My mom’s grandmother lived on a farm, like lots of people did back in those days. So she, my great-grandmother, had to go out and milk the cows every morning.
My mom once told me that while my great-grandmother was out milking the cows, she’d give her babies a box of pictures to look through. The pictures would keep the baby occupied while she was outside. Then when she was done I guess she’d come back in and resume her daily chores of churning butter, spinning wool and fighting off things like polio and small pox.
Yesterday I tried a similar tactic with a box of old Christmas cards we’ve received through the years. It bought me just enough time to eat a piece of cinnamon bread and drink a mug of coffee and egg nog.
It was the first time in weeks that I’ve been able to drink my coffee before it got cold.
I know, isn’t my life so hard?