tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78329395932154666112024-03-14T08:11:04.529-07:00Italian BabushkaA grandmother is a mother who has a second chanceSandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.comBlogger455125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-65105104429948597242022-03-14T17:16:00.000-07:002022-03-14T17:16:03.950-07:00From Italy to Chicago<p>I don’t know as much about my dad’s family because they all stayed in
Chicago while we moved around and eventually out West. My paternal grandmother, Angela Marie,
married my grandfather, Pasquale, in Pizzone, Italy in 1918 and then immigrated
to the United States. Angela was born
and grew up in Pizzone. Pasquale’s
family left Pizzone during the late 1800s and settled in southern France. He served in the Italian Military during WWI
then moved back to Pizzone when the war was over. That’s when he met Angela and they married.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGBe2OdfhKClRmI_Gq6FPCOsLUjWV2CQjswet1u-V1idpcrwZZDtXh2AS946N7XjLcT37k7tX4H6qOQEiSPbyOMEHjPhHM2vtXo4zLQx-XaLPhsDFhyRDE7LOmPzrQpchgrwb3D1IgGF5hcob8X2XOP95UFU60Vk-n7XgJH9JaGKyeRU0dIXS98zrO" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="318" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGBe2OdfhKClRmI_Gq6FPCOsLUjWV2CQjswet1u-V1idpcrwZZDtXh2AS946N7XjLcT37k7tX4H6qOQEiSPbyOMEHjPhHM2vtXo4zLQx-XaLPhsDFhyRDE7LOmPzrQpchgrwb3D1IgGF5hcob8X2XOP95UFU60Vk-n7XgJH9JaGKyeRU0dIXS98zrO" width="279" /></a></div><br />After coming to the U.S., they settled in Chicago and had
three children – my dad, Tony, Uncle Ralph, and Aunt Marylou. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My dad and Uncle Ralph were typical urban Italian boys who
were doted on by their mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncle
Ralph would stand out on the street shouting up to their third-floor apartment,
“Hey, Ma, throw me down a meatball sandwich.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And she would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My dad would
invite my mom on a date by saying “I’m going to a movie on Friday night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You wanna come or not?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aunt
Marylou was 12 years younger than my dad, the light in her Grandpa’s eye, and
raised to be a girl who takes care of her menfolk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandma would cook dinner and make something
different for everyone (except Marylou) if they wanted it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember my Mom telling me that Grandma
came out to visit when I was just a baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mom was cooking fish for dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Grandma said, “What are you making for Tony?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom said, “The fish is for everyone.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandma said, “Oh, my Tony doesn’t eat
fish.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom said, “Watch him!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSqoqvkVRJSgq_GjPokJvH13STGtts2zeRI0ydfq3a-6Wl93yOiGA_G7t_3ZmWQpxDg-Coagt2b6R_k66Yhxz4pHEA7MEOLzENd-nnDR7l3kvXMPJSyXT5v2FvVjtU_G7wwXw7XWE3GoqPF1jCLce4yVzTWmHVsZSChaOJINP8FBvPZiT5k8MwVCaM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="313" data-original-width="214" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjSqoqvkVRJSgq_GjPokJvH13STGtts2zeRI0ydfq3a-6Wl93yOiGA_G7t_3ZmWQpxDg-Coagt2b6R_k66Yhxz4pHEA7MEOLzENd-nnDR7l3kvXMPJSyXT5v2FvVjtU_G7wwXw7XWE3GoqPF1jCLce4yVzTWmHVsZSChaOJINP8FBvPZiT5k8MwVCaM" width="164" /></a></div><v:shape alt="A picture containing text, person, person
Description automatically generated" id="Picture_x0020_1" o:spid="_x0000_s1027" style="height: 150.25pt; margin-left: 342.75pt; margin-top: 0; mso-height-percent: 0; mso-height-percent: 0; mso-height-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal-relative: text; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: text; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-width-percent: 0; mso-width-percent: 0; mso-width-relative: margin; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 102.75pt; z-index: 251666432;" type="#_x0000_t75">
<v:imagedata o:title="A picture containing text, person, person
Description automatically generated" src="file:///C:/Users/sabdo/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image002.jpg">
<w:wrap type="square">
</w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape><p class="MsoNormal">I don’t have a lot of memories about Grandpa because he died when I
was four. I remember thinking he was a
very tall and strong man (he was 5’6”) and he used to come into the kitchen
with chocolate bars on top of his head and make me jump up and down to find
them. Then when he was sick, I remember
sitting on his lap one day. He was
wearing blue and white striped pajamas and crying because he didn’t want to
leave me. I didn’t understand what was
going on, but it stayed a very strong memory.
When he was in the hospital for the last time, I was left to sit in the
lobby with someone. There was a
staircase going up with a rope across it and a sign saying no kids under 14 were
allowed up the stairs. I knew he was up there,
and I was crying because I wanted to see him.
That’s my last memory of him.</p><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I don’t think any of my family members were actually in the
Mafia, but they were definitely on the periphery. My mother always remembers that they seemed
to have a bit more food and money than a lot of her friends. Great Grandma would brag that she once took a
bullet out of the arm of a mobster. And
she handed down a knife and fork set that, supposedly, one of her Mafia buddies
hand carved while in prison. Also, there
is the fun story about how Grandpa Mancini was attending some men’s group in
Chicago – primarily because they were all Italian and they served food at the
meetings. Being fairly new to this
country, he didn’t always know what was going on. Then he found out it was a Communist group,
so he made the wise decision to not go back!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><v:shape alt="Two people standing in front of a house
Description automatically generated with medium confidence" id="Picture_x0020_8" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 121.05pt; margin-left: 0; margin-top: 34.1pt; mso-position-horizontal-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal: left; mso-position-vertical-relative: text; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 127.2pt; z-index: 251667456;" type="#_x0000_t75"><br />
<v:imagedata o:title="Two people standing in front of a house
Description automatically generated with medium confidence" src="file:///C:/Users/sabdo/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image003.jpg">
<w:wrap anchorx="margin" type="through">
</w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape>After we moved to Tucson, Grandma came to visit us a couple of
times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Arizona reminded her somewhat of
where she was from in Italy, so she enjoyed the visits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some reason, anytime family from Chicago
visited us, dad had to put on his cowboy hat and his fake gun and holster and
pretend he was shooting them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess
that’s what the wild west meant to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One time we took Grandma for a drive up Mt. Lemmon and she said the
rosary the whole way praying that we wouldn’t go over the edge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Although there was a car at the bottom of one of the cliffs that
obviously hadn’t made the turn successfully.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was there for many years as a warning.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiDTGRGGXgGNairzKzzY9LJR4W0cjsIzcBGZmU_AbCrpkozE8H909QUcyApwZMh6MS134GnT4ju1adTFaWh1dCkL2i6uQuqng_GjmPJetNlsBYCqOfD9Swdh_u79fm0Wi1lLwxzPD5H_HhqD5yGF9bNTzYacSrtBR0VqrCwZrOMq7WAOam39ePBXr5S" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="265" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiDTGRGGXgGNairzKzzY9LJR4W0cjsIzcBGZmU_AbCrpkozE8H909QUcyApwZMh6MS134GnT4ju1adTFaWh1dCkL2i6uQuqng_GjmPJetNlsBYCqOfD9Swdh_u79fm0Wi1lLwxzPD5H_HhqD5yGF9bNTzYacSrtBR0VqrCwZrOMq7WAOam39ePBXr5S" width="252" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The last time we saw Grandma Mancini was shortly after Tony
was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We took a trip to Chicago to
visit her because she had adult-onset leukemia and was not doing well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was happy to meet Tony as he would be the
one to carry on the Mancini name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
passed away shortly after our visit.<o:p></o:p></p>Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-49076133599052420642022-03-01T16:29:00.001-08:002022-03-01T16:29:43.431-08:00Two Long Years<p>Two years ago today we were getting off a cruise ship after a trip through the Panama Canal. While we were on the cruise, we were hearing of this thing called a coronavirus which was impacting cruises in Asia and some in Europe. People were stuck on these ships and not allowed to disembark. Before we boarded, the took our temperatures at the terminal and checked our passports to be sure we hadn't been in China over the past couple of weeks. I was very concerned about the end of our trip. I did NOT want to be stuck on a ship with sick people. I wanted to go home!</p><p>As we arrived at the port in Los Angeles, we were given a 9:00 am disembark time. We gathered our belongings and headed for the lobby. When we got there, we were told there were some delays! Now I was really freaked out! We stood in that lobby for over an hour waiting to get off the ship and I had visions of someone telling us we could not do so. But they finally did let us off.</p><p>I practically kissed the ground when we were back on solid land. We made it to the airport and flew home. NEVER have I been so glad to get home. The next couple of weeks were a bit of a blur. Our grandkids were all sent home from school on the 10th with the understanding that they would stay home until after Easter. Then on March 11 or 12, seniors were told to shelter in place and not leave their homes. I had a hair appointment on March 16th and I was determined to sneak out and get that done. </p><p>Then we heard that effective midnight March 16th, everything would be shut down. Everything. Just for a couple of weeks. And, thus, begin two years of confusion, shutdowns, masks, shots, crying, loneliness, anxiety. Plus jigsaw puzzles, Zoom meetings, baking bread, and wondering if things would ever be the same.</p><p>Kids weren't having birthday parties, but were having caravans drive through neighborhoods so people could step out on their porches and wave. One person in our neighborhood put up their Christmas lights again just to help brighten our moods. We had a couple of porch visits with our kids and grandkids - talking to them through a window or at a distance of over 10 feet. </p><p>We bought toilet paper, hand sanitizer, masks, and more sweat pants. Looking back, March of 2020 was such an incredible time. Something we never dreamed would happen. And never did anyone think it would stretch out to two years (so far). </p><p><br /></p>Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-35373758322279226812022-01-27T17:35:00.002-08:002022-01-27T17:35:10.356-08:00My Mom's side<p> <br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">One of my great-grandmother's first three children was my grandmother Nana Gene, was a feisty lady who
never looked, and rarely acted, her age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She was born in 1905.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She often
told us that she married my grandfather, Papa Jim, in 1921 when she was 16 and
he was 26.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were never clear if it was
an arranged marriage or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And they
had sex twice – my mom and my Aunt Mary.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFuuD9Ti0iftllP56y6m8fvnSXOdhl0lmia75jByRpTVCAt7fwXia8Ky9iEsnjWicOU8GxGfz8mFOMq7S9BtQ3DUDCCC_WXQ1bZCblST9hHumcjGmj0bjHLQRG1kKMPxj6t8Dzraufms1ZTkYY4HD-F9g2c0VVUFWsgRBwhrWPFbNj9JGK7FV1cvlu" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="205" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFuuD9Ti0iftllP56y6m8fvnSXOdhl0lmia75jByRpTVCAt7fwXia8Ky9iEsnjWicOU8GxGfz8mFOMq7S9BtQ3DUDCCC_WXQ1bZCblST9hHumcjGmj0bjHLQRG1kKMPxj6t8Dzraufms1ZTkYY4HD-F9g2c0VVUFWsgRBwhrWPFbNj9JGK7FV1cvlu" width="172" /></a></div><br />Nana Gene always worked while Papa Jim seemed to have a lot
of illnesses and apparently several operations – although none of these were authenticated. Papa Jim liked to grouse about how he didn’t
feel good, or something hurt. Once at
the dinner table he said, “it hurts my arm to do this”. Nana Gene said, “then stop doing that,
dammit.” Maybe it was an arranged
marriage. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">When I was 20, I moved with my girlfriend into a little cottage that was right next to Nana Gene and Papa Jim’s house. I would see him in the morning walking slowly with a limp, holding his stomach, just generally feeling bad. Then Nana Gene would head off to work. Suddenly he was walking around, talking with his friends, sitting on the porch drinking wine. As soon as she came home, the limping returned.</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-FMZp9oE0tnawM8bxUWunM91vikgxocpQE0ATljJVmTCdKmRj9jgh0RlH2R-dWVkTyFCd2F-QYl6qNLsSiw7rZrPsgBV9uX4_UYc4h36mhA-Az8HGyY0LXl4TPWadf79LtfHMteNeKNZ2JyYNDjjXkvcrlV4SKgk2gO9JyxS9zB-BETJ4R8gzzEOy" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="323" data-original-width="253" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-FMZp9oE0tnawM8bxUWunM91vikgxocpQE0ATljJVmTCdKmRj9jgh0RlH2R-dWVkTyFCd2F-QYl6qNLsSiw7rZrPsgBV9uX4_UYc4h36mhA-Az8HGyY0LXl4TPWadf79LtfHMteNeKNZ2JyYNDjjXkvcrlV4SKgk2gO9JyxS9zB-BETJ4R8gzzEOy" width="188" /></a></div><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" id="_x0000_t202" o:spt="202" path="m,l,21600r21600,l21600,xe">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter">
<v:path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect">
</v:path></v:stroke></v:shapetype><v:shape id="Text_x0020_Box_x0020_2" o:gfxdata="UEsDBBQABgAIAAAAIQC75UiUBQEAAB4CAAATAAAAW0NvbnRlbnRfVHlwZXNdLnhtbKSRvU7DMBSF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" o:spid="_x0000_s1027" style="height: 19.5pt; margin-left: 327pt; margin-top: 0; mso-height-percent: 0; mso-height-percent: 0; mso-height-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: margin; mso-position-vertical: top; mso-width-percent: 0; mso-width-percent: 0; mso-width-relative: margin; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 3.6pt; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 3.6pt; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; v-text-anchor: top; visibility: visible; width: 141.9pt; z-index: 251665408;" type="#_x0000_t202"><br /></v:shape><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter">
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0">
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0">
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1">
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2">
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth">
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight">
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1">
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2">
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth">
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0">
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight">
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0">
</v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:f></v:formulas>
<v:path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f">
<o:lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit">
</o:lock></v:path></v:stroke></v:shapetype><v:shape alt="A couple of children posing for the camera
Description automatically generated with low confidence" id="Picture_x0020_6" o:spid="_x0000_s1026" style="height: 155.05pt; margin-left: 333.75pt; margin-top: 0; mso-height-percent: 0; mso-height-percent: 0; mso-height-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal-relative: margin; mso-position-horizontal: absolute; mso-position-vertical-relative: text; mso-position-vertical: absolute; mso-width-percent: 0; mso-width-percent: 0; mso-width-relative: margin; mso-wrap-distance-bottom: 0; mso-wrap-distance-left: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-right: 9pt; mso-wrap-distance-top: 0; mso-wrap-style: square; position: absolute; visibility: visible; width: 121.1pt; z-index: 251662336;" type="#_x0000_t75"><br />
<v:imagedata o:title="A couple of children posing for the camera
Description automatically generated with low confidence" src="file:///C:/Users/sabdo/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image001.jpg">
<w:wrap anchorx="margin" type="square">
</w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape>My Aunt Mary was born when Nana Gene was 17 and my mom when she was 18.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They grew up very close to each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom’s name in Italian was Rosaned
(Rosemarie) and my aunt was Maried (Marie).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When they were little neither of them could say those names, so my mom
became Nonna and my aunt Madda to each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And eventually to my dad and uncle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Those names just stuck.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I don’t know a lot about their childhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know Mom always wanted to be a stage
performer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also know that she was a
total tomboy and broke her nose when she was 14 by jumping over a fence to
impress a boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she landed on her
face, he wasn’t impressed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And there was the story about how they lost Aunt Mary when
she was around three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Couldn’t find her
anywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually located her sitting
in a bowl of sugar under the sink (no idea why there was a bowl of sugar under
the sink).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, when she was fairly
young, she fell into an ice hole and got very sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually this led to rheumatic fever and
some heart issues which she had all her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals and rehab during her
teen years and rumor had it that Uncle Joey proposed to her in a rehab facility
when they were 16.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My mom, dad, aunt and uncle all lived in the Italian
neighborhood in Chicago and were friends during their teen years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both couples got married right before World
War II and had me and my cousin, Ken, in 1946 right after the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two original Baby Boomers!<o:p></o:p></p><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><p></p>Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-14074389505142071852022-01-21T11:48:00.006-08:002022-01-21T11:48:59.977-08:00It all stated with Little Grandma<p>I was thinking today that I am almost 75 and my time left in
this life may be short. It could be
another 20 years, or another day. I’m at
that age where every little twinge feels like terminal cancer. Nobody knows.
And when I’m gone so many memories will also be gone. This may be a good place to write them down. The ones I remember and enjoy
remembering. Something for my kids and
grandkids to get to know me and my family a bit better. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">All my grandparents came from Italy. Except, maybe, my maternal grandmother (Nana
Gene), who may have been</span> born in Ishpeming, Michigan. She was one of 16 kids and Great Grandma had
trouble remembering where all of them were born. Also, they were never sure if Nana Gene was
born on June 12 or July 12. We would
celebrate in June but, if for some reason we couldn’t, we would move it to
July. As I said, Great Grandma had 16
kids, three sets of twins in a row, so you can understand her confusion. Nana Gene was from Great Grandma’s first
husband whose name was Costa, along with two other babies. Then Grandma married a man maned LaCaria and
all the kids took his name. Her final
husband, as far as we know, was named Pucci (or as she would say, P-u-chi-chi-i
). I asked her once if the first two had
died or if she got divorced. Or if she
was a bigamist! She just shrugged and walked away. No one knows for sure. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One
thing we do know is her birthing techniques.
She would tell the story about going into labor with one of her sets of
twins. When the time came, she squatted
down on some papers and had the baby.
After that she went back into the fields to do whatever, then had to go
back in and squat again later in the day for the second one!
Not sure if this story is true but it is a fun story to tell. So happy I didn't have to do that with my own twins!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Great
Grandma was the quintessential little old Italian woman. About 4’10”, chubby, one gold tooth, hair
always gray and always in a bun, glasses, permanent apron, and stockings rolled
down to just above her knees. We all
called her “Little Grandma”. And she
baked the best bread ever.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALs43MkYBI6CRt9PoR_VIR3FfwXo7JCMh1gSADnj0pVz4X_bZZO6VTFG1r_RyobguCqoOKActwkvsRH4NdCqMORzddrvgvrIuY5rHv1XcUtZsusUY-78bs6fJJ1_PEFld2ekZ2bS2Xbo/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="381" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALs43MkYBI6CRt9PoR_VIR3FfwXo7JCMh1gSADnj0pVz4X_bZZO6VTFG1r_RyobguCqoOKActwkvsRH4NdCqMORzddrvgvrIuY5rHv1XcUtZsusUY-78bs6fJJ1_PEFld2ekZ2bS2Xbo/" width="248" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>Little Grandma loved her soap operas. One time my mom called her to say hi, and
Grandma was crying on the phone. Mom
said, “What’s the matter?” Grandma said,
“Peggy died!”. Mom didn’t have any idea
who Peggy was, so she asked. Turns out
it was a character on one of her “stories”.
She was devastated.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 107%;">
</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">But she baked bread almost every day in an outside oven
someone built for her. Raised chickens,
had the whole family in her tiny house every Christmas Eve, and raised a few of
her grandchildren. I’m just sorry my
kids never got to know her. She had a
stroke at the age of 87 a couple of weeks before my twins were born and died a
month later. </p><p class="MsoNormal">My kids never got to know any of my relatives from the old country and they would have loved knowing them. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-53105138673212162332022-01-19T11:22:00.001-08:002022-01-19T11:22:26.922-08:00Time Flies<p> It's been eight years since I've written an entry into this blog. I do miss it, but no one seems to read or write blogs any more so I sort of gave up. However there are so many more family stories that I'd like to pass down to my kids and this might be a good place for them. Even if no one reads it, the entries will be saved for them and I can download them for future reading. If they're not interested (little ingrates), at least I'll never know!</p><p>So, what's happened in the last eight years? Well, most importantly we moved to Livermore in March of 2014. Two of our sons already lived here and my daughter moved 1/2 mile from us three months later. For the first time since I moved to California in 1987 I felt like I had a home. We absolutely love being here and it just never gets old. Close to the kids, close to the grandkids. So many soccer, baseball, lacrosse, football games we got to attend. Three grandkids have graduated from Livermore High School in the past three years and one more this year. Our youngest grandkids will all turn 13 this year.</p><p>We've done a lot of traveling over the last 8 years (except for 2020) and hopefully there will be more to come. Definitely getting older. Reading some of the old posts on here made me feel very nostalgic and made it more obvious how much time has gone by. I'm not crazy about being in the "twilight" years. There's so much more I'd like to see and do but the years just go by too fast. Maybe writing here will help.</p>Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-56910972454591353482014-01-12T11:04:00.002-08:002014-01-12T11:04:52.774-08:00Leader of the PackWe're moving to a new house in Livermore in a month or so. Being the OCD types that Ed and I are, we started packing a couple of weeks ago so now our current home is filled with boxes. Very carefully labeled boxes, to be sure. But boxes none the less. And there is a distinct echo in the living room with so much empty space.<br />
<br />
Ed moved to this house in 1999 and I joined him in 2000. We merged two households which lead to the immediate construction of a 6x14 shed in one of the side yards. It's full. As is the garage and three other sheds we've managed to acquire. My kids constantly deride us for having so many sheds, but we will be getting rid of a few of them. Promise.<br />
<br />
So part of this packing process has also been a weeding process. We don't need two of everything. Many of the items we have we don't even need one of! Yesterday in packing some of the upper shelves in the kitchen (the ones that I can't reach so I have no idea what is up there) we discovered all kinds of really nice stuff that I had no idea we had. Most of which we've never used. So it was added to the "garage sale" box that we started in December. Basically this is all the stuff we have that is still in good condition, but we don't want to pack and move it. For instance we have this lovely soup tureen. Don't know why. I vaguely remember thinking that I had to have one and someone gave it to me as a gift. Never used! So now it lives in my daughter's home and her husband (who loves to cook) will use it quite a bit, I'm sure. They also took the set of bowls in the second photo - Ed added his hand to give them "perspective" on the size of the bowls. Don't ask.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAwIaqz-RuVDldGTKY3hqG3wTFtdS9vuHxO1dlJAb9JBELcqGtYAcFDbhpS1tBrWbAKbKwM2fVeKX2lArsJt1K0LrrW9pOUzTMHHlmLk4FEuqHe6ZqHOolDOcRuZJP7jcWxM1SXn2E8l4/s1600/IMG_1261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAwIaqz-RuVDldGTKY3hqG3wTFtdS9vuHxO1dlJAb9JBELcqGtYAcFDbhpS1tBrWbAKbKwM2fVeKX2lArsJt1K0LrrW9pOUzTMHHlmLk4FEuqHe6ZqHOolDOcRuZJP7jcWxM1SXn2E8l4/s1600/IMG_1261.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVQUtYXUe6u1FSOSexVclPmJvNmplRjyMv34EVmxq45zxxaEjLdqnPhvFeAbfJIaNZmS9onmxJouOMoDNdWje4UC2VMUhQde5alPL3R3ufkTq7VFp_tIloC3Arwq9zphkdS1rD_MNGj4/s1600/IMG_1262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhVQUtYXUe6u1FSOSexVclPmJvNmplRjyMv34EVmxq45zxxaEjLdqnPhvFeAbfJIaNZmS9onmxJouOMoDNdWje4UC2VMUhQde5alPL3R3ufkTq7VFp_tIloC3Arwq9zphkdS1rD_MNGj4/s1600/IMG_1262.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We have started a traveling "garage sale" show with our kids. Send photos of specific items, take boxes of stuff to their homes for them to go through or to a central location for them to come by and peek. Managed to get rid of a lot of items this way and the rest goes to charity.<br />
<br />
The sound of tape and the smell of boxes is starting to make me anxious. I know from moves past that you always feel like you have a handle on it during the first phase of packing. Then the proverbial shit hits the fan and you enter panic and "no more packing!!" mode. <br />
<br />
That should happen about mid-February...........<br />
<br />
<br />Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-28510075518121925112014-01-06T10:10:00.000-08:002014-01-06T10:10:00.752-08:00No thank you!My brother lives in Chicago. The high temperature today is projected to be -11! I talked with him briefly yesterday - he was taking his son to a hockey game and had just gotten a flat tire. So there he was waiting for AAA in 15 degree weather. On Saturday he sent me a photo of a portion of their roof with 2ft icicles hanging from it. Beautiful - but only at a distance. He and his wife had to go to work today.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZi4GKk-B0eLR7q1THyR8CHeKvTj6CfNxAm8ax13JXoRbVjMaEc-bs1epLj0xIByLOaLkZQc79UiYXWw89wt5E8DE9NSLobo0wvsRxGE7isBvHuDwwfuWvXdj-zlqX5I2h-kp1SQYSzHA/s1600/Tony+Ice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZi4GKk-B0eLR7q1THyR8CHeKvTj6CfNxAm8ax13JXoRbVjMaEc-bs1epLj0xIByLOaLkZQc79UiYXWw89wt5E8DE9NSLobo0wvsRxGE7isBvHuDwwfuWvXdj-zlqX5I2h-kp1SQYSzHA/s320/Tony+Ice.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Being a Californian who was raised in Arizona I can't even begin to imagine how cold -11 is (wind chill of -30ish). When I lived in Tucson, we would watch the weather "back east" (which is what we called Chicago and the mid-west) or on the east coast. Whenever they had a particularly brutal winter, we knew to prepare for the influx of new residents who were done with the cold. <br />
<br />
So my guess is this Spring and Summer Tucson will see a rise in population. I mean, enough is enough! At least it might help the property prices rise which would be good. But for all those people living through that horrific weather, here's hoping you warm up soon!Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-2891494567972350942014-01-05T10:02:00.001-08:002014-01-05T10:02:51.174-08:00Seriously! It's 2014?!?Hard to believe. It seems like only yesterday we were all sweating Y2K. What a bust that turned out to be. Now it's 2014 - 13 years later than the movie 2001 and we still haven't made it to Jupiter. But we do have Google Glass, iPads, and a few self-driving cars so it's not all bad.<br />
<br />
I remember when I was young and how difficult it always was to write the new year on school papers, checks, work documents, etc. It would take a few weeks to write the new year comfortably. Now it takes a minute or two! I had this discussion with my son one day and we decided that as you get older, each year is a smaller percentage of your life as a whole. So, while at the age of 10 a year may seem like an eternity, by the time you're 40 or 50 each year seems much shorter.<br />
<br />
At this point my son looked at me and said, "Wow! At your age a year must feel like the amount of time it takes to take a shower!" Did I mention that he was a punk? But, on some level, he's right. The years are flying by. When I hear about something that happened in the early 90's I think "yesterday" when it's actually 20 years ago.<br />
<br />
I think I'll write 2013 on a few checks or letters this week just to make myself feel better.Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-66429112127498833632013-12-31T08:57:00.000-08:002013-12-31T08:57:40.307-08:00I Kinda Miss It!I'm thinking about starting up this blog again. Over the past couple of days I have compiled all the blog posts into four digital books and in doing so I realized that I miss writing! Damn Facebook - ever since all of us bloggers joined Facebook, the blogs have died a slow death. Don't get me wrong, I love Facebook. It allows me to stay in contact with so many friends and family that I normally wouldn't have a lot of contact with.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I started this blog back in 2007, it was a way for me to tell some family stories. Things I want my kids to know. And my grandkids. They missed so much not knowing the old Italian relatives. We had such wonderful family times when I was growing up and I want my kids to somehow share in that rich experience. Recently I decided that I would write down some of those stories and just keep them in a folder. But then I couldn't remember what I had already written down in the blog which is why I had it printed. Then I thought - why not just blog again! As you can see I've been having a lot of thoughts lately.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, two years later, I'll try again. An update? Well, we haven't had any weddings or new babies in the past two years. Ed's Aunt Stella passed away two months shy of her 100th birthday. That's the only family member we lost since 2011. Biggest news is the changes in our business and our home.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After over 30 years Ed is no longer with Century 21! We are now an independent Real Estate and Property Management company. It's been an interesting and busy transition, but a wonderful one. Moved our office to Livermore, CA (about 35 minutes from our current location) and, after a couple of months, are finally feeling settled.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Plus, we'll be moving to another home, also in Livermore, around the end of February. With two sons in Livermore, Ed's daughter in Tracy, his other son in Modesto, and my daughter planning a Livermore move in the next year or so - it seemed like a natural progression for us. Plus the nights are warmer in the summer and you can actually have dinner outside! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The next couple of months will be very busy - in an exciting way. It will be fun to chronicle things as they progress.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yup, I'm starting this back up - just decided! Hope someone actually reads it - but, if not, I can always print it and save it for the kids.</div>
Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-55225880820023306632011-10-29T16:31:00.000-07:002011-10-29T16:31:44.900-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDtu4pgNoipxo5aAe-kMMfs7MrPyv9KyeMv_yufDAx3E70X_yobdKC93Q-VVFy_XtFZ9i0WJCMgF3Ly0asZpuiDJeQKC3RPXE42SrJotEkK2gH0YnBg_nhAnxIt3eTzskK7qcFHCWSYA/s1600/The+Church.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaeo_t5kdYCXUwdCxaq3TEVVKhn3VYgwAjupiU7BFbFTeqWEesypAeBFxuD0gXHGNOTzpMbQHVamdSzneOsXxKAGZOwuSDklFEZW0MvLtMGbfRsvOawvE577PM1JyqWiWDaBP8iqQf9c/s1600/Oct+17+%25282%2529.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8LBWQu2trNpB4QAeXscW5YJdEOrwG-RzBaux0yMf2uG7n435mE04giRSP52Vw5OLPjS8dKZJkDW18Zd8160_lEYkaZaJTZarCl89gqwYh4EWUPwSTRUzneSNNODREW2QDQNC9TICL0IA/s1600/Oct+17+%252821%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8LBWQu2trNpB4QAeXscW5YJdEOrwG-RzBaux0yMf2uG7n435mE04giRSP52Vw5OLPjS8dKZJkDW18Zd8160_lEYkaZaJTZarCl89gqwYh4EWUPwSTRUzneSNNODREW2QDQNC9TICL0IA/s320/Oct+17+%252821%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34vWuDk_uCwyhytB2Rwnq9ziS9sT332RCbmPg08pFwYVmvahrBCaszfGfebmjnOumpUtLYX7FFFrcFLAFrIyc5KjUTLSl7q4eHZVkNmhR0t4ta9cwVYIj5aKBpIHOW6KEwir5IhlhsQg/s1600/Oct+19+%252811%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Back in April of 2000 Ed took me to Hawaii. We had been together for 6 months and this was a very special trip for us. Also, it was the first REAL vacation I had taken since I was 21 (which is more years than you really need to know about!). Up to that point, my "vacations" always consisted of visiting family or adding days on to a conference trip. But a real vacation - one where you plan the trip just for fun and all your time is totally under your control? Unheard of!<br />
<br />
I had never been to Hawaii before and had no real desire to go. I mean, big deal - beaches and palm trees. I lived in California for pete's sake! I could see those any day. But Ed really wanted to take me there so I figured, what the heck, a week on the Big Island wouldn't be so bad. The minute we stepped off the plane, I could see that this was a different and wonderful place. The smells of flowers, the silky air, the sounds of Hawaiian music. the breezes. The money and language are the same, yet you feel like you're in a foreign country. We stayed in a condo unit at Kona by the Sea on Alii drive and I was in love.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34vWuDk_uCwyhytB2Rwnq9ziS9sT332RCbmPg08pFwYVmvahrBCaszfGfebmjnOumpUtLYX7FFFrcFLAFrIyc5KjUTLSl7q4eHZVkNmhR0t4ta9cwVYIj5aKBpIHOW6KEwir5IhlhsQg/s1600/Oct+19+%252811%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi34vWuDk_uCwyhytB2Rwnq9ziS9sT332RCbmPg08pFwYVmvahrBCaszfGfebmjnOumpUtLYX7FFFrcFLAFrIyc5KjUTLSl7q4eHZVkNmhR0t4ta9cwVYIj5aKBpIHOW6KEwir5IhlhsQg/s320/Oct+19+%252811%2529.JPG" width="320" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;">The place we stayed on our first trip to Kona.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Both with Ed and with Hawaii! Our condo had a view of the ocean and every morning we were awakened by the sounds of the surfers looking for that perfect wave. When it was time to pack and head back home, we were both very sad.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDtu4pgNoipxo5aAe-kMMfs7MrPyv9KyeMv_yufDAx3E70X_yobdKC93Q-VVFy_XtFZ9i0WJCMgF3Ly0asZpuiDJeQKC3RPXE42SrJotEkK2gH0YnBg_nhAnxIt3eTzskK7qcFHCWSYA/s200/The+Church.jpg" width="200" /> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Took this photo to freak out family and friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAaeo_t5kdYCXUwdCxaq3TEVVKhn3VYgwAjupiU7BFbFTeqWEesypAeBFxuD0gXHGNOTzpMbQHVamdSzneOsXxKAGZOwuSDklFEZW0MvLtMGbfRsvOawvE577PM1JyqWiWDaBP8iqQf9c/s200/Oct+17+%25282%2529.JPG" width="200" /> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Follow up photo this trip</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We've been back to the Big Island four times and visited all the other islands. The Big Island is definitely our favorite - so much to see and do and so many varieties of climate and topography. Not to mention some truly special memories. Our most recent trip was a couple of weeks ago. We hadn't been there for 5 years and forgot how much we loved it! This time we stayed at Kona Coast Resort. During this trip we visited some of the spots from our first vacation there.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDtu4pgNoipxo5aAe-kMMfs7MrPyv9KyeMv_yufDAx3E70X_yobdKC93Q-VVFy_XtFZ9i0WJCMgF3Ly0asZpuiDJeQKC3RPXE42SrJotEkK2gH0YnBg_nhAnxIt3eTzskK7qcFHCWSYA/s1600/The+Church.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-TPtfpSkUkPiuz3K8np94Yw1leE5dbWd0RvIlPnoGLQZLKJkBqplzymJt394C5igNgg1n7lQXfglcjYsKAil-oJhyphenhyphenXWbcIhYBE8iOVecMesEsKXI0onIQAnXwc_DILNRKxNzvznphYu4/s1600/ED_SAN%257E1_edited-1.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-TPtfpSkUkPiuz3K8np94Yw1leE5dbWd0RvIlPnoGLQZLKJkBqplzymJt394C5igNgg1n7lQXfglcjYsKAil-oJhyphenhyphenXWbcIhYBE8iOVecMesEsKXI0onIQAnXwc_DILNRKxNzvznphYu4/s200/ED_SAN%257E1_edited-1.jpg" width="200" /> </a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by the ocean 2000 - back when I could still wear white shorts!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-reQG71YfYo5kpe2QrM_r0vEoV2iO1OnWtpH02Wiu3tJK3nsDx-9M_XhM1TH_pT9gcKouEHMOz18Bb65rh9ed8bQipIIhn4KnllD5Ti57V7BejirsqpzePJOhGH7YeRTmHvDr1P5qPRI/s200/Oct+14+%252847%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2011 ocean shot</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
One of our Kona traditions is dinner at Huggos on Alii Drive our last night on the island. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojYa51Q6U5kZIPtYsjvxo4b1FC3Oay9N2E5vKVRaQQxJxEgfaSUOx5OAFEyhOlXAWFOMu3GhmrzyTPmRhyDhGgNeXDLuFdkdAOuGRxH_Ohqtft8cbd-nQSzoXeVzE_GO_C3lJMy4DK6A/s1600/Ed-San+Huggo2.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjojYa51Q6U5kZIPtYsjvxo4b1FC3Oay9N2E5vKVRaQQxJxEgfaSUOx5OAFEyhOlXAWFOMu3GhmrzyTPmRhyDhGgNeXDLuFdkdAOuGRxH_Ohqtft8cbd-nQSzoXeVzE_GO_C3lJMy4DK6A/s200/Ed-San+Huggo2.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner at Huggos 2000</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7ygQWAqK0iquOOcoGVq9a5LtC4tlJOtGiLtsVBD-4YWuVlSLDeJnJhJThF-cGvILnI4xalI0NdxCyO7KjgXWytaY52sUuVceS5AEroyiPE89dNjO6vJzMhOfgjnIuKz4MYan71ky5wU/s1600/Oct+19.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7ygQWAqK0iquOOcoGVq9a5LtC4tlJOtGiLtsVBD-4YWuVlSLDeJnJhJThF-cGvILnI4xalI0NdxCyO7KjgXWytaY52sUuVceS5AEroyiPE89dNjO6vJzMhOfgjnIuKz4MYan71ky5wU/s200/Oct+19.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside Huggos 2011 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Notice Ed's Guido Bandito look in the 2000 photos! Love it! We'll go back to Kona again - it's a special place for us and a wonderful way to spend a week.Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-34946582128799546772011-10-23T13:23:00.000-07:002011-10-23T13:35:23.454-07:00I'm such a slacker!I started this blog in February of 2007 as a way to write down stories about my family for my kids and grandkids. There seemed to be so many colorful stories and I didn't want any of those memories to fade after I'm gone.<br /><br />And I did pretty well for a couple of years! Stories about family history morphed into more current blogs about everyday life. And then came Facebook and suddenly it was easier to relay something with a few words and a photo or two rather than try to be creative with a blog post. Every now and then something will come up that makes me think, "That would be a good blog post." Then the lazy side of me says, "Nah!"<br /><br />Today I was looking into having my blogs put into book form. There is a site via Blogger that compiles everything including photos (excluding comments) into a really nice 8 1/2 x 11 book. It would be great to have so all those stories that I worked so hard on in print so they don't get lost! But looking at some of them made me nostalgic for the days when I did post more.<br /><br />There were so many people blogging back then - and blogging regularly. Now most of my "blog buddies" are on Facebook and we stay in touch that way. But I so miss reading my daughter's blog about her kids, the blogs of two of her friends who are very funny writers, Nikki, Maria, Beth Ann, Patti. A blog or two will pop out every couple of weeks or so, and I still have one friend, Linda, who blogs regularly. But the rest of them not so much.<br /><br />So, I may try to get back to it. There are still stories that I would love to share with my kids and have in my "blog book" when I decide to print one. Now if I could just find the energy..........Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-40105637165656795192011-09-09T17:25:00.000-07:002011-09-09T17:44:30.263-07:00The Note in the DoorEd and I have a Dodge Dakota pick up truck - one of those small ones. Don't use it a lot, but when we need it, we really need it! And our kids and friends borrow it periodically to haul stuff so we're always glad to have it around.<br /><br />Today someone put a note on our door asking if we were interested in selling the truck. No, we're not. But the note reminded me of a story about my son when he was 15 1/2 and trying to buy his first car.<br /><br />Joe had his heart set on a Bronco. You know, big tires, manly, yada, yada, yada. I mean, he already had the mullet so having a Bronco could only raise him even higher on the cool-o-meter.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsIo24prnv0XPTiONdWf0Ljs6oPPJ5tFV-0N2PFdg7LucnLOLpRCzFTqrHHORFohEXfxOX3-h45kYjUYxROcozO_VdN_iZhRYQ8AzQSWQHNMfSfa2v0Lw-X54Bs6KWQKtzCs6MohtXFE/s1600/1984+Studly+Joe.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 208px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsIo24prnv0XPTiONdWf0Ljs6oPPJ5tFV-0N2PFdg7LucnLOLpRCzFTqrHHORFohEXfxOX3-h45kYjUYxROcozO_VdN_iZhRYQ8AzQSWQHNMfSfa2v0Lw-X54Bs6KWQKtzCs6MohtXFE/s320/1984+Studly+Joe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650521717210174930" border="0" /></a>So, we started looking around. There was an ad in the paper for a Bronco about 25 miles away in San Jose. We drove down there - Joe, Jenni, and Joe's friend, Aaron. Finally found the address and the car turned out to be in pretty bad shape and bright orange! So we drove my and didn't even stop. Joe was feeling very deflated. As we were driving out of the neighborhood, he spotted a teal and white Jimmy GMC (which apparently is similar to a Bronco) and told me to drive by. "But the car isn't for sale," I said. Joe said, "I know, but I want to look at it." He and Aaron hopped out of the car and checked it out - even sliding underneath to look for heaven knows what. And Joe fell in love.<br /><br />He asked me if I had something for him to write a note with. I said, "You can't just ask people if they want to sell their car!" He said, "Sure I can." And he did. Left a note stuck in the door asking if they wanted to sell their car and leaving his phone number. I just shook my head and drove home.<br /><br />That night Joe got a call. From the owner of the Jimmy. The woman asked him how much he was able to pay for the car and he said all he had was $2000. Then she started crying. She said she was having health problems and needed a procedure done but they didn't have the money. The cost was just under $2000. She and her husband had just been to church and were praying for an answer to their problems. On the way home they talked about maybe trying to sell the Jimmy! Then they found Joe's note.<br /><br />So, Joe got his dream car. And I have never questioned his judgment again. On our end the story didn't have the greatest ending. Joe really wanted a "roll bar" (I think that's what they call it) and managed to find one that was a perfect fit. They guy wanted to get it out of his yard and sold it to Joe very cheap. The car sat at the curb for a few months until Joe was old enough to get his license. And then there he went - Mullett flapping in the wind, top down and roll bar shining, shirtless (for some reason he and Aaron were always taking off their shirts), the Budweiser sticker prominently displayed on the roll bar and the "No Fat Chicks or I'll Scrape" bumper adding a touch of class. Six months and two tickets later my son was back on his bike.<br /><br />But, oh, what a story about how he bought his first car - back in the day.....Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-91856327419947220092011-06-07T08:57:00.000-07:002011-06-07T09:30:54.117-07:00Yosemite - Lessons Learned!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbLaJTlGGz5CSlWFuX5hpesoM6A94RDUDtF452gKl8PnmckfPQjFlhPqgG9XX1WS1GvlQ1ZcjbgQUyH5IgUlBdibePGfKY2MgwdF1UE_fGVyNv4tNx4cgK-1Wje8z4N2vlMEKxToYmtiE/s1600/IMG_4739.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbLaJTlGGz5CSlWFuX5hpesoM6A94RDUDtF452gKl8PnmckfPQjFlhPqgG9XX1WS1GvlQ1ZcjbgQUyH5IgUlBdibePGfKY2MgwdF1UE_fGVyNv4tNx4cgK-1Wje8z4N2vlMEKxToYmtiE/s320/IMG_4739.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615515353509935906" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHZgG1-3p5INztUW3mONK8qIrS9GOCIdadZ5ivv2Y2rkioXoybPbIdZux7625wW7qnMx-1uxyIOnL_dQ28bePT6p8BS8Q10cZyRZZv6kioyMdtWhsOoNNCXhWSpijzVOR6cxbsvkGWpg/s1600/IMG_4765.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHZgG1-3p5INztUW3mONK8qIrS9GOCIdadZ5ivv2Y2rkioXoybPbIdZux7625wW7qnMx-1uxyIOnL_dQ28bePT6p8BS8Q10cZyRZZv6kioyMdtWhsOoNNCXhWSpijzVOR6cxbsvkGWpg/s320/IMG_4765.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615512618770286370" border="0" /></a>It had been several years since we visited Yosemite and we heard the falls were spectacular this year - so we planned a trip. On Memorial Day weekend. That was our first mistake!<br /><br />Apparently 4.2 million other people also planned to visit the park that weekend. Who knew?!? And the weather in California has been particularly sucky this year so the forecast was for rain and temps in the high 50's to low 60's. But away we went!<br /><br />The first night we spent in Sonora at a great little hotel and it was very relaxing.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXtdnu2PKB7c49_UcKUkHyO0cMMhNSI4tXGiQHCCZt9q-uHfHhhmakze8Mrwrl72qSyfHGpDlZuwsld4T9qzfFEWgryRICO2dRVAJG_eYhP4Pxboo23lskNgNVNg5lHAAGodr9WtO2-g/s1600/IMG_4733.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXtdnu2PKB7c49_UcKUkHyO0cMMhNSI4tXGiQHCCZt9q-uHfHhhmakze8Mrwrl72qSyfHGpDlZuwsld4T9qzfFEWgryRICO2dRVAJG_eYhP4Pxboo23lskNgNVNg5lHAAGodr9WtO2-g/s320/IMG_4733.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615512361372003874" border="0" /></a><br />Got to Yosemite around 10:30am on Saturday, finding only 10 or so cars ahead of us in the line to get in. Great! Might not be so bad! We met up with Ed's brother, Kim (he works at the park) at 10:30 after easily finding a parking spot close to the center of the park. Piece of cake, we thought. We visited Yosemite Falls, walked on the paths, took photos, had a nice lunch at the lodge, walked some more. Beautiful day - the sun was actually shining! Then we walked back to the car and headed to Bridal Veil Falls. Here's where the fun started.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbWok-Rwt-X6A93QYpw2Xh9LuK9buJzDQeofHD6Mg49cygm1jhuomrVdRaEOtx7lXOHTvG2iFKv9dEXG_BtTqvGXxE_pxiDtcAwE6IZ_kobYimIX6XEywtdQdNsyl_gxvgByeVhi65ixc/s1600/IMG_4760.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbWok-Rwt-X6A93QYpw2Xh9LuK9buJzDQeofHD6Mg49cygm1jhuomrVdRaEOtx7lXOHTvG2iFKv9dEXG_BtTqvGXxE_pxiDtcAwE6IZ_kobYimIX6XEywtdQdNsyl_gxvgByeVhi65ixc/s320/IMG_4760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615513182268506162" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2c5D4UH0KGKCkM4svRbqJtuXZvhUQRSXVi370XTq0FsaLbMKpmB-Z-Qy107wtvzGqfoZBtGVOdyIhJDA9niY9f-aRTph_AEVYuLmw_j8oD5Erw6_UFgej184jmSrCnqdAuTpWjilmCN4/s1600/IMG_4736.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2c5D4UH0KGKCkM4svRbqJtuXZvhUQRSXVi370XTq0FsaLbMKpmB-Z-Qy107wtvzGqfoZBtGVOdyIhJDA9niY9f-aRTph_AEVYuLmw_j8oD5Erw6_UFgej184jmSrCnqdAuTpWjilmCN4/s320/IMG_4736.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615512851299831538" border="0" /></a>By the time we arrived at Bridal Veil, about half of the aforementioned 4.2 million people had arrived. Seems they just got a later start than we did. We managed to find a parking spot at the falls - mostly because people were driving past figuring there was no way they could park. But we did. And Ed had to pee. The line for the restroom was about 30 people deep. In spite of his brother's admonishments to "just go find a tree", Ed waited in line. After 15 minutes he said the heck with it and we took off. We walked half way to the falls (which, as an aside, is not a great thing to do when you really have to go!) but the water was so heavy that we were drenched so we couldn't get any closer.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKTul9o3KpCYkojJrixqOtSnSk_yTAeTMYIjsC98nB9-4-XC8GOT7GowpLepx4nx3TYpVgyxdyB7tm-dP6Q1n9EyFWxcT-FCunDS_MpAguiuF__v29R7s4DAH5sbEPFZBOy0RgV0ca6-s/s1600/IMG_4778.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKTul9o3KpCYkojJrixqOtSnSk_yTAeTMYIjsC98nB9-4-XC8GOT7GowpLepx4nx3TYpVgyxdyB7tm-dP6Q1n9EyFWxcT-FCunDS_MpAguiuF__v29R7s4DAH5sbEPFZBOy0RgV0ca6-s/s320/IMG_4778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615514371893324930" border="0" /></a><br />Now we were going to take Kim back to his abode. More people had arrived. Ed still had to pee. Traffic was at a standstill. It was not pleasant. More cries of "for pete's sake just get out and find a tree" emanated from the back seat. But to no avail. Finally we spotted a legitimate restroom a short ways ahead so Ed got out and headed for the restroom while Kim jumped in the driver's seat and we coasted along. Luckily the line here was short so Ed managed to catch up with us a short way past the restroom and he and Kim switched places. At the same time a woman in the car next to us shouted to Kim, "Hey, will you come drive my car while I go pee?!?" He probably could have made a lot of money that day providing the service.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC69Wb_7gOoy5gFB3rDGZFymnPbFQonZuiJOgKmKZmGnBIrf-2WXmSKMDOST4LQiQ06iJuatB13OXynZ0E9OKpeXqDyv1cGWTWdvwwv5LFouSisoN1B403JUm5I0zgr2-N7GsdlHcFezc/s1600/IMG_4783.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC69Wb_7gOoy5gFB3rDGZFymnPbFQonZuiJOgKmKZmGnBIrf-2WXmSKMDOST4LQiQ06iJuatB13OXynZ0E9OKpeXqDyv1cGWTWdvwwv5LFouSisoN1B403JUm5I0zgr2-N7GsdlHcFezc/s320/IMG_4783.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615515075890637042" border="0" /></a>Anyway, we got him back to his place, managed to get out of the park and back to our hotel. Which is right on the river. It started to rain just as we left the park and poured all night. Our plan was for Kim to meet us at the hotel the next day and we would drive up Glacier Point (which had just opened for the season a few days before). 10:00 am the next morning Kim knocks on our door with the following report - thanks to the rain/snow of last night, Glacier Point is again closed. On top of that, Kim counted 105 cars trying to get into the park as he was leaving. Yes, he actually counted the cars.<br /><br />After a series of "oh, shits" we decided on another plan. We'd go in to the park the back way! Yeah, no one else would think of that! We were so cool. So we drove a very long way, got close to the back entrance, and got in line. After 20 minutes or so a ranger was telling cars that there were no parking places left in the park. We figured we could always park by Kim's place or just drive through taking some photos and seeing the falls. So we stayed in line (did I mention that we made more than one mistake?). 45 minutes later we got to the entrance! Only to be told that the park was so crowded they weren't letting anyone else in! Oh, joy. We turned around and headed back to the hotel. Now the temperature on this road had dropped to 39 and it was snowing. Yes, snowing. Spring in California.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ijHrOmvgUm_QlhSmdEjJFFjJ7a4ZFmxMybv_lyj0HF11Ec4eM9lvxwE3_6PCirhiBkVxHeqGydnNu5Go_g3c3Jy1cgVtrarOFsV2Zdk25tBhqlTmOGgoCbSAYQ_bTtXbyxgHb0d5n5c/s1600/IMG_4788.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ijHrOmvgUm_QlhSmdEjJFFjJ7a4ZFmxMybv_lyj0HF11Ec4eM9lvxwE3_6PCirhiBkVxHeqGydnNu5Go_g3c3Jy1cgVtrarOFsV2Zdk25tBhqlTmOGgoCbSAYQ_bTtXbyxgHb0d5n5c/s320/IMG_4788.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615513816861339570" border="0" /></a>But, at least the drive was pretty. The weather cleared up after awhile. We had a nice lunch at a place called Pete's and a nice dinner at the hotel. And our balcony was right over the river so it was a great place to relax and read. Monday we came home.<br /><br />Ed still wants to go back to Yosemite some time this year. During the summer, he said. When there might not be as many people, he said. I'm not even a California native and I know that's a crock!Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-21574610989315140502011-04-26T15:11:00.000-07:002011-04-26T15:13:02.419-07:00The Things Mothers Do<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> <w:dontbreakconstrainedforcedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> <w:word11kerningpairs/> <w:cachedcolbalance/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> <m:mathpr> <m:mathfont val="Cambria Math"> <m:brkbin val="before"> <m:brkbinsub val="--"> <m:smallfrac val="off"> <m:dispdef/> <m:lmargin val="0"> <m:rmargin val="0"> <m:defjc val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent val="1440"> <m:intlim val="subSup"> <m:narylim val="undOvr"> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" defunhidewhenused="true" defsemihidden="true" defqformat="false" defpriority="99" latentstylecount="267"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="0" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Normal"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="heading 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 7"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 8"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="9" qformat="true" name="heading 9"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 7"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 8"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" name="toc 9"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="35" qformat="true" name="caption"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="10" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="1" name="Default Paragraph Font"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="11" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtitle"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="22" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Strong"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="20" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="59" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Table Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Placeholder Text"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="1" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="No Spacing"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Revision"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="34" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="List Paragraph"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="29" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Quote"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="30" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Quote"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="60" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Shading Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="61" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="62" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Light Grid Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="63" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="64" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="65" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="66" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="67" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="68" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="69" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="70" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Dark List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="71" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="72" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful List Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="73" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="19" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="21" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Emphasis"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="31" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Subtle Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="32" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Reference"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="33" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Book Title"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="37" name="Bibliography"> <w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">I love my daughter – really I do!<span style=""> </span>I enjoyed raising her (well, there were a few times during those delightful teen years....), and I have thoroughly enjoyed interacting with her as an adult.<span style=""> </span>I love her kids and look forward to my time with them.<span style=""> </span>I love her husband – he is so totally a part of this crazy family.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">But, alas, Jenni<span style=""> </span>also has cats.<span style=""> </span>She’s down to two now, but even two cats need to eat and drink when Jenni and the family go on vacation.<span style=""> </span>And good old Mom gets “cat duty.”<span style=""> </span>It’s a little easier these days with just two cats.<span style=""> </span>The third one, while he did have an interesting personality, had one serious flaw – man poops (as Jenni called them).<span style=""> </span>Made litter box duty much more challenging.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">So yesterday was my first day of Cat Duty while Jenni and family make a trip to Tucson for Spring Break.<span style=""> </span>And such a fun day it was.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t get home until around 6:45 and immediately got into my sweats and cozy, fuzzy socks.<span style=""> </span>Started working on dinner and talking with Ed.<span style=""> </span>He asked something about the weekend so I checked my calendar and saw “Cat Duty” in bold letters!<span style=""> </span>Shit!<span style=""> </span>I forgot!<span style=""> </span>It was now 7:20pm and I knew “the girls” would not be happy.<span style=""> </span>So I removed the cozy fuzzy socks, put on my tennis shoes and bolted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">Jenni had told me that she was expecting a package from UPS and had left instructions for it to be placed in the gardening box in the back yard because other packages have been stolen from her porch.<span style=""> </span>So my first stop was to open the fence and find the garden box.<span style=""> </span>I finally figured out which container it was and I opened it.<span style=""> </span>Nada!<span style=""> </span>No packages.<span style=""> </span>Just a lot of tools and pieces of yard decor and unidentifiable things.<span style=""> </span>I looked carefully to be sure I didn’t miss it and then closed the box.<span style=""> </span>Almost.<span style=""> </span>It wouldn’t close!<span style=""> </span>Crap – now I’m rummaging through all the stuff trying to figure out the problem.<span style=""> </span>Turned out to be a combination of some tool sticking up too high, and the hinge thingy not working right.<span style=""> </span>I finally got it closed and proceeded to the mail box.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">Nothing there, but I saw Jenni’s UPS sticker still on her door – the one with the instructions on it.<span style=""> </span>Drat, they must not have come by.<span style=""> </span>I went up the stairs and noticed a note on the UPS sticker saying the package was left next door.<span style=""> </span>Back down the stairs and up the stairs next door.<span style=""> </span>I rang the bell, heard a lot of commotion and kids, then the door opened.<span style=""> </span>And I was face to face with a Pit Bull!!!<span style=""> </span>Now, I am NOT a dog person.<span style=""> </span>Never been a fan of the whole barking, crotch-sniffing, jumping thing.<span style=""> </span>But this was no ordinary dog – it was a pit bull!<span style=""> </span>My life flashed before me and I thought, “Great, I’m going to die in my sweats and tennis shoes while Ed is home waiting for dinner.”<span style=""> </span>Thankfully the dog ran past me down the stairs while the lady of the house yelled after him and a young boy ran out into the street to try to catch him.<span style=""> </span>The lady gave me the packages and I juggled them back down the stairs and up Jenni’s stairs as fast as I could with bad knees and two bulky packages in my arms (not to mention fear in my heart).<span style=""> </span>I was getting ready to unlock the door when that damn dog came back and started running towards me!!<span style=""> </span>Of course, the lock chose that moment to be a bit sticky but I managed to open it, throw the packages in, break a nail, and slam the door shut.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: normal;">The cats were happy to see me so I fed them, watered them, cleaned their “bathroom”, and told them I’d be back tomorrow and they better damn well appreciate it!<span style=""> </span></p>Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-64412442282589542252011-01-01T14:07:00.000-08:002011-01-01T15:09:24.407-08:00Our first 10 years<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqiKrgWXx8CcGWNOjfCspEDDRjBJQVQ4aqQuUq6CxoiALN2W0pvTs_R6LCuNNR9ajgIbM71Xf-ei2_PIE9ewA406hzg_WdEwhZwLWTxDrxzlAB6i8qvUBGqqbJRee4NunRH4WLnpbsro/s1600/2011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqiKrgWXx8CcGWNOjfCspEDDRjBJQVQ4aqQuUq6CxoiALN2W0pvTs_R6LCuNNR9ajgIbM71Xf-ei2_PIE9ewA406hzg_WdEwhZwLWTxDrxzlAB6i8qvUBGqqbJRee4NunRH4WLnpbsro/s320/2011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557356128897000306" border="0" /></a>Over the past week there have been a lot of newspaper, magazine and internet articles about world events that have occurred since this millennium began. You know - dot-com bust, banking fiasco, recession, elections, blah, blah, blah. But that made me think about all the events that have happened in our lives in the last 10 years.<br /><br />Ed and I met in late 1999 so our "story" really began in 2000. Since that time there have been four weddings - my daughter, Ed's daughter, my son, and, of course, me and Ed!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3T8FqLZOXIlHGtW_v4nY5iqhkr4EopVrI2YNSyvIre0tlJTsDL5-Ebe3hrfqA3Y4dcu5TOW2eCL6bM_7eLaoWnGa01Nb2627xv_oG5oEaCEMkoUjXoyjrtK0coMHoakhPmLDsLBlLmk/s1600/JenJeffPereyda.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3T8FqLZOXIlHGtW_v4nY5iqhkr4EopVrI2YNSyvIre0tlJTsDL5-Ebe3hrfqA3Y4dcu5TOW2eCL6bM_7eLaoWnGa01Nb2627xv_oG5oEaCEMkoUjXoyjrtK0coMHoakhPmLDsLBlLmk/s320/JenJeffPereyda.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557348232779767858" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl10dIZ-V-FdS6FTMnozTz-2I6gJfM7cuyTr9MKXKRnXqXgdNU8dznssLfcHbdzlabXqLfpqH6nCpbNdZb_MgHwKUWzQdN-X-ukngExIIRl_oZatikQ4Aea_gw3QAHO5Ol6ZQwpMKSC6I/s1600/Jenni+CD+237.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl10dIZ-V-FdS6FTMnozTz-2I6gJfM7cuyTr9MKXKRnXqXgdNU8dznssLfcHbdzlabXqLfpqH6nCpbNdZb_MgHwKUWzQdN-X-ukngExIIRl_oZatikQ4Aea_gw3QAHO5Ol6ZQwpMKSC6I/s320/Jenni+CD+237.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557348433897196706" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_UvNIUWZNZMFIFj36Kkd03cjPHaEkorFcKmJBFgGMuGKmVtxFnZxzQKI-V8kZgioATli0flPT31jUWpH9KaIxWunRYqUbhSF9Vx9-raRioQ5tFCAtC18ml4PJOkegvMhrF5l_CQcGCc/s1600/IMG_0244.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_UvNIUWZNZMFIFj36Kkd03cjPHaEkorFcKmJBFgGMuGKmVtxFnZxzQKI-V8kZgioATli0flPT31jUWpH9KaIxWunRYqUbhSF9Vx9-raRioQ5tFCAtC18ml4PJOkegvMhrF5l_CQcGCc/s320/IMG_0244.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557346756966028930" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25FTycfXZz1cm5YdNoE2twvtzS3do95ZeAS4dQpaDsFc3cUeKee1mDw0yjeYVe37PlAteYpFr_0LH6Fhp8YZz805kh5G5PTTqWjwdp1oyjmbpc2BEK2SbGVvBLqCpO2EyiHufFhZhq-Q/s1600/It%2527s+done.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25FTycfXZz1cm5YdNoE2twvtzS3do95ZeAS4dQpaDsFc3cUeKee1mDw0yjeYVe37PlAteYpFr_0LH6Fhp8YZz805kh5G5PTTqWjwdp1oyjmbpc2BEK2SbGVvBLqCpO2EyiHufFhZhq-Q/s320/It%2527s+done.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557346347980647522" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25FTycfXZz1cm5YdNoE2twvtzS3do95ZeAS4dQpaDsFc3cUeKee1mDw0yjeYVe37PlAteYpFr_0LH6Fhp8YZz805kh5G5PTTqWjwdp1oyjmbpc2BEK2SbGVvBLqCpO2EyiHufFhZhq-Q/s1600/It%2527s+done.JPG"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib8EJA-Bhyphenhyphen8PYS7bLD3QWYBd4Ul-Sh5RFmkZpLKDS7-mBhsen7KGu6ZbL2i_Aw_uPcQTd1qm3RKrxOtL7O1DIWvDgsCLspetjLoVzsDVhGljG2RJZxPqDhM3Xg3EK3sz31d7eefQvn8zs/s1600/JenJeffPereyda.jpg"><br /></a></div> Of our 13 grandchildren, 7 were born the past 10 years including a set of twins, and 2 amazing kids born in a village on the northern border of Russia where they lived for four years before finally coming home to us on Christmas Eve 2005.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RpQJrs4baKY45y0uTdsSB3RTC8s39ANTFsKM1TrbO5h8QsGI6eLv3UcAC619MDq0VHqmoEDkURQu_Qwyamok0rwBbHxI3LAbQD45Gas4ag9Jx1vvN_-ZX_XMO4EjOweri7MjcYFo2Wo/s1600/cameron+1-22-02.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5RpQJrs4baKY45y0uTdsSB3RTC8s39ANTFsKM1TrbO5h8QsGI6eLv3UcAC619MDq0VHqmoEDkURQu_Qwyamok0rwBbHxI3LAbQD45Gas4ag9Jx1vvN_-ZX_XMO4EjOweri7MjcYFo2Wo/s320/cameron+1-22-02.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557349048581389986" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWW7SmMUZ_Mxkaw1lZTgczCQiYhDyqPK1_JN5ZYFJLpbToZta-noi_P_ds5HFyL2-4Ya7JSdj_bHaOhunjZkuJEO-bOHbZr6TjVb824AMzuzF3Q0kf5oMUGaJtk0cugi1chlDTKdzbyH8/s1600/Shane3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWW7SmMUZ_Mxkaw1lZTgczCQiYhDyqPK1_JN5ZYFJLpbToZta-noi_P_ds5HFyL2-4Ya7JSdj_bHaOhunjZkuJEO-bOHbZr6TjVb824AMzuzF3Q0kf5oMUGaJtk0cugi1chlDTKdzbyH8/s320/Shane3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557350543881568434" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZCT0diYm3AOacBh0j6zO-5yXZ9gwfWfsrv1qgJyku5M_Cq6CRF3uPOz7OOnGe4awxczDnILOXF5DZdxAdsKk-qfr-o_3cqJFaEoMxj3fyhn-cgtycTTFg55dEAYdcDhnt5Bge5yO8Q0/s1600/44df%255B1%255D_edited-1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZCT0diYm3AOacBh0j6zO-5yXZ9gwfWfsrv1qgJyku5M_Cq6CRF3uPOz7OOnGe4awxczDnILOXF5DZdxAdsKk-qfr-o_3cqJFaEoMxj3fyhn-cgtycTTFg55dEAYdcDhnt5Bge5yO8Q0/s320/44df%255B1%255D_edited-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557350801665776098" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibj-ndEY_lbqLM0HCKyDsZLrRXBS-f6Wlv6BVwcKhACvgM9avxnVb90k8CcRY4fnSqotfegb0P8HmBuKSOal54lPkJ5DWN3amAeDpBshn35ce7TGU9gEqmUqPZVMnzeH_umOtNALuW57k/s1600/IMG_0704.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibj-ndEY_lbqLM0HCKyDsZLrRXBS-f6Wlv6BVwcKhACvgM9avxnVb90k8CcRY4fnSqotfegb0P8HmBuKSOal54lPkJ5DWN3amAeDpBshn35ce7TGU9gEqmUqPZVMnzeH_umOtNALuW57k/s320/IMG_0704.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557352337991383458" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UiK0LMXxYnJ-ZU_qqCoxEGxJqBORlG0c5vdA8xurA4wry5FrVOzzOw0Sm8b_H0OdTLH6N-V3DQc-aJnZu-jCEyQ3fORJRtGQzUPDqqcG57ijAFsti7MP9-wYeEQqWHL5TXjoFKkAttY/s1600/IMG_3415.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UiK0LMXxYnJ-ZU_qqCoxEGxJqBORlG0c5vdA8xurA4wry5FrVOzzOw0Sm8b_H0OdTLH6N-V3DQc-aJnZu-jCEyQ3fORJRtGQzUPDqqcG57ijAFsti7MP9-wYeEQqWHL5TXjoFKkAttY/s320/IMG_3415.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557351583217481442" border="0" /></a><br />We lost people, too. From January 2007 through January 2008 we lost three parents - Ed's mom and dad, and my dad. Those were difficult times but we had them around long enough to celebrate that.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOhYFuqNGERfmLjVOx9z07f6JL1B0LSnRHtPQc3MU3dWdN5iuHCJk1RkZq23p7IAwLKrRegwSNWvIS19G8m_nHIGLPijBLDYDno-V50Ugn7rG0Nj_VAM9eIQBgQgqzaTS6ObggyzfE3U/s1600/Esther+cropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOhYFuqNGERfmLjVOx9z07f6JL1B0LSnRHtPQc3MU3dWdN5iuHCJk1RkZq23p7IAwLKrRegwSNWvIS19G8m_nHIGLPijBLDYDno-V50Ugn7rG0Nj_VAM9eIQBgQgqzaTS6ObggyzfE3U/s320/Esther+cropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557352767397023026" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBSqTOpyii69b0mE7nAz8OnfNCQn2ZdNMEQlGGHBrxYWNESk5kX9J1ohuP63fR46HawVLmTl_A6m5vgJ6pqv0KwDrUtiU0FyDyPmuq05-IZofyFSYsXcB6Y009abywaTiXsYMzrpj665I/s1600/IMG_4375.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 187px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBSqTOpyii69b0mE7nAz8OnfNCQn2ZdNMEQlGGHBrxYWNESk5kX9J1ohuP63fR46HawVLmTl_A6m5vgJ6pqv0KwDrUtiU0FyDyPmuq05-IZofyFSYsXcB6Y009abywaTiXsYMzrpj665I/s320/IMG_4375.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557353085285321586" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3G3oixnT92VzWflPP020v9ZrMBMiED08ReWTQftCqzvqQkM8Q4AVzO35evY1sDX6q6pIxyqP4fu7VI9J1HdPuVTlD6GYY-52fSPLlhL4tWtmDfj3vxP7Bo4hR_CCoKoMptehqzxQYUO8/s1600/2001-7+-+crop.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3G3oixnT92VzWflPP020v9ZrMBMiED08ReWTQftCqzvqQkM8Q4AVzO35evY1sDX6q6pIxyqP4fu7VI9J1HdPuVTlD6GYY-52fSPLlhL4tWtmDfj3vxP7Bo4hR_CCoKoMptehqzxQYUO8/s320/2001-7+-+crop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557353218662624834" border="0" /></a>Then, last year, we both found new "old people" in our families! For me, I met an Aunt Mary in France who will be 101 in February! She remembers my grandfather when he was a teenager. And on Ed's side we found Aunt Stella who turned 97 last August.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnaM7tpdpLnRqSeItzerLvBj8KICK8K5X7Rq4nrKVOvsA2M3r7ydcBj4YjMcjWXZvh1Ca4Yxvvxh7chXjuOM2vTReuVH23_QJDD65QVkUMaf2mMDLWSrgiJdyqX2Kp_DlQ4e2ZpYWryYU/s1600/Aunt+Mary+%25286%2529.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnaM7tpdpLnRqSeItzerLvBj8KICK8K5X7Rq4nrKVOvsA2M3r7ydcBj4YjMcjWXZvh1Ca4Yxvvxh7chXjuOM2vTReuVH23_QJDD65QVkUMaf2mMDLWSrgiJdyqX2Kp_DlQ4e2ZpYWryYU/s320/Aunt+Mary+%25286%2529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557353546051137250" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_x1uInfiDzx6HGcUkWQyivlx1u6OGSj50S7VQG5zIL_6YTnTZGAw9n-0IiAxo7ieWw9NMafWCHrVRXd_dlCkWdJZkpjJCxx3it9tpIkE87hAhUko8eOTrcWNIbuBebmSawVJpnWIyp0/s1600/IMG_3594.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_x1uInfiDzx6HGcUkWQyivlx1u6OGSj50S7VQG5zIL_6YTnTZGAw9n-0IiAxo7ieWw9NMafWCHrVRXd_dlCkWdJZkpjJCxx3it9tpIkE87hAhUko8eOTrcWNIbuBebmSawVJpnWIyp0/s320/IMG_3594.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557353796838942642" border="0" /></a><br />Oh, and my brother added two kids to his family during the last 10 years, also! He is now the father of four!!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0z2MEGoBcCxtoJ_8GeTCqmswthZaU1wKpNIM7HD_oZYowpzbM5c9biRXURd_Ry-oBhzYRVi-QnXS7cEuTI7KEPo_fXh2XcCgI83E3VBTNa89tasCUX7Pxsu9agnvKkIPTWOSIIyUjEwg/s1600/022_20.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0z2MEGoBcCxtoJ_8GeTCqmswthZaU1wKpNIM7HD_oZYowpzbM5c9biRXURd_Ry-oBhzYRVi-QnXS7cEuTI7KEPo_fXh2XcCgI83E3VBTNa89tasCUX7Pxsu9agnvKkIPTWOSIIyUjEwg/s320/022_20.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557354233090676578" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAHA8hDSdkb3ipZ_d4cMJkc58DiwH5KjTtjwp874r8iB0kAVUrOFlqy6OUr0b-hvw3YK7d4_Ra5mvBpgdR1g4mlBUNRleGU216XWibMbv28Rt6Xqom68knPWvrQ1CyRTzCC_oug5tT8I/s1600/IMG_9426_edited-1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAHA8hDSdkb3ipZ_d4cMJkc58DiwH5KjTtjwp874r8iB0kAVUrOFlqy6OUr0b-hvw3YK7d4_Ra5mvBpgdR1g4mlBUNRleGU216XWibMbv28Rt6Xqom68knPWvrQ1CyRTzCC_oug5tT8I/s320/IMG_9426_edited-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557354344676063186" border="0" /></a>And I was finally able to retire and say goodbye to the corporate world!! Yippee!!!<br /><br />Neither Ed nor I had ever been out of the country (except for Canada and Mexico) until we took our first trip to Italy in 2004. Now, thanks to timeshares and airlines miles, we've been lucky enough to go to Europe 5 times!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjof_v4JhOjt1IlNBISP2mnHAsVm10WAL4CsO8oUOshCZteCRoNFyjHnAhZscDUOeWOSl2vay20ETGYJtpo-BFUOa1S4rANJws1wJKLEkPJ0UwWgIz6-n85hCQvSPo7i8ZX5egkOLCAZSA/s1600/Rome+10-6+-+E%2526S+at+Vatican.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjof_v4JhOjt1IlNBISP2mnHAsVm10WAL4CsO8oUOshCZteCRoNFyjHnAhZscDUOeWOSl2vay20ETGYJtpo-BFUOa1S4rANJws1wJKLEkPJ0UwWgIz6-n85hCQvSPo7i8ZX5egkOLCAZSA/s320/Rome+10-6+-+E%2526S+at+Vatican.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557357932941441266" border="0" /></a><br />All in all it's been quite an eventful 10 years. Can hardly wait to see what the next 10 will bring! <br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br /><br /></div>Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-14493472350411683552010-12-27T08:32:00.000-08:002010-12-27T08:50:40.308-08:00Our first Skype ChristmasAlthough I know a lot of people who use Skype, I wasn't one of them. Until Christmas Eve. Ed's daughter, Wendy, now lives in Denver with her 1- 1/2 year old twins and this was the first Christmas she wouldn't be with us. So she and I cooked up a plan to surprise her mom and dad with a Skype visit on Christmas Eve. Yes, her mother spends the holidays with us!<br /><br />On Wednesday I sent an email to Wendy with the suggestion and she was all for it. She downloaded Skype on her laptop and I tried to do the same on Thursday. Alas, Skype was having some sort of outage and I couldn't get signed up or logged in. Finally I did and, since Ed was going to be out of the house Friday morning, Wendy and I set up a time to practice. We called each other and signed in to our Skype accounts. She could see me, but I couldn't see her. So we logged off, logged on, called, etc. for several minutes but nothing. I had to go to an appointment so we decided to try again later. I was afraid Ed would be home by that time and the surprise would be ruined for him, but we had no choice.<br /><br />After my appointment I tried to find someone with Skype so I could try again and be sure it wasn't a problem on my end. I called my son - he was just heading out the door. He gave me the name of his sister-in-law who was at the airport waiting to go home to New Orleans. I called her to see if she had any ideas, but her camera issues were minor so she gave me the name of a friend of hers. Who wasn't home! Then I remembered my friend in Tucson had Skype so I called her and she was home. We signed in and could see each other! So we had a fun chat and then Ed walked in so I hung up quickly.<br /><br />Rats! I really wanted to surprise him but Wendy wasn't home so I was stuck. Then he told me he had to go to Home Depot. Now usually when he goes out on holidays when we have a ton of people coming over and a lot of work to do I'm not happy. So he told me with caution in his voice. But this time I was thrilled that he was leaving! (He told me later he thought that was pretty strange). As soon as I heard the garage door close I called Wendy and told her we had about 30 minutes. She had just gotten home so she plopped the babies in their high chairs and logged on. This time it worked! We had a nice chat, she showed me her Christmas decorations and we set up 5:00pm call time for that night.<br /><br />My laptop is on the kitchen counter and we usually put it on my desk when we have a crowd over. Ed started to move it and I practically yelled "Leave it there!!" He gently put it down and backed out of the kitchen. At 5pm I called Wendy and she wanted me to log in out of sight of her parents so we could be sure things worked. So I had to sneak in the kitchen while everyone was talking, take the laptop, and duck into the office. I did and we got all set up.<br /><br />Then I took the laptop back into the kitchen and said, "Hey, guys, someone is here to see you!" They turned around and there was Wendy and her twins on the laptop! At first they thought it was a video Wendy had sent, but soon realized that they were talking with her and seeing her real time. And the tears flowed. Ed and Linda (Wendy's mom) couldn't talk much at first because they were crying. But eventually we all took turns standing in front of the computer and saying hi. Wendy took up around her house to see the Christmas decorations. At one point her son scurried up the stairs so she put her computer down to go get him. And we could watch the whole thing. Very cool.<br /><br />On Christmas Day Ed and I Skyped Wendy again so we could talk with her without the whole gang around. Of course, there were more tears. Then I Skyped my brother in Chicago and got to wish him and his whole family a Merry Christmas in person! He Skyped us back a little later when they were at the dinner table and then he held the laptop close to his face and turned in a circle singing "The Circle of Life". Yes, I have a weird family. But it was really awesome.<br /><br />So now we have a new toy. Ed is on the hunt for a good webcam for his desktop computer. And the world has shrunk again. That is a very good thing.Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-21553057413319012762010-12-05T13:12:00.000-08:002010-12-05T13:35:26.418-08:00Another myth destroyedI know what I'm going to say goes against common logic, but not all Italians are good cooks!!<br /><br />My maternal grandfather, Papa Jim, was a true, old Italian cook with heavy sauces (gravy!), meats cooked until they fell off the bone, homemade pasta (macaroni to us), red wine. OK, there was about 1/4 inch of oil sitting on top of his sauce, but we could spoon that off. The taste was incredible.<br /><br />Nani Gene, my grandmother, was another story. She had an amazing talent for taking the simplest recipe and destroying it! Two examples come to mind. One when I was about 11. We were having a family dinner at my grandparents house and Nani Gene had made a custard (at least we think that's what it was supposed to be) pie. When dinner was over, they asked me to go into the kitchen and get the pie. Nani Gene had already cut it into nice little wedges so all I had to do was carry it about 10 feet. Alas, being the graceful damsel I have always been, I tripped in the kitchen and the pie went toppling - little custard wedges bouncing around the floor. I panicked and quickly begin gathering up the pieces. Oddly, none of them even had a dent in them so I arranged them back into the pie tin and carried it (slowly this time) to the table. No one knew until several years later when I "fessed up" at another family dinner.<br /><br />Later, as an adult, I was invited to my grandmother's house for dinner one night. She was going to serve Beef Stroganoff (a true Italian specialty!!). When I got there, she mentioned in passing that she discovered she didn't have the right kind of beef in the freezer so she used neck bones! Now, I don't know about your families but for some reason neck bones were big in mine. Must have been one of those "I grew up in the Depression" things. But I have vivid memories of my mother, aunt, and grandmother gnawing away on those dang neckbones at family functions. Disgusting. Anyway, back to dinner. which turned out to be a lovely "Bones and Rice" covered with Cream of Mushroom Soup. Yup, them's good eatin' !<br /><br />My mother was an incredible cook. A lot of very Italian items, plus she would create her own great recipes. Of course, nothing was written down - just a pinch of this and a handful of that. She was the type of person who could create a wonderful meal at the drop of a hat with just what was around the house. Wish I had that gift!<br /><br />Her sister, my aunt, definitely took after Nani Gene. Well, she did make a few things really well. But she had this obsession with germs and felt that cooking things A LOT would kill all of the germs! So much of what she made was overcooked and dry. Also, another post-Depression thing (I think) was not wasting even one kernel of corn. So when she would make a casserole, it would not only be dry and overcooked, but it would have a little bit of everything in it which is not always a good thing. <br /><br />But the most famous (infamous?) thing my aunt did was one Thanksgiving. My cousin was visiting his mom for the holiday and when we went to get some candied yams, he noticed brown spots. He asked her what that was and she said brightly, "Those are Hershey's Kisses!" Ken said, "Mom, why did you put Hershey's Kisses in the yams?" She informed him that it was his favorite and that she always did that for him. Um, no. Not the case. So, from that holiday forward, they gave her a break and didn't let her cook anymore.<br /><br />Well, time to go start dinner. Wonder if they still sell neckbones?!?Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-70690003542242538492010-11-24T08:23:00.000-08:002010-11-24T08:45:43.264-08:00Channelling the old days<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVf3udhNYeEIdfKJt9UwBLZa2MDEJCIdcbHgv9JprH1N2XA543vZMA1KolW8kE8gWcORsssingb3Q8f_xmm7zo3CNRcbmjEalSDQKoznmuXVuenL5iASLf0m8I6sf-LKVn44uPRUJ0qsw/s1600/1964+dinner+gang.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVf3udhNYeEIdfKJt9UwBLZa2MDEJCIdcbHgv9JprH1N2XA543vZMA1KolW8kE8gWcORsssingb3Q8f_xmm7zo3CNRcbmjEalSDQKoznmuXVuenL5iASLf0m8I6sf-LKVn44uPRUJ0qsw/s320/1964+dinner+gang.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543156548356470514" border="0" /></a><br />We're having a smaller group for dinner this year at Thanksgiving so we decided to turn it into a really traditional Italian Thanksgiving. That means you start with pasta! And not just any pasta - we're going to make home-made gnocchi. My kids and grandkids will come over early to roll and pinch the gnocchi just like "back in the day". I have such fond memories of my grandmother's house where all of us kids (after a thorough hand washing) got to help make the gnocchi. Then Grandma would put them in batches on a cookie sheet dusted with flour. In the spare bedroom she had spread a white sheet (I think we only had white sheets back then!) on the bed and dusted it with flour. Our job was to put the gnocchi on the bed, making sure none of them touched, and sprinkle with flour so they could dry before cooking. All of us would be covered head to toe in flour and loving every minute of it.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgzbjPDONhlE6fwlBs46FKhUMnQelkOQecC91T4szd-Xiya2z5UObPx31hizMzjj_afJj8tdJYOvyznzKYgbfd-6zmFGXPfaAHvOAtW4scPnjQ1wj8QE6GIvqggZrt5NKD0MvQtLeh2B4/s1600/Gnocchi+Peperoncino.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgzbjPDONhlE6fwlBs46FKhUMnQelkOQecC91T4szd-Xiya2z5UObPx31hizMzjj_afJj8tdJYOvyznzKYgbfd-6zmFGXPfaAHvOAtW4scPnjQ1wj8QE6GIvqggZrt5NKD0MvQtLeh2B4/s320/Gnocchi+Peperoncino.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543155698311256274" border="0" /></a><br />Growing up we always had pasta as a first course. A couple of times my cousin invited some of his fraternity brothers to our house if they couldn't get back home for the holiday. We would try to warn them about the volume of food. Alas, they would never listen. Nani Gene and Papa Jim would bring out the platters of pasta, meats cooked in the sauce (gravy to us Italians), salad and bread. The frat boys would devour it senselessly not heeding our warnings to pace themselves.<br /><br />When the pasta was done, the women would clear off the table while the man sat there and finished their wine. There were satisfied sighs and burps all around. Then, a few minutes later, the womenfolk would waltz back in with the turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, broccoli, dressing, gravy (real turkey gravy this time), cranberry and rolls. This is about the time the frat boys would get a look of horror on their faces. But they dug in like the rest of us.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWl0b5AITdSC8d1vhbIDtXELL8JOSxSbXMrI4q7fOrir2ChgKHYNV0R5Eu5qbeI1mf5S6dCZwMXa0y4tAI4sHDLty3CvMXOosr-TamviFor48tUitfmR_2y0j2aq3mNUcHC7uBxFgkPM/s1600/1957+another+dinner+at+NG.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWl0b5AITdSC8d1vhbIDtXELL8JOSxSbXMrI4q7fOrir2ChgKHYNV0R5Eu5qbeI1mf5S6dCZwMXa0y4tAI4sHDLty3CvMXOosr-TamviFor48tUitfmR_2y0j2aq3mNUcHC7uBxFgkPM/s320/1957+another+dinner+at+NG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543156187953292242" border="0" /></a><br />Once we were all in a total food coma, the women would again clear the table. About 20 minutes later the pies, cakes, cookies and candy would appear. Then it was time for a few naps, some clean up, football. Within 2 hours of dinner all the leftovers would magically appear on the table and we would be back at it. Usually playing a friendly game of "put and take" along with the eating. That was a fun little dice game that even the kids would play so there would be 20 of us yelling and trying to win pennies.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMAq1QM22G6ct_AiTWDlDTQCAO8GcfN_up5hH6IFbbI_9YxrXqRtfmbwSg6ka2OmdD-WPTS4oP7gQ_jgBcUkbnxIeOUSaB54pIp0SpXR0dFgNSnFItXpDGU5fk-Tlgjnlao8Y7p3IvkNY/s1600/1957+dinner+at+NG.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMAq1QM22G6ct_AiTWDlDTQCAO8GcfN_up5hH6IFbbI_9YxrXqRtfmbwSg6ka2OmdD-WPTS4oP7gQ_jgBcUkbnxIeOUSaB54pIp0SpXR0dFgNSnFItXpDGU5fk-Tlgjnlao8Y7p3IvkNY/s320/1957+dinner+at+NG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543156104734833122" border="0" /></a>Our holidays haven't been that traditional since my grandparents passed away. The pasta disappeared as did the "put and take" dice. We've built our own traditions and hopefully my kids and grandkids will have fond memories of our time together. But this year we bring back the spirit of my grandparents with gnocchi and gravy.<br /><br />I can't wait!Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-17272848747455718742010-11-14T12:25:00.001-08:002010-11-14T12:52:50.102-08:00Some things are just a matter of principle.There are a few things in life that I just don't do - mostly on principle. Things such as<br /><ul><li>darning socks (pleeeaaassseee, just buy a new pair without a hole)</li><li>parallel park</li><li>use that last little sliver of soap before getting out a new bar<br /></li><li>back into parking spaces or driveways (this one drives Ed nuts)</li><li>swim in bodies of water other than swimming pools<br /></li><li>use hankies</li></ul>And I don't camp! I know, I know, it's the great American adventure sleeping out in the open, cooking over an open fire, blah, blah, blah. A friend of mine once said that, to her, "roughing it" meant not having a rose on her breakfast tray. Well, I'm not nearly so shallow. I can even stay in a hotel without room service! As long at it has flushing toilets and hot water.<br /><br />What is it about camping that people love? Sleeping outside where bears and bugs can attack at will? Peeing (and other things) in the woods? Having dirt and weeds in your food? What is it??<br /><br />First, let's talk about water. I like water - running out of a faucet. Hot water, stuff like that. Jumping in a lake to clean off isn't my cup of tea. There are critters in lakes. And seaweed (I think) and used fishing line and other creepy stuff. Give me a swimming pool where I can see the bottom, smell the chlorine, and see the little wiggly thing on the bottom that catches bugs. I am, after all, from Tucson. Oh, and let's not forget trying to wash dishes in cold water or lake water. Nope, not gonna do it.<br /><br />Camping is a lot of work. You still have to cook and clean, but without any of the niceties of home. Oh, sure, cooking over an open fire is fun once in awhile - about every 10 years or so. And coffee perking out in the open smells great. But batting away flies while you eat or finding a piece of bark in your potatoes - no thanks.<br /><br />I can manage without electricity for awhile, but not without hot, running water. And I can sleep in the great outdoors if I have a comfortable bed that is inside something like a nice RV or a room. No tents, no cots, and dear god no sleeping bags.<br /><br />There have been camping experiences in my life:<br /><ul><li>Overflowing "toilet" in a camper</li><li>Skunks</li><li>Brushing teeth with using a little dixie cup of precious water - insert gag reflex here</li><li>Campgrounds filled with smells of other people cooking, loud radios, dogs pooping willy-nilly, drunks</li><li>Dirty hair = itchy head<br /></li></ul>Ed and I have both always thought it would be cool, once we retire, to travel the country in an RV. Of course, my version of that is to stay in a hotel every third night and eat in restaurants much of the time. Which, apparently, defeats the whole purpose of taking RV. Whatever.<br /><br />I do have my principles!!Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-39574249505126132892010-09-19T14:37:00.000-07:002010-09-19T15:07:22.817-07:00Food "back in the day"This morning I read an article about TV dinners. Those of us who were around in the 50's and 60's remember when those glorious little silver trays first came out. As the article said, it was totally cool to have metal TV trays and those segregated portions of "food".<br /><br />And, of course, that reminded me of other foods we ate back then. Fresh vegetables weren't as plentiful back then, but frozen veggies was all the rage. Luckily we didn't eat too many vegetables out of a can - I mean gray peas !? Really?!? But we did eat the frozen stuff. Many a meal was rounded out by a solid square of spinach that was plopped in a pot of boiling water. You couldn't defrost them (don't even remember how that was done pre-microwave!) but they didn't take too long to melt down in the hot water and turn into lovely soggy vegetables floating in their own juice.<br /><br />Another favorite of mine was pot pies. Specifically turkey pot pie. Our junior high had split shifts so I would get home around 1:30 pm. Mom worked so I was alone for a few hours. I'd pop a turkey pot pie in the oven and it would be done just about the time the Afternoon Movie was on tv. Always a good old black and white movie. I'd close the curtains, whip out the tv tray, and savor my pot pie and my movie. Some of the best afternoons of my life.<br /><br />Fish sticks - I loved fish sticks! Don't even want to think about what might be in them, but back then it was pure heaven. Especially if there was some frozen corn and mashed potatoes to go along. Do they even still make those?<br /><br />Jiffy-Pop Pop Corn. Watching that foil top puff up, smelling the burned kernels (there were always burned kernels). Both entertaining and delicious!<br /><br />Alas, none of these items are in my diet anymore. But they sure to evoke some wonderful memories.Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-88368011387592457922010-09-08T13:36:00.000-07:002010-09-08T13:36:00.073-07:00Let's hear it for longevity!I love having really old relatives! That means I might make it to a nice old age.<br /><br />Earlier this year Ed and I met an aunt of mine in France who had just turned 100! She was getting a little forgetful (that is a lot of years to remember, after all), but still lived alone with some help and was doing great!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQSrYFXnMxGWl7acmZATPgTozPi-uvOtXKnWihKuHHwMQCOVXycupHh0viBOj-gZC_ze-G7lTR9PKcbYmVrCjosKL0iTTc5Kw4UqpJ4RAnIs6BRpI8dJubg2vvCUZTlriFCBpwMSyysQ/s1600/Stella2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQSrYFXnMxGWl7acmZATPgTozPi-uvOtXKnWihKuHHwMQCOVXycupHh0viBOj-gZC_ze-G7lTR9PKcbYmVrCjosKL0iTTc5Kw4UqpJ4RAnIs6BRpI8dJubg2vvCUZTlriFCBpwMSyysQ/s320/Stella2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513162791624757986" border="0" /></a><br />This past week Ed, his older sister (who just turned 82!) and I met Ed's last remaining aunt who just turned 97! Her name is Stella, she lives alone in a condo she bought in 1975, and she's quite amazing. Has a young woman who comes in twice a day to help her with meds and meals, but other than that she gets by all by herself. Still reads voraciously - in fact she had just gone to the library and picked up about 8 new books! Recently she and the caretaker took a trip to Sausalito to visit one of her "girlfriends" who had her 93rd birthday.<br /><br />As we were driving there we were wondering if she would remember Ed, if she would be very coherent, etc. We walked into her condo and there she was, sitting in the chair with this yellow 2-piece outfit on and a big smile on her face. I would not have guessed she was more than 80 at the most! We spent 2 hours with her going through old family photos and talking about "back in the day." In fact, she pulled out her boxes of photos so we could take whatever we wanted. She has no children and doesn't want things to just be thrown away when she dies. So we found some great photos of Ed's father as a young man and many other treasurers. I'll be on another scanning frenzy soon.<br /><br />She told us some fun stories about Ed's grandmother and great-grandmother. Some interesting stuff about her own life. And she told us about her husband, Elmer, who passed away four years ago. She's lonely - no kids and most of her friends are gone now. And how she's ready to join him.<br /><br />All in all, a very touching and wonderful visit. And inspiring. We're so glad we connected with her and plan to visit her again.Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-10981766358987172522010-09-04T13:10:00.000-07:002010-09-04T13:26:49.218-07:00PhobiasI read somewhere that there are as many phobias as there are "things"! Well, I have a few. My main one is claustrophobia. I know, pretty common and not very exotic. But please do not ever describe your MRI to me or I'll start breathing funny.<br /><br />Another one I've had since I was a child is fear of quicksand. I don't even know if there's a name for that phobia. In fact, I tried to look it up and discovered that I'm not the only person in the world with this fear! I think it stems from some old 1950's movie I saw once where this woman went totally under. I've never even been close to quicksand as far as I know. And my guess is that this isn't a major health threat. But I fear it none-the-less.<br /><br />However, there is one phobia I have a bit of control over. Again, I don't think this one has a name so I'll make it up - messyeyebrowphobia! I literally have a mild panic attack when I see someone with really messy eyebrows or, worse yet, see someone rub their eyebrow against the grain with their finger! I mean, why in the world would anyone do that?? Of course, Ed does it periodically just to see me squirm. But he's smart enough to quickly remedy the situation. And he often trims his eyebrows to save me from angst.<br /><br />My daughter is afflicted with this same condition. You'll often see one or both of us smoothing our own eyebrows when a person does the unthinkable (please refer to above - I just can't write it again....). When I worked at Stanford there was a woman physician who would come into my office to chat. She really was a great person, but she had this habit of playing with her eyebrows and pushing the hairs the wrong way. By the time she left I would have major agita. <br /><br />Spiders are no problem. Not afraid of heights. No problem with airplanes. But PLEASE keep me out of tight spaces and keep those damn eyebrows neat! Oh, yeah, and if you have a map with quicksand locations that I can avoid, that would be great!Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-77352287112308922622010-08-16T18:40:00.000-07:002010-08-17T09:55:18.269-07:00Raindrops keep fallin' on my head...Reminds you of a great scene on a bicycle in Butch Cassidy, right? Well we had a scene with bicycles last weekend but it wasn't quite so charming.<br /><br />As we were reading our paper on Sunday morning, Ed saw an ad for bikes at Target and got all excited. He decided we needed to go there and buy them! Now, we have bikes, but he said that these were mountain bikes with wider tires which would be easier to ride which means that we might actually take a bike ride some day! <br /><br />I vaguely remembered my bike and truly couldn't tell the difference. I bought it about 12 years ago and paid quite a bit for it. And when we moved in together we thought it was so cute (Kismet) that we had bikes that were the same color. But Ed said they weren't mountain bikes. I asked what we would do with our old bikes but he didn't have that answer just yet.<br /><br />So Monday we took both of our cars to Target to get the bikes. Found them in the bike department (clever, eh?) and had the staff person help us get them down. Then we pushed them through the store, checked out, pushed them to our cars, and with just a little struggling managed to get them into the cars. Drove home, another little struggle getting them out of the cars, and there they were. All shiny and new sitting in the garage. Yep, now we'll be bike riding all over the place. <br /><br />Ed decided to find a place for them and take the old bikes out so we could give them to someone. He opened the door of one of our sheds and suddenly I heard, "Well, shit!" He was looking inside the shed at our matching bikes which, as luck would have it, were mountain bikes! Apparently when you don't ride your bike for 8 years you forget what it looks like.<br /><br />Tuesday we again struggled to put the bikes back into the cars and take them to Target. Get them out, push them into the store, and head for the return desk. Ed absolutely HATES returning things, but this time I decided to let him handle it. The clerk noticed that we had only been the proud owners for less than 24 hours so he asked Ed, "Anything wrong with the bikes?" Ed simply replied, "They just didn't work out for us." They man looked at me like WTF does that mean, but then he rang us up, moved the bikes, and we hustled out of the store.<br /><br />Now I guess we're going to have to go bike riding.Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-4375663181868017222010-08-14T18:23:00.000-07:002010-08-14T18:36:09.024-07:00Memorable ResponsesToday Ed and I stopped at Safeway to pick up just a few things. As we walked in, there was a young man at a table by the front door who asked us if we would like a free copy of the local paper. We both responded, "No thanks." He said, "Have a nice day," and we went in the store.<br /><br />Not more than 15 minutes later we walked out the same door and he again asked us if we would like a paper! Still no thanks! Now, granted there were a few other people going in and out of that door, and we certainly aren't that memorable - but it still struck us as funny.<br /><br />Which made me think of two other "responses" that were pretty amusing. Several years ago Ed and I used one of our timeshares for a week of down time after Christmas. We wound up in Myrtle Beach (don't even get me started!) and stayed at a really nice place. Golf is a big thing in Myrtle Beach. Miniature Golf is just as big. When we were checking in, there was this cute, young blond girl with the golf outfit on and a ponytail who welcomed us, told us about the resort and then asked us, with a big smile on her face, if we played golf. We both responded "no" which caused her expression to stall in mid-smile and for a few moments she looked like a Stepford Wife who had a misfire. I mean, we were probably the only people at that resort who didn't golf. Finally she gathered her wits about her, told us about the welcome breakfast the next day, and then looked up at us with a big smile and said, "Do you play golf?" Since barely five minutes had passed since the first time she asked, we said , "Nope, still don't." Now she was really lost so she raced through the rest of her questions and got us the heck out of there.<br /><br />But my all-time favorite is when we lived in Denver and my twins were about two years old. We were at one of the malls and there was a kiosk in the middle which sold ice cream. It was summer so we decided to get a couple of milkshakes. There wasn't anyone else at the counter and the girl was standing there looking at us so my husband said, "We'd like two chocolate milk shakes with chocolate ice cream, please," She said to us, "This side is closed, please go over to the other side." Which we did - even though the whole kiosk was only about 6 feet long on each side and was so small inside that the girl didn't have to do anything but turn around.. But we pushed the stroller over to the other side at which point the girl turned around and said, "Can I help you?" We just looked at her for a second and then burst out laughing. I don't even remember if we got the milkshakes.<br /><br />Have you ever had one of those "responses" that leaves you a bit speechless?Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7832939593215466611.post-54816964488316703812010-07-28T19:05:00.000-07:002010-07-28T19:20:08.393-07:00Road Trip!!!Tomorrow Ed and I leave on a road trip to Tucson. We're taking it in two days this time - stopping near Palm Springs for the night. We planned this before Ed hurt his leg and now we're really glad we did! <br /><br />We love road trips. First of all, you can carry all your shit with you in regular sized bottles and regular hairspray! And a bag o' shoes so we don't have to try to make it on one pair that will fit into a suitcase. We can hang our clothes up in the car, carry both laptops, and food - we can bring food and drink!<br /><br />When I was a kid, road trips consisted mostly of driving from Tucson to Southern California to do the Disneyland - Knotts Berry Farm - Sea World circuit. Almost every summer. We always left at 4:00am because back in those days we didn't have air conditioning in the car and the rule was that you had to make it to Yuma by 8am, have a quick breakfast, and be back on the road by 8:30. If not you would simply die because Yuma is a thousand degrees in the summer.<br /><br />I remember so well as a kid my mom would wake us up and toss us in the car in our pajamas. That eliminated the whole ordeal of us getting ready at 4am. We'd be sleeping in the back seat (this was pre-seat belt days) and mom and dad would talk in low voices. I would periodically open my eyes and see all the lights from the truck stops and it made me so happy because I knew that on the other end was California and Disneyland. Mom would always bring a thermos of coffee. When they were ready for a cup, she would open a dishtowel on her lap and pour. It smelled so good and to this day the smell of coffee in the car reminds me of those trips.<br /><br />We would stop in Yuma for breakfast and then in Pine Valley (which is closer to San Diego) for banana cream pie at the Hobart House. Tradition! We always knew we were close to the ocean because the trees were slanted from the breezes and we would see orange juice and date stands popping up. This was also pre-freeway days so there would be vendors on the side of the road.<br /><br />Of course, there was the usually chorus of "are we there yet?" followed by "Stop asking! I'll tell you when we get there!!" We'd usually have a picnic lunch at a rest stop and several bathroom stops. <br /><br />When I grew up and had my own family, we continued the tradition of leaving very early in the morning. It just seemed like the right thing to do. And there's something very special about being far away from your home and watching the sun come up from inside the car. Magical. The kids and I took several trips back to Tucson after we moved to California and many times we would leave as soon as I got home from work and drive all night. That way we could have breakfast with my mom! She loved it and so did we.<br /><br />I've never outgrown my love of road trips and my daughter is the same. Not sure about my son - I think he's more of an airplane guy. Luckily Ed is a road-trip kinda guy, too. So we're excited. Tucson will be very hot. But who cares. Maybe we'll catch a monsoon or two. And we'll visit with family and enjoy the desert.<br /><br />On the road again.......Sandihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12928778874657387483noreply@blogger.com4