Monday's Mélange

(Yes, I'm aware that it is Tuesday, but "Monday's Mélange" just has a better alliterative feel to it. I like to call this literary technique, "Ma's Dissemblage.")

SO, the best thing about a hot, sunny day, is that it feels so WONDERFUL when you come inside after mowing for hours and toss back a "cold one." I speak, of course, of a diet cherry Coke. Two, to be exact. Sometimes, I just feel like living dangerously.

Another wonderful thing, is soaking the old "war wound" in a hot bath. I refer to a little nerve damage in the right leg, incurred during the pregnancy years....which, if I'm not mistaken....*counts on fingers* took up just over 8 years of my married life, if you count in the three pregnancies that ended in miscarriage. The nerve damage, which occasionally causes some moderate pain, came about, I am GUESSING, from carrying six babies over nine pounds, one which was almost ten, and Nolan, who was eleven. Not that I'm complaining. (Well, maybe just a little...)The other four were mere 7's and 8's.

Speaking of blessings, several of them reminded me that tonight is the All Star Game. Hmmm...we just might have to eat supper in the living room :-) I notice that Derek Jeter won't be playing this time around. Too bad, but I guess they have to give the young bucks a chance to play once in a while.

Stan and Nora, I discovered two pieces from that puzzle while I was unpacking our stuff from the trip! Guess they got knocked off the coffee table when we set our bags there. Now, if only I remembered where I put them...I could send them back in an envelope. Until then, I suggest a few pieces of cardboard and some blue/green magic markers. Those trees all look the same....

And speaking of lost things....here's a plea to help my Dad find an old poem from somewhere in his past. He remembers these two lines:

"If our presence seems to grieve you, we will go away and leave you. For we're just poor folks, your mother and I."

Has to do with an ungrateful child. (sniffing, optional) I told him I would find this, NO PROBLEM, on the Internet, but have had absolutely NO luck. I even posted the question on a poetry forum. So, come on and help me save face, people. Besides, I may need this little gem to induce some heavy guilt in my own children, some day.

Supper is in the oven. Turkey/beef meat loaf with carrot pieces thrown in to make it look bigger - I'll just tell them it's French - baked potatoes-biscuits from those cans that never open, (again, French) and, if I manage not to burn them this time, vegetables.

Welp, gotta hit the showers before the baseball game. (go Yankees :-)

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