Stunning

I’ve written quite a few times about my grandmother but I don’t think I’ve ever posted an image to go with those words. If you don’t know Granny, go read this post – Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due – and then you can come back and stare at this photo that I love so much to put a face to the name.

Isn’t she stunning?

I love her laugh the most but that hair and the dress and those shoes (oh, the shoes!) are all very close runners-up.

(My uncle shoving an entire Easter egg into his mouth is an added bonus!)

The Great Eight(y)

Today my favorite lady turns 80!

Granny, you have this amazing ability to soak up the life around you and make the rest of us look like old fuddy-duddies.

I tried to make it clear how great I think you are with this post- Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due -but I thought I should add a few more things to the list:

She still finds absolutely nothing wrong with spending the night sleeping on a swing set in her backyard when the air is cool. I’m pretty sure that turning 80 isn’t going to put a stop to this behavior.

Spontaneity. Does your grandmother randomly send you emails that she has packed up and left the state without a hotel reservation or a plan on where she’s going or when she’ll be back? Mine does. And I hope to one day follow in her footsteps.

I love that she calls people “young man” or “young lady.” Some that are given these honorifics are four years old and some are fifty.

She’s sharp as a tack. I’ve never seen her play sudoku or complete logic puzzles to keep her wits about her, but she manages to do both long division and crossword puzzles without blinking.

She also happens to be pretty tech-savvy. My grandmother is on facebook (you can be her friend if you want to, and why wouldn’t you?) and she sends me emails with everything from articles about how to grow vanilla bean plants to photos she thinks I’d appreciate.

Talking with her is no different than talking to someone my own age. Conversations include new hair products she likes (apparently my curly/straight hair comes from her side of the genetics), which bands will be playing at different venues, and places she wants to visit (not that she’ll give me any advance notice when she actually goes on those trips!).

Happy Birthday Granny!!! We love you!!!

Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due

I often write about my grandfather and what he meant to me and how he lived and the many reasons I loved him. But in my writing about him, I think I may have unintentionally misled people into believing that he was the sole grandparent who influenced me.

That line of thinking is utterly and devastatingly false.

As is typical, there is a woman behind the man. My grandfather had the distinct honor of being married to my grandmother. “Grandmother” makes her sound old and frumpish and boring though. Her name is Lois (or Barbara if you want her to immediately hate you) but she’s known as Granny, Granmommy, or Babe.

In my heart of hearts I truly believe that outside of Christ, she was the well of love and joy and happiness that my grandfather drew from. I don’t think my love for him would have been the same without witnessing his love for her.

I could tell you that she’s the Proverbs 31 woman (and she is) but that isn’t the only reason I care for her like I do. So here are a few less typical facets of her personality that warm my heart:

She can whistle like no other. Seriously, the lady can whistle in harmony with herself. I’ve spent all my life trying to whistle like her and failing miserably.

I have never seen another woman so completely at ease both wearing flannel in a hunting blind and spinning around a dance floor in high heels.

There is some place in her brain that holds all kinds of delicious recipes. She cooks and bakes hundreds of dishes without measuring and it continues to blow my mind.

She and I are lovers of the color brown. A color that is often overlooked or considered boring, we both see the beauty in its many shades.

Her laugh. She can throw back her head and let out a laugh that will make the whole world want to laugh with her.

She is completely capable. There’s no way to list all the things she’s accomplished, so all I’ll say is that she is the female MacGyver. She’ll pull a bobby pin out of her hair and use it to fix anything that’s broken.

Did I mention she sings? Yep, she can whistle and sing. It’s very frustrating to the rest of us.

She’s a cancer survivor. Now that she’s on the outside of 10 years, she’s really beaten the big C in a way that not many others have. And while the treatments were horrible, I never heard her complain and it still amazes me that someone can look so stunning wearing a scarf.

Her sense of humor. Because she has such a great laugh, I try to pry it out of her as often as possible. More proof she isn’t a fuddy-duddy grandmother- she laughs at all of our jokes and tells as many as she can herself.

She taught me to play Gin Rummy, Blackjack, and Scrabble. Growing up she offered to take me to Vegas when I turned 21 but when the time came, I was too busy getting married. I kind of wish I’d taken her up on the offer though. Granny and me in Vegas seems like an experience not to be missed.

Because of her, I occasionally use the phrase “Well, bully for you!” from which none of my peers have any idea what I mean. And I think it’s hilarious.

She never made me put milk in my oatmeal. Her dad (Pa- another man deserving of many, many discussions and stories) always made oatmeal and then filled it up with milk. It was like flaky, chunky soup. Not Granny. She makes it the right way.

While I don’t think she’s ever even entertained the notion of going to a gym, she is strong. I mean the type of physical strength that comes from doing instead of sitting. I think someone should create a show where overweight people live and mimic my grandmother for 30 days. They wouldn’t need a gym either.

She has mastered the art of homemade pickles. I don’t know the exact concoction but some combination of dill, garlic, and pepper makes the spiciest, crunchiest, most delicious pickle in the world. I think she could build an empire with them.

I love the way she speaks to strangers. There’s this confidence and respect for the other person that would make you think she’d known them all her life.

Speaking of strangers, every friend or boy that I took to her house, she welcomed with open arms. Not only into the house, but into the family. I have friends that would probably go there before they’d come visit me.

Things grow where she is (plants, flowers, vegetables, fruit) while birds and animals seem to flock to her. It’s ridiculous. Sometimes she whistles as she works with the plants and feeds the animals. Kind of like she’s a walking, talking Disney character.

All that being said, probably the greatest thing about her is the way she loves. She loved my grandfather for decade upon decade. She loved him well and completely. But when God called him home, she didn’t shut her heart down. She turned her love on Wayne – her first boyfriend from before Granddad entered the picture.

And with that laugh and those high heels, how could Wayne not fall for her a second time?

Blog Buffet

It has been a very busy week. Personally, I blame it on the jazz fest leaving town.

I have lots of little things to say with big meanings that don’t necessarily relate to each other. Random ramblings, if you will. (Keri- you will, right?)

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Abby and I were out for a walk when we found a broken robin’s egg. It’s breathtaking in all the right ways- color, detail, delicacy, size.

It gave me a chance to talk to the little one about birds and eggs and nature in general. A science lesson on the fly.

It also allowed me to watch Abby realize the egg was broken and offer these words of 2 year old wisdom- “It’s okay, Mommy. Daddy can fix it.”

Huh. I’ve been rolling her words around in my head for days now and I still don’t have a handle on how that one statement is causing me so much emotion.

I love that she so completely believes in Matt that she thinks he can solve everything. I love how it opens the door to a conversation about God being her Heavenly Daddy. But I hate that at some point she’s going to discover that neither of her fathers can, or will, fix everything.

That sometimes, you have to live with broken pieces.

Simply because we live in a fallen world with sin and pain. And honestly, I’m terrified that I’ll be the one who has to tell her that. Or even worse, I’ll have to sit back and watch her learn the lesson for herself.

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We took a quick trip to the country this week. I’m always amazed that you can drive for seven hours and still be in Texas.

If you drive to San Antonio and take the exit that leads to the middle of nowhere, eventually you’ll run into Uvalde. Claim to fame? My family. Maybe not in the history books, but in my opinion that’s what Uvalde has going for it.

There is one unbelievable lady named Granny (trust me, I know her well) living there that we don’t see as often as I’d like. Add a Papa Wayne to the mix and you have quite the welcoming committee.

Are all grandparents’ houses places of wonder and discovery or is it only mine? Because as a kid I was just as thrilled with the random objects in Granny’s house as Abby was this week.

Within minutes of entering the place she had stolen relocated a pair of bronze deer from the living room to her bedside table. And I’m not going to lie- there were four adults in that living room and not one of us saw her snatch them away. The kid is sneaky. Quick and sneaky.

Other big ticket items- a sombrero, a candy bowl, an exercise machine, the bathroom light switch that was reachable on tiptoes, and the sugar bowl that Granny taught her to dip her finger into.

Sitting and talking with the adults would have been fine with me but that Abby is a girl of action. Must be moving at all times.

So Granny and Wayne willingly (and a little hastily) offered up their vegetable garden for her digging and planting pleasure. They thought she’d be content with 4 little tomato plants. They didn’t realize how much she loves gardening.

This summer and fall Abby’s mark on Uvalde should be apparent when all the random flowers, tomatoes, plants with no names, a mango seed, and a lemon (that’s right- a lemon) that she planted begin sprouting whatever they will sprout. I’m afraid we’ll need to go back for the weeding and harvesting of Abby’s labors.

That’ll be fine with us though. As soon as we got home Abby said, “Ok, now let’s go back to Granny’s house!”

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The other item on my agenda while in the middle of nowhere was to visit the cemetery. I knew and loved quite a few people that are out there. My Granddaddy being one of them.

Here’s the shameful truth. I haven’t been back to Uvalde since his funeral. Yes, I’ve had Abby. Yes, it’s a 7 hour drive. Yes, I was working and going to school and busy, busy, busy. No, those weren’t the reasons why I didn’t go.

I didn’t go because I couldn’t imagine entering the town and not seeing him. The idea that he would not be sitting at the kitchen table with his movie star thick hair, stirring a cup of coffee, and looking out at his chickens was incomprehensible to me. It was simply easier to not go than to not see him.

I figured since I’d made it to Granny’s house and hadn’t lost my mind or my handle on my emotions I could go out to see the headstone they put up for him. I went and bought some flowers. I drove out there alone. I thought I’d shed a few light tears but I’d be fine.

Truth? I hadn’t even parked the car before I was crying. Really harsh truth? As soon as I saw the piece of granite, I lost it.

It wasn’t the fact that there was a headstone or that I was at the cemetery. It was that my eyes went straight to the year he passed away- 2005- and I could not get control of myself.

2005? It’s 2009! It must be a joke, right? Because it is not possible, in any universe, that my grandfather has been gone this long. There is no way that I haven’t spoken to him since 2005.

I don’t know how to explain it. It was just such a slap in the face. The fact that Abby’s turning 3 next week and he was gone before she took her first breath. That in these years I’ve had a daughter, gotten another degree, started a new profession, sold a home, moved, quit my job, and simply lived. Throw in all the other things- my brother has started and finished law school, moved to Oregon, had another baby- and my head and heart wanted to explode.

The worse part was that I have spent all these years selfishly avoiding going out there. That I buried him, left town, and didn’t look back. I know that my grandfather doesn’t live in that place now, but the memorial to him does. And I felt like an ass for not going sooner.

Once I gained control of myself- mainly because the gardeners were huddled together talking and looking in my direction and I thought they might call someone to come get me- I started really looking around the place.

At his funeral, I was completely focused on this one butterfly that flitted all around us and over the casket. It was my sanity during that time. Well, when I stopped crying this week I noticed a butterfly near me. And although I’m not a big believer in signs, I couldn’t help thinking, “Oh look. It’s a butterfly again. Granddad must be trying to comfort me.”

I was feeling good until I turned my head and saw about 20 other butterflies. I couldn’t decide whether to cry or laugh. Of course I’d seen a butterfly. I was at a cemetery. With lots of flowers. A butterfly’s heaven. I felt like such a sucker. Obviously I’ve seen too many romantic tragedy movies.

So I sat and talked for a little while. Spent a lot of time trying to remember details and funny stories. Took a few pictures because I realize I could freeze up and not be out there again for a long time.

But right as I was saying my goodbyes and getting ready to leave, I turned around and saw a rooster. A red rooster. Hanging out in the cemetery.

It’s amazing how you can smile and cry at the same time.

My grandfather was a lover of chickens and roosters. I don’t know what it was about them but in his old age he could be found out in the back walking around talking to his pets. He’d tell funny stories about them. He’d name them. He did exactly what you aren’t supposed to do with livestock. He got attached.

I have no idea what Granny did with all the rooster knickknacks after Granddad died. There were tons of them. Clocks and figurines, magnets and pictures. Egg baskets. I imagine only another rooster lover would truly appreciate what was there.

I know I was in a country cemetery. Stranger things have happened I’m sure. But all I’m going to say is that seeing a red rooster there made me shrug off the butterflies.

Now I’m not looking to start a discussion on the afterlife. All I’m saying is this, if it was his choice, my granddad would comfort me with a cranky red rooster over a dainty butterfly any day of the week. And that’s only one reason I love him so much.

To the coolest lady I know…

Happy Birthday Granny!

You are by far the most amazing woman I know… You’ve lived enough to fill up twice your years.

You are loved and loving.

“Strength and dignity are her clothing and she smiles at the future. She opens her mouth in wisdom and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and bless her; Her husband also and he praises her saying: ‘Many daughters have done nobly, but you excel them all.’” – Proverbs 31: 25-29

Thanks for being you.

And to prove Abby is consistent in her strangeness:

Happy Birthday Granny

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Unusual behavior

Abby and I went for her 2 year doctor visit the other day (only 6 weeks late!) and found out a few interesting tidbits of information. Mainly that Abby speaks like a 3 year old and is the size of a 3 year old. Yep, she speaks in paragraphs and is officially 3 feet tall now… she’s in the 90% percentile of height and the 49% of weight. I’m pretty sure the dr would have said Abby acts like a 13 year old if she’d had a chart for attitude.

What does having a child who looks and acts a year older mean to me? That I was in fact pregnant for 2 years instead of the usual 10 months. I’m glad to finally have confirmation from someone else.

According to the checkup it’s also unusual for Abby (or any 2 year old) to enjoy eating raw peppers and onions… I offer the following photo as proof that she is related to granny. (Nope- that’s not an apple- it is in fact a bell pepper)