Don't Bee Cruel

It was a typical Saturday of summer. Kind of. I slept in while hubby golfed at his usual 7:30 a.m. tee time. Then he came home and mowed the lawn and I took my sun-seeking sister out on the swing. Just two girls on a swing – watching our favorite human.

After we got enough heat, I took her inside and did some indoor chores. I had just finished vacuuming when Jim came in the house looking for ice. He accidentally disturbed a ground bees nest in the back yard and was stung in the ankle.

If you recall, he's extremely allergic. His epipen was in his golf bag but he didn't think he needed it just yet. It took less than 10 minutes for his palms to start itching like crazy (sometimes it's his fee) so we headed to the walk-in clinic, which thankfully is open until 1 p.m. on Saturdays.

When you have an bee sting allergy they push you to the front of the line and take you in while your spouse handles the paperwork. I remembered this from last time. Whew. Because they were busy enough he would have had serious issues be the time they called him in with the "regular" patients there.

One shot in the backside and a 20-minute wait, when just a trip to the pharmacy for additional meds and we were back to our normally scheduled Saturday programming.

First stop was a surprise 35th anniversary party for our friends Curt and Angie. And they were legitimately surprised. So that was cool. We were there an hour or so and by coincidence, we had another party in the Rudolph area about a mile or 2 away.

As soon as we got to Lars and Ashley's party, I felt like there was an angel (or devil) over my shoulder telling my to shake my hips and legs or, at a minimum, put on my blue suede shoes.

Too funny that for their annual summer party they hired an Elvis impersonator. And his voice was spot on!

And he was perfectly OK being part of our selfie. Thank you very much!

He also convinced Carter's former babysitters Jon and Audrey to dance!! 

During intermission, we returned to the anniversary party but we got evidence he changed into a typical Elvis jumpsuit. Pretty cool for someone who seems way too young to know Elvis!

We hung around the anniversary party campfire which was more like gasoline on plywood. But still, great company so how could we leave?

My camera phone captured the nearly full moon that lighted our way home. I don't know how Jim lasted all day with the Benedryl and other drugs without succumbing to sleep, but we made it home safe and sound. And while were gone, our next-door neighbor sprayed those two nests to death.

Have I mentioned lately how blessed we are? Hope you all are having a great (and safe) weekend too!

Out Walks Elvis, In Walks Mom

We all know Elvis has left the building. Or has he? 

Since I'm suffering from old-timer's disease, I forgot that the reason I was talking about SHAKES the other day was not just because of the Shamrock Shake I had, but because my mother is shaking things up out in Arizona.

After my brother-in-law's funeral last weekend, Rayna flew back to Phoenix area and took our mom with her for a mini-vacation from winter. Apparently warm weather does the body good. Especially the hips.

Yup. Just a month shy of 90, here's Mom shaking her hips and playing air guitar with her cane! I told my sister this picture is wonderful and hilarious at the same time! Love, love, love it.

It just reminds me that you can find joy anywhere. Just have to let go and seize the moment. And not care what others think. My vacation, my fun, my memories.

Deep down, she's always cared what people think, but thank god I got the "let's make some fun out of this" gene from her. Bless you, Mom (and Rayna). Your children – and the spirit of Elvis – are impressed!

I Remember Him Leaving the Building

I hate when there's a "Today in History" event from 40 stinkin' years ago and I remember it!

Yup, I remember the day Elvis died.

They used to say that "Elvis had left the building" when he was finished with a concert so people would go home. The fans used to stand outside a venue for hours, if not days hoping to see a glimpse of him after a concert. Elvis often had to travel in secret for just that reason. People still use the phrase and half the population has no clue what it's about. We elders do.

This is the weird stuff I recall about that day. Every time they mentioned he died in his bathroom, I could only imagine him sitting on the toilet. In a sequined outfit, of course. Also, he was 42 but he died of a heart attack, which I thought only happened to old people like grandpas and grandmas. Since my mom was a few years older than The King, I suddenly had it locked in my brain that at 45, she was definitely old.

Do I think that now? Heck no!

I also remember there was a big to-do about it since he was the most popular musical artist since Frank Sinatra. In my 9-year-old brain, I didn't think of Elvis as a "current" star. He was Mr. Old Black-and-White Movie guy. But how would I have known the difference anyway when we only had a black-and-white television?

I just know that the next time a major celebrity died, I was going to be sure my parents knew. I recall distinctly some 3 years later when I saw on the night-time news that Colonel Sanders had died. I went into my parents' bedroom and woke them up to tell them the major news.

Not joking. It is a distinct memory.

But no one ever said the Colonel left the building. He just kicked the bucket.

Still too soon? Or just not funny?