Things I don't know

I still don't know what tomato gravy is. My assumption is that it is some sort of stewed tomatoes. Do you put it over potatoes? Rice? Noodles? Biscutis? All I know is that my cousin keeps threatening to come here and force feed it to me. I can vomit on command with the words "tomato" and "gravy" in the same sentence.

I don't know why people are mean to each other.

I don't know why that woman on the Smucker's jar stopped smoking at 97-years old and now we're saluting her 106th birthday. Meanwhile, we're mourning a 2-year old victim of abuse or neglect.

I don't know why some 45-year old women are starting their families and others are raising their grandchildren.

I don't know why our ears, noses and feet are the parts of our bodies that continue to grow as we age. I would pick some different parts.

Meanies

My goddaughters used to collect Beanie Babies. I collect Meanies.

Somewhere along the line, I've let people know that it's okay to tell me the unvarnished truth. Even when it hurts, I prefer it that way.

Walking around in a fog, trying to figure out what I said or did, doesn't work for me. Just tell me! Fortunately, I grew up with someone who has no problem calling me on the carpet.

I used to tell the husband that I don't have a mean bone in my body. When he started gasping for breath and I was trying to remember my CPR training, I decided to let that phrase go.

I grew up with Queen Meanie and I am her clone.