Treasures or Trash?

“Grandmama, can I have this?”

We’ve all heard the proverb, “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” and I’m proud to say my DNA of hoarding and obsession for shiny baubles is alive and well and thriving in this next generation.

When they find something around here that they want/need, these Angel Kids call me Grandmama. I love that extra syllable. I AM a mom and a grandma, so it works.

They like to inspect every room like a couple of CSI forensic detectives, searching for whatever might strike their fancy among my little treasures, along with an extraordinary ability to suss out anything new that’s been added since their last visit, like my penguin box.

I especially like that they ASK and don’t simply TAKE. It really makes all the difference.

“Grandmama, can I have this sparkly box?”
“Yes.”
“I want one too, can I have THIS one?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmama, can I have this Hello Kitty bracelet?”
“Yes.”
“Grandmama, can I have these pearls?”
“Yes.”
(We’re not talking about my real pearls, just a couple strands of fake ones and some pearls used in jewelry making.)

At some point in the day, they opened a closet and discovered my crafty area with shelves of boxes and drawers full of polished rocks and seashells and gems and beach glass and sparkly beads.

“Grandmama, can we have some?”
“Yes.”

Between the two of them, there was a wild feeding frenzy. They sat on the floor, their individual piles of loot growing and growing.

“OMG, LOOK AT THE GEMS!”
“Can I have the blue ones?”
“Can I have the green ones?”

“Look you guys, I’ll find containers for each of you and yes, you can take what you want. All I ask is that you work together and don’t argue about who takes what. Compromise and share. Do we have a deal?”

OK, Grandmama, we can do that. Even the big pearls?

“Yes, even those.”

“DAD, GRANDMAMA SAID WE CAN BRING ALL OF THE TREASURES HOME!”

As happy as that makes those Angel Kids, I wonder if they have any idea at all how happy it makes ME to be able to make THEM deliriously happy.

A total win-win. DNA RULES!

Brutal Honesty

“Grandma, what’s THIS?”

Angel Girl asks the question as she squeezes the back of my upper arm.

“Is that FAT?”

“Why is your arm so FAT right there?”

“Hey, T, come see Grandma’s FAT!”

That’s a call to action no big brother could resist. Angel Boy runs in, takes a hunk of the back of my upper arm and confirms his sister’s diagnosis.

“That’s a lot of fat, Grandma!”

I hear the unmistakeable sound of the original Angel Boy snickering in the other room. I bet it’s all deja vu for him as he must recall torturing me the same way.

Out of the mouths of babes, right?

I’m shaking my head; the apple definitely doesn’t fall far from the tree, not with these guys.

“Oh jeez, it’s SKIN, girl. Everyone has SKIN.”

She lifts her own perfectly formed and toned upper arm to show me. “I don’t. My arm doesn’t look like that.”

Mom chimes in, “Wait until you’re older. Come here and help me with breakfast. Let Grandma finish dressing!”

Her brother lifts his wiry arm (built just like his dad)… “Not me either, Grandma. See MY arm?”

I query the other grownups, “Where did she learn all this fat shaming? Sheesh, I thought nowadays children learned to be inclusive and accepting of all of our differences. What’s up with this?”

While I’m speaking, Angel Girl is following me around, squeezing my arms and laughing hysterically. I can’t help it, now I’m laughing, too–because, at the end of the day, it’s just funny. She’s always been hyperfocused and hypercritical of my each and every detail –from my hair to my shoes, and this is no different.

“Jeez Louise, girl, goodness gracious sakes alive, you’re killing me.”

She’s not being rude, if that’s your conclusion–she would never intend to hurt my feelings – it’s simply a case of speaking her truth. I’m one thousand percent sure that she would naturally censor herself with her pre-K classmates, but I’m different, and it’s OK to practice life skills on me.

I’m her pet project, the Little Grandma, with apparently endless patience.

Both of the Angel Kids are fascinated by my diminutive size…

“My hands are almost as big as yours, Grandma!” (This is a continual hand-to-hand ritual measurement every time we see each other to gauge how much they’ve grown.)
“Look, I can wear your shoes now!”
“Can I have your Hello Kitty shirt, Grandma! It fits ME!”
“Why are you so small?”
“Stand still! I am LITERALLY almost as tall as you are!”
And that’s true. I’m five feet and that 7.5 year-old truly is nearly my size.

That’s the time I tell them that the best presents come in small packages, but since that’s not their life experience, they shake their heads and laugh.

Thanks to Angel Girl’s eagle eyes, I have to silently agree that I need to focus more work on my triceps.

Brutal honesty. BRUTAL. Brutally honest.

The Joy of Karma

There is truly no greater joy than to have my sweet yet scarily precocious Angels in their car seats as we drive down to the beach, windows down, all of us belting out Karma by Taylor Swift.

They pay no attention to the fact that I can’t carry a tune; we’re nodding our heads and singing along with Apple music. “Play it again, Grandma!”

“Karma is my boyfriend.”

I keep my side of the street clean. You wouldn’t know what I mean…”
(Picture us mimic sweeping with our hands.)

Karma is a cat…Purring in my lap ’cause it loves me.”

“Me and karma are like THAT.”

“Karma takes all my friends to the summit.”

Karma’s gonna track you down Step by step from town to town.”

Like Taylor changed the lyrics to her bf’s name, I also change the words in this line…

“Karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me.”

to

Karma is my two favorite kids coming straight home to me.”

Time spent with these Angel Kids is a neverending tapestry of shared joyful memories, including singing with tone deaf Grandma.

“Play it again, Grandma!” And I did.

Family Friendly 🎄Holiday Movies 🕎

What’s your family’s favorite holiday movie?

I liked It’s a Wonderful Life until I got old enough to figure out that James Stewart’s character stood on the bridge contemplating suicide. Somehow that didn’t seem very happy to me and I didn’t think it was the type of conversation we wanted to have with the Angel Kids.

If you watch Miracle on 34th Street, I recommend the original 1940s black and white version with Natalie Wood.

When everyone was here for Thanksgiving, our goal was to find non-animated films with real people. We chose National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase and my absolute all-time favorite, Elf.

My son, DIL, and I couldn’t stop laughing during National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Neither one of us had seen it since it was originally released. A lot of the jokes were lost on the kids (Angel Girl fell asleep right away), and except for one slightly inappropriate part with a semi-nude female, it was slapstick humor at its finest, perfect for a precocious 7.5 year old.

The next evening we watched Elf. I always resonate with Buddy’s everlasting childlike joy and joie de vivre. He’s innocent and trusting, and the overarching message is that love wins every single time. Again, Angel Girl fell asleep immediately, so we’ll have to make it a family tradition and watch it again when she can stay awake.

My two most favorite lines in Elf are “Santa! I know him!” and “So…good news. I saw a dog today.” I say both of those lines year-round, and laugh to myself every single time.

New to me, but released in 2016, is A Nutcracker Christmas. It combines a love story and ballet, what could be better? Well acted and danced, it is a JOY to watch.

Since we also celebrate Hanukkah (begins sundown on December 7), I found a website that lists some family-friendly movies and we’ll watch a couple of them, too. https://www.verywellfamily.com/10-hanukah-movies-to-watch-with-kids-5208915

What are your favorite holiday movie traditions?

Everlasting Love | Rosalynn and President Jimmy Carter

I only recently learned how deep was the life of love between former President Jimmy Carter and Rosalynn, and so profound that his mother was the nurse that assisted in delivering Rosalynn. This was an inevitable destiny.

Said President Carter, “Rosalynn was my equal partner in everything I ever accomplished. She gave me wise guidance and encouragement when I needed it. As long as Rosalynn was in the world, I always knew somebody loved and supported me.”

In October 2019, Jimmy Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, became the longest-married presidential couple in American history, and this July marked their 77th—and final—wedding anniversary together. Rosalynn died on November 19, 2023, at age 96.

The hometown sweethearts’ seven-decade relationship saw them travel from their rural roots to the highest office in the land and beyond. Even in their final months together, as Jimmy entered hospice care in February 2023 and Rosalynn eventually joined him, the pair was there to support each another.

Jimmy and Rosalynn came from Plains, Georgia, a town of 600 people. Born in 1924—the first president to be born in a hospital—James Earl “Jimmy” Carter Jr. was the eldest of James and Bessie “Lillian” Carter’s four children. James was a successful local businessman and Lillian was a nurse.

Edgar and Allie Smith were neighbors of the Carters, and in the summer of 1927, Lillian helped deliver their first child, Eleanor Rosalynn. Jimmy, then a three-year-old, and newborn Rosalynn met just a couple days later for the first time. 

Although Rosalynn had known Jimmy all her life, it wasn’t until 1945 that romance blossomed. She was a freshman at Georgia Southwestern College. Jimmy, following stints at that same school and the Georgia Institute of Technology, was entering his final year at Annapolis.

When Jimmy returned home that summer, Jimmy spotted his sister and Rosalynn walking down the street and impulsively asked her to the movies, after which the two shared their first kiss. Jimmy was immediately smitten after their first date, and told his mother that he had met his future wife.

The whirlwind courtship continued when they both returned to school, and that winter, Jimmy proposed. Initially concerned about how fast the relationship was moving and wishing to finish college first, Rosalynn said no. But Jimmy persisted, and when Rosalynn visited Annapolis that spring, they became engaged. The couple married on July 7, 1946, just weeks after Jimmy’s graduation.

In 1962, he won a seat in the Georgia State Senate, and subsequently became governor in 1970s. Rosalynn campaigned tirelessly on her husband’s behalf. Jimmy’s victory saw her take on a new role as Georgia’s first lady, where she began working on causes she championed for the rest of her life, including mental health. Rosalynn became first lady when Jimmy Carter became president in 1976, Rosalynn was the first presidential spouse to have her own office in the East Wing. She sat in on Cabinet meetings, advised on staff and personnel moves, served as an envoy on overseas trips, and joined former first ladies in the unsuccessful effort to pass the Equal Rights Amendment. So closely aligned were the couple that Jimmy referred to Rosalynn, who he’d nicknamed Rosa, as a “perfect extension of himself.”

After President Carter lost re-election in 1980, they moved back to Georgia and continued farming peanuts, as well as supporting global humanitarian efforts, through both the Carter Center and their work with Habitat for Humanity, through which they built more than 4,000 homes around the world. In 2002, Jimmy was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his decades of work supporting democracy and human rights.

In all their years together, the couple also had time to prepare for their eventual final goodbye. Back when Jimmy was being treated for cancer, they created a fitting plan: Both of them will be buried under a willow tree on the grounds of their house in Plains, where their stories began.

They have spent their final months together at home. If ever two people are an inspiring example of the enduring love of true life partners, it’s Rosalynn and Jimmy Carter.

Curated from https://www.biography.com/political-figures/jimmy-rosalynn-carter-love-story

Shades of Gratitude in Monochrome

Late afternoon on a beautiful day after Thanksgiving, these are my favorite humans standing in the sun-sparkled ocean.

No filters or editing.
#Monochrome-Madness

Holiday Recipes | Grandma’s Best Kugel Noodle Pudding

Are you thinking about what to serve this year for family gatherings? I swear, Angel Boy 2.0 could eat kugel every single day. It’s his most requested dish but I only make it a few times a year.

Let me introduce you to one of our family traditions. My mom’s recipe is NOT vegan, but it can easily be adapted if you substitute eggless noodles and eliminate eggs. It’s just as delicious.

What IS Kugel?

Of German/Jewish origin, Kugel is a savory or sweet pudding built around layered potatoes or noodles (lokshen), usually served as a side dish. Some recipes use cottage cheese, sour cream, cream cheese, and raisins, but that’s not how we make it.

Our family’s traditional Kugel is the sweet noodle version. It’s to die for. Really. Spectacular hot or cold or reheated, it’s one of those recipes you can make a day in advance and gets better and better.

If you have any leftovers– which we never do — it freezes well, too.

Grandma’s Kugel

Ingredients:
One large package wide egg noodles (or eggless wide noodles)
One large can fruit cocktail in juice
One small can pineapple pieces in juice
One large can canned peaches and pears in heavy syrup, yes, you read that right
At least 3 Granny Smith apples, sliced with about 1/4 cup sugar and 1-2 TBS cinnamon
3 eggs (or not)
2 tsp vanilla
Approx 2 tablespoons cinnamon
Crisco (YES)
One lemon, juiced and zested

Directions: This is a good dish to make in advance especially if you’re also planning to make apple pie (which I am) ‘cos you can just prep all the apples for both dishes. The secret to this dish is a LOT of cinnamon. If you think you have enough, add a little bit more. More is better, trust me!

1. Cook a whole package of wide egg noodles and drain.
2. Add 3 beaten eggs with vanilla, 2 tablespoons cinnamon and 1.4 cup sugar ; it will be super slippery.
3. Add the lemon juice and zest to the apple slices.
4. Drain all the canned fruit but keep the juices; you’ll need them.
5. Mix together all the canned fruits.
6, Use Crisco to oil one large and one medium deep baking dish.
7. Add a layer of noodles, then a layer of canned fruit, a layer of apples, then another layer of noodles, a layer of the canned fruit, sliced apples, more noodles, more canned fruit and apples, ending with a final layer of noodles.
8. Pour over any remaining egg mixture, and a cup or so of the fruit juices. Be very liberal with the juice. It will all get soaked up as the kugel bakes.
9. My mom would dot the whole thing with a bunch of Crisco, like ¼ cup, which sounds gross, but I still follow her recipe. Some people use butter, but we don’t.
10. Bake covered at 300 degrees for about an hour or so depending on the pan size. Take cover off for final 15/20 minutes. Excellent reheated and/or cold.

Recipe by Enchanted Seashells

Featured pic is not mine, Found on Pinterest.

seriously

The world is going through some serious things, all very painful, all tragic.

One of my favorite aunts died yesterday, in her sleep. She was ninety-one years old and had a hard time coping with the death of her loving husband and a subsequent stroke. She was simply tired of being alive, even less after her youngest son recently died of cancer. Last week, her entire family (on the east coast) gathered by her side for her birthday but they said it was as if she was already transitioning, already thinning the veil between here and there or nowhere.

This Mary Oliver quote from her poem, “Invitation”, really says it all:
It is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world

It could mean something.
It could mean everything.

Blink! Is it Magic? 🪄

At one point, Angel Boy 2.0 would often ask me to do something for him; for example, he’d ask me to reach something or make him breakfast or a snack or to play MagnaTiles, anything really, and he would become incredibly impatient if it didn’t happen RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

As an impatient type myself who wants everything RIGHT NOW, I totally understood.

Instead of getting angry or telling him to wait, I started to say, “BLINK.”

It was enough of a distraction the first time I said it that he stopped and said “WHAT?”

I repeated myself, “Blink.” I mean do it, really BLINK YOUR EYES, OK?”

He blinked and looked at me.

I said, “Did anything happen? Am I magic? Do I possess magical abilities?”

He slowly shook his head…nope. (I’m sure he thought his grandma was totally cray, and he might be right, but he was engaged and interested.)

“Well, I wish I could blink my eyes so that what you want would happen in the blink of an eye, and since it obviously did NOT, it’s going to take as long as it takes. What do you think about that?”

He laughed and I did, too.

It must have been the perfect response for him because we’ve continued the tradition.

“BLINK! Did it happen? Nope, not for me either. I’m still not magical, I guess, still only human.”

It was a more fun way to get my point across that he could be a LITTLE more patient. I think I got the idea from watching Bewitched. Although I can’t twitch my nose like Samantha, I can blink my eyes.

Angel Girl recently did the same thing as I mended a torn dress for one of her dolls. Watching me, she kept impatiently repeating, “Are you finished, are you finished, why is it taking you so long?”

“Blink, girl. Blink your eyes. Is your doll all sewn up yet?”

She blinked and shook her head while her brother nodded with all the wisdom of his 7.5 years.

“See”, I held out my hands. ” I’m not magic. These hands of mine can only sew one stitch at a time and if you want me to do a good job, it’s going to take as long as it takes.”

It’s not like I have the powers of Bianca in Wishenpoof, the story about a young fairy girl who grants children’s wishes, although SOMETIMES I do swirl my arms around and say “Whish” like she does in the show, but sadly, I’m still not magical. Not at all.

No matter how many times I blink MY eyes, I’m only human.

It’s all going to take as long as it takes. Lesson learned. 🪄

The Hug Store Is ALWAYS Open

Out of the mouths of, well, not babes exactly, but out of the mouth of my Angel Boy second grader.

A long time ago, even before there was an Angel Girl, AB and I would hug when we first saw each other and then at various times throughout the day and before bed.

I always asked first, “can I have a hug?” or “would you like a hug” because of course it’s all about body autonomy and if he didn’t feel like being touched, it’s his right to say no. That’s a good lesson for all of us, right?

Then he started to say, “I need a Grandma hug” and my arms would open wide.

When Angel Girl came into the world, she would stretch out HER arms and say, “Hug” and who could ever say no to that? Definitely not me.

Now they both jump into my arms and just about knock me over. I tell them I have two arms so there’s plenty of love for both of them. Yes, there’s a bit of sibling rivalry because AB had me all to himself for almost four years and sharing his grandma has caused some angst. Actually, learning to share anything is an ongoing lesson for him…

Recently, Angel Boy has become a bit more thoughtful about what it means to be his grandma.

He told his sister, “With Grandma, the hug store is always open. Right, Grandma?”

I hugged them both and said, “That’s a really cool way to describe it and you’re one thousand percent correct. Best of all, it doesn’t cost a single penny. My hug store is always open, night or day, 365 days a year.”

After that beautiful moment, I told him we needed to write a story about The Hug Store, and that’s exactly what we’re doing.

There’s an endless ocean of love with these two angel kids. ❤️