CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- Getting out of the house for practically anything is like turning around a jumbo jet or parallel parking a tractor-trailer.
We used to laugh at people with children who suggested having dinner together at 5 p.m.
Five in the afternoon? Come on, we said, laughing. You can't possibly be serious.
Not only were they serious, they were right.
Back then, we were like the Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and the rest of the Rat Pack. We didn't even start the evening until 8 p.m.
Now, if we are up at 10 p.m., we are very sorry and we pay a heavy price for several days.
I have a very good friend with seven children who HOME-SCHOOLS and WORKS. She's an ER surgery nurse. She also takes care of her mother at home.
If you ever have to have surgery, ask for Rose. She can concentrate like a laser. She probably ought to be doing the surgeries.
Whenever I see Rose in the grocery store -- tall and lithe, flipping that long mane of thick auburn hair -- looking for the Kroger manager's specials with the authority and skill of an FBI agent, one child on the hip and two in the buggy, I say, "Heh, Rose, where are the boys?"
She's like, "In the car of course! BAD MOMMY!" She gives me that intense look with her eyes bugged nearly out of her head (which I know so well). It's a little joke we have, so we laugh.
We are standing there by the bananas in produce (59 cents per pound) catching up in furiously fast staccato and throwing bananas in the cart.
We both know that you get one bunch of green bananas, one bunch of almost green, and one bunch of ripe ones so you save another trip.