Aunt Olla sits in the kitchen near the end of yesterday's Thanksgiving festivities here at the house. Above, Lance caught Olla close up, which is an accomplishment. She noticed the flash, so Lance took off and she said, "Yeah, you'd better run." 

Above, I attempted to catch Olla deep in conversation with Uncle Orv. She noticed me from thirty feet and immediately squared up to the camera, improved her posture and put on a smile. But she wasn't happy.

I get nervous when Aunt Olla walks on shag carpet. The floors at the Hilton are all tile. She can go months without walking on shag. At least twice, she has wandered off in my living room only to take a tumble. If we're all busy in the kitchen, she'll just get up and go on and hope we don't notice. However, it could be bad. So when she get up to move to talk to somebody else yesterday, I ran to catch her. 

When she went over to visit with Dad, he asked how it was going and she said, "Well...I was planning to be in the grave by now, but that didn't work out." 

However, she's losing her senses, as she puts it. The hearing is nearly gone, the eyesight is getting worse and her poor brain just doesn't function.