Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa's

This is a letter I wrote and read to my 91 year old grandmother this year.

Christmas at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s

My best memories of Christmas at Grandma’s and Grandpa’s come from when I was about 8, 9, 10 years old.
The day after Christmas we would pile into the Bronco and make the drive up north to Cleveland. As a child it took forever to get there! But it was worth the wait, because as soon as we pulled into Grandma’s and Grandpa’s driveway the familiar feelings and memories from the years before would come back, and I always knew what to expect.

Grandma and Grandpa were at the door to give us big hugs and say “Merry Christmas”.
There in the foyer was the Santa and Mrs. Claus with her apron full of candy canes. Into the rooms I would go, checking to see if everything was as I remembered it. Yes, there was the dollhouse with the teeny furniture, and the bear with the Bowling Green sweater. In the living room the cast iron cat sat by the fireplace just as always, and in the hallway cabinets were the photo albums I loved to look through.
In the family room was Grandpa’s leather recliner, which was supremely comfortable, though we didn’t get to sit in it much because Grandpa was usually in it. There was also the creaky 3-legged chair that I always had to sit in at least once, and the stack of newspapers and Reader’s Digest.

Grandma always had the table set and ready for dinner, and the children’s table was also set, usually with a foil wrapped chocolate or other treat on the plates.
The tree was gigantic to me, and the gifts that had already been opened were lying in their boxes, so I could always look and see what gifts Grandma and Grandpa had given each other. There was always the Higbees box which mystified me, as we didn’t have that store in Springfield. It must have been a wonderful store since there seemed to be a Higbees box every year.

When we were all settled in it was time for dinner. The dinner was always delicious, and Grandpa would proclaim his pleasure over our clean plates and pronounce us great eaters. The dinner highlight for me was always the cookie plate. The cookie plate had every kind of delicious cookie I loved. And it was so pretty, I liked just looking at the cookies and how the buckeyes sat so nicely next to the sugar cookies, Hershey Kiss cookies, and lemon bars. I always tried as many cookies as I could, and I was allowed to have as many as I wanted.

When it was time to open the gifts I could always expect a special gift from Grandma. I remember when she made me matching dresses for me and my doll, and sometimes I would get a Jo-Jo. Then Megan and I would have to talk about our sock monkey dolls, and I would wonder why Megan’s dolls were called Co-Co, when Jo-Jo was obviously the more fitting name.

Christmas at Grandms’s and Grandpa’s was always one of the best parts of the holiday for me. Playing with my cousins, drinking tea out of one of Grandma’s special tea cups, and getting a dollar from Grandpa were all things that made the times at their house so special to me. I am so glad that I was able to have those times as a child. During the Christmas season I am reminded of so many of these things. Each time I pass a cookie plate I can’t help but compare it to Grandma’s, and it is NEVER as good as Grandma’s!

Merry Christmas Grandma!
Love, Amy

Eddie Bauer at 30, thrift store at 40

Last week I turned 33. I skipped on over to the city where I eagerly set out to spend my birthday money (yes, I still get birthday money!). I walked into Eddie Bauer and tried on piles of clothes. The irony of it was not lost on me. Ten years ago I used to laugh at my new husband for shopping at Eddie Bauer. Those clothes are so plain! They're so conservative and boring! I would never shop there, and if I did, it would only be because I had turned into one of those stereotypical moms who loses herself in her children and no longer cares about things like fashion or individuality. The only reason I figured my husband shopped there was because he was already an old man at the ripe age of 30. Well folks, I am now an Eddie Bauer shopper. In fact, I love Eddie Bauer. I strive to wear Eddie Bauer now, as it is a luxury when I get a chance to shop there. The corduroy cargo pants and the chunky sweaters are right up my alley, as is the nice loungewear. Who wants to wear sweats when you can have french terry matching tops and bottoms with floral silkscreen?
I bought two pairs of pants, a sweater, an outerwear vest, a T, a pullover, and a zip sweater. I am also $200 lighter.
When I got home and told B what I spent my birthday money on he almost fell over. Yes, he used to shop Eddie Bauer and now he shops at the thrift. There must be a difference between 30 and 40.

Apparantly I am not good enough to work in a warehouse.
I applied for a part-time seasonal warehouse position a couple of weeks ago. I followed up with a phone call a couple of days ago to see when a good time would be to come in for an interview. I was told that they weren't hiring seasonal work until the end of the month. Yesterday I got a very nice letter in the mail from the company, explaining that while they appreciated my interest, they did not have a position for me at the time. Geez, I didn't realize that working in a warehouse was such a specialized position. I must not posess the correct warehouse-working skills. I am sure that packing boxes and scanning bar codes is a very specialized skill that can only properly executed by a select few. I probably should have beefed up my application a little, highlighted the fact that I used to load trailers for UPS-never mind that it was almost 15 years ago-

In other news:
My oldest finally lost his first tooth. Surprisingly he didn't have much interest in keeping the tooth (I assumed all kids wanted to keep their lost teeth), he was all too happy to trade it in for a dollar from the tooth fairy.

I got to run somewhere else today-yippee!! The family headed to a park that has a lovely paved, hilly path which meanders into woods, next to a lake, and right by the playground. What a nice change from the flat asphalt country roads I am used to running. No stinky hog barns, no roadkill, and best of all- daylight! It's the time of year when I head out for my morning runs in the dark and return in the dawn. It was invigorating to feel the sun on my shoulders again. After my run I met a Mom at the playground who is also a runner. We chatted a bit and it was refreshing to talk to another runner about 20 mile runs and races and all the other normal things runners talk about but non-runners have no interest in.
On the way home I began to reminisce about my college running days and the only time in my life (outside of HS track and CC )I ever had a running buddy. I met R in college choir. We were both runners and we had our own running routines, but we began to meet for long runs. I had always been a solitary runner, but it was a nice change to have someone to talk with as the miles passed. We decided to train for the Columbus Marathon together. We spent so much time talking about our training and our goals, our diets and our miles. That first marathon wouldn't have been half as much fun without R to share it with. I don't remember when we stopped running together. I had qualified for the Boston Marathon and she hadn't, so I continued to train through the winter and she took a little time off from the long runs. And then, like most college friendships, we went our seperate ways. I wonder if R is still running today. I bet she is. She was a runner at heart, just like me.

Happy Birthday Brownie

Yesterday was our cat's birthday. It was a very special one because it was his FIRST birthday-at least that is what C says. C also daily celebrates the birthday of at least one of her dolls or stuffed animals-birthdays are a very big deal to C. So that is why she spent a good portion of the night before making Brownie a very special cake. What cat would not love a cheese and lamb cake, frosted with milk and butter icing and sprinkled with cat food? DELICIOUS!

My kitchen stinks

A month ago we bought 8 baby chicks. They were so cute and fuzzy. We let them run around the kitchen floor and fed them until they learned to respond to our voices and follow us for food. Well, these baby chicks are now almost 5 weeks old. They are no longer fuzzy. They are 4 times the size they were when we bought them and they stink. They are also still sleeping in my kitchen.

My kitchen smells like a barn. It's dusty. It's noisy. And my daughter always forgets to wipe up the chicken poo from the floor after she takes Tiny out of the brooder to play with her and kiss her goodnight.

Next week they are going out in the coop, and as much as I worry about a raccoon sticking it's hand between the chiken wire and grabbing at them-I will have my kitchen back! I cannot wait. I have threatened B. with all sorts of violent acts if he does not put the finishing touches on that coop this weekend.

Why can't I make brownies?

Sigh. Another batch of brownies down the drain. I can never make good brownies, but this time was going to be different. I bought the expensive Ghiradelli box mix, thinking that there was no way I could mess up a box mix-especially Ghiradelli. Well, they looked good in the oven-they were rising nice and fluffy, even in the center where usually my brownies end up flat. Well, once I took them out of the oven my hopes for delicious brownies were dashed. The middle part ended up flat and dense and chewy, and the edges were hard and overdone. Just like always!!! What am I doing wrong? I like nice light and cakey brownies, not sticky dense ones. Shouldn't brownies rise like a cake? Every time I eat someone else's brownies they are perfect, wonderfully cakey and not chewy at all. I am at a loss. I have tried several box mixes and made from scratch at home and I have never been able to get the results I am looking for.

ETA: I searched for 15 minutes for a clean sports bra. In the dryer, the pile of folded clothes, my dresser drawers in the dark. Not a clean one anywhere to be found. So I didn't take my run and I am now feeling very pissy because of it. I MUST buy a new sports bra THIS WEEKEND. It is unaccaptable to me to not have one when I need it.

May the Force be with you!

I have a Jedi living at my house. Because of said Jedi, I have learned many Jedi things that I was previously ignorant about, such as:

1) Jedi's don't eat real food like steak or chicken. Jedi's only digest food that is already in liquid form, preferably milkshakes and smoothies, though yogurt will do in a pinch.

2) Any piece of brown or black fabric will do as a cloak, as long as it is stapled under the chin to make a hood. This includes random pieces of fabric, tablecloths, clothing and towels.

3) A karate gi makes a perfectly acceptable Jedi uniform. Even a filthy one that has been worn and slept in for several days in a row. Jedi's are way too busy fighting the dark side to do their laundry.

4) When beheading your baby brother, two lightsabers are much better than one, and slashing across the throat is much too amatuerish. You must use both lightsabers simualtaneously in a slashing motion across one another-it's much more realistic.

5) Listening to the force is much more important than listening to your mother. Especially when it is time to take a bath or come to dinner.

So my feet are aching again.

This is both good and bad. On one hand, having a lagging injury that pops up now and then makes me really appreciate the days I am lucky enough to have glorious pain-free runs.
On the other hand, I am frustrated with an injury that I sustained 9 years ago, and will probably battle with my entire life. Damn my impatient young adult self! Time after time I flew out the door heading out to my run without stretching-ran way too many miles-failed to stretch my feet properly-and the result? I find myself wincing as I run and fruitlessly trying to stretch out a pain that seems to have found permanet residence in my feet.

I am googling stretching exercises and foot braces and dreading my next run. I have been avoiding going to the foot store as I am afraid of being talked into buying something I can't afford (like the night splints that would probably actually be really helpful), but I think the time has come for me to get some inserts and do some serious stretching and rehabilitation.

B is going to freak about spending more money on my feet-he thinks my running shoes are a "luxury item"-so I need to present this the right way and lobby for my cause.