I WANT MY WALKING STICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG! Today has been a day with the princess. She didn't get up until around 12 for her "brakfus". I fixed her oatmeal and coffee, but I was watching football and not paying her any attention. She complained about the coffee being too hot. She whined about the ceiling fan. I finally walked out of the room and left her sitting. When the Queen (Rebekah) got up, she volunteered to go to the store for me. Of course, she wanted to buy something; a cake mix and icing, for a friend's birthday. (There is always a motive). The little princess went back for her 1st nap of the day. While she was asleep, Rebekah baked her cake. But in the middle of her cutting out the shapes for the Aardvark Cake, guess who woke up? Little Mildred wanted some of the cake that Rebekah had baked. I cut her a piece of my mother-in-law's cake I baked Thursday night. She ate, but continued to harass Bek about giving her a little piece of the one she was fixing. "Your friend will not mind if I have just a little piece!" she kept saying. By then, Auburn had lost and I was in a fit, so I went to the basement for a therapy session of laundry and ironing. On the monitor downstairs, I heard them fussing back and forth. Then I heard...."AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"
Rebekah was physically carrying Mildred to her room, and she was screaming like a 4 year old. I kept right on ironing. Christopher said, "What is that?" I said, "Let them fight, I am sick of her!" Rebekah put her in her room and held the door closed. Moma was  banging her cane on the back of the door screaming at her. Rebekah let go, and the door opened. Then I heard, "You hit me with that cane old woman, and your ass will be 6 feet under the ground! Go ahead! Hit me!" I never moved, just kept ironing. Then I heard Mildred began to beg. "Please give me my cane" "NOPE!" Rebekah said. This went on for a LONG time. When I came upstairs, she started begging me. She begged Christopher. I gave her the walker and tried to reason with her that she needed to use that anyway. It has been a long day of pleading or demanding for that stupid cane. I am trying to wait her out. She has fallen recently, and really needs to use the walker instead. She is finally in bed for the night.......I dread the morning.

Catch up

There is really nothing funny to report. Moma has been in bed a good bit lately. She is a tiny bit more feeble mentally, but physically, much more. She is dizzy and weak. The sitter says that she doesn't think she will last much longer. I find that hard to believe. She rode with me to get us supper tonight. She complained about the air conditioner the whole way. She is much more forgetful, but....that proves nothing really.

This is what Moma thinks about living in the country!

Chocolate milk anyone?

Tonight after supper, I was busy cleaning up, and I heard Christopher began a string of obscene words. I turned to see that Little Mildred had poured out over half of her chocolate milk in the floor for the dog.

Dear Lord,
Take me or her. Really....

Mean mean mean

Have you ever tried to have conversation with someone who is going to be negative, nasty and just plain mean about everything? MY GRANDMOTHER would have never been that way.....however, this nasty little woman.....well, she is a horse of a different color. At this point, she has told me to kiss her ass 6 times today.

Sunday at Gran's

Today we went to Kerry's mom's house for lunch. Moma behaved herself fairly well at lunch. She only fed the dog once, and attempted another but got intercepted. Kerry and I sat at the bar in another room. We wanted his family to be able to enjoy her all to themselves.  (lol)  After lunch, the Payne tradition is to go sit on the porch. We all went out and Mildred entertained awhile (video to come on her take of living in the country), but she got up and said, "Let's go" to me, and waved at the rest of the family and told them we had to go (like she was in charge). I got up and followed her in to clean up a bit. I didn't have to bring anything so the very least I could do was clean up. Moma went into the dining room where all the desserts were and grabbed her a chocolate cookie. "Can I have this?" she asked as she snatched it up. I told her yes, and was trying to lead her into the kitchen to get a napkin. She kept jerking away from me and yelling, "I want a napkin". She would not listen to me and could not hear me for talking herself. I was trying to tell her that the napkins were on the bar. Finally she jerked away from me and I grabbed her arm, and the cookie went flying into the air. It landed on the floor, and I snatched it up and chunked it in the garbage can and before I could think, I had my hands under her arms, lifted her off the ground and flung her scrawny butt on the couch. I wanted to kill her at that very moment. I grabbed her face like you might a child and said, "YOU CANNOT HEAR ME BECAUSE YOU WON'T SHUT UP TALKING!" and I pushed her back. She rared back her cane and said, "I'll knock the piss out of you!" I screamed, "I wish you would crazy ass!" Kerry came running and got her under control. I was shaking all over. I literally wanted to mash her face into the sofa cushions until she drew her last breath. I know that most of it is me, but she is getting so much more childlike that I dislike her more and more every day.
When we got home, she began nagging me about when was I going to cook supper. When we finally ate, she said she didn't want her roll. Kerry told her he wanted her to eat it. Then under his breath said "because the more you eat, the better the chances that you will choke". Meanness is catching.

Where is my Xanax?

Random noises coming from the living room
Me: What are you doing Moma?
Moma: Well this fell
Me: Well it didn't fall by itself; leave things alone, and they won't fall
Moma: Kiss my ass

There are SO many things that I would like to post right now, but I can't because I have to live with the people that I would be talking about (and not just my crazy yard gnome grandmother). Please pass the Xanax....and keep them coming!