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Wow! See? Details. That reminds me of my mother's first husband's mother's apartment. Her husband had died a year before my mother married her son. I would spend the occasional night or weekend there. I didn't know from Kosher and would want cheese on my sandwich or a glass of milk to drink with my dinner. Instead, she would force me to have soda. Force me to have soda??? Soda which was delivered to her doorstep in glass bottles. She had a putting machine that was probably her husband's. I would put the golfball into the machine and it would so cleverly kick it back to me. And wonder of wonders, she had an 8mm movie projector and Steamboat Willy on film.

Now write about Aunt Hilda. There. Things to write about. You're doing . . . well, gorgeously.

The Holiday Season approaches. I am sure you will have interesting posts about various family encounters. You could do a "before/after" thing about predictions and apprehensions and how it actually turned out.
Anonymous Fan of Your Family Posts.

you freaking rock, superstar!

Wow that was sweet!...I miss my grandparents!

This is a wonderful post.

I am mortified at the thought of storing corpses in mothballs in our apartment.

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