Faith and Begorrah

I hadn't cooked corned beef in several years.  In fact, until Nancianne decided to have her head shaved in front of the Irish pub, my plan had been to have some corned beef and cabbage there, but I didn't want to go twice in the same week.

But Jeri came to town last night (Friday, the 16th) and wanted to get together with as many in the family as she could.  As it turned out, Alice Nan realized it too late to drive up from Santa Barbara, Tom et al. were not able to come all that way, Ned and Marta are moving this weekend, and that left just Walt & me, and Norm & Olivia to come to my mother's for dinner.  I volunteered to cook and naturally what else would be as good to serve on St. Patrick's Day as corned beef & cabbage -- the whole shebang, including potatoes and carrots too.

If I say so, it wasn't half bad, either.

Olivia, who had agreed to bring hors d'oeuvres, found some Irish cheddar which she brought for crackers, and some hot "lobster kisses."

It was a fun evening.  Jeri regaled us with tales of her very bad, horrible week (including, but not limited to:  a fire, exploding manhole covers, an electric blackout, trying to give students an exam by the light of their cell phones, fire alarms going off, and a 2 hour delayed flight, getting her into San Francisco right after the last shuttle left the airport.

But she made it and that's the important part.  She got to my mother's around 2:30 a.m., so was a little sleepy, but not too sleepy to enjoy chatting with all of us, especially Uncle Norm.

Tom sent a couple of videos of the girls to keep us entertained.   Lacie apparently has a new tooth, which we couldn't see, but which we heard Mommy talking about while we watched Lacie just being cute.

My mother loves to entertain, but I did wonder many times throughout the night if she should any more.  It seemed to cause her such angst not to be able to wait on people.  But her back pain was so bad, she had to spend her time in her chair, and then said repeatedly that she was embarrassed because she was afraid people would think her "lazy"!!!  At one point after trying to tear her hair out (literally), she told me I would have to go into the kitchen, which was FULL of people all taking care of themselves, to help them because she just couldn't get up.   I wish she could learn to sit back and relax and let people wait on her, as she has done to them all her life, but she simply canNOT sit still and watch other people work, and she considers her back pain a weakness which somehow is a negative reflection on her character.

She also cannot stand it if you leave any food behind for her.   Jeri had gone to the store to buy salad ingredients and also bought 4 bananas for herself to eat while she is staying with my mother, and my mother packed them all up for me to take home because she didn't want them cluttering up her almost empty refrigerator.   I put them back in the fridge and explained that they were for Jeri.   She grudgingly agreed to let them stay.  She also carefully packed up less than 1 cup of salad leftover from dinner, rather than assume Jeri might eat it the next day.

But those were things that I know nobody noticed but me.   Everyone had a great time visiting.  My mother had been kind of subdued through most of the evening until Walt's brother sat down to talk with her and then she came to life and began sparkling, the way she does whenever any man (of any age!) settles in to have a conversation with her.  

She may be almost 93, but she's still a shameless flirt!

 

Easters of Yore

My mother commented at dinner tonight that it sure didn't seem like Easter. And she was right, of course. Instead of the huge family dinner, it was dinner for four -- herself, me, Peach and Bob.

There was no grace before dinner. She hadn't been able to go to church in the morning. Nobody hunted for Easter eggs and other than one small Easter lily (which I picked up at Safeway last week) and a couple of cards people had sent, you would hardly know that it was any sort of a holiday.

Why is this dinner different from other dinners?

I remember the Easters of my youth, when I believed in the Catholic Church and the Easter Bunny. How different it was then.

Easter was the time when my mother always bought a new hat. I wish I had photos of more of them, but she was definitely a "hat person."

There were big ones and small ones, pastel ones, feathered ones, lace ones, silly ones...whatever. There always had to be a new hat for Easter.

And of course we always had to have new outfits (and hats) too!

In the photo on the far right, Karen and I both were wearing brand new outfits designed especially for us by a dressmaker named Olga Gayno (that's probably spelled wrong). How I remember that when I was so young, I don't know. The boy in the first picture is our neighbor Stephen.

The Easter Bunny had a hard time in our house too, since it's difficult to hop down a big light well. I guess I always imagined that he was like Harvey, a Pooka, who was invisible and could go wherever he wanted, impediment or not.

My E.B. fantasies were shattered the year I figured out that my father, who was giving us hints of where to look seemed to know where everything was hidden. Thinking I was being very wise, I whispered in his ear "Thank you!" and he answered "Well, now that you know about the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus, don't spoil it for Karen."

Talk about big shocks! I might have figured out the Easter Bunny, but I hadn't yet had the chance to think about it and let sink in that if there was no magical bunny who hid hard boiled eggs in the cushions of our living room couch, perhaps there was no fat man in a red suit parking his reindeer outside the penthouse of the building where our flat was so he could leap down this narrow grey opening between our building and the next building.

I still can feel the shock and sense of betrayal I felt in that on instant!

We always picked my paternal grandparents up and took them to Mass on Sundays, especially Easter Sunday. Then we would take them back to their house. My mother and Nannie always split the holidays, my mother always taking Christmas and Nannie taking Easter, so we would be back at their house in the afternoon for dinner.

After Walt and I had our own family, I carried on a lot of the traditions, only we had a yard where the Easter Bunny could hide eggs (Ned confessed today, when he and Marta stopped by en route to Walt's brother's house where Walt was having dinner with his brother and in-laws) that they would scope out the yard before coming downstairs each Easter to see how many hidden eggs they could spot to give them a running chance.

For many years in the beginning there were Easter Bunnies for each kid in their baskets. One year I hit the jackpot at the local supermarket and got HUGE bunnies for Ned and Jeri (Paul wasn't born yet) for about $5. That pink bunny was one of Jeri's bed buddies for several years.

(That's also what "Delicate Pooh" looked like when he was still fairly new!)

But there were no hidden eggs or anything else remotely resembling Easter about today. I drove my mother's car down to her house around noon and spent the afternoon giving her monetary contributions whenever she won another game of 65 (Bob declared bankruptcy and decided he was going to quit unless he got a bailout).

We had the traditional ham dinner, but it was a ham dinner like every other ham dinner. Still, the tradition of spending a holiday with the people you love was still there. Jeri called at some point so we got to talk with her and Phil. And, as mentioned above, we had a nice visit with Ned and Marta (and their dog, The Bouncer, who had very interesting interactions with Peach and Bob's dogs, Sophie and Tess)

When Walt had finished celebrating Easter with his brother, and they broke out the karaoke machine and started to sing, he came down to my mother's to pick me up and we came home to some hungry puppies.

Somehow, though it was a very pleasant day, it just isn't the same without all the trappings of a special holiday.

A Thanksgiving Scrapbook

We left home around 11 and joined the throngs driving somewhere else for Thanksgiving. Jeri sent a couple of videos while we were on the road and Tom sent a picture of Bri, dressed up for Thanksgiving in Pismo Beach. I couldn't see any of them because it was so bright, but could see them when we finally got into a darker place again.

We arrived at my mother's in time for lunch. Peach and Bob were already there with their two dogs, Tess and Sophie.

My mother fixed toasted cheese sandwiches for us, then asked Walt and Bob to open up the heavy table to add a leaf to it, since it's too heavy and she can't do it by herself any more (oh please watch the video!) and then, the cards came out. A game of 65 was on. Peach and Bob's daughter, Karen, had her lucky stone with her...

...but it didn't help. Bob was not at all happy when he accidentally discarded a wild card and discovered he had to be the "boob."

Walt was the perfect host when Ned and Marta arrived.

Karen had brought a mountain of hors d'oeuvres for the 8 of us to share.

Around 5 p.m., Bob carved the turkey

and my mother made the gravy.

The table looked lovely, of course.

We went around the table, each saying what we were grateful for (in addition to having everyone at her table, my mother was grateful for Obama.)

And when dinner was over, there was a bit of time to relax before we had to leave for home.

(Ned and Marta's dog, Bouncer)

All in all, it was a low-key, but very enjoyable Thanksgiving. And Jeri texted to say that she saw my video yesterday about "the perfect pie crust" and made it for their own Thanksgiving pies. She said she thought it was maybe the first recipe Mom had passed along. I felt good about that!

Fathers Day

Bri shows off her pink Converse high tops (a gift from Uncle Ned) for Father's Day

Hopping Down the Bunny Trail

There was something little and cute hopping down the bunny trail today, but it wasn't Peter Cottontail. Some folks have Easter bunnies. We had Easter puppies. Even when I leave OUR puppies behind, I can't seem to get away from puppies!

I don't know how long it's going to take before we get back to some sort of predictable routine for family holidays, but it may be a long time. I actually don't know where Ned & Marta spent Easter, but I assume with her family. And I don't know where Tom & Laurel spent THEIR holiday, but I assume with her family (though since that baby is due any. day. now. -- my guesstimate is the 24th, which would be today! -- they may have stayed closer to home. Jeri and Phil were going to be with friends in the Boston area.

It used to be that whenever someone wasn't with the rest of the family, they would call at some point and talk to everyone, but now with the family so scattered, that's impractical.

Walt and I even split up for the holiday. I wanted to be with my mother, she didn't want to be around a lot of strangers, so she and I were going to do a quiet Easter together while Walt went to his brother's with all of his sister-in-law's relatives. As it turned out, Peach and Bob decided to come to my mother's too and the four of us went out for brunch.

BUT, Peach and Bob recently had to have their beloved 18 year old Mollie (a shitzu) put to sleep and the best way to heal a broken heart is to go out and get another puppy. Only they went out and got another TWO puppies.

They are adorable, little fluff balls that reminded me of those net balls that you can get in the drug store these days to work up thick lather when you are taking a shower. Or chrysanthemums in full bloom.

It is obvious that these two little guys are very much loved and helping to mend Peach and Bob's broken heart very nicely. It's hard to grieve much when you are housebreaking puppies and trying to keep them from getting into everything!

We left Sophie and Tess in their cage and the four of us went to the Peacock Gap Golf Club for a lovely brunch. We've been there on Easter before and have spent a couple of Mothers Days there too. It's a lovely setting, the food is good, and it's a nice place to feel "special."

And full.

We all waddled out of there an hour or so after we arrived, after having availed ourselves generously of the buffet tables (heck, when you pay that much, you want your money's worth, right!)

(And I didn't get on the treadmill at all today because we left so early and I had so much to do when we got home again! Bad me. I'll have to do double time tomorrow.)

While we had a brunch, Walt was having dinner, so he was going to be quite a bit later picking me up and naturally that gave us time to have several games of 65 and, after Bob quit in a huff because someone, whom modesty prevents me from naming, kept winning all the games, my mother, Peach and I played canasta and, again, modesty prevents me from naming the winner, but I'll just say that I was very glad that I did not protest too hard, before the game, when Peach suggested that we play canasta for money.

Walt finally got there sometime around 8 or so and we drove home, listening to the podcast of Says You on the way home, which was the very best way to end a lovely day.

Grinch-Like

We're in the process of "evolving" Christmas traditions around here. This is the very first year in about 40 years that I will not be hosting our Christmas party. And I have to admit that I'm kind of happy about it.

It makes sense for Ned & Marta to do it. They will have their own Christmas party a couple of days before, so their house will be all decorated, they are just finishing their "party room," so they have lots of space and I jumped at the offer when Marta suggested it. Of course I'll still take care of the turkey and the pumpkin pie, but I'll carry them to Sacramento to cook.

But, for the first time in memory, we won't have to experience "Mom's Annual Christmas Crisis."

This year it would have been particularly bad, since Walt only has the use of one arm, and with Lizzie deciding recently that "rug" = "grass" thing, we've had to go to great lengths to keep the living room a poop free zone.

I'm not sure where Walt got the orange fencing, but we've propped it with a dog cage and on the other side of it is the vaporizer that Ashley loaned us for dogs with kennel cough. The red blanket on the chair has made that chair Lizzie's bed.

To the right of this picture, there is an overturned dining room table chair to keep Lizzie from pooping on the other side of the room. She seems not to eliminate in the area where she and Sheila sleep, fortunately.

As you can see, "cleaning up" for Christmas would have been a bit more challenging this year.

We don't "entertain" and so with Ned & Marta willing to host Christmas, and with Walt's arm in a cast (or trying to recover if the cast gets taken off on December 6), it's going to be more difficult for him to do the stuff that he usually does, so I don't even want to put up a tree this year. It doesn't seem worth it, somehow.

I might dust and call that "Christmas decoration"!

Oh how I wish I were one of those people who always has cute little holiday decorations all over the house, but that's the kind of place I like to visit and, after 42 years, not the kind of house I'm likely ever to have.

Were we ever to move from here into a smaller place, which would mean getting rid of about 75% of everything we have, I might have a fighting chance, but until that day (if ever), lovely Christmas decorations ain't gonna happen here.

It will be interesting to see what happens after "Shaniqua" is born. I can't imagine not being with our granddaughter as she begins to experience Christmas, and by the same token, I can't imagine her other grandparents missing that either. I guess we just play that year by year and see what happens.

---

Belle lay in her cage today and literally did not move for 7 hours, other than to watch me warily whenever I got up to move anywhere. I felt so very sorry for the little dog and wonder what happened to make her so terrified. How can people mistreat innocent animals so much that they don't trust anyone?

Around 4 p.m., she suddenly sat up and started whining. Potty time! This was my chance to get a leash on her and I did, but not without a battle, which was made easier by the fact that she was trapped in the cage. I was using a leash that was a loop that went around her neck, so I didn't have to actually touch her and grab her collar. She was not happy at all, but I did get her cornered where she couldn't move and managed to slip the noose over her neck.

I took her outside and she peed forever but tried to bolt whenever I moved a muscle. I finally brought her back into the house and put her back in the cage, but left the leash on her so that I could take her outside again before going to sleep for the night.

I wish there were a way to win her trust, but I suspect that is going to take a very long time and she leaves tomorrow. But in her place, we are getting a 3-4 week old puppy who is half on solid food and half bottle fed. Now that is a dog I can work with, someone who just needs lots of loving.

I'm looking forward to having a baby in the house again.

PHOTO OF THE DAY

Shaniqua

We met "Shaniqua" in the flesh last night. Well, not exactly her flesh...

When I was pregnant with Jeri, we knew that she would be a "gerry" whether boy or girl. She was to be named either for her godmother or for an Irish guy, Jerry O'Keefe, both of whom had a role in Walt and I getting married. But we didn't want anybody to know the real name of the baby, so we chose the name of an obscure saint, "Eleutherius" and we called her Eleutherius until she was born and we revealed her real name.

Tom and Laurel haven't chosen a name yet, so they are calling the baby Shaniqua for now, and so we were able to "meet" her in utero.

Laurel definitely looks pregnant and Tom likes to kid her about how much weight she has gained.

I have to admit it's very cool sitting there knowing that is our granddaughter inside that little belly.

It was a full day. I took Luna over to the puppy-sitter's house before we left. That was pretty exciting because the street where I turn had a flock of wild turkeys walking across it. Wild turkeys have become a real problem at the nearby cemetery and you do occasionally see them walking down the street.

Luna went crazy trying to get at the bird. I tried to take a photo of it with my cell phone, because I didn't have a camera with me, but the photo turned out terrible...

(I will be so glad when the contract on my cell phone expires and I can upgrade to a better one!!!)

We drove to my mother's and I decided to drive out through the country as far as I could go. It was a glorious day, sunny, crisp, pollution-free. We drive out to the town of Winters and then cut over to I-80 to meet the traffic. Fortunately most of the heavy traffic seemed to be going in the opposite direction.

This was a huge day for my mother because it was the day the doctor had told her she could finally take the elastic stocking off her leg. Her accident occurred January 3 and on November 22 she was finally back to normal again.

Ned and Marta were the next to arrive, with their dog, Bouncer, who immediately became my mother's best friend.

Tom and Laurel were the last to arrive and we sat around eating Marta's 7-layer dip and chatting. One of my very favorite things to do is to listen to my adult children talking with each other. Over dinner both Tom and Ned talked about their respective jobs and it was funny listening to Marta and Laurel comparing notes on how much alike the two brothers are.

Walt finally found a good thing about having a broken wrist: he could turn the carving duties over to Tom. Tom got the turkey carved while Ned was mixing up dinner for Bouncer.

Dinner was, of course, delicious.

After dinner we sat around chatting some more and then Tom and Laurel ran the videotape of "Shaniqua's" latest ultrasound. So cool. I absolutely love watching ultrasounds. It's like magic for me, seeing what is going on inside. Of course having worked in an obstetrician's office for 10 years, I was around ob ultrasounds a lot, but it was fun seeing one of our granddaughter.

We were home by about 11 and picked up Luna for her last night here. Her foster family has offered to let her stay here until she is adopted, but we have graciously said no. Luna is a very sweet, very special little puppy who is driving me nuts because she is just so hyperactive. The foster family has kids who can play with her, and I am more than willing to let her go back to them. (I suspect the foster mother, having lived with Luna's hyperactivity, was hoping I'd agree to keep her!)

I was so exhausted when we got home that I went right to sleep and didn't even turn on the television or think about writing this journal entry.

It was a lovely Thanksgiving. The only thing that would have made it perfect would have been if Jeri and Phil could have been with us...but they'll be here for Christmas.

Tradition

The writers' group meeting yesterday got me thinking about my own personal history. At some point I may go through the nearly 2800 entries I have written here in the past six-plus years and start gathering the ones that deal with my growing-up memories, just to have a sort of autobiography.

As we approach Thanksgiving, I'm thinking back over the holidays of my childhood. The past few years around here, ever since our children left home and began their own lives, have been rather ... "fluid," with the dates changed (Christmas not always on December 25, Thanksgiving not always on Thanksgiving Day), the location changed and (unless I am cooking), even the foods changed.

It was not like that when I was growing up. My mother and my grandmother divided up holiday dinners. My mother did Thanksgiving and Christmas, my grandmother did Easter and Mother's Day (funny...I'm sure we probably did a Father's Day dinner, but I don't remember any). We never, ever saw my mother's family over the holidays (except for the year when my aunt and grandmother lived next door to us). The core group was my mother, my father, my sister, myself, my father's parents and my godfather (who was also my grandfather's brother).

Occasionally guests were there. The only thing I can remember about my godmother, who was probably part of the group more than once, was her sitting ramrod straight, in a blue knit dress with her snow white hair. I don't know why I remember that so vividly, but I do. I really loved that lady, but she died of cancer when I was 10.

Christmas and Thanksgiving were pretty much the same, except that one came with presents. We always dressed in our Sunday best, even though dinner was at our house.

My godfather, Fred West, had once been a champion bicycle racer, but when I was born was a door-to-door Electrolux vacuum cleaner sales man who lived alone in a boarding house in San Rafael. He had been married briefly long before I was born, but his wife left him and, as a devout Catholic, he never considered marrying again because in the eyes of the church he was still married. He would arrive around 4 p.m. in the afternoon, with a 2 pound box of See's candy under his arm, which we would pass around after we had finished dessert. I learned from my grandmother how to tell what was inside one of the candies from looking at the design on the top.

My grandparents never had a car, so my father would pick them up. The older my grandfather got, the more impatient my father would get with his slowness trying to manipulate the hill where our flat was located. As he walked through the door, my grandfather would hand Karen and me each a quarter and say, "tell me all about yourself." That was pretty much the extent of our conversation throughout the evening. It wasn't that he was an unapproachable man (as I found my mother's father to be), but he was a classic henpecked husband, overwhelmed by his loquacious wife and just never seemed to have anything to say, or know how to connect with children. There came a time when the quarters stopped. For some reason, my grandfather became angry because he thought that's all Karen and I wanted him for, his money.

We would all go into the living room and sit down while my father fixed drinks in the kitchen and my mother got hors d'oeuvres ready. When I was in high school, I was allowed to have a weak high ball (bourbon and lots of ginger ale) or a glass of champagne, if we were having champagne. But bourbon was the usual drink that was served, I recall.

My godfather generally told the same stories every time, or at least it seemed like it. I have previously told his story about bypassing underlings in retail establishments and dealing with the big wigs instead. It is something that has served me well throughout my life!

My grandmother arrived talking. It's funny, but the thing I remember most about her was that she talked incessantly--and yet I can't remember anything she had to say! All I remember was that, during the course of the evening, before dinner was served, my mother, father, sister and I would gradually wander out into the kitchen on some pretense of helping to get dinner on the table. It was our one moment of togetherness, as we laughed, sighed, rolled our eyes, and made fun of my grandmother. We just had to get away from that voice. I remember my mother laughing and saying that someone had to go back in the living room, and that we were all being impolite.

Eventually someone would go back into the living room until they couldn't take it any more and then return to the kitchen for a break from that voice.

Isn't it strange that I can't remember anything that she talked about, except that she was always full of gossip. I don't remember ever discussing controversial subjects like politics, though perhaps we did.

My poor grandmother was born fabulously wealthy. Well, she never actually had money, but she felt she was born to be fabulously wealthy. She surrounded herself with wealthy friends and it was her biggest disappointment that nobody ever died and left her a fortune. But because she felt that she was born to be wealthy, she always seemed to act as if she was better than most people, especially my grandfather and his brothers.

When dinner was announced my grandmother would always get angry because while everyone else would gather around the dining room table (the same table that sits in my living room now) my grandfather always went to the bathroom when dinner was announced and we had to wait for him before we could sit down.

My mother always set a beautiful table -- still does, with her good china and crystal, silverware that she or Karen or myself, had polished the day before the dinner. We had thick pads on the table covered by a table cloth, candles, and usually a centerpiece. She always seemed to find little touches that made the table special. I loved those formal dinners...well, except for Nannie's continuing to dominate the conversation.

Whether Thanksgiving or Christmas, dinner was turkey with my mother's special stuffing, mashed potatoes, and whatever vegetable she felt like cooking. Salads changed from year to year, whether a green salad, or a Waldorf salad, or a shrimp salad. One year she made some sort of a cranberry - nut - jello salad. I came down with the stomach flu after Christmas that year and to this day, I can't eat that salad because I remember when I got sick after eating it.

In our family -- Walt's and mine -- we had a set routine for our holidays too, but in recent years things have become much more arbitrary. I am assuming that next year, with the birth of Baby Sykes things may change even more. I remember that I took over doing Christmas dinners the year after Ned was born when we felt it was more important for the kids to be in their own home on Christmas than traveling to Grandma's house (there also stopped being enough room in the car to carry two children and all their gifts too!)

The bottom line, though, is that holidays are about family -- whether it's family love or family that makes you roll your eyes and escape. I've been fortunate that holidays I have never dreaded holidays because of tensions that I felt would arise. I love getting together with everybody, and I look forward to Thanksgiving next week at my mother's. I know the table will look fabulous.

My grandparents, sister and Aunt Jean