Missed Opportunity

It occurred to me that the picture I should have included at the end of the last post was this one:

Now that’s more like it.

Thanks to Bryce for his mad SKILLZ.

Boys Being Boys… & I LOVE IT!

Bryce loves this show:

Recently, they had an episode where Adam and Jamie  (those guys ^ up there) were placed on a deserted island with an unlimited supply of duct tape and nothing more.  At the end of the episode, they made a canoe out of duct tape (see the last clip HERE).

Well, what should I see on the back porch the next day?

The engineers (Bryce & cousin Zack) hard at work making magic with duct tape, palm fronds & assorted items collected from the recycling bin.

Of course, then they needed to test it:

Pretty good, but how strong is it?  Let’s see if it will carry a 1 gallon container filled with water…

OR.  What about this ROCK? 

Um. No.  They mentioned trying to put a dog in it, but I nixed that idea too, much to Sparky’s relief.

SOOOO much better than playing video games.  I don’t even care that they used $20 worth of duct tape.  This is what boys should be doing on a beautiful spring day.

This Week’s Epiphany

Middle kids have it made.

First kids get the experimental parents.

Last kids get the worn out, lax parents.

Middle kids get the parents who are just right.

That explains why this middle child is nearly perfect in every way!

Could I be biased?  Absolutely.

The Kissing Gardener

We’ve had the same gardener for a couple of years.  He’s a great guy and eager to please.

There’s just this one little thing.

He’s very friendly.

VERY FRIENDLY.

Ordinarily, this would not be a problem.  Except.  He likes to kiss. Me.

It started simply enough.  I asked him to do a little extra in the yard last year.  Change out some plants, plant some flowers.  He was happy for the work.  He kissed me.  OK, I thought, he’s just expressing his gratitude.  That’s cool.

But then, the next time he saw me, he greeted me with a kiss.

I swear, only through my lightening quick reflexes did the kiss land squarely on my cheek.  Otherwise…!!!

It became a pattern.  A greeting kiss.  A see you later kiss.  And, I’ve really had the practice that quick face turn.  There have been many a near-miss! 

Last week he “greeted” me as I pulled into the garage after driving my husband home from a medical procedure.  Did I note a little surprise when Jeff got out of the car and he had just planted one on me?

Now, I like kissing as much as the next girl, but I’m kinda old fashioned.  Spouse, family, close friends. 

You can never overestimate the value of a good handshake.  I’d even settle for the ever popular air kiss.

 

OK, I’m a little uptight.  My friends keep telling me it’s nothing.  De nada.  It’s cultural. 

My response has been to hole up somewhere away from the windows on gardener days so he doesn’t know I’m home.  Even better, I plan NOT to be home.  I swear, he finds excuses to talk to me.  I know, now I’m just being paranoid.  It’s not like I’m overwhelming him with my revealing attire and flirtatious ways.  Kind of the opposite, I think.  Maybe he likes slightly dowdy middle-aged ice maidens?

Happy Birthday to my Honey Cousin

Today is my cousin Cathy’s birthday.

It would also have been Grandma Virginia’s 91st birthday. (Happy Birthday Gram!  I still miss you!)

I share Grandma’s name (my middle name is Virginia), Cathy shares her birthdate.  Grandma always said “honey cousin” instead of “cousin” in order to give full weight to this very special relationship.

Cathy was the first one who called me after I learned our Grandma had died.  She was the first one I wanted to talk to and I’m so glad she called me since she lives in Italy now and I have no idea how to call her.  She’s smart like that though, and she was so good to call our Grandma all the time and amuse her with funny stories about goats and vineyards and tractors.  Who knew when we were growing up that Cathy would come to know about goats and vineyards and tractors?! 

Cathy was the cousin nearest to me in age and we had many a caper growing up.  She was my person for so many years.  She talked me into shaving my legs and plucking my eyebrows for the very first time (Mom wasn’t so sure it was time but I thank you!).  I trusted her because she was older and wiser, and let’s face it, way cooler than me in the social hierarchy (we went to the same schools).

When we were young we grew our hair long and measured to see whose was longest.  She always won because mine was straighter than straight and hers was curly so when you stretched hers it was always longer.

She always wanted straight hair and I always wanted curly hair.  We used to get our hair done at the same place and she would be getting hers chemically straightened while I was perming mine. 

We spent many days together at our grandma’s.  Grandma had a closet with all of her fancy clothes and old prom and wedding dresses of my mom and aunts.  There were accessories and dyed to match shoes and Cathy and I would spend hours trying things on and pretending we were in pageants.

One time Cathy was over at my house and talked me into running away because she was mad at her mom for some random reason.  I wasn’t mad at mine, but somehow she convinced me that we should take my life savings ($.49, no lie) and hike to grandma’s 40 miles away.  We were convinced grandma would never rat us out so we started walking.

We lived in a small town so of course we ran into someone we knew (Cathy’s aunt on her mom’s side) at Circle K when we went in to spend my life savings (which only purchased a small grapefruit juice which neither of us liked but we thought we should hydrate).  Just out for a stroll, we said.

We continued on but regrets started creeping in.  By the time the sheriff spotted us, we were totally ready to go home.  Cathy returned to a hero’s welcome and I was grounded.  Really?

I love my honey cousin.  She is beautiful and funny and thoughtful.  I don’t know how I’m going to get through this weekend without her. 

Virginia Moore Williams Schick

1921 – 2012

Born in Spokane, Washington to John Grady and Leta Hill Moore.

Younger, adoring sister to Jack.  Jack was killed in the Phillipines during WWII.

Dancer.  Pretty little ballerina feet she always pampered.

Relocated to California while a teenager.  Always loved the water. And the beach.  And surfers.

Eloped with David Gilpin Williams in 1939.  They didn’t tell anyone and went on living as they had until Virginia’s father began complaining about all the time Dave was spending hanging around.  Dave attached their certificate of marriage on her bedroom door and spent the night.

A few years later (50 to be exact!) they married again.  In a church.  With a minister…

And their three children plus spouses, seven grandchildren  plus spouses, and four great grandchildren.  (There are now 11 great grandchildren and 3 great-great grandchildren with another on the way).

Let’s just say they were well chaperoned.

But that didn’t always matter.

Revered mother to Nancy, Janice & David Jr.

Pioneer.  She moved with Dave to the desert when no one else was there.

She loved kitties and Christmas and dolls and granddaughters. (She loved grandsons too, but I think she had a sweet spot for granddaughters).

In the early days, when her kids all had small kids and lived away from “home”, the families would all come home for Christmas.  The louder, the messier, the more chaotic the better for Virginia.  She was the first one up and loved it more than anyone.

Because of the magnetic pull of home, all three Williams siblings eventually settled back in the small community where they were raised.

There was no longer the need to spend the night at Virginia’s home on Christmas Eve since everyone lived within 15 miles of each other.  No matter, we did it anyway until there were just too many (and our backs became old and we could no longer camp out on whatever square of floor we could find).

This alteration in tradition was only acceptable if all were present and accounted for by 5:30 am.  And if you weren’t there, she called you until you were.

Honored grandmother to Lisa, Matthew, Jeff, Adam, David III, Cathy, Gina (Virginia Ann), and Donna (who passed away as a child).

Business woman, travel agent and world traveler.  She’s been to more places than I can even name or locate on a map.

David died surrounded by family in 1996 after nearly 57 years of marriage.

At the age of 78, she married Edwin Schick.  Retired Colonel in the Marines and decorated veteran of 3 wars. They were married for 11 years before he passed away in 2010.

She slipped through the veil after living nearly 91 years holding her daughter’s hand in her own home.  As with much of her life, she named her own terms.

She was my grandma.

And I miss her already.

Grief Counseling

First, a little background.

I’ve had my eye on this little jewel for a few months:

I’ve had my Suburban for nigh on 12 years.  She’s been a great friend and seen us through car seats, smashed juice boxes, many a family vacation, new puppies, elementary school carpools, teenage basketball teams, driver’s training, taking kids to college, and much much more.  Most of her exterior has been replaced at one time or another.  127,366 miles of togetherness.  We’re moving on.  It’s time she be retired. You know, gold watch, greener pastures, yada, yada.

So I’ve been using all of my best feminine wiles and a few less flattering ones (whining among them), but as yet there is no shiny white platinum (the platinum part costs extra!) Explorer in my garage.  Yet.

Well yesterday my dear, beloved 90-year old grandma entered the hospital and my mom called last night to give us an update.  I was not home so she got my hubby.  Apparently she also mentioned that she was considering purchasing the VERY SAME car as I’ve been wanting!  Well, Jeff knew that would not sit well with the wifey and that he’d be subjected to another round of ranting interspersed with begging, so he made her promise not to tell me.

Fast forward to today. 

I called to check on Grandma.  I could tell Mom was not at home so I asked her if she was at the hospital.

Mom:  Um. No.

Me: Oh, where are you then?

Mom:  [pregnant pause] I’m actually at the Ford Dealer.

Something in the way she said it made me know I was not going to like why she was at the Ford dealer…

Me:  YOU ARE NOT BUYING MY CAR!!!!

Mom:  Actually, I thought about it and if this one had leather seats…maybe.  But, no, I’m getting the Edge.

Me:  What COLOR?  Not white PLATINUM?????

Mom:  Well, yes.

OK, whatever.

My mom next calls my husband.  At work.  She doesn’t do that.  He excuses himself to take the call.

Mom:  The gig is up!

Jeff:  Oh.  I’m sooooo sorry.  Did she go peacefully?

On the other end, the response is silence broken up by periodic muffled sounds.  Jeff knows she must be too choked up to speak.  It’s to be expected.

Jeff launches into consolation mode, comforting my mom through the loss of her honored mother.  “…you know she lived a good, long life….”

Then this sound burst forth from the receiver in Jeff’s hand:

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

At this point my mom manages this reverent redirection,

“Oh no!  The old bird is still with us!” *

___________________________________________________

*Note:  I hasten to clarify that we appreciate a bit of wry humor in our family.  Grandma IS often described as a tough old bird by those who know and love her best.  She is a modern medical miracle of longevity despite every reason why her body should have shut down years ago.  She is going on sheer will.  We are truly grateful to still have her with us and yet will celebrate her full life when she decides to reunite with loved ones who have already travelled through the veil.  Just so you know.