"Kentucky girls, we have fire and ice in our blood. We can ride horses, be a debutante, throw left hooks, and drink with the boys, all the while making sweet tea, darlin'. And if we have an opinion, you know you're gonna hear it.” -- Ashley Judd

It is very hard to capture my mother in law in a blog post.  I first met Peggy over 20 years ago.  She was the first woman I'd ever met with such a long, slow, southern drawl.  That is saying something, given that I grew up in Kentucky.  Peggy, born in Parma, Missouri, raised in the small rural town of Cape Girardeau, Missouri, and a regular Sunday church worshiper in her adopted big city of Paducah, Kentucky, had never met a Jew before she met me.  We bonded immediately!  Peggy is smart, funny, warm and loving, and, if you sit and listen for awhile, you can learn an awful lot.  After raising two boys, she was really happy to have another girl in the crowd.  Not long after Tim and I got married, Peggy started referring to me as her "daughter Lori Ellen".  I still feel incredibly touched and honored, every time I hear it. 

Last December, Peggy turned 80.  In some ways, it hasn't been an easy 80 years.  In just the 20 years that I have known her, I have seen her face two types of aggressive cancer, brave chemo with incredible grace and strength, struggle with severe and now debilitating osteoporosis, and endure an array of other physical challenges.  I have watched Peggy grieve over the loss of her sister following an accident, and the loss of her grand nephew from neuroblastoma.  Over the past couple of years, Peggy has lost more than 8 inches in height, and her back is very bent.  She is in almost constant pain and discomfort.    It is so hard for us to witness, especially being so far away, the physical decline of this active, strong woman who taught anatomy and physiology, zoology and biology to nursing students for years, raised two amazing sons, enjoyed gardening, refinishing antiques, hiking, camping, boating, and traveling, and who can sit across the table from me in a Mexican cantina and match me margarita for margarita, as we salute (her version of a toast) everyone we've ever known and loved (and even some who we have neither known nor loved).  Yesterday, Tim spoke with his brother, who lives near Peggy in Colorado, and heard that she seems unsteady, unwell, and not very much like herself.   It sounds like she's feeling very poorly, and like maybe she's lost a bit of her incredible will. 

I've never been particularly good at communicating my care and concern and thoughts to my loved ones.  Frankly, I'm terrible about cards, gifts, and phone calls, and I am sort of lousy at letting others know that I am thinking about them, or just how important they are to me.  My gift today, Day 4 in the 29 Gifts endeavor, will not be any grand gesture.  It will be a simple card to Peggy from me and Tim and the kids -- letting her know in the most open way just how much we love her, and how incredible we think she is.  We will all write in it and sign it, and maybe the kids can add some artwork.  We hope you feel better soon, Peggy.  As you have said to me so many times, Illegitimi Noncarborundum.