My Grandmother’s Skin?

Every night, if I don’t avert my eyes when I reach to turn out the light, I see what I remember  my grandmother’s skin looked like.

Good grief, when did that happen?

I don’t know if I am like my grandmother. But I know I am becoming like some of the older women I’ve known, in ways I never imagined I would. For example:

New Quirks

From never thinking about how or where I put them, I now sort the dollar bills by denomination in my wallet,  enthusiastically.  But note, I do not wash and press them as one of Doug’s aunts did. Not yet, anyway —Have you ever noticed how dirty some bills are?

Another New Quirk: From never letting my coffee get cold, I’ve become my aunt who would reheat the same cup of coffee in the microwave three or four times in an afternoon. Guess where my coffee spends most afternoons?

I’ve become my aunt

Now This: I thought that was she was being impractical. My mother would never wear short-sleeved shirts, even in August.  Now, I don’t.  Especially knowing what my skin looks like!

I have to watch myself with my longer sleeves, though. Long sleeves are good place to squirrel away tissues – just like my mother did!

Finally: Some things I thought I’d never forget. Well, I have.

But I remember, Doug’s mom used a phrase that sounds better than I don’t remember when she drew a blank about people, places, or things: Refresh me, she’d say.

I’m gonna use it if I remember it.

What’s more, these two words convey more than requesting help to prod the dicey memory. Refresh  me, please, Lord is a practical petition for a seasoned citizen in the uncertain times that are today.  (Isaiah 58:11)


Refreshing our larder, as I begin week six of call it anything but a diet, please, we headed to Trader Joe’s, again. I made one sensible choice after another. Until I got to the checkout.


No, I didn’t buy it . . . maybe after I lose another  __________ pounds?

My luck, they will never carry it again.


Keeping Healthy Choices in My Kitchen Is Wise

I saw [her] even now going the way of all flesh, that is to say towards the kitchen. – John Webster

A little food for thought, as I end this rumination: A glutton is one who raids the icebox for a cure for spiritual malnutrition.~ Frederick Beuchner


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