Pamperin'

My Mom and Aunts have made a tough decision: Grandmother's long-time assisted living facility is pricey, and at the current rate she'll be out of money in two years. So they've moved her to a less expensive facility where she isn't pampered as much, and her money will last seven years.

Grandma is 97, in cruddy heath, and eager to go be with Jesus. If she had her way her body would have unclasped her soul long before. She doesn't like the new joint; she misses having attendants wait on her hand and foot the way a 97 year old woman deserves. I say let her go back.

If I'm ever in Grandma's condition, leave me in the pricey pamperin' place and send Dr. Kevorkian Jr. around once the money dries up.

Anyway, sorry I haven't been posting: Laurie has been wresting a grant proposal to the ground and I've tried to be a good house husband despite my shaky domestic skills. Plus I've done one audition that went well, and I'm gearing up for more.

I miss all ya'll from the B'ham scene. It's frustrating to go to a show and know I won't see any familiar faces.