Big 9-7

Happy Birthday Moma!!!
Stay tuned for pictures and video (hopefully)

Lately

Lately, I've reported that the dying spells are getting more frequent. Well, if you can imagine, they are more frequent than before. She may be preparing us for the end. I don't know. She really threw up last night (not just spit), and she kept saying she was hurting. I don't know....
Kerry's dad was in a car wreck yesterday. He may have some spleen damage. Please pray that he is okay.

She's Done!

The dying spells are getting more frequent. Last night was a "pray for me" moment that even chocolate milk did not cure. She spoke in tongues and prayed fervently (and she is sincere when she is praying). She cannot tell you what is wrong, but she says something is wrong. She carried on for at least 30 minutes after I put her to bed.
She called me to her room this afternoon to declare that she was going to have to quit. I asked her what she was referring to, but she never really said. She mentioned helping Sherry and me, but I'm not sure that was what she meant. This crazy conversation went on and on (with Rebekah in the bathroom next door yelling out her comments) until I could not contain myself any longer! I laughed and covered it by saying..."You don't have to help us with anything....You just take care of Mildred". She smiled and that suited her just fine.
What a zoo I live in.

The Little Princess Cries Wolf

As you know, Moma has started having frequent "dying" spells. She carries on and calls out to Jesus. You just swear she won't live through the night, but the next morning, she is up stomping through the house like she has never felt better. Ugh....I know this is horrible, and please don't think bad of me, but during a specifically dramatic dying spell, I caught myself planning where the furniture would go back in that room once she finally died. I was looking at the mirror thinking, now I can put the chest back under that, and the other bed will go under the window. AWFUL, I know, but it is just something that happens. If she died every time she had a dying spell, I'd swear she was just a 'possum playing dead. Cats don't have enough lives for her to be a cat.
She began tonight's spell with gagging. She got up from her chair in the den and said, "I'm 'bout to throw up". I followed her, made her sit down and put the trash can in front of her. She started coughing and gagging, hocking and spewing, spitting and sputtering like steam heat. She was NOT throwing up, she was spitting up (God knows what) clear drainage. Then she went to her room where the real fun began. She was "hurtin'" and she wanted a pill. I called my sister and told her about the performance and she said that she had her esophagus irritated to give her 2 Tylenol and a Pepsid. I did. She hollered for the next hour for that pill. She acted like a drunk woman. She carried on until I thought, If you don't die in your sleep, I'm killing you in the morning. Again, AWFUL! I finally gave up and went in there to sit with her. She acted so ugly that she brought the wrath of Mr. Payne on her. She told him to shut up and let her alone. The whole time he was fussing at her, she covered her eyes, then her ears and made slapping motions toward him. She covered her whole head with the blanket. After he left the room, she flipped and flopped, turned and twisted, wiggled and squirmed like a 4 year old fighting sleep. Then she began her ritual of sleep talking. "I ain't gone do it!" (one of my personal favorites) and "I bet I can!" "Shet up" "I ain't gone tell you" and on and on. I think she was fighting Kerry in her sleep. I wish I'd videoed it but I've already admitted my awful thoughts.....I don't want to be arrested for granny porn with her feet in the air and her hind end exposed to the world.
I have to get up in the morning, but she has me so worked up....here I sit at this laptop.

Counting Money

Moma found this change on the table. Rebekah brought it in after cleaning out her car. She counted this money for 20 or 30 minutes.

Candy

This morning Little Precious was up before 6:00 am, stomping through my house, cane clicking and grunting like a boar. She let the dogs out of their crates, like that was her job. I wanted to knock her knees out from under her. I finally got up after about 20 minutes of hearing her tear through my house, opening the pantry, cabinets and the outside doors. Ugh.....
I was not cheerful, but I began fixing her breakfast. Once I got her seated and out from under me, I poured my life blood (Diet Dr. Pepper) and got a Special K cereal bar. "Hey! Gimme some candy!!" she bellowed at me. After the fuss over this the other day, I pinched her off a piece and said, "It's not candy! It's a cereal bar and you won't like it". She put it in her mouth, and turned her head and mumbled, "That wasn't enough to taste". GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.............the urge to kill was radiating through my being. I pinched her off a bigger piece, and stomped out of the kitchen. She made that sarcastic face and said, "Thanky" But, she won't admit she didn't like it.

Cute

The cats were playing in the den, and Moma leaned over to me and said, "See that little white cat?" I nodded. She continued, "It got run over by a car when it was a little thing, and I went out and found it on the road and nursed it. It was hopping on 3 legs!"
WE FELL OUT LAUGHING!!!
The kitten was attacked by the neighbor's dog, had surgery and a pin put in his leg. Little Mildred had NOTHING to do with his recovery! He is MEAN, but I love him! He has such personality! Ummm.....they are a lot alike! lol