Biscuits, Fried Fish, and Red Hats

 

I decided to chat via blog today instead of YouTube.  I'm still learning technology. Why do I find it so hard?

A bit of winter lingers in some parts of the country, but down here in Texas, we are at 84 degrees today.  It’s also windy. I see where some in the southeast are getting hit hard with spring storms. Winter wants to hang on for a bit. I dread the unbearable heat, and it is coming.

We went to lunch earlier and ordered fried catfish. I ate enough for two meals, so I doubt I’ll eat much for dinner.  I’m not fond of cooking, so devouring enough to satisfy for the day’s duration a good thing.

I usually cook breakfast. It’s the only meal I don’t mind l preparing. There’s not much chopping involved. Not much planning either.  This morning I made biscuits, gray with sausage and fried eggs.

That reminds me. We watched a TV special the other day, and young people in England were trying biscuits and gravy for the first time, and they were reluctant to taste them. After a bite, they said, “they look like scones and the sauce tastes good.”  I’m sure there are dishes in the UK. I don't want to try Blood Pudding.  That sounds gruesome.  It’s made with pig’s blood.  Yuck. I'm sure many enjoy it.

Did you know some crazy folks in Washington D.C. think we should do away with eating beef, pork or poultry and eat insects instead?  They think it will help with climate change.  I don’t want to eat Blood Pudding or bugs. No thanks.

We had a preacher friend who was preaching one Sunday. This was back in the day before A/C  was available, so windows were open.  Church windows had no screens at this church. A fly flew into his mouth, and he swallowed it.  He had a quick comeback.  He said, “He was a stranger, and I took him in.”  I think our friend was making a reference to Matthew 25:43. 

We had another preacher friend who was preaching when a light bulb fell from the socket above him. It smacked him on top of his bald head.  Funny things can happen to preachers.  My husband baptized a lady  who wore a wig. When he lowered her under, her wig came off her head and floated away.  I can’t imagine why she thought she could wear a wig while being ducked under water.

I have a friend who was new at being a preacher's wife. She arrived late to a funeral. Her husband was preaching, and she walked to the front of church wearing a red dress and a red hat. Her hubby turned the shade of the dress she wore.

How's your day going?  I hope you are having one filled with peace and health.

 Gay on YouTube

Gay on Amazon

Meet in the Middle

We need a new mattress, but hubby likes the current one and doesn’t see the reason for a change.

 

For me, the thing sinks a trifle in the midsection.

 

The one we sleep on has aged, but it doesn’t matter. We soon indent each new mattress.

 

We aren't large people, but we enjoy sleeping side-by-side....in the interior of the bed. We move toward each other until we meet.

 

One recent night, as sleep eluded me, I thought about our midpoint location and decided the middle is good stuff.

 

Sleeping in the center and touching your loved one during the night brings a treasured closeness.  You can't stay mad at a spouse if you continue to touch him/her in the bed, and contact with your partner brings security to both of you. 

If the two of you don’t sleep on your side in a spooning position, hold hands as you sleep on your backs. Place your toes together. Touch in some way and stay joined.

 

Uh-oh!  Angry, you say? You don't want contact?

Here's my thought. Don't cling to the outer edges of a bed—that won’t solve an anger issue, but meet at the midpoint. Linking bodies together can melt a cold heart and disolve a lot of wrath.  It’s a good way to warm cold feet, too.

 

Oh sure! I know some nights are too sweltering to be close, and those darn hot flashes surprise us at odd times. Scootch away until a normal temperature returns, and then move back to your traditional spot.

 

Relationships are built on people reaching a common ground.  Compromise. Each person gives in a little to the other. The bedroom is a good place to start.

 

Not long ago, someone asked me the secret to a long-term marriage. I replied, “Meet in the middle.”  The lady raised her brows as she thought about my response.  I went on to explain how I believe sharing the middle of the bed keeps one feeling cherished.

 

And then I said, there will be disagreements over money, kids, jobs, in-laws, etc, but solutions can be found.

 

 In bed, and in life, try the middle.

Gay N. Lewis on Amazon

Chatting with Gay at the Window.

 

I love my new closet.

Before I became a writer, I enjoyed work as a designer/decorator. I called forth my design skills; drew up this delightul room, and built it onto the back of the house. The closet adjoins the bathroom. When I am dressed, I open the blinds and enjoy the backyard.

This room has a lot of light. When I decided to chat with you on YouTube, I thought this was a good place to video.  It's quiet in here, too.

I could close the door to this room and cry if I wanted to.

Somedays I feel like shedding tears. How about you?

So far, my chats have been about positive things, and we haven't let tears of sorrow escape our eyes. 

I'm new at the video thing, so I'm learning as I go. I hope you'll join me and comment. I think that would be so much fun!

On YouTube, type in Gay N. Lewis. Or follow the link below. 

Chat with Gay on YouTube

Who Helps Who?

 

I accompanied my hubby to his doctor's appointment. As we were leaving, I noticed a senior citizen smiling at me, and I walked over to visit. I'd seen her upstairs earlier. 

The elder lady sat in her wheelchair. She had no legs.  Using public transporation, she had brought herself for a checkup.

She said, "You know, I used to be able to do more for myself, but it is getting harder these days. I can't bend over like I once did. Picking up stuff is difficult."

I replied, "Do you have a husband and children?"

"I'm a widow. I have two sons, but one died."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Does your other son live close to you?" I'm thinking he must reside out-of-state.

"Yes, he lives on my property in the house behind me."

I'm trying to be polite as this dear lady confides in me. We don't have much time because the valet is about to bring our car.

"So your son can help you at times, right?"

She smiles. "Sometimes."  And then she adds, "my grandson lives with me."

Hmm. I'm thinking this grandson must be a young child since the lady needs help picking up stuff.

"My grandson is 24."

I hope my eyes didn't bug out and show too much surprise. "Doesn't he help you?"

"He sleeps a lot."

I nod. "He must work at night."

"No, no, he doesn't have a job."

Okay, by now, my ire is rising. This lady needs attention, and her nearby family seems to ignore her.

"I hope these two guys pay you rent." (I'm known for being direct. Diplomatic, I'm not.)

There's that Mona Lisa smile again. "No, they don't."

"How do you financially get by?" (Didn't I tell you I'm direct?)

"We live off my husband's income."

This lady wants to talk, but I know I'm running out of time, and I also know I'll probably say something negative about men who don't subsidize needs.

"I'm glad you have a means to support yourself."

I say this as I think about two grown men who make no financial contribution to the household. I'm guessing this family is rich, but if they are rich, why didn't one bring her in his vehicle? On the other hand, the men might be grifters, or just plain old lazy bums. The woman says they don't physically help her.  

By this time, our car has arrived and hubby is motioning me to hurry up.

I wish the lady well and get into our vehicle. As we drive away, she is still waiting for the public transporation.

Now I ask you this question. Who is at fault here? The senior citizen? She didn't teach her son or grandson to be respectful? She doesn't make them pay rent? She provides food and shelter for them and is still raising them?

How about the adult son and grown grandson? Neither one has a job, lives off her income, and doesn't help? Are they ignoring their teaching? Just being lazy? 

Who helps who?

My heart goes out to the lady. I hope her male offspring do more for her than she indicated in our brief conversation.

Gay's Author Page

Another Shelley Birthday

Do birthdays bother you?  They do for some of us. The idea of aging can be depressing.  

I'm happy to have birthdays, but they remind me that time runs out. Our daughter, Shelley, had a birthday yesterday. She has dementia and didn't realize it was her birthday.

In earlier years, she'd become depressed over a birthday. When she turned 18, she thought the world would end.  She also thought we would do nothing special to celebrate.  We invited her friends and surprised her with a party at a country-western show. She and friends had fun dancing the night away.

When her 25th birthday came around, she had a new job. She became so depressed about her age that she stayed home for the day. 

By the time she turned 50, she'd been diagnosed with early-onset dementia. Now, that's a good reason to be depressed.  I was with her when she told the doctor, "I'm so scared."

These days, I don't know what she thinks.  She surprised us yesterday with a few lucid comments.  Most of the time, she speaks her new language, gibberish. However, as we gathered items, she asked, "Are y'all leaving?"  She also made several appropriate remarks.

I am concerned about her future. I pray the Lord lets me live longer than Shelley. I want to finish taking care of her. So, as the birthdays number up, I pray harder for that.

I find it gut wrentching to post about my little Shelley, but I do so with the idea of helping others who might be caregiving a loved one.  Caregivers compare notes. "Is this common?"  "What should I do?" Questions we face daily. The dementia/alzheimer's journey is complicated, frustrating, and sad. 

I'm praying Shelley's years with it are not wasted. If we help someone else along the way, it's a good thing.  Shelley has always been a helper, and I know she'd want to help someone today...even if she doesn't know she's doing it.

• Gay's Author Page