Granny's Birthday

Today is Granny's birthday. When I mentioned this to my class this morning, they insisted we call to sing her "Happy Birthday." I thought what a great idea. So I grabbed my cell phone, dialed, and pushed the speaker button. After four rings she answered with a drowsy hello.

"HI, Granny!" I piped, as loud as I could into the phone.

"What." was her reply. And not "what?", which ends in a question mark and has the tone of curiousity regarding "what did you say?" but "What." as in a statement. A monotone, drab word that really said "why are you calling at such an ungodly hour and waking me up on my birthday!"

"Granny, I'm in my classroom and you're on speaker phone."

"You're kidding."
And then a giggle.

"No, granny, I'm not kidding. I told my class it's your birthday and they want to sing Happy Birthday to you."

And then she laughed again.

And Caleb and Luke led the chorus of the masses in the Happy Birthday song, even with the endearing "Dear Granny" in the middle.

"Well, thank you, thank you. Aren't you boys and girls good singers!?" she replied.

And then asked if we wanted her to give us some advice on living life? We said yes, but off the cuff, all she could think of was "keep up the good voices!"

I hope we do.

CRASH...

So I definitely need a new porch cover for the spring. :)

I'm not sure there's any fixing this one.

Shopping for a Winter Storm

I needed the $70 in groceries I bought yesterday before the ice storm. Like I need a hole in my head.

I was talking to Mitchell at the grocery store last week and he said if the weathermen would just mention that we might get some type of weather, it would sure give the store a boost. We were joking about the influx of shoppers before the big moment hits. And there I was yesterday, just like the other 60 shoppers at G & W. (And yes, 60 shoppers in G & W is SUPER CROWDED!)

I didn't have a list. I just felt like I needed to go. I must be the most unorganized shopper in the universe. I don't go in with a list, but am thinking of a few things I know I need, like milk, egges, and, well, that's all I could think of at the moment. But I scour each row as if I'm buying my last set of groceries ever!

Ohmygosh...condensed milk. Do I need condensed milk? Do I have any at home? Will I be cooking something that calls for canned milk? What if I don't have it and I need it? Should I get it? I don't need it. When's the last time I used condensed milk? Pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving? Please, I'm not going to make a pumpkin pie on a snow day.

So I bypass condensed milk. But then I get to the Ragu.

Do I need spaghetti sauce? Should I get some just in case? I could make spaghetti, cacciatori, lasagna...oh so many things with Ragu. But, really, a bad choice. What if my electric goes out? Hmmm. Where's my dutch oven? I could heat Ragu up in the dutch oven on my grill. (And now this gets me thinking I should be buying things I can grill just in case my electric goes out. Which then puts me into a panic to get home and get some wood out of the weather just in case I need to build a fire outside.)

Down the aisle is hot chocolate. And can't find my favorite brand. Shoot. They are out. Oh, but I could make it with milk, which I've already bypassed that aisle and will have to go back. Three trips later to the dairy case and I finally get what I came in for.

Betty checks me out, as usual. She combs through my basket and starts asking me what I'm cooking for dinner. I have no idea. All I know is I have 70 dollars invested in things like extra mayonaise, corn starch, and sesame ginger salad dressing. I can't remember the last time I bought any of these items.

Some day I want to go back. On the weekends, we walked across Mariabrucke into the city centre, hopping on the trolley that followed Ringstrasse. Our favorite stop: Stadtpark.

Packed with rolling landscape, aged trees, winding sidewalks, thick, crisp patches of grass, and lots of people, Stadtpark was the perfect place to spend a summer evening in Vienna. We'd find our place on the grass and enjoy eating the sandwiches or slices of pizza we picked up from a street vendor along the way.

Dusk is when it would start. The Vienna Orchestra would start playing their stringed instruments at a place called The Kursalon, which had a wide veranda outside. On nights when the humidity was low and summer air didn't make you sweat out your dinner, we would sneak up as close as we could, sit in the grass below the hedge surrounding the veranda, and watch the dancers waltz into our evening of bliss. The women wore elegant ball gowns, and the men wore suits and tuxedos.

We spent hours there getting to know each other. I was mostly with my friend Anne, and we made plans for the future, talked about frustrations, longed for things American, and relished in the dream we were living. It was a mixture of longing, and belonging.

I Want Snow

If it's going to be 4 degrees. I want snow. Buckets of it. Where I have to shovel out for weeks and weeks and get to stay in my pj's all day and make warm chocolate chip cookies for breakfast if I want.

Snows Days when I was a young child were spent in coveralls and mittens and boots outside for the first part. By noon, back inside where Caron and I made grilled cheese sandwiches...and Chef Boy R Dee ravioli from the can.
Then a game of monopoly would ensue, where I most often would win just because I was the banker. And sometimes we would play checkers and 4-cross on a tattered cardboard checkerboard. The checkers were stored in a small round blue peanut tin, and our games, for that matter, were stored in an iron tub in the corner of the room on the fireplace hearth. That hearth was the best hearth I think I've ever seen. In fact, some day, if I ever build my own house, I think I want a replica of that hearth. It was made from Arkansas stone and spread across the entire wall of the living room. The ledge went across the room as well, and we stored things on it, like the iron tub for games, a stack for newspapers to help start the fire, the fire utensils, and wood. Man, I'd like to see that hearth again. It was the place for family portraits, from the day my sister won homecoming queen, to night Janet, Tina and I dressed in our formals and went to dinner. The beautiful mantel at the top of the hearth sported a grandfather clock, owl paintings, family antiques, family photos, and most unsightly school pictures.