Grandma Evelyn

My grandmother died this weekend. She’s my father’s mother, but I haven’t seen her in years. She had a stroke several years ago, and I know that she was having a hard time even recognizing my dad of late. Thankfully, it sounds like she didn’t suffer long. As I look down the face of my 30th birthday, it scares me to think that, ultimately, my body too will simply shut down.

But for now, I can remember my grandmother. She lived in St. Paul, Minnesota, for the majority of my life. The summer I was eight, I flew by myself for the first time to visit her. I spent a few days with her in her small apartment, roasting in the Minnesota heat.

I remember sitting by the screened window, trying to stay cool in the absence of air conditioning. Grandma sat in her chair, quietly doing her crosswords. Almost every night a tornado warning was issued, sounding loudly from the local emergency towers. Grandma and I diligently hunkered down in the basement of her building for hours with other residents. Grandma read her Reader’s Digest as we listened to the radio. A neighbor brought down her cat, who, knowing that Grandma wasn’t much for cats, spent the entire evening trying to get her attention.

When Grandma would visit us in California, she did everything and went everywhere with us. She couldn’t drive, and never got her license because there was always one of her seven kids or 10+ grandchildren around to do it for her. I thought it was odd (who wouldn’t want to drive?) but I think she was just old-fashioned.

I remember how she always smelled sweet, and always had her hair permed. I remember her purple hair pick lying in the bathroom we would share when she stayed with us.

I remember how her chin moved when she laughed, and anyone laughing with her could tell that she was really tickled.

I remember how my other grandmother called her “Evy,” even though no one else ever seemed to call her that.

I remember how she “tsked” at any risque moments on the television or at a saucy story—remnants of her conservative background.

I remember how strange it was to hear her call my dad “Glenn,” or even “Glenny,” and to understand that this diminutive woman was my dad’s mother.

From what I know of her, Grandma worked hard her entire life for her husband, her children. She didn’t have the luxury of a college education or a lot of money. But she was sweet, and easygoing, and sent me cards on my birthday. And she was my grandma. She’ll be missed.

No, I’M the boss of YOU

My niece Bella is adorable, but a handful. She’s five now, and can hold her own in quite grown up conversations. She's started saying "for real" after making any statement she thinks we may not believe, and can even get her dad in trouble once in awhile by calling him out on things he shouldn't say. She also likes to make up stories and play with her dolls, which I totally admire because I never had the creativity to play with dolls. They just sit there, you know?

So I got to spend a few days with her and her little sister Sofia over Christmas. Bella got a new makeup set as a gift, and when she “did my makeup” she managed to coat my eyes in enough glitter that it’s still with me three days later. Sofia was running around with blue cheeks and purple lips all of Christmas day, and when RL was leaving Bella told him he couldn’t go because she still had to do his makeup. Gender shmender!


(Bella, in all her sassiness)

My favorite moment was when she was getting ready to go to bed on our last night together. I told her she could sleep with me, so she eagerly got in her pajamas and climbed in bed, along with her five dolls. It was pretty quickly evident that she did not view this as bedtime, but as a way to continue playing with the dolls and making up stories for her lucky audience (read: me). The stories go something like this: “Ariel went to see her daughter Melody and she told her, you can’t have my legs!” followed by much giggling on Bella’s part. I’m always a step behind her trying to figure out what’s going on, so usually I just end up with a confused look on my face.

When I finally told her she needed to lie down and start being quiet, Bella says, “no I don’t! Mommy and Daddy didn’t say I had to. For real.”

I start arguing with her about the fact that I was in the room when Mommy and Daddy did in fact tell her to go to bed, and then realize that this type of logic has never worked with her. I just have to be firm! So I say “Bella, it’s time to go to bed.” At this she grabs my hand, looks me in the eye, and says, very articulately, “You’re not the boss of me, I’m the boss of you!”

It’s hard not to laugh when a five year old is so completely testing you and your ability to withstand her strong-willed adorableness. But I stood my ground, and somehow she agreed to go back to her own bed and go to sleep.

Phew! Score one for Aunt Tplate’s negotiations with the five year old.

Ridiculous Christmas Presents

Christmastime is that great time of year when commercials for really inane gadgets come on TV (well inane gadgets and electric razors. Did you ever notice that?). It's like these "As Seen on TV" product developers know you're only going to buy their product when you're really desperate to find a last-minute Christmas present for your weird Uncle Ed.

So last night I saw this commercial for the Clapper "Plus"--it's the new and improved version of the clap on/clap off light control. This one doesn't just function off of clapping. No, this one has a remote control that comes with it, so that you can always carry with you the ease of turning on and off your lights at the touch of a button. The problem is, the thing is tiny. I can imagine it getting lost at pretty much the first use.

So to solve that problem, the ingenious people at Clapper productions have added Velcro to the back of the remote! So you can just stick it up on the wall when you find a convenient spot for it. Thank goodness they solved that problem. But wait, that kind of seems like a...light switch.



Last I checked light switches came pretty standard in most houses. No need to pay the extra $24.95 for each and every lamp.

I know you were all about to buy the Clapper Plus for your loved ones, but I'm here to give it to you straight. You're welcome.

The best Christmas tree ever

so ever since, oh, the middle of November, i've been dreaming about a Christmas tree. So last Sunday we went up to Winter Park with some delightful friends and chopped one down!

At first we were hesitant about the two-hour drive, but since it had snowed the previous day and Sunday turned out to be gorgeous, it was the perfect tree-cutting day. Five couples tromped out into the woods with one saw and one hatchet, and somehow we all made it back with perfect (albeit different) trees.



Ours took awhile to find, but when we did, RL dubbed it the "crown jewel" of Christmas trees, then hung his hat on it to stake his claim. Also so we could find it again. We brought him home, and I gave him the more appropriate name of "Ed" and decorated him up!



(The blur on RL's lap is Little the cat, who is very upset because RL tied a little red ribbon around her neck. Little don't jive with costumes.)

Now for some presents to go under it! I love Christmas.