Oma, my great-grandma, had a chair that she got shortly after immigrating to America. My mom said she had it for as long as she can remember. It was reupholstered sometime in the 60s. After that, my Grandma Jo used the chair in her room and reupholstered it pink. Now, the chair is being passed to me. By "passed" to me, I mean my mom and her siblings all chose the items they wanted from my Grandma's condo, and this was left behind. It was going to be donated, but I asked to keep it. I recently got some new curtains from IKEA for $3 that I'm shortening, so I used the extra fabric to reupholster the chair again.

I flipped the chair upside-down and loosened the screws. Oliver was able to finish unscrewing it himself! I stretched the new fabric over the top and used a staple gun to secure it on the underside. The project was really easy, minus the fact that I was a little afraid of the staple gun. After that, I got Oliver to help me screw the seat back onto the chair. I think the finished product is pretty cute!

You can see the layers of fabric here. I'm not sure what the original fabric was.

Here's Oliver, working hard!

And here is our new chair!

Here's a video of Oliver working so hard to screw the seat back onto the chair. It was easier taking it off!
                                                         

Santa Claus isn't a dirty lie.

I enjoy reading the blogs of other parents, whether I know them or not, and I frequent parenting forums. As a woman who has an opinion on almost everything, it's refreshing for me to go to a forum and be able to give advice or feedback on people's questions and ideas.

With Christmas almost upon us, more and more parents are posting their opinions on Santa Claus. What shocks me is how many of these parents refuse to tell their children about Santa based on the idea that Santa is a lie and it's never OK to lie to your kids.

My opinion is that those parents are missing the point. Santa Claus is not a hurtful lie. Rather, he's a wonderful story that, if done properly, teaches children the lessons of selfless giving and generosity.

I want to share with you a story involving my mom's family. My grandparents had nine kids, and my mom was the second youngest. Their family, as you might expect from a family of eleven, didn't have much money. My grandma would get upset when the phone bill came in because it was so difficult to pay. As you might also expect, this meant my mom really didn't get many things, especially new things. As one of the youngest, most of her stuff were hand-me-downs. She told me that she and her siblings would fight over who got to get the first dip in a new jar of peanut butter because it was the only new thing they ever got.

This was true all year round except at Christmas time. My grandma always loved the holidays. As the older woman I knew who lived alone, she still always decorated her condo and put up a tree. When she had her kids at home, she managed to make things work. My mom has told me about her favorite gift she ever received. Santa brought her a new umbrella with matching rain boots. Her sister got a set, too.

I've heard my mother and her siblings talk about how excited they'd get before Christmas morning. Apparently, they would each draw up a plan with a map on how they'd get from their bedrooms to the Christmas tree on Christmas morning. They got pretty detailed, from what I gather. I like to imagine how much fun it was for my grandma to see her kids get so pumped up for Christmas morning.

Now, I've heard some parents gripe that they don't want to perpetuate the "Santa myth" because they work hard to put presents under the tree, and they deserve the credit for their work--not some mythical man in red. I hope this story will change the mind of some of those parents. You see, it's true that my mom and her brothers and sisters were excited for Santa's visit. It's true that they thought the jolly elf was the man to thank and not my grandma. However, as they grew up, they began to view their childhood Christmases differently. They realized how difficult it must have been for their mother to make Christmas happen. My mom speaks of that with a lot of affection and amazement. Somehow, their mother gave them a magical Christmas, and they all got to enjoy the magic of it.

I have a similar story. When I was very little, my parents didn't have much money. My dad worked at the factory for Scott Petersen hot dogs while my mom delivered newspapers and went to school. They made ends meet, but it wasn't easy. Yet, somehow, amazingly, my parents were able to pull off an amazing Christmas for the three of us kids every year. We'd get so excited for Christmas. We'd write Christmas letters to Santa and visit him at the mall. I had trouble sleeping for days before the big night. On Christmas Eve nights, I probably didn't get to sleep until nearly midnight and was always up by 4am. I laugh at the thought of this now. We'd tear into our parents room at four in the morning, yelling and poking our parents to get up. They never made us wait until dawn. They'd drag themselves out of bed and get the coffee brewing. Once they had a hot cup of joe in their hands, they let us tear into our stockings and gifts.

Now that I'm a mother of young kids, and I'm even more in awe of my parents for what they were able to do for us. They had little money, but they made Christmas mornings some of my fondest memories. I might have thanked Santa for those gifts when I was a young child, but--you know what?--I'm not a young child any more. It somehow seems sweeter that my parents worked so hard to give us gifts and let us believe that it was the work of Santa.

Of course, the time came when we discovered "the truth." My brother found out first. One late night in 1986, my four-year-old brother woke up and found the Easter Bunny filling baskets. He was sad to learn of the news, but he got to take on a new role that next morning. He got to give his sisters the excitement of the Easter Bunny, and, thus, a new Bunny was born. For years after, my brother kept his knowledge a secret. He continued to go with us to visit Santa at the mall. He continued to write letters to Santa with us, and he let us believe. I love him for that. As for me, I can't even remember how I learned the "truth" about Santa. That's how devastating the knowledge wasn't. I think I was about seven, and I remember that I used to pretend to believe in Santa for a few more years because I was worried about hurting my parents' feelings. When I was in fifth grade, I decided I didn't want to pretend anymore, so I decided to break the news to my mom by sitting down with her and my grandma and "asking" them the truth.

Now, it's my turn to put on the bunny ears or the Santa hat or what-have-you. I want so badly to see my kids tear down the stairs as quickly as they can on Christmas morning. I can picture my son and daughter in footie jammies, yelling to each other about the toys they discover under the tree. I want to be the tired parent, sitting on the couch, sipping on a cup of coffee, feeling so happy because of my children's excitement.

I'm not concerned they will resent me for lying. When they reach a certain age, I expect them to start questioning the stories and ask me for the truth, and I will tell them. Oliver will likely find out first. I will explain to him how Santa the man might not be real, but the feeling and spirit of Santa Claus is. I will ask him to help me continue giving Joanna the Santa experience. Instead of apologizing and making it about lies, I will make it about sharing, joy, and generosity. He will experience the thrill of of watching her excitement and wonder, and I will tell them both that they get to be Santa for their own children one day.

"Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. [...] A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood."

Joanna Elizabeth: Tradition in a Name

Joanna Elizabeth was named after my Grandma Jo (July 22, 1923 - December 18, 2007). In our family, it's a name that has been passed down to strong women. Grandma Jo's grandmother's name was Johanna. Johanna named her daughter, my great-grandmother, Elizabeth Johanna. My great-grandmother, whom we called "Oma" because she immigrated from Germany, named her daughter (my grandma) Johanna Elizabeth. My grandma came to America as a young girl and hated the letter H in her name. She had it legally changed to Joanna.

My grandma wasn't keen on continuing the naming tradition, but after the birth of her 6th daughter (her 9th and final child), she gave her the name Elizabeth Joann. My aunt went by Bette Jo growing up and later even went by Lizzie. She did not pass the name on to any of her children, but my Aunt Carol gave my cousin Jana the middle name Joanne, and my Uncle Matt named his daughter Elizabeth, or Beth.

My husband gave Oliver the middle name Kory. Kory is my husband's best friend. When we planned on our second, I got to choose a person to name her after. I knew immediately that I wanted to continue the family tradition and name my daughter Joanna Elizabeth. I think about my grandma all the time, as the smallest things remind me of her. Whether it's decorating for the holidays, finding a box of windmill cookies in the store, or opening up the trunk of my car (the car was my grandma's, and it still smells like her in parts of the trunk), I love the constant reminders of her. It's fitting to me to name my daughter after a woman I loved so much.

Lamb Cake: It's a Tradition, I Swear

The following blog entry is a somewhat winded story about the tradition of the lamb cake. If you don't know what I'm talking about, then I guess you've never been to Chicago during Easter. You're not missing much, but it's got people sentimental all the same.

I mention her frequently in my posts, but I need to start this one by saying that my Grandma Jo was such an important person in my life. She loved holidays, and she made them special for me and my siblings. Every Easter season, she would dye eggs herself. We'd go to her house, where she lived alone, and there would be a crystal basket of dyed eggs waiting for her to enjoy. She did it because she liked it.

On Easter morning, we'd wake up and find our baskets from the Easter bunny. After enjoying our goodies, we'd get dressed and head over to Grandma's. She'd be waiting there, wearing her Easter Bunny ears, and take us out to the courtyard of her condo to hunt the eggs she'd hidden. Afterwards, we'd go in to eat, and the meal was always followed up with a lamb cake.

Her lamb cakes always came from Jewell. They were made of pound cake and stood up. The head was made of plastic, and the whole thing was frosted and covered in coconut. The cake lay in a bed of plastic, green Easter grass. It was tacky, and I didn't like coconut, but it was tradition.

When we moved to Colorado from Chicago, we were disappointed to discover that no grocery store or bakery (that we found) sold a lamb cake. We were older and no longer enjoyed egg hunts, and so Easter tradition slowly fizzled.

This year, I started to think of the lamb cake, and I thought it would be nice to make one for my mom. I looked up a recipe and did a search online for a lamb cake mold. Before making any purchases, I decided not to make the cake. I reminded myself that I don't like coconut, and it'd be a lot of work. I wasn't sure if my mom would appreciate it all that much anyway.

I spent the morning at my parents' house. Grandma Jo came up in conversation, and I thought to mention the lamb cake. My mom got excited about it and told me how much it reminded her of her own grandma (Grandma Jo's mother, my Oma). I laughed and told her how it reminded me of Grandma Jo. She explained that Oma bought one every year. I learned later (from my Aunt Jackie) that Oma purchased it from Weiden's Bakery in Chicago. Grandma Jo always bought hers from Jewell-Osco. My mom told me the lamb cakes didn't always have plastic heads as I'd remembered, and part of the fun was cutting off the head. I laughed and told her the fondness for me was how tacky the cake was, and I loved the plastic head. We then reminisced a bit. She remembered black jelly beans for eyes, but I insisted the ones we had when I was little never had jelly bean eyes (which makes sense since the head was plastic). We both remembered the coconut and Easter grass.

Before long, we talked each other into baking a lamb cake. We drove to Hobby Lobby, World Market, and Michael's. There were no lamb cake molds for sale. I called my mother-in-law who recommended a cake shop in Englewood, and so we set out. We arrived and inquired about a lamb cake pan. Success! They had four. One lady asked us if we'd called earlier. We had not, so I assume someone else was on the hunt. My mom and I bought our pan and some cake trays, and then we headed out to the store for supplies. Unfortunately, all the Easter grass was sold out, but we felt confident we bought all the remaining essentials.

When it came time to extract the baked pound cake from the mold, my dad wandered over. I told him the head was a little weak. He said, "Oh, my grandma always put a popsicle stick in the neck." Then he wandered outside for a smoke. I couldn't help but follow to hear more. I was surprised to hear that his family also had the tradition, and I was further surprised to hear his grandma (Grandma Kelly) baked the cake. My dad joked, "My brothers and I would always complain and ask her to let us eat some before she put all the coconut on it." I laughed because I thought the coconut was the worst part, too. He told me that his grandma had a very old mold that she used to bake it in.

At that moment, I realized that the lamb cake must be a tradition in Chicago. It doesn't exist in Denver, but it's so mainstream in Chicago that you can buy them at the grocery store. It must be an old tradition, too, because both of the great-grandmothers that I knew had lamb cake for Easter. When I got home, I started searching through articles online. Other than info on how to make them and where to buy the molds, there was almost no information at all. There wasn't anything on wikipedia about the lamb cakes. I found one article that briefly mentioned them and said they were Polish (my German family also shares Polish roots). However, another article said the Polish tradition is actually butter molded into the shape of a lamb (another Easter item familiar to us from Chicago but not Denver). Yet another article briefly mentioned the lamb cakes and said they were Czech.

Finally (finally), I found one blurb of an article in a Chicago dining website. Here's the link: http://www.diningchicago.com/blog/2010/04/01/easter-means-lamb-cake-in-chicago/
According to this article, it's a Catholic tradition that has taken off in Chicago, where there were many Catholic immigrants (my great-grandparents on my mother's side were some). My father's grandmother was not Catholic (at least, I don't believe so), and her family was Danish. My dad described her lamb cake mold as very old, so I imagine the tradition goes back before her time. I wonder if her family picked it up after they immigrated to Chicago in the 19th century or if their tradition started in Europe.

My internet searches led me to an editorial in the Chicago Tribune. It's a personal story written by a woman who married a man from the South Side of Chicago (where my parents' families are from). His family was very traditional, and his aunt baked a lamb cake (article here: http://articles.chicagotribune.com/1999-03-31/features/9903310026_1_lamb-aunt-betty-easter). Indeed, the "tacky" lamb cake tradition must be an old one in the Second City. I continued browsing deeper and deeper into my Google search. I found a fraction of an article in the Chicago Sun-Times (http://www.highbeam.com/doc/1N1-12ECE503A28C5C40.html) that explained that the tradition is also still popular in Europe, especially in Poland.

Even though the history of the lamb cake is vague at best, I truly enjoyed learning that my family (on both sides) participated in the tradition. It was also fun to make our own lamb cake. To be honest, I couldn't even stay long enough to finish decorating it, and I find it so cute to think of my mom and dad decorating the cakes together. Yes, cakes. My mom told me that we should make two so I could bring one with me to Easter brunch tomorrow with Andrew's family. The best part is that two of Andrew's father's cousins will be there, and they're from the Chicago area. I'm eager to find out if they recognize the lamb cake, too. If not, everyone will just assume I brought a tacky cake. Too bad.

More Change!

Ah, so much change in my life!

I started to really struggle to get myself into work these last few months. My job long stopped being fun and started getting stressful. Then, Starbucks started cutting jobs. Before it was my turn, I began a job search and polished my resume.

Before too long, Andrew's mom found me a job with Rocky Mountain Gastroenterology. I'm so excited! I got the official word last week. I put my notice into work on Saturday, and my boss explained to me that managers with access codes to people's personal information and money are paid out their two weeks. So, I am currently being paid to not work! Hurray!

The new job starts Monday, January 5, so in the meantime, I've been getting into the holiday spirit by making cookies, buying everyone's Christmas gifts. Also, it's helped clear out my calendar to make sure I can runnnn to prepare for the half marathon!


In other, more somber news, yesterday was the day that Grandma Jo passed last year. My mom took the day off work and went to the hair dresser, then I went with her out to Target. I love remembering Grandma and thinking about her laugh, but yesterday was definitely tough. It reminded me too much of her death.


I love family, and I love that we get to spend more time with family around this time of year. And, yes, it makes it easier to do so w/no job to go to! This weekend, Uncle Matt is coming into town with Beth and Ben, so hopefully I'll get to see them. Then, on Christmas Eve, Julie and Andy are both coming into town. I'm so happy!

A few days ago, I sent out my Christmas cards. It was neat to see how many states they were all going out to! Let's see; I sent cards to Washington state, Washington, D.C., Oregon, California, Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa, Texas, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Massachussetts, Maine, Minnesota, Missouri, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Florida. So many people in so many places! I hope they all have a great Christmas.

Christmas Trees and Ice Cream Cake

Although today is my birthday, I celebrated it yesterday with my family while my brother and his fiance were in town.

Andrew and I set up the Christmas tree (it was my birthday present from him last year), and he put the lights out on the balcony. I love our tree. We both have our "Baby's First Christmas" ornaments. I have my "Puppy Love" ornaments that I've collected throughout the years, and he has ornaments from preschool and high school. We also have the Peanuts ornaments we painted together last year, as well as engagement ornaments and "Our First Christmas" ornaments. The tree definitely has "us" hung all over it.

Finally, I topped the tree with my Grandma's Christmas point.

Andrew ran out to Cold Stone to pick out an ice cream cake for me, and my dad arrived at 5 with pizza and pop. Soon, my mom, Andy and Erin came, and we had fun talking and eating for a few hours. I had a few gifts to open, and I received a cookie and brownie recipe book, a new beater attachment for my Kitchenaid that scrapes the sides of the bowl, the movie "Polar Express," and some new running pants. Good stuff!

I definitely had a great birthday celebration. Today, Andrew and I are going to kick back and relax and play some games for day 2 of my birthday festivities.


Update on Bailey: Bailey's doing well! She almost slept through the night and is even napping now. Her incision still appears to be healing nicely, and she's starting to walk and act like her normal self. She's still on pain medication, though, and still isn't allowed to jump up or down or use stairs.

Thinking of Grandma

I woke up and started a pot of coffee. I really appreciate having mornings to myself, even if it's only for a few minutes. As I scooped my beans, I started to hum pretty sporatically and pretty low. Immediately, I was reminded of Grandma Jo. Grandma loved spending time alone, and even when people were around, there were times she just wanted to observe and have things quiet. In those moments, you could often hear her let out a few, low hums.

I love that I "inherited" that from her. It's quite soothing :)

A Kushy Weekend

For my Grandma Jo's memorial weekend, we had aunts, uncles, cousins, and so many others here in town. Aunt Gerry and Wayne flew in from Maine, Tina and Aunt Linda flew in from Boston, Uncle Mark came from Ohio, Uncle Matt came from Missouri, Julie came from Nebraska, Aunt Jackie came from California, Jana and Ian (who I met for the first time) came from Portland, and Aunt Carol, Uncle Mike, Missy, Mia, Glen, Jo and Jack all drove in from Iowa.

Tina stayed at my apartment. I was so stoked to have my first house guest! Andrew and I totally bleached the shower and toilets and vacuumed and had fun grocery shopping. I'm telling you, we're ready to be a regular bed & breakfast now. Tina was the best house guest, ever (and I'm not just saying that because she's my only house guest). She totally let me give her a tour and just generally showed an interest in everything, right down to the bagels. Hurray for her! Next time, I'll make her try Rock Band. Also next time, we won't be so exhausted from socializing so we can go for runs!

Having Julie in town was a hoot, too. I spent a lot of my time with her and Tina, just generally laughing it up and throwing our opinions out about everyone and every thing. Good times.

Uncle Mark and I talked a lot about the Disney World Half Marathon we're running in January. Turns out, in addition to us and my mom, his daughters Dina and Amber are planning on running in it. This'll be too much fun!

Andrew enjoyed meeting people and demonstrating his magic skills. At some point, he even had Jana and Ian practicing the disappearing coin trick. Too cute.

The most difficult part of the weekend was, of course, the memorial itself. We went up to Andrew's parents' land near Fairplay and sang and talked of our memories. I started to get upset about scattering Grandma's ashes. Not that I thought it was a bad idea; I knew it's what she'd wanted. It just is hard to say goodbye, I guess. I felt angry about not having her with us, and I hated thinking about everything she doesn't get to see. I know I'll move past those feelings and be able to enjoy her memories, but it's just so hard sometimes, and I feel so mad that I don't get to have her around anymore. I wish I could say more, but I'm so emotionally drained! It was a toughie, for sure.

And now... now things have quieted down. Some family is leaving already tomorrow morning. This means I'll sleep in, wake up slowly, and then reach out and connect with those that are still hanging out in town. I'm wiped, and I think it's time to cuddle up with a book and then head to sleep.

Goodnight!

Grandma Jo

I think about Grandma Jo a lot. It's been almost four months, and I think it's really starting to sink in that she's not around me anymore. It hurts... a lot.

I've gone back to her condo a few times with my mom. I love it there, and I hate it at the same time. It feels so wrong to make coffee without her being there. It feels weird to take one of her mugs off her wall and know she's not around to have any with us. I hate it.

Anyway, I thought I'd share a memory blog I wrote a few weeks after she died. It felt nice to right down all my thoughts and memories of her so everyone else could know what a great woman she was. So... here it is:

I can remember the first time I was old enough to "meet" my grandma. I must have been three or four, and we were driving to Omaha to visit with my Aunt Bette and her family and my Grandma Jo. We pulled up to my Aunt Bette's house, and my twin cousins, Tara and Amanda, were standing in front of the garage door, jumping up and down, yelling, "Grammie's here, Grammie's here!"

I thought these two girls seemed like a lot of fun, and I couldn't wait to play. I also couldn't wait to meet this "Grammie" character. I met my grandma that day. Strangely enough, my strongest memory is of her little condo (apartment?). She had Fruity Pebbles for us. We never got cereal like Fruity Pebbles. It was the greatest thing ever.

My Grandma Jo moved to Cicero (near Chicago) with us to help take care of her mom, my Oma. I lived in the house with my parents, brother and sister, and my Grandma and Oma lived in the basement "apartment" down below. I have many, many memories of living with Grandma. I'd hang out downstairs with my mom, listening as they talked with each other, sipped on coffee, and ate blueberry Newtons and grasshopper cookies. I remember Grandma bringing home groceries. I remember asking her lots of questions, like what was her favorite color (green) and why (it reminds her of spring). I thought green was an icky color; it reminded me of my brother's dinosaur toys. I told Grandma that, and she talked about the blooms on the trees.

One day in Cicero, we had a tornado warning. I don't remember much of it, except that Gramms gave me a Klondike bar and told me that the sky was green. It didn't look very green to me, but I started to get scared. She explained to me that tornados sound like freight trains, but I didn't know what a freight train was. I didn't ask.

Grandma Jo went with us on most of our family vacations. Our first, to Disney World, I remember fairly well (I was four). She took me on Space Mountain after telling me it was her favorite ride there. Now, I wonder, when had she been to Disney World before? She was also excited about Epcot, which wasn't built yet. I remember a few years later, she went back to Disney World to see it. She told me she went to China there, and I was so confused. I love how my grandma was never, ever afraid to do things by herself.

Right after I turned six, we left Cicero and moved to Chicago Ridge. Oma was very sick and sometimes got violent, so she went to a nursing home. Grandma bought a condo in Oak Lawn, one town over from us. Some of my most memorable Grandma Jo memories took place in her condo.

Grandma was there for all of our birthdays and all of the holidays. On New Year's, my mom and my grandma would buy poppers and funky hats and sparkling juice. We also ate a lot of easy cheese (from the can) on crackers. Of course, Grandma always had her "Grandma Jo crackers," which I later learned were Cheese-Its. I remember watching Michael Jackson performing on one New Year's on the TV. I didn't believe Grandma (or my brother) that it wasn't a girl dancing. We'd jump on the trampoline, and Grandma would let us be as loud as we wanted. Sometimes, her brother, my Uncle Henry, would be there. Sometimes, my Aunt Bridget (her aunt? Not her blood relative...), who also lived in those condos, would be there, too. It was a party every year. I spent almost every single New Year's ever with my grandma. I think I only spent two without her; one, in 2000, when my friends had a party, and another, last year, when Grandma was sick in the hospice. In later years, when we had Bailey and Homer, she would shoot the poppers in their direction. Grandma!

The other holiday that will always and forever remind me of my grandma is Easter. Grandma would put candy and money in plastic Easter eggs and hide them in the courtyard between all of the condo buildings. My brother, sister, and I would have so, so much fun running around, trying to get the most eggs. I can still see my grandma standing there, with her hands on her hips, watching us and pointing. I miss her so much. She'd get me excited about so many things, even the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade and the Easter parade on TV. I remember her teaching me the song, "I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet..." Grandma dyed Easter eggs every year, by herself. She also decorated a tree every year, even though she lived by herself. It didn't matter that there wasn't someone there to see it all the time. She did it anyway. Grandma went on vacations by herself, too. Once, she went to the Bahamas and brought me back maracas. Another time, she went to Germany (with my aunt), and brought me back Gummi Baren and German chocolate, which was quite dark. I loved my maraca, and I was very upset when the handle broke off right before our move to Colorado.

I remember learning how to open a can of pop at Grandma's. She also taught me things about Germany. She'd discuss family traditions, like passing the boot along for all to drink from. I loved her impressions of her kids, "I fell in the crick (creek) again!" or "Mommy, get me organized!" She'd also sit and listen to me talk, and she'd usually answer with "Uh huh" or "That's neat." Haha.

Grandma Jo was my mom's mom, and they talked so much together. I think of our house in Cicero or my Grandma's condo in Oak Lawn, and I picture the two of them sitting together over coffee, talking. However, my dad always called her "Ma," and they got along famously. My favorite story he told me was of his honeymoon in Vegas with my mom. My grandma was there (she came for the ceremony at Circus, Circus), but she hung around throughout the wedding night in the hotel room, chit-chatting with my mom as my dad was trying to call it a night. Good stuff. My Grandma could be so wonderfully oblivious.

I'll always remember my grandma as a very active woman, too. Grandma was on my bowling team. My brother and my dad were on a team in a league, and so my mom, my sister, my grandma and I formed a team. We played every Sunday at Arena Lanes. Gramms also would take me and my siblings to Magic Waters, a water park. She'd even ride on the slides with us! I didn't realize when I was little how extraordinary that was, but I knew she was a fun lady. In later years, after we moved to Colorado, Grandma took tap dancing classes. I think that is so special, so neat, because she always talked about tap dancing. I remember her teaching me "shuffle, ball, change," in the kitchen of our home in Chicago Ridge. I would practice, practice, practice, even though I really didn't understand what I was doing, until my mom would get mad at me for leaving scuff marks all over the floor.

Grandma became my roommate for family trips when Aunt Jackie wasn't around. This was simply because I didn't mind her snoring. She shared my cabin with me in Yellowstone, and she shared the hotel room with me in many of our trips to Omaha, including the difficult time to attend my Aunt Bette's funeral. When I was younger, I didn't always appreciate staying with Grandma because I felt like I was missing out on time with my cousins. When I got a bit older, I loved it because Grandma was like me; she liked to do her own thing. That's certainly the trait I inherited from Gramms. I don't mind having people around, but in the end, I like being alone the best. I like doing my own thing and not always being around others and talking with others. Grandma and I would talk a bit, and then we'd read, or do puzzles, or whatever on our own. Once, Grandma took me on a trip to Omaha, just the two of us. I don't remember much of it, actually (all of our trips to Omaha kind of meld together), except for the car ride. Grandma always had lemon drops, and when we stopped at the gas station, I'd have to go see if they had more. She'd buy me Tootsie Rolls sometimes, too. I remember stopping at the Cracker Barrell with her. We had fun browsing the store, and she bought me a little puzzle to play with in the car.

Grandma once told me that she took a secretary test. She came in second in the entire country, and she thought her phone would be ringing off the hook with job opportunities. That didn't happen. In fact, it took a while for even one person to call. She realized it had to do with her age, and told me that would no longer be allowed in our times today. I think Grandma finally got a job doing secretarial work for Turtle Wax. I remember driving down Ridgeland Avenue with Grandma, and she pointed to the Turtle Wax building and said, "That's where I work!" For the longest time, I thought my grandma shined cars.

When I was about 12, Gramms told me that she always wanted to ride a donkey down the Grand Canyon. I didn't really know what the Grand Canyon even was. She explained to me that it's this big, beautiful crater in the earth, and it's so deep, you have to ride on a doneky to get to the bottom. I remember asking her, "Down the rocks?!" She said, "yes." I pictured riding on a donkey as it walked straight down the edge of a cliff. I didn't realize there were paths. This fascinated me. "Gramms, don't they fall?" And she said no, they're very sure footed. I ran to my mom and told her about this, and explained that Grandma really wanted to go. I pushed and pushed until my mom and dad planned a very incredible trip to the Grand Canyon. Gramms did everything with us that trip; she went white water rafting with us, and she rode on a donkey down the canyon with us. Hilarious!

Grandma Jo would stay with us on the rare occasion that my parents went somewhere together. I remember lots of "Murder, She Wrote" and "Matlock." I still like those shows (I'm probably the only twenty-something who does!).

To be honest, I have so many wonderful memories and fragmented memories of my Grandma, from the time I was very little, through only a few weeks ago. I really, really loved my Grandma. I feel so fortunate, so thankful, that I got to have her as my grandma. Gramms, who loved IHOP but got mad at the lady who was ignoring her, so she left her only a nickel for a tip. Gramms, who bought her Saturn to drive all around the country by herself to visit each of her nine kids. Gramms, who loved taco salads from Taco Bell but couldn't eat them after the doctor said her sodium and cholesterol levels were too high. Gramms, who supported me when I got my tattoo, and said she'd get one, too, if she was just a few years younger. Gramms, who always said, "Oh, hell..." or "I'll be damned." Gramms, who has always hated shopping, but one Halloween went out and bought me a glow-in-the-dark witch coffee mug. Gramms, who always wore her crossword puzzle T-Shirt. Gramms, who always called Bailey "pin head." Gramms, who would come over to our house when no one was home, would let the dogs out and make a pot of coffee, and leave after we got home. Gramms, who exclaimed at Yellowstone, that she's no longer turning her head to see anymore of those "damn mule deer." Gramms, who decided to take a cruise to Alaska all by herself. Gramms, who I once asked why she doesn't get married to have someone to be with, told me, "I'd much rather live alone." Gramms, who took us to see "Camp Nowhere" and "Don't Tell Mom the Baby-sitter's Dead."

I miss her so, so much. It hurts a lot because my Grandma has always been here. She's just always been here. Gramma has been there for all my Christmases, birthdays, New Years, Easters. I just don't see how things will be without her there to be in them. I feel like an important piece of the family is missing. I can't comprehend what life is going to be like without her.

*sigh*