Minnie's new blog is such an inspiration to me this morning that I'm going to bite the bullet and post a new blog, myself! Yes, yes, it is reassuring to find Minnie's words of wisdom and frustration waiting for me, as I stumble downstairs at 4 a.m., awake again and unable to get back to sleep, worrying over the truly idiotic things that plague our aging minds in the wee hours of the morning...

This morning it's the AT&T wireless bill that they sent me online...And is there anything I can do about it at 4 a.m.? Of course not, but there it is, staring me in the face when I awake from another restless dream...back hurts, head hurts, nose is stopped up...little red numbers on the clock can't be right...

I fix a pot of coffee and come into the living room to power up all my mechanical friends - Hello, Computer, Television, Floor Fan... The AT&T lady calls her computer "Fred." Yes, says I, I knew computers were male. Anything that darned contrary has to be of the masculine gender.

I feed the cats (they're real, so they have to be fed, or they'll eat me as I doze on the couch...) I pop on the blogs to wake up. Ahhhhhhhhh......dear Minnie in the Morning! Thank you, thank you! Minnie and a cuppa coffee!

Today I'm trying to get ready for my darling daughter's "old" college roommate's shower and wedding reception this week in St. Louis. The room mate is also a former student of mine, so I've agreed to tag along, despite the fact that the wedding was in Jamaica a month or so ago. This is all very confusing to me, but I will try to adapt...

I had planned to wear black. Black hides a variety of body and psychological issues. However, Darling Daughter tells me that I might want to choose a "brighter" color, since the theme of the shower is, after all, Jamaican...

I look through my closet to see if I have something that looks "Jamaican." Since I never throw anything away, I have lovely outfits that were perfectly in style from 1975 through 1997, when I suddenly lost whatever meager interest I had ever had in clothes.

Finally, I find a bright, floral blouse that I had bought at some unknown date in the past. It's been worn one time, I think. Had to be ironed. Need I say more?

After a brief nap on the couch, during which I dream that Obama announced Biden as his running mate, I get up and stagger into the laundry room, dragging out my ancient ironing board with the ragged cover, searching through drawers for the iron, an ancient relic which still works, so I find no need to replace it.

I grab for the spray starch and come up with the Rid-a-Bug Flying Insect killer. Oops! Caught myself just in time!

As I iron, I think of those days when I was a kid, and Mom taught me to press the cotton shirts. I see her hand with the tiny gold wedding ring. Those were good days. I press the hot metal on the collar, and then the yoke, and then the sleeves. I pay especial attention to the facing, so it'll stay in place, and I think of how we used to sprinkle the clothes, roll them up, and put them in a plastic bag to get soft. Then, we stood for hours and hours, ironing clothes and hanging them from the door facings - so the room was filled with sweet-smelling shirts and dresses. The whites had a faint, clean smell of bleach. I don't recall fabric softener being around then. No spray starch back then, either; we had to dip the clothes in a big tub of starch and wring them out. Boy, were they stiff when they dried on the line!

I don't iron much anymore, but I guess it's like riding a bike (which I haven't done since '75)- You never forget.

Now the rest of my Saturday awaits me. I've settled my business with AT&T and didn't even yell at the second person who helped me... I have three articles of freshly-ironed clothing to wear.. Life is good!

From the green, newly-washed hills of Tillman, this is your Roving Reporter, Madeline, hanging on for another day...with a little help from my friends!