I was on staycation last week. I was also on blogcation last week.
I staycated and blogcated last week because I was busy preparing for MY GRANDMA’S 90th BIRTHDAY PARTY!
There she is! It’s the birthday diva! [I’d also like to point out that my 90-year-old grandma is taller than I am. The photo doesn’t lie. I’m probably going to be about 4 feet tall if I make it to 90.]
In preparation for the party, I did the following:
– De-forested my parents’ yard. Got rash on legs from mysterious allergens.
– Purchased stain for my parents’ deck at Home Depot. Became frustrated when I couldn’t find an associate to reach said stain. Climbed the shelving at Home Depot. Gallon of deck stain fell on my foot. Ow. [Don’t worry — I healed.]
– Attended daytime kickboxing class at the Y. Realized I had drooled toothpaste down my shirt and shorts as I entered the Y. Went out for Indian food after kickboxing, still sporting the toothpaste drool. Saw someone from work at the Indian restaurant. [Note: please don’t believe any rumors involving my homelessness. I have a lovely home — I just lack hygiene skills.] <——Ok, that has nothing to do with party preparation. Unless I planned on roundhouse-kicking guests at my grandma’s party. I had no such plan.
– Went on a massive grocery excursion with my mom. She introduced me to dried cherries. I discovered a love for dried cherries. They are like little droplets of dried fruit happiness. They deliver the same amount of dried-fruit joy as prunes without the unpleasant side effects. Go, cherries.
I think the birthday party was a success. I had fun celebrating with grandma, and I’m pretty sure she had a grand ol’ time as well.
Grandma and my dad were a little creative with their posing.
But I eventually coaxed them into waving at the camera. [Note the 90 year old is standing and the 60 year old is sitting — more proof that my grandma defies old-people stereotypes.]
Family, friends, and neighbors crowded into my parents’ house to party with my very happy and very spunky grandma. She still lives on the farm, mows the lawn and makes sure her farm cats are well fed. (And she recently got out her rifle and shot a farm cat that managed to eat one of the birds feeding at her bird house — violent, but still impressive.)
She makes the best zucchini bread, pumpkin bread, and applesauce.
Her love of coffee made me want to love coffee. (It worked — I do.)
She has bread and butter on the table for almost every meal, and she always butters my bread. Somehow, bread buttered by Grandma tastes much better than any other bread. If she has honey, she adds honey to my bread and says it’s “honey for my honey.” That makes my insides happy.
She used an old wringer washing machine to do her laundry while I was growing up. She had an electric washing machine, but she rarely used it. I’d visit on laundry day (Monday, I think) so I could help run the clothes through the wringer. I loved helping with laundry, but I think Grandma was always concerned I’d mush my fingers in the wringer. This was made evident with her constant shouts of, “Honey! Watch your fingers!”
She always hums and sings while she does housework. Her hums of choice are usually hymns, but I believe she also has an affinity for Patsy Cline. Her singing makes dishes and other housework seem like a joyful activity, and I often try to channel my inner Grandma while I do my own housework.
Basically, my grandma is pretty darn cool. She’s taught me all sorts of good stuff about integrity, hard work, and finding joy and contentment in the little details of life. (She’d deny all this, but it’s true.)
Here’s three generations partyin’ like it’s 1921:
The leg rash and smooshed foot were totally worth it. Hopefully I’ll be able to repeat the whole week for her 100th birthday! [Love you, Grandma!]