Truly I don't want to do a thing, but that's between me, my psychiatrist and my therapist.
I keep getting messages from The Universe...blog blog blog. I received another message today so I'm de-cloaking myself of blah for the next few moments and I'm taking action, People.
Here 'tis, as Granny Katherine used to say, 7 on Saturday. Those of you not familiar, I ditched my archaic slide phone ( it had a TYPEWRITER on it when you slid it open) and I didn't want to lose my pictures so I emailed them to myself and slowly but slowly I'm posting them here with frivolous witty captions that keep me busy and off the streets.
Now back to it...
My baby, 6 years old at the time, climbed to the top. I don't know what happened, but now that she's 9 she won't go up 5 steps to enter the bathroom on her own. Go figure.
This was taken in May of 2016, Mom had recently moved into the Manor.
She was a little disgruntled about moving in, truly she knew a move was best for her but didn't want to do it.
It was an important moment for us. One that is inscribed on my brain.
It all worked out well, just the way it was suppose to.
Hugs and kisses, People.