Just Thinking...

Not a whole lot else to do following knee surgery.  I love being at home, but not when I'm stuck and can't do a blooming thing except watch TV and ask for ice packs.

For those who don't know, I had surgery on my right knee on April 4 to repair some worn out parts.  Age has a way of doing that, doesn't it?  The good news is that I don't have to have a replacement - the orthopedist says I'm good for at least another 100,000 miles, so I'm taking his word for that.

When you've run out of books to read or the patience to read them, you start thinking about days gone by.  Nope, not the stupid things that I did to wreck the knee, although there was plenty of that.  Nope, I've been thinking about all of the family stories that I wish I'd had the good sense to write down while those telling them were still alive.  The family history.  Stories about my Granny Richardson and her mother.  Stories that my mother told me about the family.  Stories that my Mamaw James told me.  I wish I could remember more about my daddy's family - my Papaw Brickey and how in heck we're related to the Webbs - particularly Loretta's family.

Seems that there's music on both sides of my family - the Carters on my Granny's side and the Webbs on Daddy's side.  Not to mention the genetic love of music handed down from generations of Scots and Irish ancestors.  My youngest son has the gift of music; eldest has the gift of Blarney.

I remember many nights of Momma telling spooky stories, and Daddy chiming in with one or two of his own.  I wish they were still here to tell them to me.