One year, winter confused itself with summer -- the old season being senile this late in her life -- so we spent that winter in the heat.

"Why can't we wear our summer clothes?" Sister asked my mother, boiling up in her winter coat and gloves.

"Are you crazy?" she replied. "It's the middle of December!"

So every school day she bundled us up in electric scarves and bearskin coats, and sent us out in the summer-heated streets.

When Christmas came around, Mom made us go build a snowman for her while she was preparing Christmas dinner. So we made a snowman out of mud, using rocks for eyes, apples for the nose and mouth, and tumbleweed for hair.

Later that day, my older brother tried to go sledding down a rocky hill across the street. But instead of sliding, his sled only tumbled.

And when we came home all hot and sweaty, and dirty, and bloody, mom gave us hot cocoa and put us by the fire to warm up.

We loved our mother, even though she got confused sometimes. She wasn't crazy, just not very perceptive. She had no idea she was doing anything wrong when she tried to start a friendly snowball fight with our next door neighbor, Mrs. Beckley, leaving her body twitching and bloody underneath her miniature house-shaped mailbox.

Hey, does anyone else find it odd that Carlton Mellick the third's AOL screenname implies that he's the first? o.O --Pancake <3 (Sorry, couldn't resist adding the heart.)