Friends

Visiting Dallas

I’m going to attempt to tell y’all about our trip to Dallas to see Jen even though there is no way that words will do it justice. It’s times like this that I wish I had a video that would just hit all the high points even though there would probably be a lot of inside jokes that no one else would understand.

About two months ago Gulley and I began to attempt to figure out a time to visit Jen. And we finally came up with the first week in June. Our original plan was to drive to Dallas but since gas is about $74 a gallon it made more sense to fly after we realized Southwest was running some kind of special fare. So I booked our flights and we counted down the days because when one of your best friends is sick you just want to get there and see them in person and know that they’re okay.

I’d never thought about it much before this trip, but in all the years Gulley and I have been friends we have really never flown many places together. And travel by air is a different animal than a road trip. Normally when I fly I like to bring a book or a bunch of magazines, but I know Gulley well enough to know that she was going to ask me why we were even flying somewhere together if all I was going to do was read a book and so I didn’t even bother to pack one.

Over the last few years I’ve flown quite a bit. I’ve kind of gotten it down to a science. At least as much of a science as you can get when dealing with finicky airplanes and overzealous security and four ounce containers of liquid. At some point I’ve also apparently voiced my objection to having to check a bag instead of carrying one on since Gulley kept apologizing to me for not having a bag that was small enough to carry on. I finally asked, “Why are you so worried about it?” And she replied, “Because you hate traveling with people that check bags. You told me that.”

I have no recollection of this but I know it’s true because I tend to go off on passionate rants about things that I really don’t feel that strongly about in the whole scheme of life. And I guess at some point checked luggage fell into that category. Other favorite rant subjects include Chinese food, pizza with thick crust, the way library books smell, and motorized carts at the grocery store.

So after many conversations assuring Gulley that she could check her bag and that her purse didn’t really count as a carry on item, we finally made it to the airport on Tuesday morning. And it turned out that all that discussion was for naught because her bag was small enough to carry on even though she worried it didn’t fit in the Southwest air carry on “Sample” bin. I’ve always believed that sample bin is just a suggestion and not a rule. How else do you explain some of the monstrosities they allow people to put in an overhead compartment?

We wheeled our bags through the security line, but then Gulley’s bag got flagged for a hand check. They had to confiscate her bottle of Big Sexy Hair Volumnizer. Which meant two things. First, Gulley was going to have flat, unsexy hair in Dallas. Second, she apologized to me again for being a high-maintenance traveler.

(Related note: You would think that security wouldn’t be concerned about a bottle of Big Sexy Hair flying between two Texas cities. It seems a given.)

As we walked to the gate I assured her it was fine. That kind of stuff happens. But then she confessed that she didn’t want to be a pain to travel with because she really wants to go with me on my book tour. And this is why I love her. She believes in me enough to think there’s going to be a book tour. Where I’ll fly to places. In reality I’m pretty sure the closest thing to a book tour I’m going to have is if I pack my own table and drive it to the neighborhood Walmart and put up a poster board that reads “BOOK SIGNING – FREE BOOKS HERE”.

And four or five people will drive over in their motorized carts to check it out.

Anyway, we made it to Dallas. Jen’s friend, Angie, picked us up from the airport and had Jen’s baby, Lincoln, with her. We squeezed his fat little thighs and made him laugh all the way to Chuy’s where Jen met us for lunch after a doctor’s appointment she’d had that morning.

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up while Linc took a nap and then walking to the park where we met some more of Jen’s friends and Gulley and I were reminded of how hard it is to have a group of toddlers. Especially toddlers who thought they were going to get to swim only to discover that the pool was closed and their only option was hot playground equipment. Sad times. But Linc got to crawl around and eat some playground mulch so the adventure wasn’t a total bust.

Later on that evening Gulley and I made a run to the store to stock up on essential snack items for girls’ night. Chocolate chip cookie dough, spinach dip, cheese and crackers, and chips. While we were visiting Jen’s friend, Missy, came to pick up Jen’s wigs to wash and style them.

A sweet woman that had cancer several years ago gave Jen her wigs. The original wig is named Pinky. And then she gave Jen a second wig that isn’t quite as nice and we just referred to her as Pinky’s cheap sister. She told Jen she could cut them or do whatever. Jen’s goal was to have one cut into a simple bob and have the other one long enough to pull into a ponytail or messy bun. It’s always good to have hair options.

Anyway, Missy stopped by to evaluate the wig situation. She explained that she isn’t a licensed hair stylist but has been cutting hair forever and also styles people’s hair for weddings and special events. And so she was so excited to be able to help Jen with Pinky and Pinky’s cheap sister. While we were talking I couldn’t quit looking at Missy’s bangs. They were kind of the bangs of my dreams. I felt like they were the bangs I’ve been looking for.

So I asked her if she thought she could cut my bangs to look like hers. And she said she could but didn’t have her scissors. Then she offered to come back the next morning and cut my bangs for me. It was like a dream come true.

And that’s how I ended up having my hair cut and styled by an unlicensed beautician. I’ve never been so happy about it. Even though I forgot that humidity is not a friend of bangs. I still don’t regret it. That’s what bobby pins are for, to get you through the bad bangs days.

This is Gulley and me holding Linc after Missy cut my bangs and gave me a cute fishtail braid. Please disregard the fact that I have no makeup on and my eyes are droopy and I look like I have antlers growing out of the top of my head. I believe that’s what they call irony.

Since this post is so long I’m going to wrap it up for tonight and tell you more tomorrow. Which I realize is assuming you care to hear the rest. But I’m going to tell it either way. So you can come back tomorrow. Or not.
Friends

I know I’ve been a bad blogger this week. But in my defense I’m in Dallas with Gulley and we’ve been visiting our friend Jen and taking care of her sweet baby while she was getting chemo.

And, y’all. We have had the best time. Laughed until we’ve cried. I can’t wait to tell you all about it but right now I have to get back to the conversation.

See y’all tomorrow for Fashion Friday.
Cottage cheese, 3-D movies and prayers

Caroline went back to school yesterday morning for the first time since last Tuesday. And, I’m not going to lie, it was a little rough to get back in the routine of getting up and heating up a bowl of instant oatmeal. Then I started to look around the kitchen for her lunchbox and couldn’t find it.

That’s when it dawned on me that she probably left it at school six days ago.

And so when I thought the worst part of my day was going to Starbucks and discovering all the good chairs were taken and the electrical outlet by my table didn’t work? I was wrong.

The worst part of my day was when I had to empty out the thermos full of cottage cheese that I’d packed for Caroline’s lunch last Tuesday.

I just dry-heaved at the memory of it.

Cottage cheese is henceforth dead to me.

Anyway, I didn’t mention yesterday that Gulley’s boys ended up staying with us this weekend. Nena (Gulley’s grandmother for those of you who might be new) had a heart attack on Thursday night and Gulley drove to go see her in the hospital. And I volunteered to keep the boys because I knew it would be better than Christmas morning for Caroline to get to have a sleepover with her peeps.

So we spent Saturday night eating cheeseburgers and playing Wii and watching G-Force. Then P cooked pancakes for everyone on Sunday morning and we went to see Journey 2: The Mysterious Island later that afternoon. Which was actually pretty good.

Even though I am a little disgruntled because I have determined that this whole 3-D movie thing is a scam. A SCAM I TELL YOU. Because when I looked at movie times, there was only one showing that was in normal 2-D like the good old days and four showings in 3-D.

I picked the 3-D showing because it was the most convenient (all part of their dastardly plan) and became even more irritated when I bought our tickets and realized kids’ ticket prices are only FIFTY CENTS less than an adult ticket. It’s a total racket.

And I’m not even going to get into all my thoughts on Titanic being re-released in 3-D. Do we really need to see that ship go down and all those people drown in 3-D?

Maybe it’s just me. I don’t enjoy wearing plastic glasses while I watch a movie. They make my head hurt. And after the movie was over, Jackson said he didn’t think the graphics were very good. But I hated to tell him I didn’t think it was a production error as much as the fact that I saw him eat handfuls of greasy popcorn and then put his fingers all over the lenses of his 3-D glasses.

But enough about that.

Let’s talk about Nena.

She had a mild heart attack Thursday night. And Gulley said she was like Scarlett O’Hara in a crisis. She had the presence of mind to take an aspirin and then push the call button in her apartment for help. They ran a bunch of tests at the hospital and determined it was a heart attack. And they knew she was feeling better when she asked for her lipstick before the doctor came in to see her.

But after a heart cath yesterday, they determined she needs to have a quadruple bypass. By the time most of you are reading this, she’ll be in surgery. And she’s 88 years old.

Gulley left town again yesterday afternoon so she could be there for the surgery. And she packed the pair of jeans that Nena once declared looked like something that should be thrown in the trash. Gulley said she’ll know Nena is going to be okay when she wakes up and starts complaining about how bad those jeans look.

So if you think about it, I’d sure appreciate your prayers for Nena’s surgery and recovery. She means a lot to me. And more than that, she means the world to some of my very favorite people.

And if you want to know more about Nena, here are two of my favorite Nena posts. You can read them here and here.

Thanks, y’all.
It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die

Before I say anything else I just have to thank you all for your kind comments and prayers for Jen. It means the world to me and I really think y’all are the best blog peeps ever.

Also, yesterday was the last giveaway. So as of today we will be resuming our normal daily programming of general mediocrity and all around musings about nothing. And, honestly, I’m glad. It was a nice solution to the whole book writing process but, HERE’S SOME NEWS, I’m finished with the book.

Actually that’s not true. I finished writing the book. And now I have the book back in my possession with kind and gentle editing suggestions that I have to work on at some point. But, still, finish line in sight.

(Oh. I’m actually having a giveaway tomorrow. But it’s for a gift card to buy clothes.)

(So I guess I just meant that I’m finished with the health-related giveaways on a weekly basis.)

You would think I’d learn to be more clear and concise. Especially since last week I read a news headline that I completely misunderstood. The front page of MSN read “Sting Foils Plot to Blow Up Capitol”.

And my first thought was to wonder how on earth Sting has time to write all those songs and thwart dastardly plots. Then I remembered that he used to be part of The Police and thought it was all some sort of covert tie-in to his real occupation while he carried on his front as a musician.

Then, about five minutes later, it dawned on me that the headline was referring to a Sting Operation. Not Sting.

Yes. That makes much more sense.

But isn’t nearly as interesting.

Anyway, Monday was Presidents’ Day. The kids had a school holiday and so Gulley, Stephanie and I took our kids to the rodeo carnival to ride all the rides. It turned out to be a brilliant plan because Steph left her little girl at home and just brought her son. And so we had an even number of kids. Which, for those of you unfamiliar with carnival math, means that the mamas didn’t have to ride any of the rides.

Well, Gulley rode the mouse rollercoaster thing because it required an adult and she took one for the team. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the rides. In fact, I’m a little sad that I can’t ride them anymore. But at some point my equilibrium quit on me and I get so dizzy and disoriented. Which isn’t that different than how I feel when I first get out of bed in the morning, but isn’t necessarily a good feeling while you’re trying to navigate a giant petri dish full of carnival rides and fun houses.

And we did all ride the ferris wheel when we first got there. I can handle the ferris wheel as long as I don’t look down or remember I’m on a big wheel of potential death. Then the kids were ready to move on to bigger and better things like rides called Vertigo.

I was ready to move on to bigger and better things like funnel cakes and corn dogs and gorditas.

So after they’d all ridden enough rides to be sufficiently dizzy and slightly nauseous, we headed over to find all the food and went our separate ways as we each opted for a different culinary treat. Caroline chose a slice of pepperoni pizza because everyone knows that’s typical rodeo food and not weird at all. And after much deliberation, I ended up with a gordita. Gulley went with shrimp on a stick. It seemed like a questionable choice but apparently worked out for her because it’s three days later and she hasn’t died of salmonella.

Fortunately, no one in our group opted for the Hot Beef Sundae. What? You’ve never heard of a hot beef sundae? You mean the concept of a round ball of instant mashed potatoes on a slab of questionable meat covered in gravy and cheese and topped with a cherry tomato hasn’t swept the nation?

Or maybe you know it by its more common name Roast Beef in a Bowl?

I thought there was nothing that could stimulate my gag reflex more than the knowledge that Golden Corral has a chocolate fountain, but this is a close second.

After we rounded our meal out with a funnel cake, we walked around the rodeo grounds and let the kids look at the trucks and make a stop by the petting zoo. And I again rejoiced that Caroline is at an age where she can walk amongst the goats on her own and I can stand on the other side of the fence and wave from a goat-free environment.

Eventually we made our way back to the rides and they rode a few more things. We’d given each kid permission to do one extra thing that cost more money and Caroline decided she wanted to play the carnival game where you shoot a basketball and if you make a basket then you win a stuffed animal.

I tried to convince her to do something else by repeatedly telling her that those things are usually rigged and the basket is too small for the ball or placed at a weird angle. I wanted to prepare her for the inevitable disappointment of not winning so we watched as two teenage girls tried it and missed. And I said, “See? It’s impossible to make it.” But she insisted it was what she wanted to and so I reluctantly handed over the five dollars feeling like it would make more sense to flush it down the toilet.

She gave her money to the carny worker, he handed her the basketball, she bounced it twice and shot.

And she made it.

Thus rendering her mother’s opinions and knowledge totally worthless.

Nice job.

And in exchange for now having full confirmation that her mom does not, in fact, know everything, she won her very own minion.

(I can’t tell you how thankful I am that she chose the minion over the banana dressed like Bob Marley. It would have been too much to bear.)

However, this minion is not so fluffy I could die.

It feels like it has been stuffed with lightweight cement mix. And so you can imagine my joy at having to carry around Zee Minion (That’s what she named him. Apparently he’s French.) the rest of the day. Because I couldn’t really carry him under one arm. I had to walk around with Zee Minion in a bear hug formation for the remainder of the afternoon.

But it could have been worse.

I could have been that guy.

Then Tuesday night I went back to the rodeo with a group of my girlfriends to go see Miranda Lambert. We had the best time and laughed until my face hurt. I think we all forgot that we were mothers with real live responsibilities for at least a few hours which explains why we thought it was a good idea to stay out until 1:00 a.m.

But as I crawled into bed Tuesday night I thought it would be totally worth it to be tired the next day. Until Caroline woke me up at 4:36 a.m. complaining of a sore throat. And I could tell she felt feverish.

So we spent yesterday at the doctor where they confirmed she has strep. Poor thing. I can’t remember the last time she’s felt this bad. I mean, she fell asleep on the couch at 4:00 this afternoon and she hasn’t slept during the daytime since she gave up her pacifier at age three.

My bet is that Zee Minion cost us $5.00, one case of strep, and the co-pay at the urgent care clinic.
It was our 21st annual wrapping party

Before I can even commence with this post I have to share that I noticed in my list of site stats that someone actually googled “Big Mama chicken on the outside” and “Big Mama Blog raw chicken” yesterday. Which makes me feel like somewhere, someone was talking about me (maybe contemplating giving me some sort of important assignment or task) and then thought to themselves WAIT. I THINK SHE HAS ISSUES WITH CHICKEN. And then my blog confirmed it and that was the end of my possible career in the CIA.

Or maybe it’s possible it wasn’t nearly anything that exciting.

So this past weekend was the magical weekend of the year that Gulley and I spend the entire weekend both child and husband-free while we complete all our Christmas shopping and wrap all our presents and drink one or four bottles of wine. It is always one of my favorite weekends of the year and I’m so glad that we established this tradition over twenty years ago. Even while I’m baffled that two twenty-year-old college girls who actually once basically hitchhiked to Oklahoma (true story) had the foresight and wisdom to come up with such a brilliant idea.

The only real problem with the whole thing is we need to come up with a way to stretch it to three days of shopping instead of just two. Not that two days isn’t enough time to get our Christmas shopping done. It just doesn’t allow enough time to try on multiple pairs of Frye boots in Nordstrom for reasons that have nothing to do with Christmas and the spirit of giving.

We began our shopping weekend ‘o fun at 9:30 Friday morning when I picked Gulley up from her house. After a quick stop at Starbucks for caffeine nourishment, we drove straight out to The Shops at La Cantera because we actually employ a strategy and we figured it would be a zoo on Saturday so we should finish our bisness (I really meant to type “business” but I accidentally typed “bisness” and so I’m keeping it. Like we were two gangsta shoppers finishing our bizness because we are just that hip and cool.) there on Friday.

(Actually I just remembered our first stop was Hobby Lobby. I should remember this because it’s where I started to gripe to Gulley about all the logistics of Caroline’s third grade class party and might have been stressing out about the chocolate fountain when Gulley looked at me and said, “I think you need to hashtag this conversation #FIRST WORLD PROBLEMS”. And then we laughed until we cried because what elementary school party has a chocolate fountain? Except for my daughter’s?)

Technically our first stop should have been Toys ‘R Us but we were mistakenly under the impression that we would be able to avoid Toys ‘R Us entirely this year and so we made a strategic error. Sadly, it was around 5:00 p.m. on Friday when we realized that, YES VIRGINIA, we would have to go to the place that makes Santa want to die, but acknowledged that neither of us could handle it on a Friday night and decided to save it for first thing Saturday morning.

But we managed to find several gifts at La Cantera and TJ Maxx Homegoods. Then we ventured to Target for a few things and ended up at Cost Plus World Market in search of various odds and ends.

Finally, we made a quick stop by my house to unload our packages and then treated ourselves to a delicious Italian dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. Then we came home, watched five episodes of Friends and went to sleep.

First thing Saturday morning turned out to be 11:00 by the time we woke up and got dressed, but what’s the point of having an empty house with no kids if you don’t sleep late and enjoy it? Gulley also asked me if I would use the You Curl on her hair so she could see if she might want one for Christmas.

And so I You Curled. And I’m here to tell you that Gulley had to fight a stronghold of hair pride the rest of the day. She said she hadn’t liked her hair this much since the night of her Junior Prom in 1989. I can only imagine how much she would have loved herself if she’d been able to wear that same peach lame’ dress with shoes dyed to match.

But I do have to say her hair pride was warranted because it POURED DOWN RAIN all day Saturday and her hair was still standing strong when we got back to the house that night.

It was like a hair miracle. Like the fishes and loaves that fed the multitudes but with hair and styling spray.

By the time we got home on Saturday night we were soaked from the rain, exhausted, and cold. But we rebounded after I got a fire going in the fireplace (SHOUT OUT TO LIGHTER FLUID) and put on our pajamas. That’s when the wrapping party began.

Each of us has a pile of presents that need to be wrapped and evaluated and sorted. Then we eat some cheese and crackers and possibly some chocolate chip cookie dough and get to wrapping while we watch girl movies. We started with When Harry Met Sally which led to a hilarious conversation about our worst dates ever. Sadly, I cannot share all that information here but sufficed to say that I once set Gulley up with a guy who didn’t order any food at dinner because he was “on a diet” and then proceeded to eat her entire plate of cheese enchiladas when they arrived.

Nice.

There was also a time we went on a double date in college with two guys that had us drive out to their “house” that turned out to be a single-wide trailer surrounded by so many random dogs that I finally just stopped my car in the middle of the road for fear of running one of them over. The dogs, not the dates. Just wanted to clarify.

Needless to say, it didn’t work out for us. But we did end up having a nice night at the Bellville County Fair where our dates bought us each our own turkey leg.

And speaking of single-wide trailers, we watched Urban Cowboy next. We both admitted there was a time we dreamed of having our wedding receptions at Gilley’s and dancing to “Can I Have This Dance?” while wearing white cowboy boots and maybe remarking “Mama, my legs are sweatin’.”

Of course I don’t know what’s more disturbing. That we ever dreamed of those things or that we both saw the movie while we were still in elementary school?

But like Gulley said, “It was a different time back then.” Yes. A time when someone cast John Travolta to play a cowboy.

We stayed up until around 2:00 a.m., but finally every present was wrapped (except for the two I forgot about until the next day) and we went to bed. On Sunday morning we faced the sad realization that another Christmas shopping weekend had come and gone all too soon.

But on the bright side, Gulley’s hair was still curled.

And that’s more than Sissy could say by the end of her wedding reception at Gilley’s.
It would appear I have found my words

So here’s something great. Caroline’s out of school for this entire week to celebrate Thanksgiving. Which means I won’t have to be up at 6:45 a.m. packing ham sandwiches and carrot sticks in a lunch box.

Instead I’ll be up at 6:45 a.m. growling, “GO BACK TO SLEEP. IT’S ONLY 6:45 IN THE MORNING. WHY ARE YOU AWAKE?”

I know this to be true because it’s what I did on Saturday and Sunday morning and I see no reason why it should be any different at this point. Even though it’s 10:33 p.m. right now and she’s still awake playing some game involving a barking Chihuahua on my iPhone.

I’ve never wished more that I didn’t own an iPhone.

Anyway, I picked her up from school on Friday afternoon and we went straight home to finish packing our suitcases so we could meet up with Gulley and her boys and hit the open road. We’ve had tickets to go see the Aggies play Kansas since August when I was naive and optimistic enough to believe the Aggies would be going into that game undefeated, ranked in the top ten and about to win a final Big XII Championship.

Bless my heart.

Hope springs eternal.

But we were still excited because it’s become a tradition for us to go see Honey and Big the weekend before Thanksgiving and it was going to be Caroline’s first Aggie football game and she doesn’t care if they’re ranked. She just cares if there will be popcorn and large snow cones.

We ended up taking two cars because Gulley’s husband was going with us and Caroline and I planned to drive to Houston on Sunday instead of home to San Antonio. (I realize this post is chockfull of unimportant details but we all know I have a fondness for over-explaining.) This led to much debate about who was going to ride in which car and with whom. For some reason Gulley’s husband didn’t go for our suggestion that he drive the car full of kids and let us ride together and so the journey began with me all by myself in the stay wag and Caroline in the car with Gulley, Gulley’s husband, Will, and Jackson.

It was a blissful forty-five minutes full of much loud singing to whatever I wanted to listen to.

(On a side note, I can’t explain how disturbing it is to me that I can remember ALL THE WORDS to any song by Juice Newton or Alabama even thirty years later. Yet I threw away my car keys in the trash last week. The human brain is a mystery.)

(Just call me Angel of the Morning.)

(Just touch my cheek before you leave me.)

We made a quick pit stop in San Marcos because Gulley and I are both at a point in life where we have to go to the bathroom every hour. It’s very glamorous. And while we were taking a bathroom break, Gulley hopped in the car with me along with Will and Caroline. Unfortunately Will had spent the previous forty-five minutes eating an entire bag of gummy bears and began to feel a little queasy right as we got to Bastrop.

Which led to Gulley having to climb into the backseat of the car and hold an empty bag of Doritos while he threw up in it. Needless to say the entire experience caused me to suffer from post-traumatic Ecuadorian bus syndrome. The bag of chips, the car sickness, the crying. It was a dark time for me. And I had to MIND OVER MATTER myself to not pull over and get sick right along with Will.

I called Gulley’s husband to let him know we needed to stop again, chiefly to dispose of the offensive Doritos bag but also to procure a Sprite to settle Will’s stomach. We pulled over at a Shell station and Gulley and Will got back in their own car. Caroline chose to stay with me because we both know that once Will blows there’s a good chance it will happen again.

When we finally pulled up in Honey and Big’s driveway an hour later, Gulley told me that she’d sat in the back seat with Will the rest of the trip and stroked his hair until he fell asleep. He woke up about five minutes outside of College Station, lifted his head from her shoulder and said in an accusatory tone, “Next New Year’s Eve if we go to the ranch I wish you’d remember to bring my jacket. I was so cold last year because you forgot my jacket.”

Isn’t motherhood full of special moments that warm your heart and make you consider throwing your own child out of a moving car as you yell, “I JUST HELD AN EMPTY DORITO BAG FULL OF VOMIT FOR YOU. YOU CAN REMEMBER YOUR OWN JACKET.”

Fortunately, Saturday brought a day full of great memories and good football. The game started at 11:00 but the kids got up early to go to their first tailgate party with Gulley’s husband.

They practiced sawing Varsity’s horns off before they left.

And then Gulley, Honey, Big, and I met them at Kyle Field right before game time. I’m all about tailgating, I just prefer to do it at an hour that I don’t consider the crack of dawn. The Aggies had a 35 point lead going into halftime and, even though we’ve shown we can blow a halftime lead like no one’s business this year, I felt like we were probably safe.

And then, to our great delight, the entire Aggie band plus the Corps of Cadets formed a block T on Kyle Field for the first time since 1956.

After the game we all decided we were up for a little tailgating and were so excited to meet up with AJ for just a little bit.

And our friend, Michelle. Even though my hair is so unfortunately windblown in this picture. Easy on the hairspray, Nancy.

I cannot explain why my hair appears to be the only one affected by the wind. But that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Michelle was kind enough to say it was a windblown look like in a magazine, but it’s rare to see a magazine featuring hair that looks like it could make a nice home for a small bird.

We eventually made it back to Honey and Big’s house. Honey had cooked a huge dinner and Gulley and I went to pick up Nena so she could join us. Nena lives in a retirement center that’s full of activities and she asked to live there about two years ago because so many of her friends are there. They are constantly getting together plus Honey visits her almost every day whether it’s to take her out to lunch or to do her laundry. Nena is self-admittedly a social butterfly and even enjoys happy hour at the retirement center on the days when Mrs. Herzog doesn’t kill the mood by coming in and playing hymns on the piano.

But Nena decided that she was going to serve up some guilt along with the ham and beans Honey made for dinner. And as we sat around the dining room table we were talking about someone who was all alone. Nena said, “That’s like me. I’m all alone. All the time. I’M JUST ALL ALONE.”

Honey piped in and said, “Mother, that’s not true. You have friends all around you. Your children visit you almost every day. Most days you eat three meals a day in the dining room with all your friends.”

Nena replied, “Yes and it’s exhausting. I feel like all I do is dress for dinner.”

Which kind of contradicts her earlier statement about being all alone.

And that’s when Gulley looked at Honey and said exactly what I was thinking, “”Next New Year’s Eve if we go to the ranch I wish you’d remember to bring my jacket. I was so cold last year because you forgot my jacket.”

Because guilt really is the gift that keeps on giving.

No matter how old you are.