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Monday, January 10, 2011


I was reading one of my favorite blogs ( and an event in my life just popped into my head.   I quickly switched over to a draft page on my blog and got the basics written down.  It took me weeks to get the feet to go with this piece.  Thanks for the memory, Nicki.

As I was crawling down what seemed to me was a very long hall I had doubt that I would be able to make it.  The room appeared to be spinning.  Then two little feet come into view.

Although it caused me great pain, I gradually raised my chin and followed the legs up to the body and head that were attached to those small feet.  They belonged to my young son, Gene.  His six-year-old face looked concerned, his brow was wrinkled.  

He got down on all fours, too, and said, "Mommy, are your sick?"

I moaned, "Mommy, has the flu" (which of course was a lie).

Slowly, I crawled into the bathroom and promptly released the gallon or so of Margaritas churning in my stomach.  My wonderful son held my long hair back and uttered the words of reassurance that I used with my children under similar circumstances.

I felt SOOOOOO very guilty and VOWED that day never to drink Margaritas again.  My son is 47 now and I doubt he remembers his mother's flu.  Although, I am sure he has had experience with that particular flu.

Bowling night was never the same after that.   I did modify my vow to never drink more than two Margaritas.   I am sure the manager of the bowling alley was appreciative.  When having only two Margaritas I thew less air balls than usual.