I called my mom over the weekend and she actually picked up the phone. She said their caller ID was out of whack. Anyway, she sounded a little bit like Bob Dylan or, if you are old enough to remember or a fan of old movies, like Lauren Bacall...if Lauren Bacall was Scandinavian...and had a bad cold. Kind of raspy. Like she had used Brillo Pads for the Swedish Meatball casserole. We 're pretty sure this is her first cold this century and she didn't have many in the last, either. In fact, I don't remember many times when I was growing up that my mom was sick. Sick of me, probably...but not really physically ill.

Before I was born, she had appendicitis. It came after she had eaten M&Ms, so she swore off of them for life. My youngest son and I have done our level best to make sure our family's quota has not suffered due to her anti-"Melts in Your Mouth. Not in Your Hand" stance. By the way, they will melt in your pocket, especially after being put through the dryer. As I say, that was before I came along. The only other major health issue I remember for my mom involved a wedding dance and a dog bone. That could be the title of a country song:

"While you danced with him at your weddin',
I was standin' in the shadows all alone.

Like a pork chop without spicy breadin'
Or a smelly old dog without a bone."

The story, as best I remember it, goes as follows. It was a Saturday and we'd had a family wedding. A bunch of aunts, uncles and cousins were roaming around at our house after the service biding time until the dance and reception. When one of my uncles pulled up into the driveway, my mom, being a good hostess, walked out on the back stairs to welcome them. Well, her foot hit a bone the dog had been chewing on and she went head first, in the air, down three concrete steps, landing on her outstretched hands. She was still wearing a long, red-patterned dress from the wedding and looked a little like an elaborate kite as she floated through the air. At first, she did not think she was hurt...a little bruised on her palms but okay. After all, there was a dance coming up...polkas, waltzes, schottisches, maybe some big-band stuff...and my mom was, and is, a great dancer, so she wasn't about to let little things like contusions and broken bones slow her down. She took the standard Lutheran-church cure for most everything: Two aspirin, not "coated" or "capsuled" or "gelled," but the old-school kind...gritty, chalky and hard to swallow; lots of black coffee...none of this new-age, touchy-feely flavored stuff; and a dress-sock covered in Vicks Vapo-Rub. (The last thing really wasn't helpful for her particular situation but it was, nonetheless, required by the "You're Not Really That Sick So Get Up and Go Do Something Health Care Manual" published by the Martha Circle at our church.)

She went dancing that night but really started to feel some serious pain by the time they all got home. Turns out she had chipped a bone in her arm...around her elbow, I think...when she tried to break her fall. Even with that, it was better than trying to slow her descent with her forehead. She never yelled at the dog, Misty, because she knew Misty didn't believe in burying bones for fear of getting her paws dirty or, more appropriately, at me since I was the one who had not properly cleaned up the back steps before company arrived. As I recall, the dog and I stayed mostly out of sight throughout the unfolding situation but, the next day, we bought her a large Hershey Bar and a bottle of Coca-Cola as get-well gifts.

So, this story is told as a get well wish to my mom. I hope you are about over your cold and back out doing the things you like to do! If you're thinking "What a cheap-skate. Using channel 9's web-site to send a get well greeting rather than springing for a card and postage!"--I promise to take her a Hershey Bar and a Coke the next time we're up north...and our dog promises not to leave his stuff laying around.