Beauty speaks when words fail

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Prayers be with her

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This is not a frivolous post. I implore anyone who reads this, regardless of your religious beliefs, to pray. If you're not one for praying, then send positive energy into the universe. My sister Maureen is undergoing a serious surgery tomorrow at 10:30 a.m. Loyola University Hospital. The surgery is expected to last 3-5 hours. She'll have a tumor removed that is the size of a large grapefruit. It has compromised one of her kidneys. Therefore, they will remove the damaged one. In addition they will attempt to give her a hysterectomy. Due to excessive scar tissue this may not be possible. Depending on the damage within, she may require a colostomy. Her liver, heart, lungs are all healthy. They don't anticipate any serious problems, but during the initial discussion of the surgery they had to give the run down of the possible things that could go wrong. Even when it's a million to one chance, they have to disclose the risk ... even death. When I first heard...
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This is probably TMI

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I'm not one for keeping an immaculate home. I grew up in a house that was clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be lived in ... or something along that vein. I tend to avoid cleaning beyond the regular chores of washing dishes and laundering our clothing. I know our cats turn the countertops into their own stage. Because I have visions of the two cats doing their strippers on crack routines on the counters, I keep anti-bacterial spray on hand at all times. What I'm confessing to is not getting into the nitty gritty of cleaning on a weekly basis. In fact, if it comes twice a year I consider it OCD. I have a distinct recollection of my mother only cleaning our kitchen floor by means of scrubbing it on hands and knees. That is drilled into my head as the only way to truly get the floor clean. I own a Swiffer Wet-Jet, but that thing doesn't really get the floor clean in my opinion. I use it between times when I break down and get on all fours to scrub the kit...
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My Hero; My sister

My sister Maureen is the kind of person you meet and immediately hope she'll be your friend. She's kind, compassionate, funny, comfortable in her dorkiness. She's an amazing mother, sister, friend, confidante. I say that with complete confidence because she has served as all those roles to me. Born August 10, 1955. She's the fourth child of eight (ten when you include later in life additions.) She has this goofy ability to close one eye while the other one remains completely open. It's creepy, but that's Reenie's trademark. Photos of her as a child reveal this endearing talent. She's considered the middle child; the peacemaker. On August 11, 1965 Maureen received a most unique gift: ME! I nearly arrived on her birthday. Due to this timing it seems we were bonded. Destined to be two peas in a pod. Wherever Moe went -- Missy followed (that's my nickname.) She never complained about having this miniature companion. If she did, she never made me feel in ...
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