboy or maybe girls hanging onto a pole ..but Massey IS right..."I ain't THAT cool."

I like the Lacey look of the top of them in the back... but to a fifty year old woman who has three kids and can still remember at LEAST six people in the room with her as she popped a human being out of a hole that was originally the size of a nickel...I like to keep that area pretty much covered up and kept secure.

Now I know Massey IS right..I'm not THAT cool...but trust me , I'm still pretty stinkin' cool.

At least until someone tells Massey about this post.

It's Not Brain Surgery...

I just got home from a 'spankin' at work. It was GREAT! Today was my day off and I picked up a shift, so everything I made was "gravy." It started slow and immediately went crazy in a matter of ten minutes.

We had a party of 14 come in followed by a party of 12. I got the party of 12. All women, and a couple of them recognized me from Longhorn. Right after I got the 12 top, I got a 6 top and I began to wonder if I had forgotten to put on deodorant. I was sweating like a 'ho' in church scrambling to make salads, get appetizers out and try to keep drinks filled.

Another server who is new like me, asked me where we kept the ice bucket. Number one: keeping the ice bin full when it is busy is a full time job in itself. Number two: a lot of the time the cooks have it back on their line icing down food products and forget to return it.

I told her if it wasn't where we kept it, the cooks probably had it. She said "No, I mean where do we keep it?"

For Pete's sake!

She has been there for almost two months and doesn't know where we keep the ice bucket? I was nice and said "On top of the ice machine." I was even extra nice and didn't add "DUH!!"

I had a killer night, that almost KILLED me! I waited on four tables and walked with $110.00.

I worked in the yard today for two hours before I went to work...love me that HOT Georgia sun. My body is slowly falling apart limb by limb but I have been lucky.

I have ONE bad knee, the other one is fine. I have carpal tunnel in one wrist from carrying dinner plates for 33 years but the other one is fine. One of my thumbs has been numb at the tip for over two years but the other thumb is fine. I have a constant ringing in my right ear and lately it feels like it is stopped up with water but if I pinch my nose and blow real hard it pops open for a while...the other ear, fine.

It's kinda like the "half full/ half empty glass theory." I have bad parts but I still have good parts. I may be fifty, but I weigh less than I did in high school. My hair might be going gray, but it is short and hard to notice. I have three kids but the 24 year old is gone and the next one turns eighteen next month. I have a lawn mower that causes me grief but a next door husband who can fix anything. I have a daughter who drives me nuts but is one of the sweetest girls on the planet. I got fired from a job that I hated and have a new job that I love. I am a hurricane and my husband is a gentle breeze. I have three dogs to feed and water but I have three dogs that love me unconditionally. I have bill collectors calling me but I have friends calling me too.

Life is a crazy mixed up thing. I have decided that if I am breathing, I am doing okay. Everything else will fall into place and work out on its own. As long as I have my blog, I have "MY" place. I have a place to go that I love and that for some reason other people love too. To feel loved is a marvelous feeling and one that I never take for granted. As long as I am breathing I will feel blessed. The other stuff is just the "half empty" part. As long as I have a "half full" part I feel pretty darn lucky.

Getting up early tomorrow to plant my Morning Glory seeds...probably late but I am thinking "Better late than never." Getting my hair cut to chop out the gray, putting my "Ring Relief" drops in my ear ...doing my nails just to feel "prettyful" (one of Massey's big words) and doing it all again.

I think my new motto is "Keep that glass half full."

Til next time...Halfway there COTTON

"My Name is Cotton and I'm a Blogaholic"

First off you have to click on the cartoon! (I'll wait.)

I try not to embarrass my kids TOO much on my blog...although they have embarrassed me so many times over the years I've simply lost count. Our family is such a goofy and eclectic group (yeah I'm the MAIN goofball) that the material is usually too good to pass up. They'll thank me for it one day when I turn my blog into a book and they are all suddenly famous (and their Mom's rich.)

Probability of that happening is slim to none, but HEY a gal can dream.

I could blog about my husband all I want and he'd never know, he's only recently become savvy with logging onto the bank account. He knows I talk about him here but he couldn't remember a password to save his life, unless I wrote it on his forehead back words so he could read it in the mirror.

He is a wonderful man and a great father but ask him to print something off on the computer and he hits every wrong button you can, backs up the printer by hitting print over and over and over again and has no patience for technology. I guess being married to me has used up all his patience and then some!

I have had a rough past year but we are fighting our way back to the middle and happy to be approaching it.
I have a new job that I love and that seems to love me. I work with servers half my age and enjoy it tremendously. Tonight at work, one of my favorite servers was back in the kitchen with me. I was polishing silverware and she was scarfing down a delicious looking sandwich. Our restaurant makes the most amazing food I have ever seen and they don't hesitate to fill us up with their delicious food.

She washed her hands and was headed back out front to check on the one table she had left...she turned to me, ran her tongue over her teeth swallowed hard and said "Do I have any basil stuck in my teeth?" You know me, I didn't miss a beat and said quite emphatically "OH MY GOD!!"

She almost blew the sandwich out of her nose laughing.

I love working with young people. I love older people..and I fall somewhere in the middle. I know that I am approaching the half century mark. It is scary and then again it is amazing.

I have three kids that definitely keep me on my toes...or maybe that is me trying to sneak away from them.

Three months ago I was curled into a ball in my bed wanting the world to go away. Now I am up and moving forward, not looking back but remembering how far I have come.

To me that seems like progression...to me that seems like heading in the right direction and making tracks.

I love my kids, I embarrass them on a daily basis but I think deep down, they think I'm a cool mom.

My co workers seem surprised when they learn I am fifty...or maybe they just like old people too.

It sounds strange to say but this blog helps me. I go back often and read all the older posts. I write about every single thing that happens to me, from the mundane to the ridiculous to the incredible.

As a kid I started a diary when I was ten years old...moved on to journals that I filled on a daily basis. I still have the diaries, I still have the journals and now I have my blog.

To be able to look back at things you wrote as a ten year old kid, look back at things you wrote when you were a misguided and wandering twenty something year old and be able to follow that trail to your half century mark is incredible to me.

Written words are my best friend...besides my sister, daughter and a select couple of friends...words are what make memories remain fresh and can bring back feelings and emotions that would be lost otherwise.

To put into print what you are feeling at an exact moment in time freezes that emotion...saves it for you to reflect on and is a feeling that is one of my fondest and dearest.

I may die tomorrow, but the "Life of Cotton" has been written onto a page in a journal or diary or been recorded here on my blog.

At the very least I will have lots to read in the Old Folks Home while I wait for one of my kids to come turn me in the bed or walk me down the halls on my walker with tennis balls attached to the front and tell me I still look good...whether they mean it or not by then won't matter...I'll have it all saved for myself and imagine there will be plenty of free time to read it all over and over again.

Looking forward to at LEAST forty more years of writings to re read and enjoy...COTTON