Did I Ever Tell You About Waking up on the Operating Table??

   The year was 1983. I had a super bad case of the flu. The kind of flu people get when they hope the flu will not kill them; however they are so sick it wouldn't matter much if it did. I was that kind of sick. Finally, I drug my wazoo to the doctor's office. While there I told my doctor about some other 'oddities' going on in my body at the time. He sweetly told me there was nothing he could do about the flu. I had to ride it out and next year be sure and get a flu shot. However, he very softly said I needed to have a hysterectomy as soon as possible. I could not believe what I was hearing, so gentle man that he was, he said it again, "You need to have a hysterectomy as soon as possible." I remember saying, "I can't-- I have the flu!!" He laughed, I cried. We talked for about twenty minutes longer while he recommended a surgeon in Columbia. A month later I had surgery.

   The next month flew by and before I knew it, I was in the hospital waiting to have surgery the next morning. The surgical team made their rounds and talked to me about what to expect the next day. The last member of the team to visit me was the anesthesiologist. He was a good looking young man about my age. He explained the drug they would be using the next day on me. He told me there would be a slight chance I might wake up on the operating table. He assured me this was close to 'one in a million chance' but it could happen. He assured me I would not feel anything if I woke up and he would immediately put me back to sleep. When he was finished he asked me if I had any questions. Apparently I said 'no' and he walked out the door. He made it about half way down the hall when I called out to him, "Did you just say, I might wake up on the operating table?" He laughed, turned around and came back to my room. He explained the procedure once again to me; assuring me I had nothing to worry about. Then he left again.

  It was the next morning before I knew it. I was scheduled to be the first surgery so I didn't have long to wait. Tommy was there and I told him what the team said the night before. He laughed, reassuring me there was no way the  doctors would let me wake up on the operating table. Famous last words!

   Someone pushing a gurney came to get me. Soon I was on my way to surgery. I was prepped and asleep in a matter of minutes. Everything was routine until halfway through the surgery I WOKE UP! I remember the operating room was freezing cold, there was rock music playing and I was staring at my masked doctor who happened to be holding my uterus. He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. However, he said, "Mrs. Carter no worries it is not cancer. I am sending it to the lab but you will be fine." Then I started getting the dry heaves. The doctor said, "Put her out! Put her out NOW!" I heard the anesthesiologist say, "Good night honey"  It felt like he touched the back of my ear, then I was out instantly.

   The next day everyone visited me again. They could not believe I woke up on the operating table. Well, neither could I. We were laughing about it. Tommy couldn't believe it happened. He said, "I guess this proves you are literally one in a million." I remind him of this fact, from time to time . I made some sort of list in the gynecology journal department. I have had several surgeries since then and slept through the procedures. Thank goodness. The one thing I wish I could remember was the name of the song that was playing in the OR room when I woke up. It was a good song but for the life of me I cannot remember the name.

Who is that Person in the Mirror?

    I like the quote to the left. "What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven't happened yet." However, I think it is a quote for younger people.  As people age, I have noticed many tend to live in the past.  I catch myself doing this often. Nothing in life prepares a person for getting older.  It happens while we are busy with our daily lives and goals. The young think the world was made for them and they will never age.  There is no reason for them to worry.  Everything life has to offer is before them.   As older adults, we find ourselves looking back often analyzing our lives.  Questioning decisions we made, and chances we took.  One year turns into ten years, before we realize it. Then ten years turn into twenty, once again before we know it, we are staring retirement in the face. We live with the choices we made.  The stressful part of life is over. It is time to do all the things that were put on hold while we lived a productive family life. This is where it gets tricky.

   In my mind I am about forty, the rest of my body disagrees. When I go clothes shopping,  I have to go to the other end of the rack now instead of the skinny section.  Occasionally, I am in the wrong store.  I look around at the clothes and think, 'Hmmm I wore these clothes in the 70's. I am not sure I want to wear them again.'  I find a more 'age appropriate store' and look at what a 66 year old woman should wear and I say, "Oh, Hell No!" and I find myself in the first store . . . again.  Looking desperately for something that doesn't show my ass or my bust.  Good luck with that!  Apparently, when I was young, I showed a lot more of myself than I realized at the time. 

    I ramble around until I find something that will work.  A little bit of this and a touch of that and before you know it I am ready to go home.  Mother Nature and I have split the difference. I can live with that if she can.

     As I sit here, I have a heart monitor hooked up to my chest sending a continuous ECG to someone --somewhere. They are looking inside my heart for the next thirty days.  That has to be one boring job. I doubt if anyone is really looking.  I lost the cell phone transmitting all this crap yesterday and no one called to see if I was dead!  That was reassuring.

    It is an odd feeling knowing there is more time behind me than in front of me.  On the other hand, I have achieved almost everything I wanted to in life. No complaints there.  When Tommy and I retired we had a simple plan.

    1.  Do something productive every day.
    2.  Witness more sunsets and dawns.
    3.   Learn something new each week.
    4.   Stop wearing a watch.
    5.   Pursue any unfulfilled desires.
    6.   Find a way to share our blessings.

   Lacey and Melodi will have a baby in the Spring. A grandchild is a huge blessing and something we all look forward to. Jacy and Logan are busy growing up. Jace is a teenager now and Logan isn't far behind.  Lisa and Lisle are in the process of moving to a new home. Both of them have jobs they really like.  Lisa is working on her Masters degree.  Tami, continues to write books and seek God's plan for her life.  There is a lot going on in our family, just like it is in everyone's family. Vacations have occurred and more are planned. Hobbies started--hobbies stopped. It is a busy time in this gift called 'life'.  The other day, I heard someone on the radio say, "We are only given so many trips around the sun.  Make the most of them."  I am inclined to agree with that statement.

  

    
   
       

Fall Slipped in Early on September 23, 2015

     The Fall season took its place on the calendar around 3:21 this morning. One season evolved into another while we slept. Very little in Missouri changed overnight to mark Fall's arrival.  As the day progressed it was sunny and hot, the same as the last day of summer was yesterday. The temperature reached 85 degrees.   

     While drinking coffee this morning, my mind rambled back to the summer.  I logged on to my computer searching for photos of the summer of 2015.  Photos are the proof of my memories.  I look at them and I remember the day or event.  If my home caught fire,  the two things I would grab would be my photos and Tommy's love letters.  Both of those items are things I could never replace. He doesn't remember half of what he wrote--but I do and that is what matters to me.

    Summer took its time arriving.  June was the wettest month we have had in recorded history.  As far as temperatures went, we never reached 100 degrees.  Unofficially, at my house we did three times.  Several times during the summer we had lows in the 50's. 

     Tommy and I did not fish as much as we usually do. The days were often too humid.  When we did go, we fished  Little Dixie.  I love that place. We seldom caught anything worth keeping but the view was delightful, the coffee good and the company even better.

      We spent as much time strolling the trails in Little Dixie as we did fishing.  The lake is 205 acres.  It is nestled in the midst of 733 acres. Nature trails, both man made and animal, are everywhere.  Each new view is in competition with the last view seen. 

     On any given day we could be found driving the back roads of Callaway County, especially around sunset. An old gravel road is a moment in life waiting to be photographed.  Old broken down barns and homes have a hidden history. Stories few people know or care about.  Often Tommy and I make up our own version of what we saw.  One old house was ready to fall down.  It was still hanging on, fighting weather and decay; but loosing the battle each year that passed.  I fell in love with that old memory. Someone took great care in the structure of their home.  Later we learned its story. At one time it was a huge two story home, with a winding stairway and a veranda almost as large as my home. The couple who built the home had 22 children between the two---his, hers and theirs. I can't imagine raising 22 children. That is a lot of people to care for, feed, clothe and love.  I had 3 beautiful daughters... our greatest treasures.  I swear there were times it felt like I had twice that many children -- I never corralled the hidden three kids to confirm that suspicion.

    Every year I spend a small fortune on flowers for each season. I am in the midst of building perennial beds that no longer need to be planted year after year. Honestly, I am tired of all the work that goes with keeping flowers beautiful. I am delegating this job to Mother Nature. I think she will do a better job than I usually do.  While driving the back roads, some of the prettiest flowers I have seen all summer are perennial wild flowers; growing here and there,  keeping company with cows and buzzards.  When I was a little girl, I used to say,' God made wild flowers for poor people.'   Every time I said something along that line,  Mama thought I was about to die.

  Tommy and I will probably go to the river late this afternoon. Perhaps we will eat supper at our favorite bar and grill.  I am still in pursuit of buzzards.  I missed many photo shots, that begged to be taken, because I forgot my camera.  I am not giving up. I still have time to get a few good photos. Tommy teases me about my fascination with buzzards this year. It is true, the buzzards are trapped in my imagination.  In one missed shot, a dead tree was filled with close to twenty buzzards.  It was an ironic photo --and I wanted it, but missed the shot  Another time, we were rounding a curve on our road, six buzzards sat on an old rail fence. All of them were transfixed on something in the water.  One turned around and looked at the truck, ignoring us he returned to watching the muddy water with rest of his buddies.  There were several good shots in those few seconds. Then they flew away.

    This is first time in my life I have ever been this curious about buzzards.  There is a story and a photo in my mind growing bigger each day.  From a distance these scavengers look enchanting.  Soaring to great heights as they scan the area below looking for a dead carcass. They remind me of a certain type of human, who looks lovely from a distance however, the closer they get, the more undesirable they become--much like the buzzards.

    All to soon the trees will start to change colors, birds and buzzards will migrate to warmer weather.  Nature will strut her colors while mere mortals try to capture her beauty with a camera. This is an on going game nature and people play. Find the perfect tree, find the perfect leaf, find the perfect love and see what happens. 



                                           

                                                  

 

 

 

                                        
                                                                             







 
      

Tommy Wanted to Kill Me Friday...

    Last week was the week from Hell for Tommy.  He worked hard, 8 hours a day, doing manual labor for a couple of friends.  When he came home at night he looked like death warmed over.  He actually stumbled in the back door one night. No matter what I said, he was determined to work...and work he did. When he was young he worked like this but he isn't young and he is retired.  We don't work hard.  That defeats the whole purpose of retiring. Every day he promised me he would take it easy and rest. He lied.

   I knew he would not have time to rest before our trip to Kentucky.  I was right. He woke up at 3:30 a.m. Friday morning and got me up at 4.  We were out the door and on the way to Kentucky by 5 a.m.

   The trip down was nice and easy going.  Once we arrived in Clinton we stopped to visit with our good friend John Kelly Ross. I also talked with Lou Conner. It was a pleasure to see these old friends again. John has the best sense of humor, and can tell a story perfectly.

    Tommy and I decided to spend the night in Union City, Tenn.   We paid for our room but had to wait for it to be cleaned. This left us 2 hours to kill. Tommy was tired, hungry and did I mention tired, well if I didn't. . . he was TIRED... and while I am at it I will throw in Grumpy too.   'We' could not decide what Tommy wanted to do!  He wanted to wash the truck but was hungry. He needed to sleep but had no room to lay down. At that time there was no room in the inn.  He decided to wash his truck first, then eat, and finally try the motel again. 

    Fine by me,  I was only thirsty.  I remembered we had 5 small bottles of frozen strawberry water in our cooler.  That was all I wanted. . . a drink of water.  I opened a bottle while Tommy was trying to pull out into oncoming traffic.  Never once did it enter my mind that such a simple thing could cause me so much trouble.  But it did. There was no stop light, it was jump and go kind of driving.   The four lane was busy with people on their lunch break. No one would let us out of the driveway or into the traffic.  Finally, there was a slight pause in the traffic allowing Tommy to jump in a lane.  That is about the time I opened my water bottle.  The cap and about an inch of ice, the size of a bullet, shot out of my bottle and hit the windshield.  KABOOM!!!  It bounced back and hit me in the chest.  I screamed, Tommy screamed, and then I fell over in one of those uncontrollable laughing fits that only happen to me when I am too tired and have lost all control of my emotions.  Tommy yelled at me to see if I was alright, because he thought someone had fired a shot at us and I was hit and crying.  I squeaked through a round of gut laughter, "I- I- I am fine".    He was scared and  furious. I should have been but I wasn't so, I continued to laugh.  Every time I thought of how  that scene must have looked, I started laughing all over again. Snorting, eyes watering, nose running kind of laughter.  Tommy was soooo through with me. The only reason he didn't pull over and try to put me out, is because he knew I wouldn't budge.

   We washed the truck and he was mad!  We ate lunch and he was mad. Finally, we make it back to the motel and he was mad. He did get some sleep, when he woke up he was not mad anymore. 

    Me???  I still think it is one of the funniest things to happen to us this year, and we have a long list of funny mishaps so far. . . and it is only the beginning of September.   For some reason, I do not think Tommy will ever think, at least this year, this day in our life was funny. Some day he will, but not today and I am pretty sure not tomorrow.   I am still laughing as I type these last words...and I know funny when I see it, after all I live with him and we share this crazy experience called life.  Thankfully, most of the time, it is funny indeed. We need to realize this more often.
 
   

    

Waiting for Her Life to Begin . . . Flash Fiction

          Alyssa sat fidgeting  in New York City's version of a French cafe, sipping lukewarm coffee, while soaking up the atmosphere.  Her long red fingernails made a clicking sound on the rim of her coffee cup.  The nails picked up speed the longer she tapped.  Agitation was about to raise his ugly head.  Once again she was waiting for Chad, her possible Mr. Right, to arrive. 

       The open front cafe was noisy but inviting.  The busy streets of New York  City were forty three steps away from where Alyssa sat.  She knew this to be a fact, because she had counted them--twice in the past hour.  Each time she walked to the curb,  grabbing a quick glance, hoping Chad would be walking down the avenue.  He wasn't.  Horns were blowing, couples trying to hail a cab cursed as the taxi stopped for someone else.  A low rumble of chatter continued from the customers inside the cafe.  Alyssa became nervous sitting in a strange place waiting for a young man, she was barely knew,  to arrive for their third date. . .  if he showed up.  Alyssa tried to dodge the uncomfortable feeling he was not joining her tonight.  She called his cell phone twice.  Once to confirm she had the right address and the second time to see if he was stuck at the office or in traffic.  He did not answer or return her messages.  Something was wrong.  She wished she knew if she should be mad or worried because right now she was both.  There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

    The waiter approached her table for the second time, asking if she was ready to order or did she want to wait a few more minutes.  Alyssa said, "I'll have another cup of coffee and I will order a Jack and Coke for my friend, who will be here soon."  The waiter smiled saying, "I will be back with your orders."

    Alyssa scanned the cafe again.  The decor appeared to be a knock off version of the old outdoor French cafes of years past,  with wrought iron chairs and tables.  Three walls were painted a Tuscan sun color.  The middle wall had a fresco painted from the floor to the ceiling. The lush greenery in the scene surrounded a stone colored water fountain. A crack in the wall reach from the floor to the middle of the fountain.  The crack added a touch of reality to the painting.  Glancing at her watch, she noticed five minutes had passed.  Calling Chad was no longer an option.  She would return to her apartment alone before she dialed his number again.

     After the waiter brought her a coffee and mixed drink for Chad, her imagination began to come to the forefront of her mind's eye, taking over as usual when stress began to increase in her life.  With an easy rhythm, Alyssa was drawn into the lives of the other customers in the cafe.

     To her right sat an elderly couple eating their meal in a comfortable silence.  After years and years of conversation they enjoyed their meal and their own thoughts. . . together yet alone.  Across from Alyssa sat the most beautiful black woman she had ever seen.  Her ebony skin glistened in a ocean blue silk dress. Hooped silver earrings were tangled in a long mass of black curls.  When she spoke her voice was rich with a thick Caribbean accent.  The woman had completely captivated her dinner partner. They were a beautiful couple of the same sex, enjoying a night out on the town.  

     A young couple, with their three year old daughter,sat enjoying ice cream floats.  They laughed and talked making plans for the future while enjoying the present.  People came and went several times before Alyssa decided to call it a night.  She glanced around the room looking for her waiter.  Smiling, he brought her the check.  Alyssa paid the bill and left a tip. She stood up and took a long swig of Chad's watered down drink.  Then she turned to walk down the avenue.

     Tonight left a sour taste in her stomach.  She was twenty one and this would not be the last time she felt the acidic taste of hurt.  She looked around the cafe one last time, thinking 'any of these people could be a glimpse of my life one day.  Who knows?'  Alyssa turned and slowly left the  cafe.  She had no clue what life had in store for her but, one thing she knew for sure. . . it would be better than tonight.


      The waiter watched the young woman walk away.  He felt a bit of sadness and relief  as he picked up his cell phone and called his brother. On the second ring, Chad answered. " She is gone", said the waiter as he hung up the phone.  Chad smiled and began to get dressed for a night on the town. 'Alyssa did not know how lucky she was', thought Chad,  as he slipped on his shoes. He looked in the mirror one last time. Then he picked up his switchblade knife, smiled at his reflection and walked out the door.  Chad was ready to party his way.

    

          

         

Thank You All for Reading my Blog...

   In 2010 I began writing a blog.  I wasn't sure where this adventure would take me or how long I would write. I figured I would write until the need inside me was filled.  I  had a lot on my mind and in my heart.  I needed to talk to someone I did not see every day about feelings, emotions and memories that ran around inside my mind...so I began to write our story.

    My mother died in 2009 from Alzheimer's.  It was a long, slow death that took every thought, emotion and memory this lovely woman called her own.  I wanted to write stories about our family, in case  the 50%  chance of Alzheimer's  finds me and  moves in to stay.  If it comes true, our stories will live on. If it does not come true, everyone will have my version of our lives.  I know for a fact, Tommy and I usually remember things differently...mine will be in black and white.

    I needed for  my children and grandchildren and their children to have a book of stories about their incredible, loving, funny, spiritual and creative relatives. I want the little things that make up the majority of a person's life shared. The big events most people remember but the little everyday stories, those are the ones that get lost. I want our descendants to know us.  The very people whose blood flows through their veins and whose genes reside inside them are home base for my stories.

   My first year of writing consisted of eight blogs.  As of today, I have written a total of 384 blogs.  I have had fun sharing our lives, and enjoyed people enjoying my writing.  My followers are found all over the world and I love that feeling. Originally I traded postcards, for about three years, with friends in many foreign countries. A good portion of my postcard friends still share my life through my blog.  Some of us talk daily. These people are part of my' tribe', as I call our friendship.  We will probably never meet in this lifetime but we are friends, good friends, for sure.

    Later I joined several on line writing groups. I began to follow my favorite authors on Facebook. I talked to them and they talked back to me!  Unbelievable!  A learning experience was occurring. Soon I discovered Pinterest  and a whole new writing venue opened up for me. I enjoyed reading and following many writing blogs on Pinterest. To my delight and dismay,  people started following me on Pinterest. It has become  another good, unexpected experience.

    In hindsight, my middle daughter, Tami  gave me encouragement on writing and actually set up my first blog for me.  She told me to set a goal for the number of  readers I would like to reach.  I did that and the goal was 500.  That goal was reached  in a about six weeks.  I began to write more and felt comfortable sharing my life on line.  Soon I set the goal for 2,000 and reached it.  I was shocked---extremely shocked and once again delighted.  I felt like a gun totting, slight of hand gambler, as I raised the stakes with my keyboard, on my favorite hobby. I jotted down 10,000.  I thought if I reached that goal,  I would be out of stories and quit writing.  I was so wrong with that mindset.  The more I wrote,  the more I remembered,  the more I wanted to write.  My every day life began to resemble an "I Love Lucy" episode.  Retiring and still  married happily to my husband, Tommy Carter, yields more stories than I will ever be able to describe.  Strange things often  happen to us.  We call it normal, most people would disagree.

   I've had a few bumps in the road. Every time I wrote a truthful but hard core blog on Obama, I received a virus.  I made a few people fighting mad.  So be it, thank God for freedom of speech... and for people who can fix my computer when I exercise that freedom of speech.

   I began writing short stories about three years ago. Flash Fiction is one of my new favorite writing exercises.  I think most people prefer novels to short stories but I have to admit these stories have a place in my heart. They will be included in a book some day.  I also have a novel started. It is more background, checking facts and weeding out what works and what doesn't.  I do believe it is a book that wants to be written and it also would  enjoy being read  some day. I know this for a fact,  because my muse is working in overdrive for the moment.  It is a big challenge for me...not sure how it will play out.  The adventure should be a huge learning experience for me.

   The other day I checked my stats and I had over 30,000 readers.  I felt like I had won the jackpot of all jackpots.  For most writers this is a smidge of followers...for me it is a landslide I never imagined.

   I want to thank every person who has taken the time to read my blog, share my life and adventures. You all are the best and make writing special for me. I enjoy your feed back and comments.  As I close,  I raise my cup of coffee to each and everyone of you.  Thank you for making my retirement more fun than I ever imagined. Thank you for being a part of my life. ...you all matter to me.

When The Thunder Rolls and The Lightning Strikes...Carter Style

   Weird events, often found left of the center line of normal,  happen frequently in our home. At least the oddball occurrence's seem unusual to me. However, this is my opinion...I could be wrong.

   I am sure in every family, at one time or another, the man of the family shoots a possum in the laundry room. The shooting happened  a few minutes before he rushed out the door, around 10:30 at night, to go to work.   On his way out the door he yelled, " I had to shoot a possum in the laundry room. Don't worry about the mess. I will clean it up in the morning."  Sounded normal to me.

  Our youngest daughter, Melodi, knocked on my bedroom door and said, " By any chance did Dad just shoot something in our laundry room?"

   "Why yes he did darlin'...it was a possum...he will take care of it in the morning. Now go back to sleep and don't worry.  Everything is fine." This was the best motherly advice I could give on the spur of the moment. What followed were several rounds of belly laughter accompanied by every crazy story we could remember.  Melodi crawled in bed with me and we laughed until we cried. I am sure this is a common mother and daughter bonding moment in many homes across America; if not it should be. There are times when life is down right funny.

   The only room in our home to catch fire was the bathroom.  I did not think this was funny or unusual, until Lisa's boyfriend brought this fact to our attention. If memory serves me right, he tried to say, while laughing out loud in the school's lunch room, "No one has their bathroom catch on fire!  It is always some other room. Honestly sweetheart, you have the oddest family I have ever known."  Hmmm...I am thrilled Lisa did not marry 'sweetheart'.  I am sure thousands of families have had their bathroom almost burn down on the coldest, snow covered, meanest night of winter.. silly boy.

    There are too many instances to write down. We have been married 45 years and each year has had its share of peculiarities.  Last Saturday night, we may have reached an all time high  in our home. The year isn't over yet so one never knows for sure.

    It rained and stormed Saturday night, at times the thunder shook our home. In the early morning hours the storm raged, lightning struck our phone line and knocked out the service.  Tommy and I heard the storms romping through our dreams, in the distant depths of our sleep. We forgot our dogs were outside, sleeping in the garage. As a rule, they sleep in the house. Our grandkids had spent the past two nights with us and the dogs slept on blankets in the garage while Jacy and Logan were here.

   I woke up around 6:30 a.m.  I was surprised to see our German shepherd, Sabella, in the house and soaking wet. I figured Tommy woke up during the night and let her in. Sandy, our lab, is deaf and would not know it stormed until she woke up the next morning and stepped in little rivers of water and mud in our driveway.  She would be surprised as she waddled to the back door.

   I made coffee and proceeded to dry Sabella off with three large towels. She was soaked. About this time, Tommy woke up, walks down the hall and sees Sabella.  I asked him what time he let her inside. Tommy informed me he did not let her in. We looked at each other and at the back door. It was still locked. Words failed.  We had not had enough coffee yet to figure out much of anything.

   We were on our second cup of coffee when I noticed the coffee table in front of our living room window was messed up; a few of the books were in the floor and the lamp shade was crooked .  I remember saying, "Man, the winds must have really gotten rough to blow things around like that. Shhhh, what a mess!"  About that time, Tommy sees a rip in the screen. It was about a foot long and at least eighteen inches above the table.  It was closed so I did not notice it from across the room.

   Both of us got up to check out the screen. Sabella walked into the kitchen far away from the window.  She thought she was in TROUBLE. We understand Sabella. Our fearless dog is terrified of storms. She wanted in her house.  Her humans were asleep with the door locked, so she took matters into her own paws. She climbed up on the temporary patio I have in front of the living room window, climbed in the biggest pot of yellow daisies growing under the window and clawed the screen until there was a rip wide enough for her to get her head through. Once the head was through, everything else followed. It sort of reminded me of giving birth...

   I wasn't convinced 100% this was what happened. The more we talked about it...the more sense it made.  The first time it thunders or lightning flashes, Sabella  finds a place to hide. It does not matter to her that  she is safe and dry, in our home and we are within arms reach. To be caught outside in a storm must have been a horrible experience for her.  I am sure she was frightened beyond barks.  Also after Tommy and I got up she was afraid she was in trouble for the mess she made.  It started to rain again and she ran and hid.  Sabella wasn't in trouble. I remember last week when a black snake was lying across my patio table.  If I had been outside and the door was locked, I hate to think what I would have done.

   All of these weird memories  make up a huge portion of our lives. It is seldom boring at the Carter home.  On the rare occasion it does get boring, we go somewhere or sit around telling all the stories of the "do you remember?" sort.  It always helps to have a back up plan.