So this past week I was able to spend some time with my mom's side of the family. My uncle is back from Afgan (don't know how to spell the rest:) and my cousin just graduated high school. I don't get to see my other aunt and uncle that much either so when family comes to town it's a good chance to see everyone. I was lucky enough to have 5 days off before my new job started so I didn't need to take any time off. I really enjoyed the time with them. I look back at my teens and childhood and have to shake my head. I did not appreciate the time I had with them (then again who does at that age?) I am just glad I came to this realization now and not when it was too late...anyway! I decided to let my Grandma know how I felt about this past week so I thought I would share the letter I am sending her in the mail on a very pretty card I must add...I've decided not to put it in the book b/c this is just a preview of the OTHER letter I'm planning on writing her, plus everyone loves getting mail; so why wait until her birthday to say these things??
Dear Grandma,
I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed spending time with you and Grandpa this past week. It was wonderful to look at the old pictures with you and learn more about our family. I really enjoyed seeing you and Grandpa around my age (sometimes it is hard to image you both at that age so the pictures helped!) I wish God gave people the knowledge of how important family truly is at a much younger age, but I guess I should be thankful it hit me now at least. I know others who are old and 'wiser' who still do not realize what they are missing out on...
Thank you for being such a wonderful grandma, I look back on my life and see your influence and have to smile. I am very lucky to be able to call you mine. I love you both so much and am so blessed to be able to call you family.
Love,
Emily
Seriously people, love your family. I don't care how much they drive you nuts or how crazy you may think they are..b/c when they're gone you are going to miss it.
24.6.11
16.6.11
Grandma Story #2 - The Farmer
I come from a long line of farmers, well, on one side of my family anyway. My mom grew up on a farm, she had horses, fields to play in, and I'm pretty sure she knows how to milk a cow. She had every little city girl's dream of what owning a pony would be like. I guess I would call myself a city girl, I mean nothing like NYC or Chicago. I didn't know how to hail a cab, use public transportation, or encounter bums daily growing up. On the other hand I didn't know how to milk a cow, saddle a horse, or de-feather a chicken so by all means I wasn't your typical small town girl either. I am just your average not-so-small-or-big-city girl.
I grew up in Indiana; when people hear this they automatically picture me in overalls and in a cornfield. This not only makes me laugh but could be nothing further from the truth. I lived in a subdivision, had air conditioning and no one in my family was my brother and cousin at the same time. If you asked me growing up I would have told you I was a small town girl, you ask my mom, and she'd tell you I was a city girl. I do not know why but this bothered me to no end. I was out to prove to her that I was a small town girl!
This story is about the day I found out Mom was right. (You have no idea how hard that was to type!) I guess it should have been a sign to myself that she might be right when I actually considered mowing the yard to be a type of 'farming'. I mean it's a little like plowing a field right? I was headed over to my grandparents house to mow their yard for them. My grandma was the one that use to do the mowing but the task had just become too tiring in her old age (no offense grandma) She stands at maybe 4'll and has more of a waddle than walk thanks to a hip surgery (I think it is absolutely adorable and is something that comes to mind when I think of her)
Anyway! She greeted me at the door and led me out back to the shed where the mower was. Before you start judging my chore list as child, yes, I did mow my parents yard but they had a push mower, my grandparents had a riding mower. In my mind what was titled a chore in my home seemed to be a piece of cake at grandma's. She said she would get the mower out for me and then show me how to use it. She disappeared and came out with, what I think, was the original first riding lawnmower. Ok maybe it wasn't that old but it wasn't the John Deer that I was expecting to see either. She killed the motor and showed me the shift stick thing, the gas petal and what everything did. After she was done she wanted to know if I had any questions. Only one grandma, when did you pick up Chinese as your second language because I didn't understand a word of what you were talking about. I smiled and shook my head yes, I mean if my 82 year old grandmother can handle this thing I'm pretty sure I can figure it out. In my mind it was like a car with a blade and no radio.
I hopped on and turned the key. Nothing. Grandma reminds me to do something with the stick thing and the break. I do it and VAROOM! I give her a thumbs up and a big I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing smile. The fear in her eyes says it all but I just assume her allergies are bothering her. I decide to head to the front yard because there are less trees and I can practice before I get to the backyard which is full of twists and turns, four trees, their garden, and the shed. It was like the Mowing Olympics if you asked me!
As I'm riding along I decide to call my mower 'Bessy' I mean she is like a trusty stead in the field so why not give her a name that honors that. Bessy has a little kick to her, this ol' girl can move! We're flying up and down the yard and I'm thankful that I decided to wear an old t-shirt and shorts because to steer Bessy took a lot of muscle and I could feel the sweat drip down my forehead as we made our way back toward the house. I start to daydream a little about the sweet tea and cookies that will be waiting for me at the end of my hard day in the field. I can picture Grandma ringing a dinner bell to let me know it's ready (in reality she could just waved me in from the kitchen window)
Just as I think 'There's nothing to this farming thing, it must be in my blood' I feel something in my shirt. I sit erect, Bessy can sense my fear and gives a little shudder. It's ok girl, I pat her on the head (steering wheel) it's just sweat, this summer sun is obviously getting to me next time I'll have to remember my straw hat. We turn and head back to the house and there it is again. Ok now I know it isn't sweat because I can feel it's legs. THERE IS A BUG IN MY SHIRT!!! Get it off! Get it off!!! GET IT OFF! I panic and steer Bessy this way and that leaving crooked mowing lines in my wake. Somewhere in the craziness my shirt flies off (no worries, the story is still PG I have a sports bra on thank you very much) I hit the stick thingy and we take off towards the house. There are a row of bushes and plants that my grandparents have worked hours on end right in my path and I can't seem to find the brake! Woo girl, WOO GIRL! Oh yeah, Bessy isn't really a horse and I'm not really a farmer! What the heck am I doing? We crash into the bush and I can hear the blade hack away at it (it didn't have a chance) Grandma comes flying out of the house with a look I've never seen before from her (so THAT'S where my mom got it) She comes up to Bessy and I, grabs the keys and kills the engine. I sit there for a second dazed and confused as to what just happened.
I look up to see my Grandma standing there looking at me like I'm crazy (at this point she might be right though) Why didn't you hit the brake, or kill the engine, or at least bring up the blade? Wait, what? I didn't even know I could bring the blade up, what does that even mean!? Thankfully for me, my Grandma is a lady and does not lay into me with a string of profanity that I probably deserve. I pulled Bessy from the bush, poor little thing barely has any limbs anymore. Thinking I would just put the mower back in the shed and wait until one of my male, more farmer like, cousins could come and mow for them I was surprised when Grandma told me to finish. Is she nuts? I was thrown from my horse, Bessy can sense my fear and now doesn't trust me as her rider.
I reminded myself I was here to prove a point to my own mother and if I gave up now I would be proving her right (I wish I would have known it shouldn't have mattered because by running over the bush I had already proved her right!) I picked up my shirt, inspecting every inch for the bug that caused this horrible scene in the first place. I couldn't find him, I'm sure he was already in the next pasture over. Thankfully the rest of my 'plowing' went without incident.
I was still invited in for sweet tea and cookies at the end of my day. I was covered in sweat, grass and dirt. I may have looked like a farmer but that's as close to one as I would ever be. I was embarrassed and defeated. That little bug with the six legs proved my mom was right, I am a city girl. I don't like the outdoors, I still freak out when I think a bug is touching me and I wouldn't be caught dead in overalls. I am pretty sure that 'farming gene' skipped my generation and that is ok with me becuase my 'farming' days are over!
I grew up in Indiana; when people hear this they automatically picture me in overalls and in a cornfield. This not only makes me laugh but could be nothing further from the truth. I lived in a subdivision, had air conditioning and no one in my family was my brother and cousin at the same time. If you asked me growing up I would have told you I was a small town girl, you ask my mom, and she'd tell you I was a city girl. I do not know why but this bothered me to no end. I was out to prove to her that I was a small town girl!
This story is about the day I found out Mom was right. (You have no idea how hard that was to type!) I guess it should have been a sign to myself that she might be right when I actually considered mowing the yard to be a type of 'farming'. I mean it's a little like plowing a field right? I was headed over to my grandparents house to mow their yard for them. My grandma was the one that use to do the mowing but the task had just become too tiring in her old age (no offense grandma) She stands at maybe 4'll and has more of a waddle than walk thanks to a hip surgery (I think it is absolutely adorable and is something that comes to mind when I think of her)
Anyway! She greeted me at the door and led me out back to the shed where the mower was. Before you start judging my chore list as child, yes, I did mow my parents yard but they had a push mower, my grandparents had a riding mower. In my mind what was titled a chore in my home seemed to be a piece of cake at grandma's. She said she would get the mower out for me and then show me how to use it. She disappeared and came out with, what I think, was the original first riding lawnmower. Ok maybe it wasn't that old but it wasn't the John Deer that I was expecting to see either. She killed the motor and showed me the shift stick thing, the gas petal and what everything did. After she was done she wanted to know if I had any questions. Only one grandma, when did you pick up Chinese as your second language because I didn't understand a word of what you were talking about. I smiled and shook my head yes, I mean if my 82 year old grandmother can handle this thing I'm pretty sure I can figure it out. In my mind it was like a car with a blade and no radio.
I hopped on and turned the key. Nothing. Grandma reminds me to do something with the stick thing and the break. I do it and VAROOM! I give her a thumbs up and a big I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing smile. The fear in her eyes says it all but I just assume her allergies are bothering her. I decide to head to the front yard because there are less trees and I can practice before I get to the backyard which is full of twists and turns, four trees, their garden, and the shed. It was like the Mowing Olympics if you asked me!
As I'm riding along I decide to call my mower 'Bessy' I mean she is like a trusty stead in the field so why not give her a name that honors that. Bessy has a little kick to her, this ol' girl can move! We're flying up and down the yard and I'm thankful that I decided to wear an old t-shirt and shorts because to steer Bessy took a lot of muscle and I could feel the sweat drip down my forehead as we made our way back toward the house. I start to daydream a little about the sweet tea and cookies that will be waiting for me at the end of my hard day in the field. I can picture Grandma ringing a dinner bell to let me know it's ready (in reality she could just waved me in from the kitchen window)
Just as I think 'There's nothing to this farming thing, it must be in my blood' I feel something in my shirt. I sit erect, Bessy can sense my fear and gives a little shudder. It's ok girl, I pat her on the head (steering wheel) it's just sweat, this summer sun is obviously getting to me next time I'll have to remember my straw hat. We turn and head back to the house and there it is again. Ok now I know it isn't sweat because I can feel it's legs. THERE IS A BUG IN MY SHIRT!!! Get it off! Get it off!!! GET IT OFF! I panic and steer Bessy this way and that leaving crooked mowing lines in my wake. Somewhere in the craziness my shirt flies off (no worries, the story is still PG I have a sports bra on thank you very much) I hit the stick thingy and we take off towards the house. There are a row of bushes and plants that my grandparents have worked hours on end right in my path and I can't seem to find the brake! Woo girl, WOO GIRL! Oh yeah, Bessy isn't really a horse and I'm not really a farmer! What the heck am I doing? We crash into the bush and I can hear the blade hack away at it (it didn't have a chance) Grandma comes flying out of the house with a look I've never seen before from her (so THAT'S where my mom got it) She comes up to Bessy and I, grabs the keys and kills the engine. I sit there for a second dazed and confused as to what just happened.
I look up to see my Grandma standing there looking at me like I'm crazy (at this point she might be right though) Why didn't you hit the brake, or kill the engine, or at least bring up the blade? Wait, what? I didn't even know I could bring the blade up, what does that even mean!? Thankfully for me, my Grandma is a lady and does not lay into me with a string of profanity that I probably deserve. I pulled Bessy from the bush, poor little thing barely has any limbs anymore. Thinking I would just put the mower back in the shed and wait until one of my male, more farmer like, cousins could come and mow for them I was surprised when Grandma told me to finish. Is she nuts? I was thrown from my horse, Bessy can sense my fear and now doesn't trust me as her rider.
I reminded myself I was here to prove a point to my own mother and if I gave up now I would be proving her right (I wish I would have known it shouldn't have mattered because by running over the bush I had already proved her right!) I picked up my shirt, inspecting every inch for the bug that caused this horrible scene in the first place. I couldn't find him, I'm sure he was already in the next pasture over. Thankfully the rest of my 'plowing' went without incident.
I was still invited in for sweet tea and cookies at the end of my day. I was covered in sweat, grass and dirt. I may have looked like a farmer but that's as close to one as I would ever be. I was embarrassed and defeated. That little bug with the six legs proved my mom was right, I am a city girl. I don't like the outdoors, I still freak out when I think a bug is touching me and I wouldn't be caught dead in overalls. I am pretty sure that 'farming gene' skipped my generation and that is ok with me becuase my 'farming' days are over!
9.6.11
An 8th month old kicked my butt
So remember all that writing I was going to get done today while Sidney entertained herself? Yeah, that didn't happen, in fact the only thing that happned was me taking a nap with her, feeding her, changing her. Holy cow I'm not ready to be a mother yet...she was such a good baby but I'm pooped! To try to be creative while watching a baby, making sure she's happy, not hurting herself or anything like that...not happening, didn't happen. My 'creativity' was my metal to-do list that I wanted to accomplish when I got home...I don't even have enough energy to cross anything off, let alone do anything on the list. Thankfully I have tomorrow off so I can do my to-do list. I have to say though, our pets are totally children. Since I just smacked my head on the keyboard after dozing off...I'm off to recharge my 'creative' batteries
6.6.11
It's Offical
It's offical. I have writer's block. Is it possible to have writer's block if I'm not a real writer? lol. I have set a deadline for myself, July 15th. I feel that will be enough time to get my stories done, edited and published before my Grandma's birthday. Plus if I have a deadline, there will be pressure (like a REAL writer!) I'm hoping this Thursday my brain will finally give me something like my 'Target' story, I mean that story literally just poured out of me! Thursday I am babysitting for a friend of ours so I figured I will have the entire day to write! I'm going to be making outlines until then to help my creative juices flowing! Ok, I just wanted you all out there (hi mom) to know what's up...plus I will probably post my book that I have two chapters done sometime soon as well:)
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