But Don't Get a Swelled Head

They try to make me feel good, these guys who host my blog: They just issued a report saying that if I were an exhibit at the Louvre, it would take three days for all the people who came to my blog in 2011 to see it.And I find that very nice indeed - even though I know very well that at least half of these people came  hoping to see pictures of ladies in bras.Or not in bras.Or because they spotted the tag "men’s underpants."I posted for 364 of last year’s 365 days and am told that my busiest day was October 19, when I wrote something I titled "Call Me Miss Hannigan."Go figure.I don't think I wrote about a drunken orphanage boss but let's have a look. Ah yes, here it is now, one of those whiney posts.I forget what the most popular post was in 2010 but in 2009 it was the piece I wrote about Rosemary Kennedy, the “other sister” in the Kennedy clan, the one with the botched lobotomy.My mother knew her. She didn’t know the rest of the family, except for the iron matriarch Rose whose clipped and imperious letters I still have in my attic.She sure knew Rosemary though. They slept in the same cabin for three weeks. .And my most popular post in 2008, indeed my most popular post of all time?One called "Peachy Keen: Dirty Pictures" that  had an antique photo in it that just proves the old truth that if a girl covers up just a little she will end up looking far sexier than if she went totally nude. That one is here with its picture belowSo there it is: my report card so far. I’m rounding the home stretch to the 1,000-post goal just now. Come with me and let’s see how the world looks to us from there.A life well spent eh? Well, laugh and the world laughs with you!

Call Me Miss Hannigan

Wow, tough coupla days. Had two hours sleep Saturday night and entertained all day Sunday. Our little grandsons slept over so we could all celebrate a certain landmark birthday of this former boy seen below, who came into our lives back when David’s hair was almost black and mine floated above my head in classic 80s fashion.He and his bride took the whole family out to dinner at a fancy steakhouse Saturday night.I had hired a team of big guys from this pool of fun guys to babysit the little guys while we were gone and that was a great success. Only thing is when we came back at 9pm we saw the children were both in the same tiny bed.“This is unsustainable!” I said. “Leave them be,” David said.  And so into our own bed we got - and lay there wide awake for houes. (I couldn’t sleep so he couldn’t sleep so I couldn’t sleep: you know how that goes.) Then, sure enough, at 3:45 the little one woke with a cry. The quarters were just too close.David had gone to the living room sofa by then so I put the child in bed next to me but it seems the poor older brother remained awake until sun-up. He wrote a series of plaintive notes that made me feel like Miss Hannigan herself from Little Orphan Annie. Poor child! "What time is it TT?" said one in his little-boy spelling. Sweetheart that he is, he didn't feel he should just come wake us. By 6 though I was up with them both, cooking bacon, mailing toast down into the toaster's little letter slot, mixing cocoa... And it was all fine - until the little one said he was cold.Extra clothes didn’t help.Neither did a hot bath, even with my awesome foam blocks that stick to the sides of the tub.  By 11, having given up on the church plan I had long nurtured – it was the much-anticipated day for the Blessing  of the Animals – he and I were leaning feebly against each other coloring a fuzzy poster while his older brother was deep into his sixth hour of the Disney Channel though at his house he can watch only two hour of TV, and that only on weekends.What could we do? One of us had a fever and everyone else was exhausted. The day picked up when the rest of family arrived including the birthday boy  and his parents and the world of great food that they brought.We ate. We watched football. We even played a little baseball out back. It was a fine day, in sum, but I’m STILL paying the price: I actually fell asleep while ironing last night and that is one good trick.  And even now, on this Wednesday morning, I keep looking at the foam blocks the little one tried so feebly to have fun with and wish I had them both back with us to do a better job grandma'ing. Then I go and have another nap.