In September 2019, our grandson Joseph, who was then 10, had to write a poem for school. He is an amazing kid, and he wrote an amazing poem. So amazing, in fact, that I am publishing it again…..

Our grandson Joseph is 10 years old. He wrote this poem as a school assignment.

I Am From
By Joseph McLain

I am from my favorite cat Ellie
From puddles and trees during springtime in Montpelier.

I am from an old green house and a beautiful neighborhood
I am from overgrown hostas that always seem to be looking at me.

I am from hot chocolate and chapter books
From Hibbert and McLain.

I am from big celebrations and different cultures like Polish and Scottish.
From Taco Tuesday and Pride.

I am from Great Grandma Wilma, a Cookie Monster cake
And from my great grandparent singing to me.

From my youngest, but first to die cat.
I am from those moments, the sad ones, the hard ones and the happy ones
that is why life is so amazing.

I couldn’t be prouder of this boy.

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all.

Joni Mitchell

I first posted this on August 3, 2017. I think of the comment Grammie made about the music very often, as I’m thinking the same thing about the music listened to by my grands.

When I was in my early 20s and living with my parents in Leadville, Colorado (VERY early 20s and not for very long, so don’t start snickering), I recall one morning I was watching early morning television, probably the Today Show. That was back in the day when the Today Show actually was only a couple of hours long and they really did feature some news. Barbara Walters hosted, as I recall.

Anyway, I didn’t normally sit around idly watching morning television as I did have that thing called a J-O-B. But I turned it on that morning because one of my favorite musicians/singers of the time was going to perform – Judy Collins. She had recently come out with her Judith album, and I loved her voice and the music on that particular album. I liked a lot of that kind of music in those days – James Taylor, Carole King, Jessie Colin Young, Carly Simon, Cat Stevens. Oddly, not Joni Mitchell, though Both Sides Now is one of the songs I frequently attempt to sing (particularly when I’m with my grandkids looking at clouds) and always fail. Lots of highs and lows, I’m afraid. Much like Joni Mitchell’s life. But I digress.

Anyway, on this particular morning, my grandmother was watching television with me. Grammie mostly kept her opinions to herself, but when she felt strongly about something, she didn’t hesitate to comment. Judy Collins was performing Send in the Clowns, a song I particularly liked from the album Judith. Grammie listened for a little bit. Finally, I heard her sigh heavily, and she said to me in her strongly accented Swiss dialect, “Ehhhhhh, Krisily, is dat moosik?”

At that moment, I believe Grammie felt she was getting too old for the world. I’m sure it wasn’t the first time she felt that way. Nor was it likely the last, as she lived for quite a few years past the horrific Judy Collins moment that was probably etched in her mind forever. But she was born in 1896 and lived to be in her mid-80s, so she saw a lot of things change, come, and go, and come back again. Mostly she rolled with the punches, but in her mind, Judy Collins’ singing did not constitute music.

Now, as the years go by, I can relate. Oh, I still like Judy Collins okay, though admittedly when I listened to the song again as I wrote this blog post, I did find it somewhat annoying and a bit screechy. Perhaps in 10 years I would also question whether or not it was moosik. Nowadays, I’m much more liable to listen to Zac Brown Band or Luke Bryan, and bluegrass interests me more than folk music. Or whatever you would call the music I liked back in the mid-70s.

Interestingly, both of my sisters and I have become country music fans. There was a time in my life when I wouldn’t have imagined listening to songs about drinking whiskey and beer and dancing in the back of a pick-up truck. But I like the songs of most of the contemporary country singers. In fact, I watched the recent CMA Music Festival on ABC, and was pleased to realize that I recognized every song and knew the words to most of them.

My brother, however, still takes a firm stand against country music. He’s only a baby of 57. It doesn’t hit until 60, so he has a few more years to listen to Top 40 hits (or whatever it is he listens to). Our children think it’s just another sign that we are steps away from assisted living.

But, while I cringe when I listen to the Top 40 hits that Maggie Faith plays while she cooks, I have – to date, anyway – refrained from asking her if this is moosik.

This blog post was originally published on August 15, 2018. I love it because it reminds me of fun times with one of my grandkids. Dagny is now almost 15, and has many friends. Between work and friends, there is little time left for Nana. I appreciate that we had times like this….

I mentioned in yesterday’s blog post that I was somewhat nervous about the prospect of making Aunt Lauren’s crescent rolls, bread-baking being something with which I struggle a bit. I was so nervous, in fact, that I stewed about it for some of the night. At one point, I had an epiphany. Jll had said that she was serving pulled pork for dinner. Why, these crescent rolls weren’t appropriate for pulled pork AT ALL.

Yesterday morning, I called Jll and said, “Why, these crescent rolls aren’t appropriate for pulled pork AT ALL!”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” she said. “I bought hamburger buns for the pulled pork. These rolls are simply because Dagny loves them so much and is so excited about baking them with you.”

She went on to tell me that if I wasn’t inclined to make the rolls, it was not a problem at all. Still, I just imagined Dagny’s big brown eyes looking at me, and her saying, “Why, Nana? Why?”…..

I am fully aware that the biggest problem I have making bread is a lack of patience. In the winter — when I am most likely to be making bread — my house is pretty chilly. As such, bread takes a very long time to rise. And if my recipe says let it rise until it’s doubled in bulk (about one hour), there I am in one hour frantically concerned that it hasn’t doubled in bulk. I am even liable to push ahead, ending up inevitably with a door stop, calling it a fail. In fact, if I could just talk myself into waiting until it is actually doubled in bulk, I would be fine.

A chilly house was not a problem yesterday as Dagny and I began our roll-making process. She proclaimed that she had watched her Aunt Lauren make these rolls many times, and she knew exactly what to do. And she was quite right.

My brother-the-baker tells me that when yeast won’t ferment, it is much more likely to be from water that’s too hot for the yeast than too cold. I always use a thermometer to make sure my water is in the neighborhood of 110 degrees, something that my brother would find amusing.

We mixed the yeast and the water and the eggs and the flour, and Dagny took over. “It’s just like mixing slime!” she proclaimed with delight…..

A bit different, I told her. I showed her how I learned to knead the  bread.

Once the bread was fully mixed, we put it in a bowl, and headed off to our next adventure: buying school clothes at Old Navy.

And can I tell you that I don’t know when I’ve had more fun. Despite having all of these granddaughters, I have never — not once — shopped for clothes with any of them. Dagny is 12, and has her own very defined taste in clothes. Comfort is her primary requirement. My kind of girl.

When we returned, some hour-and-a-half later, the bread was doubled in bulk and ready to be rolled. This was the point at which Dagny took control. She divieded the dough in half and rolled one half into a circle. Modeling her Aunt Lauren, she then cut the dough into triangles, and rolled the triangles into perfect crescent shapes…..

She then did the same with the other half. Once they were baked and cool enough to pick up without burning her fingers, she popped one in her mouth. “They taste just like Aunt Lauren’s!”…..

Yay. And phew.

This post was originally published on September 20, 2020. Not much has changed since then!

There is what is perhaps an urban myth that patrol officers write more traffic tickets at the beginning of the month and at the end of the month. The reasoning behind these beliefs is that in the case of the beginning of the month, cops want to get their “quota” met early; at the end of the month, they are playing catch-up so as to meet the “quota.” Police departments, of course, deny there are any quotas. I don’t know and frankly, I don’t care. I try not to speed for the most part.

But speaking of quotas, I wondered if another profession was trying to meet their month-end quota yesterday. I was sitting in the lobby while Bill was at his first physical therapy appointment. My phone dinged, indicating I had gotten a email message. Being quite bored, and afraid to pick up one of the PT’s magazines, I decided to check my messages. I admit that I looked longingly at the magazines because the Us Weekly featured a story about Ellen Degeneres who seems so nice but indications are that she might be more like the Wicked Witch of the West than the Good Witch of the North. Nothing is certain in 2020. Doctors’ offices and apparently physical therapy offices are the only places where I can catch up on the REAL news, like Ellen’s bad temper and photos of Nicki Minaj at nine months pregnant and nearly naked. But I stayed strong, knowing those magazines were covered in COVID germs.

Most of my emails were from Crate & Barrel (who are my best friends since I bought my defective Kitchenaid mixer from them) and my friends at Next Door who are all up in arms about nighttime car racing. But one of them was a really friendly email:How are you? i need a favor from you.I need to get a PlayStation Gift Card for my nephew, it’s his birthday today and I totally forgot i can’t do this now because I’m currently on a short trip. Can you help grab one from any store around you? i’ll pay you as soon as i am back.kindly let me know if you can handle this.

It was signed by a man who’s name I will withhold. I thought it was so nice of him to ask how I was, since no one at either Crate & Barrel or Next Door seem to care. His lack of interest in capitalizing the letter “I” was somewhat disconcerting since his name was not e.e. cummings.

The biggest problem with the email was that it was a name totally unfamiliar to me. Knowing full well that this was a scam, and being crabby because I couldn’t read about Ellen, I came THIS CLOSE to responding with something along the lines of you can take your nephew’s gift card and shove it where the sun don’t shine. I really was very close.

And then I stopped myself because: a. That would be very mean; and b. I assume if I had responded, I would be put on some scary phishing list or my cell phone would blow up. It took great restraint.

But it wasn’t a half hour later that I got a text from my sister Bec, who said I just got a message saying if I don’t call and verify my Social Security number, they’re going to issue an arrest warrant and put me behind bars. So if you don’t hear from me…..

So that’s the reason I’m wondering if the Social Networking Bad Guys are also trying to meet a month-end quota, just like the cops. If their quota involves a “there’s a sucker born every minute” response, Bec and I were no help yesterday.