That’s what my Daddy said after Momma made his favorite dinner, including cherry pie, and there was vanilla ice cream, too.

It was a hot summer afternoon after she’d fried a mess of okra from her garden to go with some cornbread, and brown beans. Then after his last spoonful of ice cream Momma told him she’d priced a window air conditioner. The landlady told her she’d have her handyman install it, but Momma didn’t have enough to buy the window unit.

“Honey,” he said. “You know I can’t stand that refrigerated air.”

“But I need it,” she said. “I can’t cook with just a fan in the kitchen, and …” That’s all she needed to say, because my 230 pound Daddy loved my Momma, and loved to eat.

••• Another time Momma told me to go and sit on the arm of Daddy’s recliner. “But wait until after Harry Volkman gives the weather,” she said. “And after your Daddy writes down the temperatures,” she said.

So I did.

I think I was in that sixth or seventh grade giggle stage, and I thought everything my Daddy said was funny.

While I laughed Momma came in right on cue, and commented how I was growing, and I was going to need a new winter coat.

“What’s wrong with the old one?” he asked.

But before she could answer he said: “Here comes the commercial,” and got his billfold out.

He took out a $5 bill.

“She’s a teenager now,” Momma said. “That won’t go very far to keep her warm this winter.”

Daddy started to put the money back in his wallet, then Momma grabbed it out of his hand. That’s also when she called him something that I’d never, ever, heard her say before. Daddy looked surprised, and then he laughed, and I pretended I didn’t hear what was said.

Here Comes My Commercial

It’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and I got smashed last week at Women’s Imaging in Enid. If you don’t have a yearly mammogram appointment, then please make one.

I found out in late 2005 from a scan, then a biopsy, and had 40 radiation treatments. Some of my Cancer Buddies had chemotherapy, and after hearing their stories I still feel lucky.