So last night, while speaking on the phone to my dear, sainted mother, she stated that she had just looked here and not seen any posts about her recent birthday.
Well she's right, but then I guess I figured that as old as she is, anything that I could say about her has probably already been said.
I mean, not that she's old or anything, but she just went to her 50th high school reunion and came back to tell me how old all of her former classmates now look. (Yeah--like they aren't all saying the same thing about YOU, Ma.) I did a bit of quick math for her and showed her that her and her three friends that she went to dinner with were cumulatively older than the United States of America. Damn!
But she's doing pretty well for herself these days. She's retired and she enjoys spending hours every day sitting on her porch and yelling: "Get off my lawn, you damned kids!"
One of these days I'm going to have to tell her that those "kids" are supposed to be there--they are her condo's groundskeeping staff--and most of them are in their 50's.
But one thing that is nice--her church is having a special service dedicated to her this coming Sunday...and they've even redone a few of the old hymns just for her:
1.) Precious Lord, Take My Hand . . . And Help Me Up
2.) It Is Well with My Soul . . . But My Knees Hurt
3.) Nobody Knows the Trouble I Have Seeing
4.) Just a Slower Walk with Thee
5.) Count Your Many Birthdays, Name Them One by One
6.) Go Tell It on the Mountain . . . But Speak Up
7.) Give Me the Old Timers' Religion
8.) Blessed Insurance
9.) Guide Me O Thou Great Jehovah . . . I've Forgotten Where I Parked
Happy belated Birthday, Ma. Your present's going to be a bit late--I'm having trouble getting Lagniappe to stay in the box.