I had to take a check to the post office to get it overnighted to Massachusetts. On the way home, I pulled up mom’s street and took the Sharp’s almost beer we picked up at CostCo last Friday to her.
She wasn’t expecting me and I had a hard time getting the gate open and I called her. She came out (during which time I realized I should have been pushing on the gate, not pulling) and I took the case of Sharp’s into her house.
She’s looking and feeling pretty damned good. She’s put on a pound (after months of losing) and she thinks that’s because of the ten pounds of fruitcake she’s eaten. The stuff I gave her for her birthday.
She said it’s been a month today since she quit smoking. She tells people she’s “quitting for her daughter”. I’d really rather she quit for herself, but hey, if quitting for me gets her to quit, I’m all for it.
She started smoking at fourteen. She’s seventy-five. She had quit for about three years when dad was still alive, but then his heart stopped and she started smoking again because of the stress she was under (my father was very, very bad with finances; he liked to spend more than they had). And once she started, that was all she wrote.
75-14=61
61-3=57
She’s smoked for fifty-seven of her seventy-five years. If quitting for me does it, go for it mom!
One day at a time.
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