Potpourri

Ed and I were planning to go to the gym.  DeRay was already gone when I realized I had left my gym bag in the car.

“Dad has my gym bag at Park City,” I complain to Ed.

“You should have thought of that yesterday,” he retorts.

I love it when he gives me advice.  He seems to be blessed with extra insights and I always pay close attention.

When he was only 9-years-old, he told me that Brent was going to be OK and would go on his mission.

When our eldest long-awaited for talented child-of-promise went in for his mission physical, we discovered he had an incurable kidney disease. We were devastated.  The day we got the final diagnoses and were beginning to comprehend how sorrowful and serious this was, Eddy says to me, "Be a good sport, sweetheart.  Everything's going to be OK.  Mom, I promise you, Brent will feel better and go on his mission.  I love you."  The next day, he reiterated, "Mom, I understood you yesterday."  (March 21, 1982.  Brent did go on his mission after a four- or five-year wait to get stabilized.  Membronoproliferative Glomeralo-nephritis – when the kidneys destroy themselves; no cure, no help; but for some unknown reason, 1 out of 4 do not lose their kidneys.  And on his mission, an old country doctor recommended a high blood pressure pill that greatly curtailed protein spillage. At 51 years of age, he still has his kidneys and his nephrologist said he doesn’t need to see him anymore.  Eddy's blessing proved prophetic and while it gave me great comfort, I seriously doubted at the time it would come true.)

“Thank you for dinner, Mom.  I couldn’t tell if it was good or nasty.”

“I’ll help you out. It was nasty.”

“Yip!”

          The Addict

I thought I had one left

Fess up. Who committed the theft?

More serious than ISIS is my crisis

For popcorn balls are amongst my vices.