A Hero Ain't Nothin' But a Sandwich.
Raise your hand if you got that one.
OK. I got that out of my system.
I know with all of the snow and ice and crap that's been going on in Atlanta recently, you think I'm going to write about the cop who handed out coffee and granola bars to stranded motorists on the highway. Or the hotel worker who walked three miles in the snow to get a non-paying guest (i.e., lobby squatter) who had just had open heart surgery the medicine he needed. Or the man who walked five miles to be with his child who was stuck at school.
But I'm not! (Hey, wait a minute. Didn't I just?....)
After that obvious stuff passed, I was thinking about everyday heroes in my own family. So I just want to give a few shout-outs.
To my mother who didn't kill me when they took me to London when I was 11, and I made her skip something really lovely and educational to take me to Madam Tussaud's Wax Museum and House of Horrors. That's an afternoon of your life you will never get back. I'm sorry.
To my dad who melted Hershey chocolate for me after I had my tonsils out when I was 8. Is that cool or what?
To my niece who is a kick-ass single mom of two little minions, yet manages to cook more than I do (and better), have a wicked garden, and still have a raucous social life. At least it looks that way on Facebook.
To my husband who once had to hold a bowl for me to vomit into while I was ... um ... doing other things. TMI, I know. But you guys just have to know what I've put this man through.
There are plenty of others, but I'm out of time. That really isn't the image I wanted to leave you with. Sorry 'bout that.
Finish Well.
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