I was talking to my mom on the phone yesterday and broached the holidays. I haven’t wanted to face it. She’s been coming here every year for 18 years. Not being together is a big deal. I said, well, maybe that’s the very unexpected silver lining of this horrible election season, I’m so upset about that I can’t be upset about Christmas. She says, good job turning lemons into unsweetened lemonade.
At least there’s humor.
She got it from my grandmother, who was a formidable woman. Maybe scary. She was a scary woman. She didn’t laugh so much as cackle. My grandmother was a Texan, the type that lived without air conditioning, in Texas. She and my grandfather lived on a farm/ranch as far away as the moon. It took a long time to get there. If, say, you forgot to get bread at the grocery store, then your dinner wasn’t going to have bread. It was three weeks to the nearest anything. My grandmother served dinner late. She said people will eat anything if they’re hungry enough. You can work out in your own mind whether or not she was a good cook.
If anyone told my grandmother what she “had” to do. Her reply was: I don’t have to do anything but die.
Okay grandma. Noted!
Back to my mom, I found the big insect on the day of the dead skull in the picture above while talking to her on the phone. I mostly call her while I walk the dogs because I like to walk and talk. I was telling her I wanted to take it home but feared it would get crushed in my purse. If you’ve been reading this blog, specifically the last three posts, you know my purse is currently NOT overstuffed! It’s actually understuffed. There was nothing hard and protective I could put this fragile fellow in. She suggests I blow air into a doggy poop bag and let the air be the protective barrier. Genius! It worked like a charm. Who else can I turn to for this level of quality advice? No one! I love you mom.
Happy Día Day Los Muertos. I never want you to be gone but you can rest assured that when you are, I will remember you.