A sense of humor is a must...

... since so many things never really change.

Mom is still neurotic about dishes. If you leave your water glass and tea/coffee mug on the counter to use over again, she will tease you about how even though you are forty something years old you still don't put your dishes in the dishwasher, and if you put your dishes in the dishwasher thus requiring you to get a new cup later she will complain, lovingly of course, to her BFF that she can't believe how many glasses "those two girls" use every day.

Sis and I still try not to compete. She does cross stitch and sews cloths. I quilt and knit. We both however parent and we find it difficult to talk about our children, especially in front of our mother, because we (or is this just me?) feel that Mom will be deciding who is the better parent.

We can still quarrel over nothing. We went to a quilting store closeout sale where there was literally one box of patterns left. The quilting books were 40% off (I scored), but cross-stitch patterns were free. I carried the pile over to my crippled sister and pointed out the several beautiful patterns of angels. She threw me a "I thought you were smart" look and told me that those angels weren't Biblical. Real angels were not anything like those pictures of beautiful women with clingy dresses and big wings. Had I read the description of seraphim? Later when she was going through Mom's old cross-stitch pattterns and, with permission, taking away as many as she wished, I did in fact feel that it was necessary to point out that teddy bears, toy airplanes, and Raggedy Ann and Andy were also not in the Bible. When we started good humouredly arguing about whether the cutsie farm animals were Biblical (my position was that, just as with the angels, some farm animals were mentioned, but not THESE adorable cartoony ones. The farm animals in the Bible were real ones with dirt and poop) Mom did have to roll her eyes and leave the room commenting that we hadn't changed at all.

The three of us can still spend hours in the living room working on needle work, laughing and not be able to remember what we talked about.

Mom was delighted we were there. On the first morning she said she woke up thinking she had dreamed that her daughters had just shown up on her doorstep, but then she realized that she was in the guest bedroom so it must have been real. (Sis and I shared her queen-sized bed.)

It was a good time. It was, according to my sister, the perfect girly vacation. We cooked, ate, crafted, and did a little shopping.

Brian tells me that they ate out every single night. Hubby insists that one night they did eat at home and Brian doesn't remember because it was just a "scrounge for yourself" evening. They really did intend to get the kitchen clean before I came home. There weren't any clean glasses left, but the dishwasher was running and there would be soon. The counters would have been clean, except that it was Brian's job to do it, and he went to bed early and that is why no one found the incredibly moldy cream cheese behind the mixer.