For me, there's always one moment of pure enjoyment at every family gathering. One you just know you're going to remember for years to come. Those are the moments I like to write about. And of course, this Christmas didn't disappoint. I actually look for them, I know they're coming, so, why not be ready.
Our youngest grandson just turned 4 years old. Everything is exciting to him. He doesn't talk, he yells. Every sentence ends with a loud exclamation point. And I mean everything. When I asked him what he wanted for Christmas this year he yelled (right in my face) Batman footy pajamas!!!
Being the awesomely wonderful overly indulgent grandmother that I am, I went on a quest to find the best of the best in footy PJs. And find them I did. They were winged. That's right-winged. So cute. So awesome. I knew he'd love them.
I was probably more excited then he was at Christmas. I'm like a big kid myself. I love to decorate, cook, entertain, and surprise my grandkids with fun gifts. I couldn't wait for the entire family to be under my roof. We had our traditional prime rib dinner, and then--it was present time. I played Santa this year and one by one the grandkids (7 of them) opened their gifts from aunts, uncles, grandma, and grandpa. I held back the PJs until almost the very end. And then--he opened them. Well, let's just say he put on the best show ever.
Within seconds he had stripped down to his undies yelling, can I wear them? Can I wear them? And was immediately in the process of getting those Batman pajamas on his little body. It was hilarious. The entire room was in shock and laughing. We tried to help him, but he's super independent and was determined to be dressed and flying through the room quickly.
It was awesome. He was so excited. The winged PJs was a huge success. He loved them. He began running through our house imitating Batman. It was great. I took tons of pictures, and I look forward to one day showing them to him. What a memory, I know I'll think about that day for years to come.
And that's what Christmas is all about for me, my grandkids. I love going to church on Christmas Eve, watching their little faces glow in the candlelight. I love coming back to grandma's house and having all our fun foods and snacks. I love watching them peer under the tree, wondering just what grandma bought them this year. It's so much fun. I hope that they remember these times also.
I find that I am already looking forward to next year. I am wondering what our next funny antic will be--who will it be, and what will it be about? I'll have my camera ready. And one day, they'll be looking through grandma's pictures and laughing hard at all the fun times we had and hopefully, they'll be anticipating future family times with their own children. Hopefully, they'll say to their spouses--wait, let's do it like grandma did and carry on the traditions and make memories of their own. Hopefully, they'll have their cameras ready, because you never know--when fun will be just around the corner--in Batman PJs.
Thursday, December 26, 2019
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Reasons I Love Christmas
I'm a little bit of a Christmas nut. Not intentionally, it just happened. I don't remember many truly awesome Christmases growing up, mostly they were non-events in my home. Most were tied to the up and down financial fluctuations of the real estate market and since my parents were realtors, well, you get it. Christmas followed suit. Some good, some bad.
I think when I grew up and got married a switch flipped and I decided that I would make Christmas an experience to last a lifetime. Decorations everywhere, live freshly cut trees--two if there was room, and homemade baked treats galore. I wanted what I had never had. I wanted to experience an entire month of music, food, decorations, and all the typical entrapments. I wanted memories.
After I got married I worked hard to fulfill the dream. And after our children arrived, well, kaboom!
Christmas was awesome. Our kids would wake up on Christmas morning to a tree overflowing with gifts. I'd budget all year to give them the Christmas I'd never really had. One with thought and effort put into it, one with smells of cinnamon rolls and music in the background. One with Christmas Eve church services, grandparents, and excitement. I wanted it all.
Even now, I'm still that way. 45 years of Christmases done my way. I've loved it. Now with 7 grandchildren, Christmas is exciting again. There was a lull there for a while--just a few years. Our kids grew up and flew the nest, leaving my husband and me to fabricate Christmas pretty much for ourselves which then turned into a season of loneliness. It's hard when you do tons of work to create a feeling, a smell, a time of memory-making only to have your children show up for a few hours on Christmas day. For several years it effected me greatly. Sadness would eventually overtake me and I'd want to forget the whole thing. However, over time I realized that I now had a new reality and had to come up with ways to make it fun and exciting again for just my husband and myself. And I did, for a while. I made it happen.
However, that was shortlived--grandkids came along and fun once again ensued. Christmas became awesome once more, even more so. Grandkids can do that. Make everything awesome. And then again, excitement flooded my heart. Decorating, baking, singing, lights, trees, it's for them now. I hope they don't grow up too soon. I need this. I need them. They make Christmas fun again.
I am patiently waiting right now for my daughter and her family to show up. Ok, not so patiently, waiting. They'll be here tomorrow. Not soon enough. We always have so much fun. Shopping, eating, cooking, meeting up with her siblings, and just doing all things associated with the season. It'll be a week of non-stop fun and craziness. Just how I like it.
Maybe that's what I love so much about Christmas. My family. Just having us all in one city, all coming together to eat, laugh, share stories of the past, open gifts, watch the faces of the littles, music in the background, and joy. Pure joy. For me that is. I hope it is for them too. I hope I'm making memories. I hope that in 20, 30, 40 years from now, they'll all sit around sharing stories and remembering the Christmases they had growing up, of then going to Grandma's house, and that feeling of being so loved and knowing that Grandma would have done anything to make their Christmases the best ever. I hope they know that. That I took it upon myself to create those memories for them.
That's why I love Christmas. It's a time of reflection for me. To remember. And a time to express my love without necessarily using words. A time of giving via action. I hope they see that, feel that, know that. I hope they realize that it isn't really Christmas I love. It's them, all of them. Oh, I realize that I can show them and tell them all year long, and I think I do. However, Christmas--that's a whole new ballgame, that's a game-changer. You don't need excuses to shower them with all things love. You can show them, do for them and spend on them like no other time of the year.
Yep, Christmas for me is awesome. And, I know I overdo it. And, I know I spoil the grandkids. And, I know I'm a little too materialistic about it all. But am I going to change any of that? Nope.
Because these are all the reasons that I love Christmas.
I think when I grew up and got married a switch flipped and I decided that I would make Christmas an experience to last a lifetime. Decorations everywhere, live freshly cut trees--two if there was room, and homemade baked treats galore. I wanted what I had never had. I wanted to experience an entire month of music, food, decorations, and all the typical entrapments. I wanted memories.
After I got married I worked hard to fulfill the dream. And after our children arrived, well, kaboom!
Christmas was awesome. Our kids would wake up on Christmas morning to a tree overflowing with gifts. I'd budget all year to give them the Christmas I'd never really had. One with thought and effort put into it, one with smells of cinnamon rolls and music in the background. One with Christmas Eve church services, grandparents, and excitement. I wanted it all.
Even now, I'm still that way. 45 years of Christmases done my way. I've loved it. Now with 7 grandchildren, Christmas is exciting again. There was a lull there for a while--just a few years. Our kids grew up and flew the nest, leaving my husband and me to fabricate Christmas pretty much for ourselves which then turned into a season of loneliness. It's hard when you do tons of work to create a feeling, a smell, a time of memory-making only to have your children show up for a few hours on Christmas day. For several years it effected me greatly. Sadness would eventually overtake me and I'd want to forget the whole thing. However, over time I realized that I now had a new reality and had to come up with ways to make it fun and exciting again for just my husband and myself. And I did, for a while. I made it happen.
However, that was shortlived--grandkids came along and fun once again ensued. Christmas became awesome once more, even more so. Grandkids can do that. Make everything awesome. And then again, excitement flooded my heart. Decorating, baking, singing, lights, trees, it's for them now. I hope they don't grow up too soon. I need this. I need them. They make Christmas fun again.
I am patiently waiting right now for my daughter and her family to show up. Ok, not so patiently, waiting. They'll be here tomorrow. Not soon enough. We always have so much fun. Shopping, eating, cooking, meeting up with her siblings, and just doing all things associated with the season. It'll be a week of non-stop fun and craziness. Just how I like it.
Maybe that's what I love so much about Christmas. My family. Just having us all in one city, all coming together to eat, laugh, share stories of the past, open gifts, watch the faces of the littles, music in the background, and joy. Pure joy. For me that is. I hope it is for them too. I hope I'm making memories. I hope that in 20, 30, 40 years from now, they'll all sit around sharing stories and remembering the Christmases they had growing up, of then going to Grandma's house, and that feeling of being so loved and knowing that Grandma would have done anything to make their Christmases the best ever. I hope they know that. That I took it upon myself to create those memories for them.
That's why I love Christmas. It's a time of reflection for me. To remember. And a time to express my love without necessarily using words. A time of giving via action. I hope they see that, feel that, know that. I hope they realize that it isn't really Christmas I love. It's them, all of them. Oh, I realize that I can show them and tell them all year long, and I think I do. However, Christmas--that's a whole new ballgame, that's a game-changer. You don't need excuses to shower them with all things love. You can show them, do for them and spend on them like no other time of the year.
Yep, Christmas for me is awesome. And, I know I overdo it. And, I know I spoil the grandkids. And, I know I'm a little too materialistic about it all. But am I going to change any of that? Nope.
Because these are all the reasons that I love Christmas.
Tuesday, October 22, 2019
Dear Jack
This is an open letter to my grandson Jack. His birthday is tomorrow, so this is one of my gifts to him.
Dear Jack,
I know this will embarrass you, however, that isn't my intention. It's just that you are my very first grandchild. And, today you are turning 18 years old. It is shocking to me that 18 years have flown by so quickly. As I look back over the last couple of decades, so much has changed for all of us.
When I first heard that my daughter was going to be having a baby, I thought you were going to be a girl. A granddaughter--her name, I was told, was going to be Olivia. It's a beautiful name, I loved it. We were all set to welcome baby Olivia into our lives. I flew out to California for your great big gigantic baby shower. It was awesome. Everything was pink and roses and girly. Absolutely beautiful. Funny thing though--let me tell you a little story, a sidebar if you will. Grandpa and I were shopping for baby gifts one day when a strange thing happened. I remember exactly what went down. We were standing in the baby clothing department in Dillards. And, all of a sudden my hand went to a little baby boy's outfit. And for just a slight second--my breath caught. Grandpa, sensing something was wrong, asked me. I said to him, don't say anything, but for just a minute I had the feeling, when I touched this little outfit, well, I wished she (your mom) was having a boy. I immediately covered my mouth and made grandpa promise to never utter a word. I felt a little disloyal, you know? And, then you came. Surprise! Baby Jack. When your dad called to give us the news, that they had had a baby boy instead of a girl, I didn't believe him. I said--put your mom on the phone, I knew she wouldn't lie to me. But, sure enough, it turns out a baby boy had been born.
You might have heard this story a hundred times, but I want it on paper. Whatever, you know what I mean. I was waiting patiently for the phone call when your mom went into labor. Your mom had to choose, did she want me to come when she delivered you or afterward to help out. She chose the latter. So, when you were a week old, I flew back out to California and stayed for a bit and helped in any way I could. Oh my gosh, I remember the first time I held you. You felt exactly just like one of my own babies the first time I held them. All squishy, and tiny and a perfect fit in my arms. You felt like you were mine. I loved you intensely from that moment forward. In fact, when I had to fly back home (which I cried the entire flight) I felt as though I had actually given birth to you and left you with my daughter to raise. It felt as if I had given you away. My heart was broken and I couldn't wait to see you and hold you again. What a special little guy you were, so many people loved you. You were such a good baby, so sweet and you had such a gentle spirit.
It was a few months before I saw you again. I can't remember exactly, but it was too long for me And then, something interesting happened. Your dad, being in the Navy, had to ship out. So, I talked your mom into coming and staying with us for a few months. I can't tell you how much I loved that time with you. You both ended up staying for 9 months until you were 18 months old. It was a horribly lonely time for your mom, but truthfully I loved having you both with me. I showered you with gifts, it was overindulgence for sure, but I didn't care. I loved you so much and just couldn't help myself. You spent your first birthday with us. One day you'll have to look through those pictures and see the number of gifts that your crazy grandmother purchased --well, I'm not going to apologize. I had fun.
I've watched you over the years, Jack. An old soul for sure. Yes, a true INFJ. I've always known. I guess it was easy for me since I am one also. I recognized you. You will grow into that knowledge, that sense of self. I promise you. That sixth sense that you sometimes encounter, that knowing...I hope that you study psychology in school, whether you choose it as a profession, well, that's up to you. However, there's nothing wrong with taking a few classes to better understand yourself and others. Just my 2 cents!
As I look back over these past 18 years so much has changed. I have more grandkids now. I've lived in 3 more homes and 2 more states. I've watched your uncles get married and then start families of their own. I've watched your relationship with your sister turn into a little more of a friendship. Hey, one can hope, right? It will over time. Your mom and uncles fought like wild animals and now look. Friends, siblings. It'll happen to you too. Your little sister will one day be your friend. It's weird how that happens, but it does.
So, by now, you might be wondering why I'm even writing a silly old letter. But, the truth is Jack, I wish my grandmother had written one to me. I would have cherished it with all my heart. I miss sitting and talking with her, spending holidays with her, and just knowing she always had my back. And please know this Jack, I have yours. I always will. I'll never judge you, condemn you, or try to change you. I like you just the way you are, after all, you're my favorite, remember?
I think it's time now to start wrapping this up. I don't want to bore you or get too sappy. So, one more thing OK? I love you little Jack. I think you are special. I believe with my whole heart that God has a plan for your life. I, for one, am excited to see what's in store for you. My prayer is that you always remember God's great love for you. And, that as you grow older, you will come to accept and serve Him. That you learn to walk humbly before Him, and that you recognize the fact that God will never leave you or forsake you. He's always there Jack, whether you feel it or not. He never leaves us. And, I pray that one day you have a dynamic relationship with the God that I love.
That in a nutshell Jack, is the most important thing to me.
May He always protect you, love you, and guide you. And, may you always feel the deep love of your grandmother until the day that you take your very last breath.
Love, Grandma Penick
Dear Jack,
I know this will embarrass you, however, that isn't my intention. It's just that you are my very first grandchild. And, today you are turning 18 years old. It is shocking to me that 18 years have flown by so quickly. As I look back over the last couple of decades, so much has changed for all of us.
When I first heard that my daughter was going to be having a baby, I thought you were going to be a girl. A granddaughter--her name, I was told, was going to be Olivia. It's a beautiful name, I loved it. We were all set to welcome baby Olivia into our lives. I flew out to California for your great big gigantic baby shower. It was awesome. Everything was pink and roses and girly. Absolutely beautiful. Funny thing though--let me tell you a little story, a sidebar if you will. Grandpa and I were shopping for baby gifts one day when a strange thing happened. I remember exactly what went down. We were standing in the baby clothing department in Dillards. And, all of a sudden my hand went to a little baby boy's outfit. And for just a slight second--my breath caught. Grandpa, sensing something was wrong, asked me. I said to him, don't say anything, but for just a minute I had the feeling, when I touched this little outfit, well, I wished she (your mom) was having a boy. I immediately covered my mouth and made grandpa promise to never utter a word. I felt a little disloyal, you know? And, then you came. Surprise! Baby Jack. When your dad called to give us the news, that they had had a baby boy instead of a girl, I didn't believe him. I said--put your mom on the phone, I knew she wouldn't lie to me. But, sure enough, it turns out a baby boy had been born.
You might have heard this story a hundred times, but I want it on paper. Whatever, you know what I mean. I was waiting patiently for the phone call when your mom went into labor. Your mom had to choose, did she want me to come when she delivered you or afterward to help out. She chose the latter. So, when you were a week old, I flew back out to California and stayed for a bit and helped in any way I could. Oh my gosh, I remember the first time I held you. You felt exactly just like one of my own babies the first time I held them. All squishy, and tiny and a perfect fit in my arms. You felt like you were mine. I loved you intensely from that moment forward. In fact, when I had to fly back home (which I cried the entire flight) I felt as though I had actually given birth to you and left you with my daughter to raise. It felt as if I had given you away. My heart was broken and I couldn't wait to see you and hold you again. What a special little guy you were, so many people loved you. You were such a good baby, so sweet and you had such a gentle spirit.
It was a few months before I saw you again. I can't remember exactly, but it was too long for me And then, something interesting happened. Your dad, being in the Navy, had to ship out. So, I talked your mom into coming and staying with us for a few months. I can't tell you how much I loved that time with you. You both ended up staying for 9 months until you were 18 months old. It was a horribly lonely time for your mom, but truthfully I loved having you both with me. I showered you with gifts, it was overindulgence for sure, but I didn't care. I loved you so much and just couldn't help myself. You spent your first birthday with us. One day you'll have to look through those pictures and see the number of gifts that your crazy grandmother purchased --well, I'm not going to apologize. I had fun.
I've watched you over the years, Jack. An old soul for sure. Yes, a true INFJ. I've always known. I guess it was easy for me since I am one also. I recognized you. You will grow into that knowledge, that sense of self. I promise you. That sixth sense that you sometimes encounter, that knowing...I hope that you study psychology in school, whether you choose it as a profession, well, that's up to you. However, there's nothing wrong with taking a few classes to better understand yourself and others. Just my 2 cents!
As I look back over these past 18 years so much has changed. I have more grandkids now. I've lived in 3 more homes and 2 more states. I've watched your uncles get married and then start families of their own. I've watched your relationship with your sister turn into a little more of a friendship. Hey, one can hope, right? It will over time. Your mom and uncles fought like wild animals and now look. Friends, siblings. It'll happen to you too. Your little sister will one day be your friend. It's weird how that happens, but it does.
So, by now, you might be wondering why I'm even writing a silly old letter. But, the truth is Jack, I wish my grandmother had written one to me. I would have cherished it with all my heart. I miss sitting and talking with her, spending holidays with her, and just knowing she always had my back. And please know this Jack, I have yours. I always will. I'll never judge you, condemn you, or try to change you. I like you just the way you are, after all, you're my favorite, remember?
I think it's time now to start wrapping this up. I don't want to bore you or get too sappy. So, one more thing OK? I love you little Jack. I think you are special. I believe with my whole heart that God has a plan for your life. I, for one, am excited to see what's in store for you. My prayer is that you always remember God's great love for you. And, that as you grow older, you will come to accept and serve Him. That you learn to walk humbly before Him, and that you recognize the fact that God will never leave you or forsake you. He's always there Jack, whether you feel it or not. He never leaves us. And, I pray that one day you have a dynamic relationship with the God that I love.
That in a nutshell Jack, is the most important thing to me.
May He always protect you, love you, and guide you. And, may you always feel the deep love of your grandmother until the day that you take your very last breath.
Love, Grandma Penick
Thursday, July 25, 2019
Let Me Do It
I am writing this blog today to my children and their spouses. It's a blog that I am writing to share with you just how much I love you and love your children. And, it's a blog to convey a message--
let me do it, please.
You see, some of my greatest memories are of my times with my paternal grandmother. She was my favorite, as are your children, mine. I loved her so much. In many ways, she was a lot like me. Goofy, funny, silly and a dreamer. Yes, we had differences, but that made our relationship even fuller. My memories carry me through times of looking back, times of longing and times of reflection.
I believe that my relationship with my grandma has played a huge part in my relationships with your children. For instance, I like taking them shopping--5 Below and Target are their favorites, mine was Thrifty Drug store. My grandma would give me a couple of dollars and I usually bought nail polish. There were no restrictions--I loved that. Any color. Cool.
We'd get 5 cent ice cream cones and walk around the store, just browsing and talking. She listened to me, and I could say anything. Your kids can also. They can tell me anything, and I'll listen.
My grandkids like going to the local frozen custard stands and getting those soft-serve cones, yum. Maybe, we even top it off the next morning (if they spend the night) with donuts. It doesn't get better than that. So let me, let me make those memories with my grandkids too, please.
I also remember times of playing in the sprinklers with my cousins. Laughing, playing tag, or not it, or any other dumb game we could come up with. Cousin time, it's the best, especially at grandma's house. Get it?
You know, I never thought of my grandmother as babysitting me. I was just at --grandma's house. I had fun being with her, just as I hope your kids have fun being with me. I realize that I can't recreate the exact times and places that I had with my grandmother, but I can create new times, our times, grandma times.
I tease sometimes that I am willing to buy their love. I buy them simple things though if you think about it. Water guns, silly string, and sidewalk chalk--little things that in their future will come with big memories. That's what I'm created--big memories. So please, let me.
With my youngest grandchild being 3 years old and my oldest being 17, I see that this grandma time has a shelf life. I'm thinking that within the next 10 years or so, my time will be up--for making these memories. 10 years. That's just not enough time for me. I long for more--time. I want to hug them, have sleepovers, buy them junk food and dumb toys. I want to read to them, go camping with them and just plain old hang out with them. I want to do so many things, and yet, I do see off on the horizon--an end time. And it makes me sad.
So, do me this one favor. Let me do it. Let me be with them. Spoil them. Spend money on them.
I only have a little time left to make an impression on them, make memories for them, let me be a grandma. For just a little while longer. Let me do it.
And now, I'm speaking to you in-law kiddos of mine. I hope you all know just how much I love you guys. Wow, what special people you are. Wonderful partners for my children, awesome parents to my grandchildren. What a true blessing and answer to prayer. I did pray, you know. Hard. Once I found out that I was pregnant, I prayed. I prayed so very hard over my babies. I laid my hands upon my stomach and asked God for so many things. Too many probably, but that's just how much I loved those babies of mine. And I prayed for their spouses even then. It might sound crazy, but you all know me by now. I'm a real planner, so I figured I'd get a head start. And God answered my prayers. He brought all of you into their lives, and into our lives. And then along came my grandchildren. One by one until there were 7. What a blessing, again. I feel blessed beyond measure.
And now, do me a favor, I want you to look at your kids today and try to imagine them married with children. Think about how much you love your kids. Really think. It brings you to tears, doesn't it? Now imagine loving their kids, your grandkids--their flesh and blood, your flesh and blood. You'd do anything for them.
That's how I feel. So, let me do it. I don't consider it babysitting. I don't consider it a favor. I don't consider it anything other than being blessed enough by the God that I love and serve to get to love on and spoil my grandbabies. So, let me do it. Capisce? And stop it. Stop making me feel as though I'm doing you a huge favor. I'm not. Don't you get it? You're doing me one. You are the one doing me the favor. Nothing makes me happier than spending time with my grandkids, nothing.
So, here is the take away from this long blog. My grandma loved me. I loved her. I also love my kids and their kids. And, they love me. Let us develop our own relationships. Believe me, you'll understand one day.
Continue, without guilt, to ask me to babysit, no! not babysit, ask me to be their grandma for just a little while longer. OK? I want to do it, let me!
So, who needs a grandma? I'm available.
let me do it, please.
You see, some of my greatest memories are of my times with my paternal grandmother. She was my favorite, as are your children, mine. I loved her so much. In many ways, she was a lot like me. Goofy, funny, silly and a dreamer. Yes, we had differences, but that made our relationship even fuller. My memories carry me through times of looking back, times of longing and times of reflection.
I believe that my relationship with my grandma has played a huge part in my relationships with your children. For instance, I like taking them shopping--5 Below and Target are their favorites, mine was Thrifty Drug store. My grandma would give me a couple of dollars and I usually bought nail polish. There were no restrictions--I loved that. Any color. Cool.
We'd get 5 cent ice cream cones and walk around the store, just browsing and talking. She listened to me, and I could say anything. Your kids can also. They can tell me anything, and I'll listen.
My grandkids like going to the local frozen custard stands and getting those soft-serve cones, yum. Maybe, we even top it off the next morning (if they spend the night) with donuts. It doesn't get better than that. So let me, let me make those memories with my grandkids too, please.
I also remember times of playing in the sprinklers with my cousins. Laughing, playing tag, or not it, or any other dumb game we could come up with. Cousin time, it's the best, especially at grandma's house. Get it?
You know, I never thought of my grandmother as babysitting me. I was just at --grandma's house. I had fun being with her, just as I hope your kids have fun being with me. I realize that I can't recreate the exact times and places that I had with my grandmother, but I can create new times, our times, grandma times.
I tease sometimes that I am willing to buy their love. I buy them simple things though if you think about it. Water guns, silly string, and sidewalk chalk--little things that in their future will come with big memories. That's what I'm created--big memories. So please, let me.
With my youngest grandchild being 3 years old and my oldest being 17, I see that this grandma time has a shelf life. I'm thinking that within the next 10 years or so, my time will be up--for making these memories. 10 years. That's just not enough time for me. I long for more--time. I want to hug them, have sleepovers, buy them junk food and dumb toys. I want to read to them, go camping with them and just plain old hang out with them. I want to do so many things, and yet, I do see off on the horizon--an end time. And it makes me sad.
So, do me this one favor. Let me do it. Let me be with them. Spoil them. Spend money on them.
I only have a little time left to make an impression on them, make memories for them, let me be a grandma. For just a little while longer. Let me do it.
And now, I'm speaking to you in-law kiddos of mine. I hope you all know just how much I love you guys. Wow, what special people you are. Wonderful partners for my children, awesome parents to my grandchildren. What a true blessing and answer to prayer. I did pray, you know. Hard. Once I found out that I was pregnant, I prayed. I prayed so very hard over my babies. I laid my hands upon my stomach and asked God for so many things. Too many probably, but that's just how much I loved those babies of mine. And I prayed for their spouses even then. It might sound crazy, but you all know me by now. I'm a real planner, so I figured I'd get a head start. And God answered my prayers. He brought all of you into their lives, and into our lives. And then along came my grandchildren. One by one until there were 7. What a blessing, again. I feel blessed beyond measure.
And now, do me a favor, I want you to look at your kids today and try to imagine them married with children. Think about how much you love your kids. Really think. It brings you to tears, doesn't it? Now imagine loving their kids, your grandkids--their flesh and blood, your flesh and blood. You'd do anything for them.
That's how I feel. So, let me do it. I don't consider it babysitting. I don't consider it a favor. I don't consider it anything other than being blessed enough by the God that I love and serve to get to love on and spoil my grandbabies. So, let me do it. Capisce? And stop it. Stop making me feel as though I'm doing you a huge favor. I'm not. Don't you get it? You're doing me one. You are the one doing me the favor. Nothing makes me happier than spending time with my grandkids, nothing.
So, here is the take away from this long blog. My grandma loved me. I loved her. I also love my kids and their kids. And, they love me. Let us develop our own relationships. Believe me, you'll understand one day.
Continue, without guilt, to ask me to babysit, no! not babysit, ask me to be their grandma for just a little while longer. OK? I want to do it, let me!
So, who needs a grandma? I'm available.
Friday, July 12, 2019
Me and LA
When I was almost 10 years old, my family moved to LA. Los Angeles, the city of angles. Don't ask. Well, actually I'll tell you. My dad's business was going kaput so he needed to find a job post-haste with another realty firm. And my parents thought southern California might be nice. I don't remember a lot about the actual move--we sold (or maybe lost) our house, we sold our furniture, packed our most valuable treasures (mine were stuffed animals and books) and hit the road. It took us approximately 6 hours or so to get down there. Yes, we drove.
There we were, the 4 of us--our car, some suitcases and not much else. My folks rented a small home in Venice. Venice in the '60s. Now there's a not so nice thought. Let me explain why. Riots. Riots to the left, right and middle of us. I recall hearing gunshots during the night, I was terrified. Things were dicey. Scary. I remember the day my dad sat us girls down for a talk about race. What? What is race exactly? I really didn't have a clue. I had friends that were just 2 kinds of people. Boys and girls. Period. This black and white stuff? Unimportant to me. I started school that next semester at a predominately African American school. Honestly, it was irrelevant to me. I was 10 years old. Who cares! Just let me play teether ball, kickball, maybe some hopscotch and have fun. And you know what? Most of us kids felt that way. We were there to have fun, be together and make friends. Let the adults sort it out. It made no difference to us.
As usual, we moved soon after into another apartment, this one in a nicer neighborhood--Westwood and then a few months later to Beverly Hills, lots of Jewish kids. For me, it still made little difference. Except for the fact that I now wanted to become Jewish more than anything. So, my mom bought me a beautiful little Star of David necklace that year for Christmas. I was so proud of it. We moved during Christmas vacation though and I never got to show it off.
This next move was into East LA. Yep, brain surgeons, my parents were not. Again, other than changing schools for the 4th time in 2 years, kids are kids. I made friends easily. And these friends were Mexican. Good food. Beautiful families. Gangs all around us. What a life. My best friend at that particle school was Estelita. I loved her family. Typical Mexican, 4 kids, cute bungalow home, warm friendly people, who (I believe) felt sorry for me. They took me everywhere with them. Their family was a little different from ours, in a good way though. They had huge gatherings--food, music, so much fun. Culturally, they were different. The women prepared the food, the dads ate first, and then the women and children sat down to eat afterward. I always wondered about that, but hey, free good food--what's to complain about?
I was soon going to be entering into what we referred to back then as Junior High. 7th grade. Time for gang initiation. I told my folks what I had to look forward to--according to my new school friends. And before the semester was up, we high tailed it back up to northern Ca. Oh, what a life.
I have to say, I loved my time in southern Ca. I met some awesome friends. Had some fantastic food. Great learning experiences. Learned a lot about cultural differences, and felt for the most part as though I had spent some time abroad. Yes, it was that different. Maybe that is what eventually sparked my interest in travel, who knows. I just know that my life lessons during that specific time were invaluable. They changed me. Unlike some of my northern California friends who had never moved out of their city, let alone their homes--I felt and was different. I had had some life experiences they hadn't. I didn't even realize it at the time. I did not know that I would end up being so excepting of all nationalities, foods, cultures, beliefs, etc. And, yes, I had the knowledge that they weren't the same as mine, however, I saw the beauty in those differences. They were so much a part of my being. Again, I did not realize it until I became an adult and found myself defending those very people groups. After all, I had lived among them, I knew them, and while I agree we were different--were we really?
Looking back this is what I know--my friends were wonderful. Their parents accepted this little white girl into their homes. They fed me, let me join in family celebrations, gave me hand me downs (as we were quite poor during those years) and they treated me like I was one of them. I learned about Mexican culture through them. I learned how to cook Mexican food, I was taught the culture between men and women, husbands and wives, and the little differences. I loved it. As for the black culture--well, I have a funny little story to share. My best friend while living in Venice was Jackie. One day after school she asked me to come over and play. The best part of the day was when I showed up and witnessed the shocked look on her mother's face. She had assumed I was Merican because of my name. We had a good laugh about that. She told me later that she was afraid that my parents might get mad if they ever found out that Jackie was black. I said--oh no, they know she's black. They don't care. Jackie's mom was pretty impressed by that. Yes, I have some pretty wonderful memories of those friends in southern California. I wonder if they remember me? I wonder if they know how they shaped my character, my personality and my desire for travel? I wonder if they knew how much I loved them and appreciated their teaching me about their cultures, their way of life and for letting me be one of them?
I believe they taught me some very critical life lessons.
Lessons of love, acceptance, and sameness.
For 3 short years, they became my people, and I became theirs.
There we were, the 4 of us--our car, some suitcases and not much else. My folks rented a small home in Venice. Venice in the '60s. Now there's a not so nice thought. Let me explain why. Riots. Riots to the left, right and middle of us. I recall hearing gunshots during the night, I was terrified. Things were dicey. Scary. I remember the day my dad sat us girls down for a talk about race. What? What is race exactly? I really didn't have a clue. I had friends that were just 2 kinds of people. Boys and girls. Period. This black and white stuff? Unimportant to me. I started school that next semester at a predominately African American school. Honestly, it was irrelevant to me. I was 10 years old. Who cares! Just let me play teether ball, kickball, maybe some hopscotch and have fun. And you know what? Most of us kids felt that way. We were there to have fun, be together and make friends. Let the adults sort it out. It made no difference to us.
As usual, we moved soon after into another apartment, this one in a nicer neighborhood--Westwood and then a few months later to Beverly Hills, lots of Jewish kids. For me, it still made little difference. Except for the fact that I now wanted to become Jewish more than anything. So, my mom bought me a beautiful little Star of David necklace that year for Christmas. I was so proud of it. We moved during Christmas vacation though and I never got to show it off.
This next move was into East LA. Yep, brain surgeons, my parents were not. Again, other than changing schools for the 4th time in 2 years, kids are kids. I made friends easily. And these friends were Mexican. Good food. Beautiful families. Gangs all around us. What a life. My best friend at that particle school was Estelita. I loved her family. Typical Mexican, 4 kids, cute bungalow home, warm friendly people, who (I believe) felt sorry for me. They took me everywhere with them. Their family was a little different from ours, in a good way though. They had huge gatherings--food, music, so much fun. Culturally, they were different. The women prepared the food, the dads ate first, and then the women and children sat down to eat afterward. I always wondered about that, but hey, free good food--what's to complain about?
I was soon going to be entering into what we referred to back then as Junior High. 7th grade. Time for gang initiation. I told my folks what I had to look forward to--according to my new school friends. And before the semester was up, we high tailed it back up to northern Ca. Oh, what a life.
I have to say, I loved my time in southern Ca. I met some awesome friends. Had some fantastic food. Great learning experiences. Learned a lot about cultural differences, and felt for the most part as though I had spent some time abroad. Yes, it was that different. Maybe that is what eventually sparked my interest in travel, who knows. I just know that my life lessons during that specific time were invaluable. They changed me. Unlike some of my northern California friends who had never moved out of their city, let alone their homes--I felt and was different. I had had some life experiences they hadn't. I didn't even realize it at the time. I did not know that I would end up being so excepting of all nationalities, foods, cultures, beliefs, etc. And, yes, I had the knowledge that they weren't the same as mine, however, I saw the beauty in those differences. They were so much a part of my being. Again, I did not realize it until I became an adult and found myself defending those very people groups. After all, I had lived among them, I knew them, and while I agree we were different--were we really?
Looking back this is what I know--my friends were wonderful. Their parents accepted this little white girl into their homes. They fed me, let me join in family celebrations, gave me hand me downs (as we were quite poor during those years) and they treated me like I was one of them. I learned about Mexican culture through them. I learned how to cook Mexican food, I was taught the culture between men and women, husbands and wives, and the little differences. I loved it. As for the black culture--well, I have a funny little story to share. My best friend while living in Venice was Jackie. One day after school she asked me to come over and play. The best part of the day was when I showed up and witnessed the shocked look on her mother's face. She had assumed I was Merican because of my name. We had a good laugh about that. She told me later that she was afraid that my parents might get mad if they ever found out that Jackie was black. I said--oh no, they know she's black. They don't care. Jackie's mom was pretty impressed by that. Yes, I have some pretty wonderful memories of those friends in southern California. I wonder if they remember me? I wonder if they know how they shaped my character, my personality and my desire for travel? I wonder if they knew how much I loved them and appreciated their teaching me about their cultures, their way of life and for letting me be one of them?
I believe they taught me some very critical life lessons.
Lessons of love, acceptance, and sameness.
For 3 short years, they became my people, and I became theirs.
Monday, May 27, 2019
Irish Eyes
Are my Irish eyes smiling? Why yes, yes they are! We returned from our trip abroad just about 3 weeks ago. I had the time of my life. So many questions--answered. So many preconceived ideas--changed.
A lot of people asked me why Ireland? Why Scotland? The short answer is DNA. I had mine done by 3 different companies and discovered that I am 70% Irish. So, I kind of had to go, don't you think? The rest of me is all mixed up, Scottish, English, French, Italian, and Native American.
However, when one is 70% of something, well, my curiosity got the best of me. I just had to go and see where my ancestors came from.
So, I'll start from the beginning, as that's always a good place.
After 2 very long delays and one drunk passenger being thrown off the plane, we finally arrived in Edinburgh, Scotland--pronounced--Edinboura. Don't forget that "a" on the end, it's important. And they aren't Scotch people, they are Scots. Scotch is a drink. Gotcha, won't make that mistake, ever!
I'll be honest with you, when we arrived in Scotland I was so jet-lagged and exhausted, I seriously wondered if I was going to enjoy the city. I don't sleep more than a few minutes at a time on planes so I was tired and just wanted to sleep. We went to our hotel, which was in the perfect location but I hated it as soon as I entered the room. I won't review it here but I sure did on the travel websites. I told you, I was in a very bad mood. Once checked in, showered and properly napped though, out we went to explore.
Wow, what a city. Gothic, medieval, beautiful. So many restaurants, and shopping and history! We began by doing the hop on hop off bus tour and ended up using it as our mode of transportation while there. Pictures really don't do this city justice. The spires, castles, architecture--it's just overwhelming. We were either taking pictures, eating, or shopping. The shopping was a surprise for me. Usually, I don't find just the exact souvenir, but for Scotland, well, let's just say I spent my entire 2 weeks worth of fun money in 3 days there! I had to readjust my budget--I still had 10 days in Ireland to see, shop and eat.
After leaving Edinburgh, we flew to Dublin, Ireland where again we had a flight delay and ended up arriving at our hotel in Galway very late at night. We missed the scenery between the two cities and were very disappointed by that. Next time though--because there will be a next time for sure!
I need to try and explain something here that happened to me when I arrived in Galway. I had one of those experiences that are similar to Deja Vu. I felt like I belonged there. I felt that ancestral pull. That thing that happens when you feel like maybe you've walked there before. It felt like home. And the longer I stayed in Ireland, the stronger that feeling got. If you've never experienced it, you wouldn't understand. It's just too hard to describe. I loved Ireland. And I am sure that had I gone and explored more of Scotland, I would have felt it too.
I had my concerns about Ireland. We were going to be driving through smaller towns and villages. Would I get bored I wondered? Would I regret this trip? I got my answers right away. No, it was just the opposite. It was breathtakingly beautiful. More restaurants, pubs, and shops than you can imagine. The friendliest and the funniest people, and they were so very helpful. The roads were fine to drive on, not at all like I had thought they'd be, and there were castles, ruins and manor houses around every corner--I kid you not! We never had an issue with finding public restrooms, good places to eat, or stuff to see and do.
My favorite town was Killarney. Yep, my favorite. And, my fav thing to do there, besides shop, and eat? The jaunting carts. Horse-drawn carts that take you through the national park. An hour through beauty and wonder, where you see wildlife, a castle, little bridges over babbling creeks, and loads of flowers. It was majestic. I will go back. I have to.
The food you ask? Well, we ate at gastropubs and never had a bad meal. The hotels provided breakfast and then we had lunch while we were galavanting about being total tourists, and then in the evenings we would find a pub, have dinner and wait for the music to start. It was wonderful. All of it. Absolutely wonderful.
Since Ireland is an island, guess what we did? Well, we went to many harbor towns. Dingle and Kinsale being my favorites. We had fish and chips probably every other day and they just kept getting better. Fish is something that I ordered almost every day. Like I mentioned before, the food in Ireland was awesome.
Our last city to visit was Dublin. It's a big city, with a beautiful river flowing through the middle of it. Lots of bridges to walk over. We went to the Book of Kells, we shopped on Grafton St., we took the bus tour. We had a great time, but honestly, I was ruined by the quaint villages along the way, and most likely won't be spending lots of time in Dublin again. There's just too many other towns and villages to explore on our next trip back. That, and the highlands of Scotland--bucket listed!
So, any tips to share? Yep, I have some. These tips are primarily for Americans though, as we are known to have our quirks, yep, very weird quirks.
Don't stay in anything less than 4-star accommodations. Their star rating system is different than ours. Trust me on this. Boutique hotels are awesome, as I am not much of a B&B person. I'm a little too private and also don't like to have coffee with strangers in the mornings. I'm pretty grumpy until cup number 3. That being said, I'm saving them from me!
Eat at gastropubs, use Yelp and ask the locals, and you will have a wonderful dining experience.
Be a tourist. After all, you are one! Experience everything--go, see, and do. Stop along the road, take pictures, lots of pictures, eat fun snacks, stop at the little shops, go to farmers markets, and street markets. Even though you might not buy those veggies, you can still talk with the locals and find out so much about their lives.
Take your creature comforts. Ipad, curling iron, whatever makes you comfortable. You don't want to get there and wish you had it. Just take it. I took my knitting, my kindle, my hair straightener. It made me happy. And yes, I used them. I bought an awesome little gizmo on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0773LRXS8/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o07_s03?ie=UTF8&psc=1 that had 4 USB ports and international plugs and was I able to charge all my devices at night.
Be a nerd. I love history. I absorb it into my very bones. I went to every castle I passed by. I walked through them with wonder and imagination. They were the highlight of my adventure. And guess what? There are many free ones along the roads. Not everything costs money!
In Scotland and Ireland (and Europe) there is a VAT tax. Many of the shops have tax free forms. There are around 3-4 different types of forms. When you get to the last airport, right before you are flying back to the states, you will go to a counter for each form type and stand in line and wait and wait and wait. So, do this instead. Only shop in the shops that use the Fexco red cards. It's like a little red credit card that everything is swiped on, you then go to a kiosk at the airport, swipe and you are done! Check it out, it is awesome! I will only shop in the stores that offer that system from here on out. I hate doing the VAT thing. This was a godsend.
Those are my tips, I hope they help.
This vacation has been my favorite so far. I had the most fun, ate the best food, met the best people and enjoyed myself immensely. I am chomping at the bit to go back. And I will go back.
I dream of Ireland.
A lot of people asked me why Ireland? Why Scotland? The short answer is DNA. I had mine done by 3 different companies and discovered that I am 70% Irish. So, I kind of had to go, don't you think? The rest of me is all mixed up, Scottish, English, French, Italian, and Native American.
However, when one is 70% of something, well, my curiosity got the best of me. I just had to go and see where my ancestors came from.
So, I'll start from the beginning, as that's always a good place.
After 2 very long delays and one drunk passenger being thrown off the plane, we finally arrived in Edinburgh, Scotland--pronounced--Edinboura. Don't forget that "a" on the end, it's important. And they aren't Scotch people, they are Scots. Scotch is a drink. Gotcha, won't make that mistake, ever!
I'll be honest with you, when we arrived in Scotland I was so jet-lagged and exhausted, I seriously wondered if I was going to enjoy the city. I don't sleep more than a few minutes at a time on planes so I was tired and just wanted to sleep. We went to our hotel, which was in the perfect location but I hated it as soon as I entered the room. I won't review it here but I sure did on the travel websites. I told you, I was in a very bad mood. Once checked in, showered and properly napped though, out we went to explore.
Wow, what a city. Gothic, medieval, beautiful. So many restaurants, and shopping and history! We began by doing the hop on hop off bus tour and ended up using it as our mode of transportation while there. Pictures really don't do this city justice. The spires, castles, architecture--it's just overwhelming. We were either taking pictures, eating, or shopping. The shopping was a surprise for me. Usually, I don't find just the exact souvenir, but for Scotland, well, let's just say I spent my entire 2 weeks worth of fun money in 3 days there! I had to readjust my budget--I still had 10 days in Ireland to see, shop and eat.
After leaving Edinburgh, we flew to Dublin, Ireland where again we had a flight delay and ended up arriving at our hotel in Galway very late at night. We missed the scenery between the two cities and were very disappointed by that. Next time though--because there will be a next time for sure!
I need to try and explain something here that happened to me when I arrived in Galway. I had one of those experiences that are similar to Deja Vu. I felt like I belonged there. I felt that ancestral pull. That thing that happens when you feel like maybe you've walked there before. It felt like home. And the longer I stayed in Ireland, the stronger that feeling got. If you've never experienced it, you wouldn't understand. It's just too hard to describe. I loved Ireland. And I am sure that had I gone and explored more of Scotland, I would have felt it too.
I had my concerns about Ireland. We were going to be driving through smaller towns and villages. Would I get bored I wondered? Would I regret this trip? I got my answers right away. No, it was just the opposite. It was breathtakingly beautiful. More restaurants, pubs, and shops than you can imagine. The friendliest and the funniest people, and they were so very helpful. The roads were fine to drive on, not at all like I had thought they'd be, and there were castles, ruins and manor houses around every corner--I kid you not! We never had an issue with finding public restrooms, good places to eat, or stuff to see and do.
My favorite town was Killarney. Yep, my favorite. And, my fav thing to do there, besides shop, and eat? The jaunting carts. Horse-drawn carts that take you through the national park. An hour through beauty and wonder, where you see wildlife, a castle, little bridges over babbling creeks, and loads of flowers. It was majestic. I will go back. I have to.
The food you ask? Well, we ate at gastropubs and never had a bad meal. The hotels provided breakfast and then we had lunch while we were galavanting about being total tourists, and then in the evenings we would find a pub, have dinner and wait for the music to start. It was wonderful. All of it. Absolutely wonderful.
Since Ireland is an island, guess what we did? Well, we went to many harbor towns. Dingle and Kinsale being my favorites. We had fish and chips probably every other day and they just kept getting better. Fish is something that I ordered almost every day. Like I mentioned before, the food in Ireland was awesome.
Our last city to visit was Dublin. It's a big city, with a beautiful river flowing through the middle of it. Lots of bridges to walk over. We went to the Book of Kells, we shopped on Grafton St., we took the bus tour. We had a great time, but honestly, I was ruined by the quaint villages along the way, and most likely won't be spending lots of time in Dublin again. There's just too many other towns and villages to explore on our next trip back. That, and the highlands of Scotland--bucket listed!
So, any tips to share? Yep, I have some. These tips are primarily for Americans though, as we are known to have our quirks, yep, very weird quirks.
Don't stay in anything less than 4-star accommodations. Their star rating system is different than ours. Trust me on this. Boutique hotels are awesome, as I am not much of a B&B person. I'm a little too private and also don't like to have coffee with strangers in the mornings. I'm pretty grumpy until cup number 3. That being said, I'm saving them from me!
Eat at gastropubs, use Yelp and ask the locals, and you will have a wonderful dining experience.
Be a tourist. After all, you are one! Experience everything--go, see, and do. Stop along the road, take pictures, lots of pictures, eat fun snacks, stop at the little shops, go to farmers markets, and street markets. Even though you might not buy those veggies, you can still talk with the locals and find out so much about their lives.
Take your creature comforts. Ipad, curling iron, whatever makes you comfortable. You don't want to get there and wish you had it. Just take it. I took my knitting, my kindle, my hair straightener. It made me happy. And yes, I used them. I bought an awesome little gizmo on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0773LRXS8/ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o07_s03?ie=UTF8&psc=1 that had 4 USB ports and international plugs and was I able to charge all my devices at night.
Be a nerd. I love history. I absorb it into my very bones. I went to every castle I passed by. I walked through them with wonder and imagination. They were the highlight of my adventure. And guess what? There are many free ones along the roads. Not everything costs money!
In Scotland and Ireland (and Europe) there is a VAT tax. Many of the shops have tax free forms. There are around 3-4 different types of forms. When you get to the last airport, right before you are flying back to the states, you will go to a counter for each form type and stand in line and wait and wait and wait. So, do this instead. Only shop in the shops that use the Fexco red cards. It's like a little red credit card that everything is swiped on, you then go to a kiosk at the airport, swipe and you are done! Check it out, it is awesome! I will only shop in the stores that offer that system from here on out. I hate doing the VAT thing. This was a godsend.
Those are my tips, I hope they help.
This vacation has been my favorite so far. I had the most fun, ate the best food, met the best people and enjoyed myself immensely. I am chomping at the bit to go back. And I will go back.
I dream of Ireland.
Monday, April 22, 2019
Ready Set Go
Once again we are off on another adventure. This time we are following in the footsteps of some of my ancestors. Being that I am truly a mutt, that makes for a lot of travel in my future. First, we are headed to Scotland. We will begin by going to Edinburgh. We shall leave the Highlands, Shetland Islands and the Isle of Skye (I have several ancestors from this area) for another time. However, trust me when I tell you--it will happen. I have too many great grandparents to ignore. Secondly, we are going to Ireland, and being that I am 68% Irish, well, it's a pretty important trip for me. It seems that most of my family came from just south of Dublin, and then some from Galway. Of course, both will be visited this trip.
My husband laughed at me the other day when I casually mentioned that I hoped some of the Irish people look like me. They won't, but I can dream. You see, I take after the Cherokee side. My dad is Irish and Cherokee, and I look just like him and he looks full Cherokee, even though he is mostly Irish. Genetics--they are so very interesting to me. Our brown eyes and hair vs my mom and sisters blue eyes and blond hair. And, on a side note, my mom is 1/3 Irish. I am still searching for her Irish ancestors. I have found most of the English ones. Ancestory.com and I have become close friends.
This particular trip will be sort of a fact-finding mission. Once I had my DNA done (by 3 different companies) I became so curious concerning my heritage. I thought I knew who I was and what I was made of. However, although the nationalities were correct, my percentages were off. I seemed to have absorbed much more Irish than I thought. Hense, this trip.
So far, I have found family crests, clan mottos, tartan colors and places of origin. And, as I visit these cities, towns, and villages, I will be hyper-aware of surnames, etc. I have pictures of churches and cemeteries, along with photos of the graves of my ancestors. It's a strange feeling. Knowing that I will be entering some of the buildings where they worshiped, shopped, and lived--it is exciting to me. Walking the same streets, maybe eating some of the same types of food.
It makes me wonder--will my great grandchildren and great great grandchildren have questions about me? Will they be interested in reading my blog? Finding out about my interests, thoughts, beliefs?
Will they want to know more about what similarities we might have? Genetics is a powerful thing.
So here I am, all packed and ready to fly out. Excitement is abundant. Adventure awaits. I have prayed for safe travels, that none of our luggage is lost and that we have an awesome time. I am ready to once again--travel, explore, and learn. I am ever ready. Which by the way, is the Burns clan motto. How cool is that?
My husband laughed at me the other day when I casually mentioned that I hoped some of the Irish people look like me. They won't, but I can dream. You see, I take after the Cherokee side. My dad is Irish and Cherokee, and I look just like him and he looks full Cherokee, even though he is mostly Irish. Genetics--they are so very interesting to me. Our brown eyes and hair vs my mom and sisters blue eyes and blond hair. And, on a side note, my mom is 1/3 Irish. I am still searching for her Irish ancestors. I have found most of the English ones. Ancestory.com and I have become close friends.
This particular trip will be sort of a fact-finding mission. Once I had my DNA done (by 3 different companies) I became so curious concerning my heritage. I thought I knew who I was and what I was made of. However, although the nationalities were correct, my percentages were off. I seemed to have absorbed much more Irish than I thought. Hense, this trip.
So far, I have found family crests, clan mottos, tartan colors and places of origin. And, as I visit these cities, towns, and villages, I will be hyper-aware of surnames, etc. I have pictures of churches and cemeteries, along with photos of the graves of my ancestors. It's a strange feeling. Knowing that I will be entering some of the buildings where they worshiped, shopped, and lived--it is exciting to me. Walking the same streets, maybe eating some of the same types of food.
It makes me wonder--will my great grandchildren and great great grandchildren have questions about me? Will they be interested in reading my blog? Finding out about my interests, thoughts, beliefs?
Will they want to know more about what similarities we might have? Genetics is a powerful thing.
So here I am, all packed and ready to fly out. Excitement is abundant. Adventure awaits. I have prayed for safe travels, that none of our luggage is lost and that we have an awesome time. I am ready to once again--travel, explore, and learn. I am ever ready. Which by the way, is the Burns clan motto. How cool is that?
Friday, March 29, 2019
My Tiny House
I have my very own now. A tiny house. We're all moved in and settled. Life is good, very good. And while some might wonder why such a small house? Well, I'll tell you why. I like it that way.
I've had big homes before. I also had 3 children at home. Now, no children at home--thus there really is no reason to maintain a large home. A tiny house suits us just fine.
The last time I wrote about moving and the reasons why--we were staying for a few days with our son and daughter-in-law. We moved into our new house in July, just a few months ago. It poured down rain that day, so much so that our new little basement flooded. I mean flooded--as in, inches deep in water to the point that it ruined everything that had been stored down there along with the carpeting. Great.
After, the major clean up, with the help of our awesome sons, we commenced moving in and trying to get settled. Did I mention that the house was a major remodel/gut job? Also, I was on narcotics (knee replacement) when I first saw it, so I'm thinking that it clouded my vision. Just a bit. And that I also had a mini-meltdown when we moved in! Yeah, I did. I couldn't believe the work that needed to be done on my new tiny house--so much work. As in--every single room. And I do mean every single one!
We set about unpacking and making a plan. Which room should we tackle first? Well, our kitchen was a total disaster, and unusable, so let's start there, shall we? We gutted the room and had a completely new kitchen installed--that only took a couple of months. Only. I was using the hall bathroom sink and a toaster oven. Not fun, not fun at all. And we won't discuss our use of paper products, or that the fall of this planet rests on my head.
As our kitchen was being done, I painted. My husband had set his office up at one end of our small basement, so I had full run of the house. Painting (I did that), putting in new hardwood floors (I did not do that), and ordering new bathroom vanities and toilets. Oh, I had fun! We pretty much had the front half of the house finished when I came up with an idea. Why not take the utility closet, plus a few feet of unused hallway, and make a pantry? Good idea right? So, that is our next project. It's "on the list"--right after we finish our bedroom. And boy was our master bedroom a mess. Should I mention how badly the carpet smelled? OK, I won't. It's gone now, along with the stench. The walls are freshly painted, the wood floors are in and the bathroom is done. Thank God. And I seriously mean--thank God. I do thank Him, every day. I love this tiny house.
One of the very first projects that I undertook was the turning of an extra bedroom into my super closet. My everything room--clothing, shoes, makeup vanity, and hair station. It's my favorite room in the house. It's very bohemian, in that it's kind of a hot mess. But, I love it. I bought rolling clothes racks and lined the walls. I have wicker shelving for my pants, etc. It's freaking awesome. One-stop shopping--hair, makeup, get dressed--go! As much as I love it, my husband hates it. He wanted everything built-in and I did not. I won. My closet.
Believe it or not, we are almost done with remodeling the inside of our tiny house. The kitchen, family room, living room, and bedrooms, along with hallways and bathrooms are all painted. The flooring is in. The kitchen is done except for the backsplash--haven't found what I like yet, and all the furniture is bought. Do we still have projects, you ask? Oh, yes. So many. Remember the pantry idea? There's that. And also, another brilliant idea of mine-- let's take those stupid double doors off our entryway closet and make a really cute mudroom! How about that? He's not too happy, but he'll love it when it's all finished. He always does.
So, tiny it is--but, oh so cute. I call it my cottage. It's cozy, warm, and me. It's plain, simple, and very unpretentious. It reflects my personality--a little more traditional and a little comfier. I love it.
Now don't get me wrong. I love going into great big large spacious homes. I really do. I love professional decorating, and expensive decor. But--that's not me. I'm a jeans and sweater person, and I wear flip flops until the first snow! I'm a little on the plainer side, I admit it. I like function, with a little kick. And this tiny house provides that for me. I can clean it quickly (as I am the maid) and I can entertain quite a few couples at a time! I don't need nor do I want the big rooms (been there) since most of the time it's just the 2 of us. Watching TV, fireplace burning, dog on my lap, and oh so happy.
Want to hear something funny? This tiny house sits on 3/4 of an acre. My husband now has a riding lawnmower and several other yard implements. He complains a lot but I can tell he loves his new big boy toys. I think it's kind of funny. We went from no lawn maintenance to this! We have so much yard work to do, so many landscaping ideas and because of our long snowy winters, only a few months per year to get our yard looking halfway decent. We have oodles and gobs of things to do to this yard. It's going to take years to get it just the way we want it. However, we will have fun. We will work hard side by side, laugh, argue, and live life. In our tiny house. And we've never been happier.
We will retire here and spend the last of our days here. It's perfect. Small, manageable, cute, and cozy. It's warm and fuzzy. It's our very own tiny house.
I've had big homes before. I also had 3 children at home. Now, no children at home--thus there really is no reason to maintain a large home. A tiny house suits us just fine.
The last time I wrote about moving and the reasons why--we were staying for a few days with our son and daughter-in-law. We moved into our new house in July, just a few months ago. It poured down rain that day, so much so that our new little basement flooded. I mean flooded--as in, inches deep in water to the point that it ruined everything that had been stored down there along with the carpeting. Great.
After, the major clean up, with the help of our awesome sons, we commenced moving in and trying to get settled. Did I mention that the house was a major remodel/gut job? Also, I was on narcotics (knee replacement) when I first saw it, so I'm thinking that it clouded my vision. Just a bit. And that I also had a mini-meltdown when we moved in! Yeah, I did. I couldn't believe the work that needed to be done on my new tiny house--so much work. As in--every single room. And I do mean every single one!
We set about unpacking and making a plan. Which room should we tackle first? Well, our kitchen was a total disaster, and unusable, so let's start there, shall we? We gutted the room and had a completely new kitchen installed--that only took a couple of months. Only. I was using the hall bathroom sink and a toaster oven. Not fun, not fun at all. And we won't discuss our use of paper products, or that the fall of this planet rests on my head.
As our kitchen was being done, I painted. My husband had set his office up at one end of our small basement, so I had full run of the house. Painting (I did that), putting in new hardwood floors (I did not do that), and ordering new bathroom vanities and toilets. Oh, I had fun! We pretty much had the front half of the house finished when I came up with an idea. Why not take the utility closet, plus a few feet of unused hallway, and make a pantry? Good idea right? So, that is our next project. It's "on the list"--right after we finish our bedroom. And boy was our master bedroom a mess. Should I mention how badly the carpet smelled? OK, I won't. It's gone now, along with the stench. The walls are freshly painted, the wood floors are in and the bathroom is done. Thank God. And I seriously mean--thank God. I do thank Him, every day. I love this tiny house.
One of the very first projects that I undertook was the turning of an extra bedroom into my super closet. My everything room--clothing, shoes, makeup vanity, and hair station. It's my favorite room in the house. It's very bohemian, in that it's kind of a hot mess. But, I love it. I bought rolling clothes racks and lined the walls. I have wicker shelving for my pants, etc. It's freaking awesome. One-stop shopping--hair, makeup, get dressed--go! As much as I love it, my husband hates it. He wanted everything built-in and I did not. I won. My closet.
Believe it or not, we are almost done with remodeling the inside of our tiny house. The kitchen, family room, living room, and bedrooms, along with hallways and bathrooms are all painted. The flooring is in. The kitchen is done except for the backsplash--haven't found what I like yet, and all the furniture is bought. Do we still have projects, you ask? Oh, yes. So many. Remember the pantry idea? There's that. And also, another brilliant idea of mine-- let's take those stupid double doors off our entryway closet and make a really cute mudroom! How about that? He's not too happy, but he'll love it when it's all finished. He always does.
So, tiny it is--but, oh so cute. I call it my cottage. It's cozy, warm, and me. It's plain, simple, and very unpretentious. It reflects my personality--a little more traditional and a little comfier. I love it.
Now don't get me wrong. I love going into great big large spacious homes. I really do. I love professional decorating, and expensive decor. But--that's not me. I'm a jeans and sweater person, and I wear flip flops until the first snow! I'm a little on the plainer side, I admit it. I like function, with a little kick. And this tiny house provides that for me. I can clean it quickly (as I am the maid) and I can entertain quite a few couples at a time! I don't need nor do I want the big rooms (been there) since most of the time it's just the 2 of us. Watching TV, fireplace burning, dog on my lap, and oh so happy.
Want to hear something funny? This tiny house sits on 3/4 of an acre. My husband now has a riding lawnmower and several other yard implements. He complains a lot but I can tell he loves his new big boy toys. I think it's kind of funny. We went from no lawn maintenance to this! We have so much yard work to do, so many landscaping ideas and because of our long snowy winters, only a few months per year to get our yard looking halfway decent. We have oodles and gobs of things to do to this yard. It's going to take years to get it just the way we want it. However, we will have fun. We will work hard side by side, laugh, argue, and live life. In our tiny house. And we've never been happier.
We will retire here and spend the last of our days here. It's perfect. Small, manageable, cute, and cozy. It's warm and fuzzy. It's our very own tiny house.
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