Read it and then FORGET it.
I was at church this morning helping decorate for a fancy luncheon being held there this afternoon. My mom was in the kitchen cooking and we were chatting as we worked. She told me that she and my dad had gone over to my grandparents apartment to give Grandpa his birthday gift that finally arrived. (hang in there, this story is going somewhere I promise.) Anyway, the gift was a hat to match his winter coat…the problem was that both he and my Grandma FORGOT that the coat even existed.
On the way home I was thinking of all of the random things they have been forgetting lately. It was depressing until I had a cheery thought–maybe they will forget things I WANT them to forget! Like maybe my Grandpa will forget that time when I was sixteen that he walked in on my boyfriend and I making out..and the boy’s hand was totally up my shirt.
I thought all three of us were going to die of embarrassment.
Maybe Grandpa forgot the second base incident, but dang it I just told my mother. And MMiL. And who knows who else.
Crap.
Filed under Boy is my face red, Family-blame the DNA, NaBloPoMo, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (3)Serenade
The Birthday Boy is in red BUT you have to watch this video to figure out who it is. Um, yeah my kiddo is covered in marker–from making a birthday card!
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, NaBloPoMo | Comments (3)A party for 60–years, not people.
They may forget it tomorrow–but that night they both laughed and cried with their closest friends as they celebrated 60 years of putting up with each other–not just putting up with each other, but really LOVING each other.
My grandparents renewed their vows–and teared up while they were promising to love each other forever. We all teared up actually, if anyone did not tear up they were not listening closely enough. (Oh, that guy in the middle is the new guy I told you about. He could not possibly be more different than the old guy–but that is okay. He is exactly what we need right now. The only thing our church needs now is to dump a few hundred ugly plastic covered chairs, but that is an entirely different post–one my husband will delete as soon as I write it– so never mind. Back to the wedding. )
It was perfect. Small, simple, and sweet. Every party guest was able to fit at one long table.
We used my Mom’s china, crystal, and silver. There were antique lace table clothes, and linen napkins purchased in Ireland. Then JHJ and I drilled holes in defenseless baby pumpkins and jammed flaming candles in them.
Colorful fall leaves, and a few gumballs were scattered about to keep the organic/fall/classic look that my Grandma wanted. Nothing says elegance like yard waste!
I was originally going to use acorns for the place cards, but the gumballs worked so much better! Some day I will tell you about why these pokey little suckers were the bane of my existence as a child. It may this month–there is a lot of Mo left to Po.
We did candles in crystal to deflect the light everywhere, and added fresh greenery stolen last minute from the yard. Not shown is the arch we put up that they got married under…it was okay. The pictures left me feeling very lackluster about it, but no one said anything but nice things so either there were only polite guests or I am being a perfectionist again.
We did little vignettes at important places and I never once regretted having not bought a single flower. The leaves and pumpkins, gumballs, and candles were plenty.
Of course the cake was made by Stacey. Only the leaves and little acorns and pumpkins were fondant. The rest of all that detailing was done in (incredibly yummy) buttercream.
Yum. How cute are they feeding each other–with forks!? I looked in their album and they used forks for their first wedding too. The Husband and I used our fingers to feed each other cake at our wedding–but then all of the guests were barefoot at our wedding too…so yeah.
It was a great night. And look, you can’t even tell that my mom has a BROKEN BACK and that she had worked all weekend cooking. She is awesome at that stuff. I kinda want to be her when I grow up. Oh, and look at the toys on the floor. Certain family members lost interest around the second course.
One more thing. See that glass my grandma is toasting with? My Great Grandparents got it as a wedding gift, and used it at their wedding, my grandparents used it at their (original) wedding, and The Husband and I used it ours. My great grandparents were married for 79 years, and these two are already at 60, so we have some big wedding shoes to fill.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, NaBloPoMo, Photography, hostess with the mostess. | Comments (3)Guessing Game!
Guess which person in this picture has a birthday today! Bonus points to the person who can tell me how we are related.
Happy Birthday You Know Who You Are!
Answer on Monday.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, NaBloPoMo, Photography | Comments (4)There is no better. Both ways suck.
My Pa died seven years ago in November. He was my first, and so far only, grandparent to die (biological–unfortunately we have lost several of the hubby’s since then). I will be thirty in like a millisecond (January), so that is pretty incredible I suppose. The postcards which I am using for my banners come from my dad’s side of the family, and Pa was my mother’s father-but this month’s banner keeps making me think of him.
I was his favorite. Maybe all of his granddaughters thought that, but I really was his favorite. I was the only daughter of his only daughter. I was the girly girl who would still swim in the horse trough and walk barefoot through a hog pen. I loved following him through stall after stall of Thoroughbred horses and having him explain the daily tasks of caring for these animals each of which cost more than my house. He loved me best because I inherited his love of horses. He loved me best because I would argue with him. We would argue politics by the time I was 13. I was the republican and he was the democrat. He loved me best because I would snuggle up next to him. I sat on his lap two months before he died–I was 22. He would scrape my cheeks with his white stubble when he kissed me and the sound of his booming voice has yet to quit ringing in my ears. He taught me my first cuss word when I was eight. Walking through a pasture, “Watch out for that shit, darlin’!” He taught me to drive on his gravel road when I was eleven “You sure did get your Mama’s lead foot girl! Slow down!”
He would tease me, pulling the leg of a silly suburban girl. He told me that domestic turkeys had to stay in a barn because they were so inbred and stupid that if it rained they would look up to see what was getting them wet and drown. I still am not sure if that was a joke or the truth, and wonder every time I pull up thehuckablog lately. I think that is why I have not googled the answer yet. No one tell me, okay!
I remember him as healthy and vibrant, as loving and droll. I remember HIM.
He died of a sudden heart attack. I was so, so, so mad during the weekend of the funeral because people kept saying it was such a blessing he never suffered, that he never was in pain, that he was always him. I yelled BULLSHIT (not really, but I THOUGHT it strongly.) ((thanks for that word Pa, I almost never use it, but it comes in handy sometimes.)).
I wanted him to be at least a little sick so we could say goodbye, so we could say the things we wanted to say, so we could wrap our minds around the thought of him not being there for Christmas, of him not crying at my wedding.
I was selfish. Those people were right, it was a blessing.
Now I am concerned that I am not going to remember the good things about my Grandpa, the one here with me now. He was an awesome grandparent too, I have just as many wonderful memories of him. Will I remember those good memories ten years after he is gone, or will I remember the him that has a totally changed personality. The one who I think could care less about me, about my son. The one whom Alzheimers has turned into a crotchety old man.
Which way is better?
post edit: I must be needing to up the Lexapro because that was a morbid, depressing post. Sorry about that. Go think about bunnies and daisies and enjoy the lovely fall sunshine.
We had a Happy Huckaween
In August I asked The Son what he wanted to be for Halloween. Fresh off a weekend at FFiL and MMiL’s new compound, he said he wanted to be Pappaw. Hmm. A costume of Pappaw would include jeans, a plaid button up shirt, a cell phone in a holster and a tray of bread. (Pappaw owns a bread route). I took creative license and instead he was GREAT Pappaw Huckablog.
Great Pappaw Huckablog was a radioman on an escort destroyer during WWII. Because The Son has OCD parents…all of the patches and pins on this costume are authentic and accurate. (eBay still has some cool stuff for cheap!)
We went trick or treating at the independent living center (i.e. elderly people but not a nursing home) a week before Halloween. His Navy uniform fit perfectly. The Thursday before Halloween I put his costume on him for his school party…and the shirt was too small! I did not wash it. He just flat out grew that much, that fast. In all of these pictures it was safety pinned up the back to keep from gaping open.
Keeping with the WWII theme, I was Rosie the Riveter (tangent: a SHOCKING amount of people my age had no idea who Rosie the Riveter was. What’s up with that public education?!). The Husband was SUPPOSED to be THIS poster, but he refused. He was being a Halloween scrooge this year. I talked him into wearing his alien shirt my parents got him in Roswell NM, but he would not wear the tin foil hat that went with it either. Bah humbug. No pictures of Scrooge this Halloween.
MMiL, FFil and BiL were on hand to make it a thoroughly Huckablog Family Halloween. BiL was a Vampiriate, FFiL was a troll? I think? (Take note of the jeans, plaid shirt, and cell phone holster. I know where my hubs gets his desire for a “uniform”). MMiL was a lovely Halloween princess. Pappaw must have thought she was lovely too..what is he doing in this picture? Never mind. I don’t want to know.
BiL brought along his two friends who are girls. They were nice, if a bit confused by Halloween in general. That is all I am going to say about that.
That makes SEVEN adults IN COSTUME to take ONE three year old trick or treating. He knocked on exactly a dozen doors, then announced that Trick or Treating was hard work, and that he was done.
And he was. He still got a nice candy haul…after people saw that salute they just dumped handfuls of candy into his bag.
So, how was your Halloween? What were you? What were your kiddos?
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, NaBloPoMo, Photography, The Son | Comments (2)Hupdates: Not much happens when you barely leave the house.
1. I tweeted on Thursday afternoon about balloon boy’s parents trying to replace Jon and Kate as a joke, and I was totally right!
2. After cracking jokes about the wackadoodle balloon family all weekend, my sick baby, getting sick hubby, and I (still coughing up a lung (it’s okay, I have another one.)) curled up on the couch and watched Flight of the Navigator. Surely you see the resemblance?
My husband loved it, a blast from his past, and I thought it was okay–but in the process we helped The Son learn some new words. PG from the eighties means you can still say buttface six times, bastard twice, and shit once. We went over that whole, “just because someone else says it does not make it okay for you to say”, lecture again.
3. We seriously had not seen my in-laws in weeks and we missed them! The original plan was to go camping and then to a local carnival. I was smart enough to cancel the camping because of the bronchitis, but thought surely I could handle a few hours of fun! We got to in-laws’ house and I promptly fell asleep in a chair, and snored apparently. We got to the small town festival where The Son proceeded to be beyond difficult. He wanted to ride rides, but not wear the bracelet you have to wear to ride rides. He refused to even go under the tent where the food was located. He sat by himself at the edge of the tent while the rest of us ate yummy roast chicken. I should have known what was going on, my mama instincts really are better than that. We left because no one was having fun. As soon as we got back to In-laws house, I crashed on the guest bed and fell back asleep. The Son was asleep next to me in seconds. THREE HOURS later I woke up to a fireball curled against my back. He was so so so hot. Sent The Husband out for baby Motrin and as soon as The Son swallowed…he barfed grape Motrin all over me. MMiL got everyone cleaned up and had changes of clothes for us, but needless to say it was just not a great visit. We will make it up to you soon MMiL.
4. The Son has been spiking fevers for the last four days. Every morning I thought he was on the mend, only for that freaking fever to pop back up around nap time. We finally made it into the pedi today after waiting for two days worth of H1N1 infected children to grubby up the place first. We decided to decline the antibiotics for what is probably a virus, he is on the mend on his own and with the exception of a runny nose, low fever, and royally bad attitude–he is much better.
5. My mom got hurt on their vacation. I thought about lying and telling you she got hurt bungee jumping or something, but the truth is she fell out of their camping van. As soon as they returned she worked SO HARD, while hurt, for my grandparents 60th anniversary party (pictures soon) yet we knew she really was injured pretty bad (when someone who rarely whines turns white when they stand up something is wrong) . The day after the party she finally went to the doctor and she has a vertebral compression fracture. Yeah, she broke her back and ignored it for eleven days. Finally, after many xrays, MRIs, and consultations later tomorrow they are going to inject cement into it and seal the fragments together, supposedly bringing immediate relief. We have really not seen her much since we quarantined ourselves, but tonight when out for more movies and orange juice, The Son saw balloons, and insisted we buy one to make Grammy feel better. He wanted to buy her an eight dollar Hannah Montana balloon, but thankfully acquiesced to a two dollar bright yellow smiley face instead. We brought it to her without contagious hugs or kisses and quickly left. I hope it helps, but I think our prayers (yours too) will do a better job.
6. I have been working hard on the best Halloween costume ever for The Son. He is going to be his Great Pappaw Huckablog. More details on it (and my costume too!) to follow.
Filed under Family-blame the DNA, Watch it or Whine, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (5)