Hey! Nan at Things I’ve Found in Pockets gave me a-award (as my kids refer to receiving “an award”). Thanks, Nan!! I’ll linky-link love later.

Guess what I found in my son’s pocket this morning when I was doing laundry? That’s right — a rusty nail! Summer is here!!!!

I spent a large portion of the day packing up Dear Granny’s white dishes with the fluted edges (those are going to my auntie), the “Arkansas crystal,” the white dishes with the pretty blue flowers — Dresden! It’s this pattern. It doesn’t go with my apple pattern at all, but whatever. I think I need to pack the apple dishes away for awhile. Some of the pieces are antique, some are newer, all are getting chipped. (This is the pattern I crave, but my family in the South collects the apple pattern, so gooooooo, Jonesboro! I went with that. Besides — how girly is the Desert Rose? The girlier the better, that’s what I say, but it’s a little foofy for Steve.) (If I had it my way I would have five china cabinets.)

Tumblers, decanters, lace tablecloths, placemats and napkins, glass platters, painted china from her girlfriends, candle holders… and every time my mom and uncle put a box in the car, they added a box of Christmas stuff, too, unbeknownst to me. Which is why my living room, dining room and kitchen are now full of Christmas wrap, Santa candles, a Santa doll, a tiny baby Jesus (“The replacement!” my sister told me. “Because Josie ate the original Jesus.” That’s right. My grandparents fat, adorable, charming black Lab, Josephine, ate Baby Jesus. Along with two pounds of Hershey Kisses that my Dear Granny had tied to the Christmas in an enthusiastic show of decorating)…

As Planet Nomad would say, that sentence was too long I’ll start over.

Yes.

Am I unpacking/repacking/sorting? No, I’m not. I’m eating homemade tortilla chips, smokey chipotle salsa and garlic cheese curds from the Interstate Farmers Market.

Poor Steve, dear Lord, my poor, poor husband. All he said about Entering Christmasland: Santa Threw Up Here was, “Oh good, we got it back!” when he spotted the enormous Harry & David tin. He was remembering when we sent it to her for Christmas, a few years back.

“Remember? She said, ‘You shoulda seen all the junk that was packed in here!'” Heehee.

Did I mention the candles? OK. Back to unpacking. I am intimidated. And thrilled. Because how cool is this that I get to take care of my Dear Granny’s things for her? Also — and please I hope this doesn’t offend anyone — she and I have sometimes been described as “tacky” or “country.” That is the true reason why I inherited all this loot, not because she remembered me in her will or because I’m extra-special or something. The quilt with the cow, pig, corn fabric, the Laura Ingalls Wilder book set that is tattered and faded, the fake fur coat, the little wooden plaque decorated with buttons that reads “Friends are Sew Special”… it’s because no one else wanted this stuff. The costume jewelry in the plastic box, the 8,000 blank Christmas cards from Bi-Mart, the empty vials of nitroglycerin… excellent.

How could they not want it? This stuff is great. They are all, you know. Sophisticated. So they think. Well nyah-nyah, you just wait til I serve them a glass of ice tea in one of the clunky green goblets. Or some appetizers on the Arkansas Razorbacks platter. Classssssssssy.

Just sayin’.

(PS — Even though they don’t (usually) read my blog, I owe my kids the biggest thank you right this second. I can hear them brushing their teeth in the bathroom, chattering away. Happy and sweet, as always. The past few months have been so rough, and they have been just amazing. Always giving me the hugs, the love, not complaining even when I ask them to repeat themselves four times because I’m nine times distracted. They are such good kids. They’re keepers, as my Dear Granny would say. They are such keepers. Them, and the green goblets. And the glass candle holders shaped like stars.)

Hmm. Well it’s been another day of getting nothing done around here. You want to hear one of my Dear Granny’s stories? I know you do. (I’m putting all of these in to her cookbook, which will now be a memory book, too, I suppose.)

wm

“Paul and Virginia got married, Paul’s my brother. They kept it a secret for a couple of months. I don’t know why they kept it a secret, they were just being funny. They sneaked off to Memphis to stay for the weekend at the Peabody Hotel. Well, they was married! Jack went and asked the hotel, was some of his family here? They said yes. So he went to their room, knocks and Paul comes to the door.

Jack asked him, “What are you doing in here with an illegal woman, illegally?”

And Paul said, “This is my wife!”

I liked him, he was quite a character. I think Paul could have killed him, I really do. You could hear him up and down the hallway at the Peabody Hotel. That Jack, he liked to pull tricks on people. He was married to Irene McCarty. She was the oldest McCarty. There were eight or nine of those kids. Miz McCarty was the dearest lady. I loved that lady.”

…and my Lelo is going.

Are you? Are we? Only time will tell…

It’s not a happy Friday over here, you know why? Because I keep picking up the phone to call my Dear Granny is why. Argh, stupid phone.

Nonetheless, I wish you a happy Friday, and to those of you who are mamas — happy Mother’s Day weekend.

Besos,

wm

my cousin just called a little bit ago, Nancy this is the call.

my Grandma is gone.

“Life is a train of moods like a string of beads; and as we pass through them they prove to be many colored lenses, which paint the world their own hue, and each shows us only what lies in its own focus.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson

Pet peeve: When someone says, I’m only playing devil’s advocate, only they are screaming it at you and not taking time to even attempt to hear where you’re coming from. No, you’re not “pretending” to give me someone else’s opinion, as some cat-and-mouse “devil’s advocate” thing (more…)

Hey. Bullets? Okay.

* My husband asked me out for lunch. Wasn’t that sweet? Then he bought me an iced vanilla latte. That was sweet, too. Almost as sweet as the mango custard we had with lunch. Almost as sweet as the kheer. (Had to sample that, too.) Almost as sweet as Steve. He’s pretty sweet. Hmm. Maybe I’ll do his laundry for him now.

*Lentil Garden, you are the best Indian buffet place around. I mean it. Smooch. Thank you for the “Southern Comfort” food.

* No, I haven’t studied yet today. (Edited to say: I opened workbook. It intimidated me. I closed it. I opened it up again and began to study.) (School at age 44 is a lot different than school at age 22. If you’re young and you’re thinking of dropping out, or “wrapping up that degree” later on, plz you will think again.)

* The nail tech next to me yesterday, to her client: “I’m taking this class and I’m thinking, What the hell? This is so frickin’ hard! For my final I wrote and wrote and wrote and my teacher wanted more and I told her, Too bad, I’m out of ideas.”

* hahahaha. For some reason, she is going to be able to get by with this and still graduate I just know it. Me? The prof would flunk my ass.

* Hmm. I did work out last night and this morning. You?

* Our son had a great birthday weekend. Seven is so grown-up. Six is still a little kid. Wow. I have a seven-year-old and a nine-year-old.

* They’re still not too old for the park, thank God.

* I’m still not too old for the park. My knitting, a mug of coffee, my girlfriends, all the kids tearing around, ahhhh…

* Really loving the sunshine.

* Happy Monday to you.

xxox

wm

Please send love to Miss Zoot and her family.

One day, long, long ago, there lived a woman who did not whine, nag, or bitch.

The End

(That was courtesy of Zip.)

Listen, my friends, if you are still out there, that is? Are you there? ?Si o no? It was a rough day today. It has been a rough few months, I think you have probably already figured this out. I cannot give details. But I will tell you this… I am lucky to have you, and I am blessed to still have my grandma. How many of us can say this, once we hit our forties?

I am 44, my grandma is 88. I called her on our last birthdays (they’re a week apart) and told her, You are double my age! She thought that was hiiiiii-larious. I love my granny for a lot of reasons, but the number one reason is 1) she will always talk about my cousin with me, when I am missing him and the second reason I love her so is 2) she’s zany.

It is tough seeing her down and not feeling well and not hardly zany at all. I am not feeling very zany, either. I cry all the time now, from stress, from my grandma being sick, from this flu/cold thing that won’t leave. Because right now everything makes sense and nothing makes sense.

It looks like my family leave will be approved (for 12 weeks, unpaid except for the first bit of it), and that’s about the only good thing I can say for today. Not true — L took me out for lunch. We had soup and lattes. And she gave me two books! (Nothing says “love” to a librarian like books.) I fixed manicotti and broccoli for dinner, that was good. I mean — fake it til you make it with this motherhood thing, eh? The kids worked on homework and piano and they worked extra hard on “being kids” which is where they shine the brightest. Now I’m going to watch Jeopardy with my husband and try to not be distracted.

I have a couple of little projects I’m working on. I’m also working on the big project of finishing my Grandma’s cookbook that I started way back when — it’s almost ready for production (ie — Hockey God will take over).

Mom and I went out to see Grandma today — she was sick all morning, after having an okay day yesterday. She slept most of the afternoon. That is good, she needs her rest. And when she’s sleeping, she’s not throwing up. The nausea is doing her in. (The doctors are trying to figure it out — I’m blaming the Ativan, which is supposed to help with nausea but sometimes has the opposite effect.)

I have never seen my Grandma sleep. Ever. She goes, goes, goes. She looked just like an angel, and that was too intense because… I’m not ready for her to be an angel. I want her to keep on being wild and out-of-control and stirring up trouble.

It never occurred to me until today that my Grandma might stop being wild someday.

Please keep sending her good thoughts, would you? I don’t want her to be hurting. I don’t know when we’ll feel zany around here again, but it will be a long while, is my guess.

You can do one thing. And then another thing, and then another thing…