Happy birthday to that old hip-shaking King Creole

Elvis would be 78 today. I love this song, especially the way he sails on the last note.

Trying not to go there

I really hate how much space my older sister has in my head. It occurs to me that, by only paying $1,000 for my mother's funeral and not her fair share, she has sacrificed her long game -- which is to make me do what she wants. I am not a wealthy woman -- not by any stretch -- but I could repay her what she has shelled out to date* without much difficulty. So she really has no leverage. When she says she "expects to see real receipts, not post-its," I realize she has no recourse if I don't provide them. (Of course I will, because I am a grown up and am trying mightily to take the high road.) She has no cudgel any more.

So why did I let her ruin my shower this morning? I can't even remember which oldies I heard on the radio! When I hear her voice in my head, I must dismiss it. Change the channel in my head. Pet a cat. Think about a movie. Listen to the Lads. Cover my ears and sing "Camptown Ladies."

When this is over, I won't have to have anything more to do with her. So, to borrow from Bill Murray in Caddyshack, "I got that going for me, which is nice."

* But I didn't. Thank you to SnarkyPants and Vivian for the advice. It was wise and I took it.

Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici / FreeDigitalPhotos.net