We must travel to the state capital today to get hearing aids and new glasses for Ol' Abner. That would be his mythical name. As a child I spent early years in the Arkansas hills before the financial blessings of the Lone Star State lured us to the Texas panhandle. The Sunday comics featured the ongoing antics of Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae and I followed them closely through the pages, then a movie and a high school stage play. While my other half was a little more industrious in his professional life than the "mattress tester" career of Li'l Abner, I relate to Daisy (same name as my favorite flower) as his strongest advocate and protector of his sanity. These days he could qualify as a "sleepin' chair tester" though. Age tends to slow us down in every way and it's actually rather nice. My very own "Mammy" (dubbed so by her first granddaughter) wore a painted shirt with something to the effect that it is okay not to be able to see, hear, or chew, but "I sure do miss my mind!" I do wonder what it will be like for him to always hear what I say the first time. At times I am sure he ignores me, and other conversations end with the appearance of complete agreement from him only to be met by total denial of any knowledge when the time comes for action. Glasses, however are another story altogether. No less than two dozen pair have just gone away in the last year. Some are in his pocket, then they are not. Others fall out as he leans out of the boat to retrieve something from the lake or river, some may have been burned with leaves in the "holler" behind our home here in "Dogpatch". Every trip involves at least one pair lost and some just cannot be discribed other than missing.