Seeing Things

I forgot to mention the night before last at about half past midnight (yes, I was still awake--argh!), Mary called my name--in a rather strange, sort of frightened voice. Of course, I ran in there as fast as I could. She said that she'd just seen me standing at the foot of her bed. I asked if I was still there. I mean, you never know, considering that she used to see faces on the ceiling even when I was in the room. She said no, in a tone that indicated that I was being silly. We agreed that it must have been a dream. She said she was just dropping off to sleep... to which I replied (in a tone which indicated that she was being silly) that she'd been asleep already, which I knew since I'd heard her snoring. That's a bit wicked of me to say that because I know she doesn't like to be told that she snores. (vain, vain) I guess no one does. Boy, I remember Grandma (her mother) snoring when she'd lie down for a nap! That was such a shock for me as a kid, like when I found out that Grandma had whiskers (ie, a beard practically) and that Angie and Preacher shaved her! (I pick Mary's hair's--and Mom's, Anna's and Angie's, although Ange is a real wuss and yelps so--out with my fingers. My nails have to be really short. This amazes them, which just makes me laugh more. That's one thing I can't stand to see--facial hair. Especially if it's long. Yech!) Well, anyway, I usually make it up to Mary when she asks, "Do I snore?!" by replying that she just snored lightly--more like heavy breathing. Yeah, right.

Poor thing. (I'm always saying that!) She's asleep in her chair (the tiniest lazyboy we could find). She swears that she doesn't sleep during that day. Ha, ha! I imagine she's tired. I know I am. She coughed all night. I gave her a pill before she went to bed. This morning around 5 AM I was too sleepy to get up to give her another one. Bad, bad, I know. I guess I should take her to the doctor. I just hate to, though. More medicine. Waiting room. Explaining a thousand times why we're going and listening to her protestations. The aunts say she gets a cough every winter. Mary says she had bronchial pneumonia and Anna had, I think, double bronchial pneumonia when they were babies. (I should have written that down because she doesn't remember anymore. Or I could ask Anna. She's still sharp as a tack. Well, an old tack.) Anyway, they thought Anna was going to die. But Mary's had a cough, she says, on and off ever since then. Funny, I don't think Anna ever gets a cough.

If I were very clever, I'd borrow my brothers video camera and put clips of the aunts on here. But, alas, I'm not very clever about computers.

Better get something down. I've still got Mary's robe to sew, although I'm scared to death to start it. For one thing, I haven't sewn anything for ages. For another, this material is odd (very soft, furry sort of of) and very expensive. So I can't make a mistake. And, then, I want to use Mom's serger as much as possible. It's a great tool if used correctly. Covers the seams up just like in bought clothing. Well, I really want to get her robe done by her birthday. Although I've just about decided that it's better to put a wool sweater (my old one) than a robe on her.

Gotta go--Mary's got a visitor.