Annabella came for dinner tonight. We had steak and pototoes. "Delicious!" Annabella knows how to be appreciative.
Annabella drank Stella Artois with tomato juice. Yes, in the same glass. Ann and I drank Inida Pale Ale. Annabella's open-minded. She likes us even though we drink different beer.
Annabella told us about a dance they had in the church hall recently. Some kids asked her to dance, so she did. She said to them, "I'm 92 years old." She did something I forgot the name of and twirled her hips.
She said she also did the Snake Hips and the Scissors. The kids clapped. They said, "That woman can still dance." Then one said, "And she's got big boobs."
Annabella laughed in a high burst, like a chirp. She laughs like this when she says something amusing and slightly contraversial.
"When we were young, Mama (accent on the second syllable) went to all the dances with us. She danced with us. All the mamas did. We danced like waltzes and two-step. It was real nice. We didn't throw each other up in the air and bring our partner back through our legs. That was later. I don't like that jazz. We didn't have scratchy music."
"We used to have some good music,but those days are gone and we can't go back," she said. I like Porgy and Bess. My daughter Trisha took me to see Oklahoma downtown. It used to be all white, but this one is all black. There were some beautiful women. Trisha looked at me, and I was just...." Annabella drew the trail of tear from the corner of her eye. "It was beautful."
At the end of the night, she sang:
Grab your coat and get your hat;
Leave your worry on the doorstep.
Just
direct your feet
To the sunny side of the street.
Ann sang along, and they laughed and high-fived. Then Annabella looked, puzzled, at me. "I'm too young," I said. "I don't know the words." Annabella, unbelieving, looked at Ann for confirmation. Ann nodded. "Yep. She's too young."
"That's alright," she said. Then she stood and put out a hand to each of us. We all held hands. "Whenever I come here, I'm glad."
I'm glad, too, Annabella. I'm glad, to know someone who's 92 years old and singin' on the sunny side of the street.
"For me a brain tumor and its treatments are not a pause in the adventure of life, but instead a part of the adventure of life." Mary has survived big hair, a brain tumor, coming out, distressed bowel syndrome, hallucinations, radiation, and a car wreck. Here Mary takes us from public transportation horrors to the joys of sharing life with you. Though you probably won't want to have a brain tumor; you will wish that you could see the world through Mary's eyes. Sister Jen
A Photograph of me without me in it

A photograph of me without me in it
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