Happy 74th Mom !!!

I'm lucky she doesn't fully understand what a blog is
I'm lucky she doesn't have a computer
And I'm very lucky she let me take the picture in the first place.

September 22, 1940

Mom says - You're not putting that out there on the computer I hope !
Suzan says - Why?
Mom says - I don't want my picture out there - there's too many maniacs - are you crazy?
Mom says - You have to be very careful you know
Mom says - What about those people out there beheading people?
Suzan says - I don't think you have to worry about that
Suzan says - Can I just put it on my blog?
Mom says - What exactly is a blog anyway ?
Suzan says - I keep telling you -  It's like an online journal - just my blogging friends will see it
Mom says - Well okay - but I don't want it going anywhere crazy................
Mom says - And I don't want my face on that Face thing
Suzan says - Do you mean Facebook?
Mom says - You have to be very careful you know
Suzan says - Yes you already told me that - I'll be very careful.

Happy Birthday Mom - Love ya.

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I don't know why but the memory of shoe shopping stands out for me.
From the earliest time I can remember - till present - I've loved shoes and can very distinctly remember prancing around in my Mom's kitten heel sling backs...............
Unfortunately while my mother had a size 6 graceful foot - I inherited clodhoppers.

" You got your feet from your Father " she would always tell me

She wore a size 6.
Always.

I've worn a size 8 admittedly - ( and sometimes a size 9 secretly - for many years - until I could come to terms with that fact )

I picked up a pretty pair of shoes for her for her birthday.

I took a size 7 because I DO realize your feet get bigger as you age.

She opened them up last night - and fell in love with them - until she tried to slip one on her foot.

" they don't fit " she lamented

" I'm a size 8 now " she sighed

" No problem " I assured her - I'll exchange them for a size 8 "

" it all goes to hell you know - this age thing is not for the weak "

But all I could think about as we drove home.........................is that a size 8 or 9 is just about my limit of dignity - and if your feet keep growing am I going to be wearing a size 11 when I'm 70?

source

Send in the clowns - there's got to be clowns - don't bother they're here.

Have a wonderful day everyone -
I'm off to the shoe store ( and a podiatrist - I've got to stop this before it happens )
Otherwise I'll just be a nose and feet.

Much love,
Me

Let me introduce you to an amazing lady

I don't know how I found her- but I'm addicted.............

Her blog is called My Alzheimer's Story -
and it's an amazing journal of a Daughter's journey with her Mom through the process -
it's a blog not to be missed - seriously.
There are video's and soundtracks of conversations they have - some will leave you smiling - some will leave you crying - all will leave you absolutely mesmerized by the power of love.
Susan ( the daughter ) is eloquent and articulate as she shares her stories and you can't help but fall in love with both Mother and Daughter.
Their story is filled with grace and dignity - respect and above all, love.

Here's an excerpt from one of her posts.

Today is moving day.

My Mom Pinkie Patti leaves her home of 40 years to go into another kind of “home.”

The kind you go to when you don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing anymore. And she doesn’t.

She won’t know when she opens her eyes this morning that it will be the last time she’ll cast them on the sunlight streaming through her bedroom window.

(Dawn is just about to break, the sky is streaked with pink and blue, and a light frost coats the trees and fallen leaves all around the house.)

She didn’t know yesterday it would be the last time she would enjoy breakfast in her kitchen, clean her counter tops, or stare into the crackling flames in her fireplace. Soon these small joys will belong to someone else, someone who may never know how much each of them once meant to Patti.

She doesn’t know she won’t dance in the goldenrod in her field again, or swim naked with me in the lake or walk in the winter wonderland behind her house at Christmas.

Somehow the fact that she doesn’t know seems to make her imminent (within hours now) departure more tragic.

But none of us know when we’re going to leave the life we’re living. We may be snatched away at any moment, with no inkling the breath before was to be our last. It can happen at nine months, nine seasons or 99 years.

It's such an important story that affects so many and most of us know very little about it.
Take a visit
I promise, you'll be glad you did.
My Alzheimer's Story
and this is what love looks like.

Everyone have a wonderful weekend
Huge Hugs,