…I lived with my grandmother. In my earliest memory at around 3, I was living with her. Now she lives with me. She is 83 years old, blind in one eye, and can’t drive. I would like to say I take care of her, but I think mostly she takes care of me. I asked her once if she was happy living with me, and she said she liked that she was useful (I’m not sure that actually answered my question). The kitchen and laundry room are her domain, and she also keeps track of my appointments, if I remember to tell her about them. I have a vitamin B12 deficiency that makes me quite forgetful, so the good news is she has a better memory than I do. The bad news is, well, she has a better memory than I do. She has a collection of amazing friends who cart her to Bible study, church, the grocery store, the vet. Sometimes I think she is in her room, then she comes strolling through the door, acting as if she was just out to the mailbox and refusing to answer questions about where she was. She is short and feisty and stubborn and the type who does not tolerate fools lightly. I love her immensely.

I also have a 16-year-old daughter who is a junior in high school, and a 16-year-old niece who lives with us while she finishes school. Collectively they are The Girls. They are quirky and funny, cool and stylish, with an endless stream of clothes and friends. For them I am chaffeur, maid, cook…well okay, not cook. (It’s kind of sad how very grateful they are when I do cook, considering how awful it usually is.) It’s their one flaw, that they do insist on food at least twice a day. Mostly they are in their own little world, but occasionally they emerge and share a moment with their great-grandmother that always squeezes my heart.

Also, I am a proofreader and copywriter. I mostly work from home or, if I work on client site, manage to be home by 3:30 (I have VERY understanding clients). I have been married 18 years (I think — I usually have to check with my husband about this, as well as how old I am, I can never remember). My husband is not an animal lover. He often referred to our one dog, one cat and three tiny fish as “The Zoo.” Somehow he endures our Yorkiepoo, Loki, my niece’s Chihuahua, Otter, and my grandmother’s four cats, so for that I have to cut him some slack.

I think that should give you the general idea. I may occasionally stray from the main theme, but I promise it will be fun. Let’s get to it!