I Miss You, So Unbelievably Much

Grandma,

I have to start out by saying, I really really really miss you. I wish you were here, because our family needs you very much right now. I don't think there is anyone who could sort out this mess like you could. And even though some things are the same, some things are very different.

There are things that even after 10 years, I remember like they happened last week. Those Saturday mornings I spent cleaning and putting rollers in your hair. (And I don't feel guilty for telling the internets, 'cause that was something you would tell your friends anyway.) "Oh? My hair looks nice? Thank you, my Granddaughter did it for me." You'd say it with such pride. And I FELT proud. Of course I would curl your hair. Of course I would help you clean the house. And for payment, I would get stories. I would get art lessons. I would get the whole afternoon to try on your fabulous jewelry.

I can't tell you how much I cherish the gift of your Crafty-ness. When I'm working on a gift for someone, I imagine you taking the work, and scanning every inch of it with your eyes and your hands, making sure it's perfect. If I think it would pass your inspection, then away it goes. If not, then over it starts.

There is a new great-grandbaby with cheeks to kiss. My nephew, the child of Your Number One Grandson is as amazing as anyone could have imagined him to be. And there is another one on the way, as Gibby is due in early August. But then, you already knew that. There's not one bit of baby news that would get by you!

The house is still there, but it doesn't mean what it used to. When I'm at my Mom and Dad's, I try not to look at it, but it's still there. It makes me miss your apple crisp. It makes me miss your home-made bread. It makes me miss the time when I thought everybody in our family liked each other. Now, some of them just want to hurt the others. I wish you could put a stop to that.

Well anyway, I know how much you love getting letters. I just wish you were still here to get this one in person. And I know I said that I'd have a really hard time if I ever saw you again. You know, cause it would be a little scary for me. But I think I changed my mind.

An Heir and A Spare

This morning I opened my email to find pictures my sister sent me of her growing Bump. It put a smile on my face, and my day couldn't have started any better.

So next August, there will be another baby in the family. And not to be outdone, my Sister's Bundle is expected to arrive Nearly One Year To The Day Pickle was born. Only this little Buckie was actually planned for to avoid conflict with......this is so good.......HUNTING SEASON!

So, with two weddings in one year, followed by two bebes in one year, I am so off the hook. I figure I've got about 4 years before my mom starts to bug be about this stuff again.

A Valentine (A little late, but it's the thought that counts)

Every morning, I say to myself, "I have the love of my family where ever I go." It's become my mantra. It helps me to leave the house in the morning, to know that whatever happens, be it my fault or the fates, I got Peeps. And when I say "family," know that I firmly believe that friends are the family you get to pick for yourself.

So, here's the Valentine part; as I'm thinking it to myself, I'm sending it back to you. Know that every morning, I think about you, and I'm hoping for the best from everyday, for everyone.

Grandpa, Tell Me 'Bout The Good Ol' Days

My Grandpa called me "Dollgirl," He called my brother "Nason." And he called my sister "Dolly."

He lived 94 years, and was sharp, right till the end. He had heart surgery when he was 89, and they told the family to be there as he didn't have a good chance of making it out of recovery. Well, he did. He was with us for another 5 years.

He worked at Ford during the Union Riots. When I started working Downtown, we would talk about what stores were still open, which buildings were still there. Stores and buildings he used to visit. He told me I worked too much. And he was right. Still is.

He had a hunting camp, where they called him "One Shot Walt." Because he didn't miss.

He would tell me, "I don't like you driving at night. Don't pick up hitch hikers." And then send me on my way with a bag of treats, "something to chew on for the drive." And orders to call my mom to let her know I made it to my destination.

You never left his house with an empty stomach.

He cared deeply for all of his grandchildren and great grandchildren, and made us all feel like we were his favorite. In truth, he never treated any one of us any differently. Because we were all his favorite.

And a year ago today, he died. In his own bed, peacefully in his sleep.

Have You Read The News Today?

Well, I have and it's EFFING DEPRESSING!

Not a single happy story to be found. CNN, NYT, Detroit Free Press--all just DOOM AND GLOOM. "More jobs lost." "More people unemployed than previously reported." "How are you cutting costs this holiday?" "Worst since the last time it was really bad!"

And to start my day off, my alarm woke me up from a dream where my grandfather was just about to tell me something. It would have been nice to know what he would have said. I've had him on my mind a lot lately, as this will be the first Christmas we've had without him. The first Christmas that will not be celebrated at The Farm.

What would he make of the mess we find ourselves in? What advice would he give? Guaranteed it would have been followed with a Little Debbie. And a hug.

I could sure use one of those hugs right about now...

I Have The Best Friends

"Friends are the family you pick for yourself." I heard that a while ago, and it's stuck with me.

The people in my life right now are some of the best people I have ever known. Thank you all for listening to me obsess about my life, and never passing judgement. For all of your advice, even though you know I might not take it.

Marilyn Monroe once said, "I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle, but if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

Thank you all for being there for the worst, and sticking around for the best.

Seems that Rampcommander is feeling the same. Maybe Thankfulness is in the air.

Wii Would Like to Play

Yesterday I celebrated my birthday by racing cows...on the Wii. Rampcommander was passing through town, and a few of my friends organized a dinner and Wii night. We played Wii, and it was awesome.

Almost as awesome as when I visited my parents and my dad showed his buddy how to play Wii Sports. My Bro and his friend were in town as well, and they had all been working outside most of the day. When my uncle played his usual before-bed-after-snack (or should I say, "knack") game of Wii Bowling, my dad's friend was pretty fascinated by the game. So my dad showed him how to play and my Bro and his friend joined.

They taught him how to play after they had had a few beers.

And some whisky.

Awesome, truly awesome. Why so awesome, do you ask? Because I've never seen my dad (or his buddy, for that matter) so animated that late at night.

I Love You More Than a Beef and Bean Burrito

Last week was my brother's birthday. The family didn't celebrate other than the usual phone calls. I'm hoping when we're all home for Christmas, we'll do some sort of group party, as four of the five of us have birthdays within two months of each other (apologies if that was confusing).

I felt a little guilty that I didn't make a big deal of his birthday this year. Not that I usually make a production out of it, but still, feeling a little guilty.

Then I realized, this is probably the best birthday he's ever had. Because this year, he celebrates his birthday as some body's father. I saw him with his son the other day. It was just amazing, the amount of love for that baby. And that little guy just looked up at his daddy and smiled. How can any material present ever compare.

Happy Birthday, Bro.

Ode To The Olive

I've been feeling a little blue the last couple of days, so I thought I might reminisce on a happy memory. Maybe that will lift my spirits.

When I was little, I was my dad's little shadow--if he sat down to watch the news, I was right there with him. If he was working on a project, I would hold the tools. If he had a snack of sardines and buttermilk, so did I. Sardines or olives. I ate anything that he ate.

Yeah, gross. I don't know when that particular behavior of mine stopped. Probably around the time I realized I had taste buds, and that my taste buds liked sugar more than salt. But a short time ago, I had some sort of antipasto salad with olives. And guess what I learned? I love olives.

So now when I visit, not only will I drink all his coffee, I'll be eating all his olives. Love you, Dad.