Today is the first day of May. It's also my mom's mom's birthday. (I feel strange calling her my grandmother, because she died before I was born, and my grandpa remarried some months after that.) Her name was Barbara Mae; my grandpa is convinced somehow that it's meant to be spelled like the month, but it's not. He told me not long ago, as we were admiring the Easter eggs that she'd used to decorate every year, "People used to call her Barbara Green, because she liked green so much."
Barbara Green would've been much more fitting had her middle name been Jean. Not remembering that fact, however, I replied, "That must be why I like green." I doubt that the story is actually true. He's been raving about lots of strange things lately. I think it's the stress of his CHF, which is managing to stress everyone else out, too.
I took some lilacs to my parents' house today, to which I tied a small note after plopping them in a dime-store vase. I think my mom will appreciate them.
They always say that if it rains on Easter Sunday then it will on the next 7 Sundays. So if that's true then we have 5 more wet Sundays to go.— snippet from a local news item
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