(My Momma second from left, My Aunt second from right.)
My Aunt died yesterday.
She was 100 years old.
That's along time to live.
I made sure my grown children knew about this.
They didn't know her really, but I wanted them to know that she lived to be 100 years old.
I really want them to worry that I may live that long!
My mother lived to be 92. But 100 seems so much more.
What kind of croutchity growly grumpfest of a nasty ole fart would I be a 100?
You know the kind of old meany that punches a hole his own diaper and then spreads the leaking content up and down the hallways from his electric wheel chair.
I think I'll stick around and see.
Think of all the blogging I can do between now and then!