Welp! (And also why you should tell your stories!)

It happens every year during the holidays when I'm doing more dishes than usual.  The skin around my fingernails starts to split, and while a sore thumb hurts less than, say, delivering a baby, it does hurt.  And also sore thumbs make  me think of my great-grandmother, who apparently was prone to the same condition during the Christmas season.  I know this because my mother always imitates her grandmother saying, "Ooooooo!  Patti Lou!  My thumbs are so sore!"

This great-grandmother used to say other things, too--like, "I'm going to get lined up today," as in "I'm going to get myself organized today."  (She never did.)  Or when something went missing around her home she'd say, "Dirty Marian must have stolen it."  Or if someone crossed the street when she was behind the wheel of her car, she'd say, "Get out of my way, you sonuvabitch."

You know.  Stuff like that.

And here's the thing.  I can practically hear her say those things because of all the stories I've been told.  She's a real and constant presence in my life, looking over my shoulder as I wash the dishes, telling me her thumbs used to hurt, too.

Yup.  Stories matter.