"I'm too sexy for yourself; too sexy..."

Sunday afternoon, 1:00 pm. Hubby is "suiting up" for a shopping marathon at Wally World.

From top to bottom his ensemble includes: a blue and gold ballcap from a community college; a gray and green Portland State University Athletics T-shirt; a pair of khaki Dockers with green paint splotches, holes and frayed hems; and a pair of ankle-high Red Wing workboots long past their prime. His hair is wild, he has a three-day beard stubble, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't bathed since early Friday morning.

He tucks in his shirt, loads up his pockets, then gives himself a last admiring look in the mirror.

Then he strikes a pose and starts singing, "I'm too sexy for yourself, too sexy for yourself, too sexy...."

Ah, yes, you are *waaay* too sexy for me honey. (eyeroll)

Frozen in Time

(Valentine card from my brother-in-law Poppy.)

I've just returned from a two-week stint at my sister Nana's house trying to get her to part with more of her possessions. It's a hard row to hoe, but she did very well this trip. We took a truckload of stuff to the dumpster and a mountain of paper to recycle. Poppy lightened his bookcases by 250 books which were donated to a community library. Yay! Life is lighter at their house now. Next trip we get to lighten Nana's bookcases. Oy vey.

Anywho, I was at their house on Valentine's Day and got the card above from Poppy. It was perfect for me since my latest obsession is writing papers and fountain pens. When I pulled the card from the envelope, Nana and I both squealed, almost simultaneously, "It looks just like me(you)!"

When Poppy came home that night, he said he had plucked the card from the rack of hundreds just because she looks like me. Well, the little girl does look amazingly like me when I was her age. I'm well into middle age with gray hair and bifocals these days.

It's interesting all three of us said she looks just like me. Not that she looks like me when I was her age, but that she looks like me now. All three of our memories are frozen in time back when I was four, Nana was 16, and Poppy was 18. When we are together we revert back to that time and those ages.

Nana becomes Mother Hen again because she mommied me more than our mother ever did. There are times when I catch her looking at my dinner plate, pausing just a split second to consider if she should cut up my meat for me. I don't mind. I liked being mommied every now and then.

I enjoy not having adult responsibilities, or having to cook or clean or pick up after myself. I get to play with Nana's toys and poke around in her attic for treasures. I get to stay up late, sleep late and eat all kinds of sugary treats.

Frozen in Time is not such a bad thing after all.

Says my inner 4-year-old Speck, "I yike it."