A decade (plus) has passed since my parents came to live with me and my husband and our three sons. Sometimes I laugh, or cry or pull my hair out, but it has not been boring. Even the most mundane days are enlivened by unprompted remarks and unintentional antics of my parents that I lovingly refer to as Elder Folktales.
Monday, September 5, 2011
You Be the Judge!
Last week Mom called me a whore. I guess I should be upset, but you have to realize that sometimes what she says and what she means are two different things. She was watching a TV program called Hoarding: Buried Alive. Here is a picture of my sewing room. You can judge for yourself.
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You Be the Judge
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