Sunday, March 23, 2014

Just Boasting!


Ruthanne

My birthday is this week. I’ll be *mumble-mumble* years old. My daughter and the grands are coming to help me celebrate and cushion the ‘sticker shock’.

And now I segue into pure Grandmother boasting, so Beware!

My pre-teen grand-daughter, Ruthanne, is baking me a birthday cake. Not a Betty Crocker cake - that is my usual formula - she makes hers from scratch. She will also be cooking dinner for all of us tomorrow night. We were on the phone just a little while ago discussing ingredients. It involves making a roux and cream sauce. Ruthanne amazes me. I think I was probably in my twenties before I even learned what a roux was.

Like Ruthie, I had a mother who worked and I learned young how to cook and put a meal on the table. But I was a teen and I never was the cook she is learning to be.


I’m ever so proud of her, and of my daughter for fostering Ruthanne’s capability and independence. This is the greatest gift a grandmother could receive.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Happy St. Patrick’s Day.


Do people still acknowledge holidays like this one? My husband and I both made sure to pick out something green to wear. We’re from the days when grade school kids made a big deal out of every such day. If you didn’t wear green the other kids were obligated to pinch you. Now that would be considered bullying and the pinchee would wail and whine to Mom and the pincher would be reprimanded and possibly suspended. And in our day? We got over it and remembered without fail to wear green the next March 17th.

In school we cut out shamrocks to decorate the bulletin board. There were mimeos to color (remember those?) of rainbows and leprechauns. A room parent would bring cookies or cupcakes with green icing to class.

We celebrated everything. Valentine’s Day: we hoped for lots of Valentines in the paper bag “mailbox” we decorated and taped to the side of our desk. Of course we eyed each other to see who got the most and our parents made sure we had enough to give one to every classmate. We’d save the one we thought best for that ‘special friend’. Our mimeos had hearts and flowers. We had bunnies and eggs on the walls for Easter. We had both Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays. We colored Santa Claus and cut out snowflakes from colored paper for Christmas. We learned about Columbus for Columbus Day. And Halloween meant lots of orange and black construction paper and a costume parade at school.

I have to remember to ask my grand-daughter about St. Patrick’s Day and all these other special days. So many have become ‘politically incorrect’. Other have become inclusive enough to verge on meaningless. Yes, I’ve become one of those oldies who, reality aside, sigh over the good old days.


(Sigh)

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Who Blog? Me Blog?

I haven’t blogged in a while. 

First there was the Olympics. Himself and I recorded just about every minutes of coverage and watched only a small percentage of that which was still far too much. It was amazing how many different permutations of kids playing in the snow there were. It was scary how little snow they had to do it in. I love ice dancing and watched all I could. I used to love pairs and singles skating but now have to hide my eyes for fear of splat-downs. One more whirl in the air just doesn’t add to the beauty and skill of a performance when 75% end in a butt-spin and half the skating time is spent preparing for the leap.

After the Olympics we watched a show on the world-wide retreat of glaciers. Depressing, but it went along with the lack of snow in Sochi and the lack in our mountains here on the west coast. But wait… we all know there is no such thing as global warming, right? Yeah, right.

The past couple of weeks have been spent catching up with our lives, post-Olympics. We are slaves to the television and Himself, Button-pusher Supreme and all around Geek, programs ours to save movies and… movies… and series… and, um… more movies. We also receive boxes of DVDs and books and Great Courses on a regular basis from a dear friend. There are hours and hours and still more hours to catch up on. The media own us.

I won’t mention how many hours a day I spend online gaming. It isn’t supposed to be that way at my creaky advanced age!

So, blogging? I think about it. I think really, really hard.