Back from Etowah

Well, Grandma had a nice funeral, and people were commenting how much she would have enjoyed being there for it. But then, isn't that kind of a standard comment for funerals? There was an indoor part (including the hymn Unclouded Day, which has been removed from the current Baptist Hymnal, which prompted mom to prompt me to grab her Methodist Hymnal and make 150 copies of the song at 11 p.m. the night before the funeral) and an outdoor commendation. Although it was at about 11 a.m. it was not terribly hot and there was a good stiff breeze.

I was one of Grandma's pallbearers, along with all the other big cousins and Harry Jr., and that was a heavy coffin. It was weird to be a part of carrying Grandma to her final resting place. It didn't hit me until later what an honor it was; she's in Garden Point Cemetery now, next to the other Wilmoths, next to where Pa will be someday, and I helped get her there. I'm sorry I had to do the girl thing and put my hip into it, but I know she wouldn't care in the least.

The church ladies made up a big buffet for the family and guests and it was good country eating. All the foods that these past couple of weeks have been shown to be poison to my family. I packed myself full of chicken and dumplings, candied yams, green beans cooked with ham, chicken casserole with those crispy onions on top, coconut cream pie, peach cobbler, whipped potatoes, cheese grits and chicken and dressing, promising to get back on the healthy skim milk-frosted mini wheats-strawberry train when possible. I know that when I'm on my own I'm a pretty healthy eater; and I know that from the mypyramidtracker.gov site. I also know that the site seems pretty silly to a lot of people, but I am now all too aware of the consequences of what goes in my mouth and how much time I'm on my butt. Seriously, get your cholesterol checked, look into your day-to-day eating routines, rethink the source of your tiredness.

Dad is doing well enough to say that he's going to help with cleaning. However, I haven't seen him start in on it. That's okay; I don't particularly care if he cleans or not. The only thing I care about is how much he says "please." We watched four whole hours of "Gilmore Girls" Saturday and an episode last night. I think he thinks it's better than he says it is.

I hate slipcovers and think they are the tackiest things unless you never sit on them.

Dad's chest wound has been bugging him today and yesterday. Well, I imagine it's a real humdinger to heal that kind of a cut. He went to Target last night with mom for a walk and was worn out when it was over. Partly, I think, because mom was into the shopping thing and dad, well, dad is a recuperating quadruple bypass patient. Also, he reported back that Target is not a great place to walk because there are not a bunch of seats all over the place. He managed to get halfway across the store pushing a cart and got desperate for a place to sit down and found where they were selling some cheap chairs and used those, then spent some time later leaning on a dog food bag and then managed to get to the snack bar, where he put his head down and got a glare from security. He did not have his special heart pillow to show and say, "Hey! I'm a heart patient! Don't rough me up!" And one of his prescriptions is to keep his heart pillow with him 24/7.

Well, that's the news for now. I need to get to the racquet club and be put on Suzy's membership so I can use the workout equipment and lounge around by the pool. That will be a much-appreciated distraction from the inside of Chez White.