Happy Birthday, Parental Unit

Aren't you Peeps about sick of all the birthday celebrations at the Beachy House?
It is really a busy time of year for us.

I must, however, give a tribute to the Parental Unit. She is 86.

When I first began blogging, I was a hostage in Florida condo with Parental Unit and her crockpot. For a month.

It was a looong month between morning coffee wafting through the air at 4 AM and the STENCH of pot roast in the crockpot.

I haven't fixed anything in my crockpot since I escaped, and haven't eaten pot roast either.

ANYWAY, we are very fortunate that we still have Parental Unit and she is in great health. Her only problem is arthritis which cramps her "going", but not much.

In August of this year she finally retired. Yes, retired. She has been working her whole life. She loves to dress up and I think she worked all these later years just so she could shop, buy and wear new outfits. She's pretty much a hoot.

There are days when the arthritis is so bad she is FUSSY. CRANKY. As is the family takes turns calling her on different days so we all won't be put through the wringer every single day until the Motrin kicks in.

It's called survival...for us.

Until this summer, she drove a Mini-Cooper with fake bullet holes on the back fender and spinners on the wheels. When she traded cars, those bullet holes "washed off" in the car wash and the manufacturer doesn't make spinners for her new wheel size. Heh Heh

It's called survival.

For her celebration at 85, we had a big dinner party with family, friends and old photographs. It was great.

This year she just wants to go to Florida for a few weeks and veg out. I'd say she has earned that right.

The only problem with that is she can't go alone.

Guess who is spending Thanksgiving in Florida!!! Parental Unit, me and the crockpot. It makes me weepy.

She keeps the thermostat on 86. I guess one degree for each year of her life.

I love you, Parental Unit, crockpot and all, and I don't say that lightly. You've given our family...fits at times, but more wisdom from your "Southernisms" than we will ever remember. You are the "main dish" on our dinnertable, and life would be so dull and boring without you and your precious little set ways.

So, grab your beach towel, bathing suit and romance novel and we'll go to the beach!