Happy New Year

Making New Year’s resolutions sort of reminds me of how Catholics make a decision as to what to give up during the six weeks of Lent, leading up to Easter. For Catholics, it is a form of penance and it is giving up something to make us better. So, I suppose that is why we make a New Year’s resolution or two. I figure that because a new year begins, it is like starting over, or doing a do over, or trying for a fresh start, or trying to get it right this time.

So in honor of this New Year, I pledge not to make any new resolutions. My decision is based solely on my life experience. Making a list of things to do is something I choose not to do. Not because I am lazy or weak. It is based on the fact that I won’t keep them because life somehow, seems to get in the way.

But for now…Happy New Year everybody!

After Effects of Christmas Eve 2014

Our Gauntner Christmas Eve 2014 is over. It took a lot of preparation for only a few hours of celebration. I look in the garage at my over flowing trash cans filled with all the black bags stuffed with discarded plates, cups, utensils, bottles, cans, wrapping paper, and boxes. There is a number of filled garbage bags in my kitchen that I still need to take out to the garage. There is going to be a lot to haul out on garbage day.

Now, I am just sitting in my living room, alone, enjoying looking at my decorated Christmas tree and remembering Christmas Eve. All of my children, except my oldest daughter and her husband, were here to celebrate. But I was surrounded by my other eight children, their spouses, significant others and their families, along with some friends, and my 7^th, unofficially, adopted son, who was here celebrating with us. The total number climbed to around 41 people.

When it was time to open our presents we started with the 20 grandchildren, who were hyped up on sugar, Christmas joy, and anticipation. The decibel level was high. The excitement was contagious. This year, I actually bought my grandchildren exactly what they asked for. It was fun watching them open their gifts and seeing their reaction. The excitement was high for the Shopkins, Pokeman cards, Barbie dolls and clothes, Monster High dolls, Princess Sofia and Anna dolls.

Later, I would receive a picture of  my two-year-old grandson, asleep, clutching his Captain America shield. I also received a picture of my granddaughter holding her Anna doll, while wearing the exact same dress, with a big smile plastered across her face!

As the quietness swirled around me in my living room with the down moment, I thought about what I was grateful for…my children, grandchildren, my son who came in from Philly, and hugged me after he opened his presents, the wooden cube with four of my grandchildren’s photos, the totally awesome throwback hoodie form the 80s Cleveland Browns, Kardiac Kids years, and the hand wooden gift that my grandson made for me with the “I love Grandma who is #1 awesome.”

Christmas Eve, 2014 is over but not the memories.

How we Celebrate Christmas

Mangia, Mangia!

My Grandparents' dining room table, at their Utica, New York home, was the place to be on Christmas Eve. Everyone was welcome – family, friends, acquaintances. If you sat around the maple table that groaned with the abundance of the traditional 7-fish meal - you were family.

Grandma and Grandpa hosted the meal in their home in Utica, New York. They were the behind the scenes producers, the main actors, and the presenters. The Christmas Eve meal was placed on the table, on a plastic cover that protected Grandma’s hand made crocheted table cloth. The plates, glasses and cutlery sparkled, while our stomachs growled, and our mouths watered in anticipation.

As a child, in the late 1950s and early '60s, I felt left out of the animated conversation because everyone spoke Italian. My brother, Jack, and I knew that whatever they were talking about had to be juicy.

“Mangia, Mangia" Grandma or Grandpa urged - "Eat! Eat!" in Italian - and happily passed the platter of spaghetti coated only with breadcrumbs and anchovies. Each person helped themselves as the serving platter moved around the table. Like an expert, I picked out the spaghetti coated only with the sautéed seasoned breadcrumbs, leaving the anchovies to swim with each other. My father would spear those from my plate.

Homemade wine was poured and served with a sliced tangerine, as was their custom. My brother and I would each have our own bottle...of soda! My grandparents wouldload up the bottom shelf of their refrigerator with pop for us kids.

Laughter and Italian floated about the dining room. So did the platter of bright green broccoli, sitting in olive oil with lemon wedges surrounding it. Next came the salad and the Italian celery that tasted like anise, along with Italian bread, fresh and crunchy, served along with Italian cheeses.

Shrimp, anchovies, eel, smelts, perch, haddock and calamari was served, some with a light dusting of breadcrumbs, or tomatoes, oils, garlic all in Grandma’s seasonings.

Grandma was the classic cook. She never followed a written recipe or cookbook. Her recipes were in her head. Her seasoning technique and measurements were in her wrist and on her fingertips. She knew the right amounts and the right time to stop. If you asked her how she prepared her dishes, she would tell you in Italian. With a smile, my father would translate, “Oh, you add a little bit of this and a little bit of that.” Whatever the pinch of this or that was, Grandma was the master chef of her own five-star Restaurant.

Hours would go by. When the main courses were exhausted and the platters emptied, the table was cleared and the final course was served - homemade cannoli, withespresso coffee. For the cannoli, Grandpa made the wooden rods and Grandma made the dough and wrapped it around the rods to dry. Then the filling was added...a sweet, delicious end to a sumptuous meal. How we ever found the room for dessert, I'll never know, but who could resist homemade cannoli?

As guests were still savoring the dessert, Grandpa carried a bowl of apples, pears and oranges to the table. He would tilt the bowl and the fruit rolled down the table, with each person selecting what he or she wanted. A basket of nuts was passed around with nutcrackers and picks.

As 7 to 8 hours from beginning to the end of the Christmas Eve feast, I never left my chair. When I was too tired to keep my eyes open, I cradled my head in my arms on the table and fell asleep.

This particular Christmas Eve ritual has died out in my family. My grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins are all gone. It has been over 40 years that I last sat at that maple table for Christmas Eve. But I still can remember the sights and sounds and even the aroma of each dish. Every Christmas Eve when I serve my own meal to my family, I can still feel the presence of my grandparents and parents.

And while I urge my family to eat, I can still hear the voices of Grandma and Grandpa saying, “Mangia, Mangia.”

First published in Reminisce Magazine, December 2008.

Baking Cookies with Family

Since our annual Christmas Cookie Exchange was put on hold this year, I did the next best thing. One of my sons and his family came over, early Saturday morning, and we made our Christmas cookies together.

My son, Patrick, brought along his wife, Pam, and their four children, and all of their cookie ingredients for Chocolate Chip Cookies and Butterscotch Cookies. While my son was measuring out his ingredients, my granddaughter, Bayleigh, formed my Italian cookies. After all the cookies were baked and cooled, Bayleigh dipped the cookies into the anise frosting I had made, while my grandson, Tyler, decorated each with a variety of sprinkles. One thing for sure is that you can never have too many sprinkles on a cookie!

In no time, my cookies were done and so were my son’s cookies. Each of us shared the cookies. I placed mine in the freezer. Now, when I make coffee, I can sneak out two of my son’s cookies and indulge myself!

In between the cookies, we talked, played games, and munched on our snacks and cookies. This was rounded out with a pizza and barbeque wings.

This is now (hopefully) going to be something that we do together next year, regardless if we have a cookie exchange. I already have it on my December 2015 schedule of things to do.

I realized that it is not the big things that matter but it is the little things. Sharing a whole day with my son and his family made all that hectic time stop. It was fun and relaxing and added to my December memories for Christmas.

My Father's Ugly Aluminum Christmas Tree

            Christmas for me personally, is the smell of pine, a real tree, with shimmering lights, garland, special ornaments made by my children and grandchildren, and new ornaments.

            I vowed a long time ago that I would always have a real tree, preferably one that I would cut down with my family; a tradition that my family and I still follow to this day. A Saturday or Sunday is chosen in December and those family members, who are available, drive to one of the tree farms in the country.  We pile into the tractor-pulled-wagon and sit on the bales of hay. The tractor pulls along and drops us off where the Christmas trees are growing. We stumble off of the wagon, with the little ones, whooping and running toward one tree after another excitedly proclaiming, “Ooh, cut this one, no cut that one, how about the other one!”

            It never fails, it is usually the first tree that we like but we have to go through the ritual of attempting to cut a tree, when another shout arises, “Wait, this is the tree we really want.” We usually end up going back to our first selection.

My sons haul the trees back to the pick-up point, toss them up on the wagon, and we ride back to pay for them. With the trees secured on our vehicles, we head for a family lunch at a restaurant that is close by.

            But, when I was a kid, we had moved from our hometown of Utica, New York, to Cleveland, Ohio. Christmas was the time we traveled back to visit the relatives. We might have our own tree but we opened our Christmas presents before we actually celebrated Christmas because my father was the one who couldn’t wait until Christmas to rip off the decorative ribbons and wrapping paper to see what was hidden from his prying eyes.

            Sometime in the 50s an awful thing happened in our house, awful for us but not for my Dad. The aluminum tree hit the stores, stole my father’s heart, and became a mainstay in my parent’s living room. I can still remember how excited my Dad became when it was time to set up the tree. He painstakingly laid the pieces of the tree on the floor, set the main pole in the stand. Each individual branch would go into the holes. The tip of the branches sort of puffed out like a powder puff with curled fingers. My Dad sorted the colored balls, and placed these strategically throughout the tree, alternating the colors of reds, blues, and greens. But that wasn’t the end. He set up a rotating colored wheel with a spotlight shining in front of it. When my father finished with all of his tree decorating, he would turn off all the lights in the living room, sit in his favorite chair with his legs stretched out on the ottoman and watch the colored wheel turn the aluminum tree red, blue and green. He literally worshipped that tree. He gazed at it lovingly, just as I imagined he once looked at my mother. I hated that tree. And that was when I swore to myself that I would never own an aluminum tree or any artificial tree!

            After my father died in 1991, my stepmother still put the tree up for a few years. She loved it as well. Eventually she stopped putting the tree up and stored it away. When we cleaned out the attic of my parent’s house, I inherited the tree, rotating wheel and spotlight as well. My oldest son always said that he wanted it. I brought the tree back from Cleveland to Pittsburgh and put it in my garage. My son was married at the time that I told him the tree was in a box in my garage. He hemmed and hawed, and finally said that his wife would kill him if he ever brought it home. I finally threw it away.

               The past year, while visiting my cousin, Netta, in Utica, and sharing family stories, I told her about my Dad’s aluminum Christmas tree. I laughed when I told my cousin about my contempt for that tree. Her face was unreadable as she walked out of the room only to return with a photo of her Christmas tree. There it was in color…déjà vu… an identical, ugly aluminum tree. A chill went up my spine as she whispered, “I love this tree.”

Facts for A Christmas Story

The best part of Christmas, for me, are all the Christmas movies that are on television. I have a few favorite movies but by far, my #1 favorite Christmas movie, is A Christmas Story. It wouldn’t be Christmas without watching that movie, at least once or twice during the holiday season.

What I like best about the movie is seeing the familiar land marks of Cleveland, Ohio. I especially love seeing the old Highbees Department Store, across from the downtown square, all lighted up and decorated, along with other familiar parts of the downtown area and streets.

After watching the movie for the umpteenth time, I decided to list a few facts about the movie itself, which are pretty interesting to say the least.

·         The exterior scenes of A Christmas Story were shot in Cleveland, while the interior scenes were shot in Toronto.

·         Cleveland filming took place after the holidays so some of the decorations were still up. They re-decorated Highbees Department Store and the kids in the movie were able to play on the giant slide inside the store.

·         The snow and frost on the trees was frozen water put there by the crew. It took snow blowers 24 hours to cover the area.

·         To stimulate the scene where the little boy got his tongue stuck to the pole, a tiny cup stuck in a hole in the pole and the camera shot this at a certain angle so the viewer wouldn’t be able to see the hole.

·         They wanted to use Jack Nicholson as the father but it was too expensive. Good call because Darren McGavin was great in his role as Ralphie’s dad!

·         Nearly all the tears shed by the actors in the film were real.

·         The scene with the dogs running through the house wasn’t planned and it was spontaneous.

·         Peter Billingsley, who played Ralphie, still has the Red Ryder BB Gun and the pink rabbit suit from the movie.

·         The glasses that were broken in the movie actually belonged to Peter Billinsley.

If you have never seen A Christmas Story – watch it during the holidays. This classic will become a family favorite!

December - Count Down

December is count downtime  for the big day…December 25. December is the time for lots of preparations. It is the time for buying Christmas presents, wrapping the presents, and hiding the gifts from the prying eyes and fingers of not just the little ones, but anyone else who happens to be around.

December is the time to find the right day to cut down the Christmas tree, put one up, decorate  it, and decorate the inside and outside of the house. Add cleaning the house to that list, along with shopping for all the delicacies for the annual Christmas Eve Dinner and the Christmas Day Dinner.

There is the decision as to what cookies to make. Maybe it is the traditional cookies or trying out a new cookie recipe. Then there is finding the right date for the annual Christmas Cookie Exchange. If you’re dealing with a few participants, that can be easy. But if there are a lot of participants, finding the perfect day and time can be problematic.

Christmas can be a hassle or it can be more. Just targeting one day seems pretty silly, so I choose to make the whole month of December special, and that includes doing all the things I need to do. It also means doing something fun. I choose the Cookie Exchange because it is fun and it is a family function. I like to see the Festival of Lights in Oglebay with one of my children and their family. I like going to Market Square and seeing the Christmas kiosks with different ornaments, going to Phipps at night to tour and see the flowers, plants and spectacular decorations by candle light, and going downtown to see the Gingerbread Houses and the display of all the different Santa Clauses from around the world at the PPG Center.

I love Christmas Eve because my whole family comes over and there are a lot of us. I even have some family friends stop in and we eat all sorts of food, and open our presents. On Christmas Day, I go to church and then put more presents in my car and spend the day at my oldest son’s house with his wife and their 6 kids. This brings me back to my holidays when all my kids were little.

I don’t want Christmas to be just one day. I want it to be all of December and maybe all year round!

My Writing Room

My writing room is small and comfortable. I have two bookcases filled with writing books, and vinyl, magazines and tapes that I have collected. There are three CD holders standing with my CD collections. The wall in front of my computer, where I work, has framed pictures of my kids when they were little, I love looking at them because the photos making me happy, even though the times were hectic and crazy, they were still the best of times for me. I loved every bit of those times and wish I could click my New Balance work out shoes and go back to them. But if I could, I wouldn’t want to go through the awful times of 2001 to 2007. Those were the dark times in my life.

I have posters of Lynyrd Skynyrd, an enormous poster of the Bee Gees ‘One Night Only’ concert, a poster of General James Longstreet from the Civil War, and a Jerry Garcia poster. I also have two framed pictures…one of my oldest four children, Matthew, Christopher, Kevin, and Katie… in a crib mugging. The photo was taken in Columbia, Missouri. The other framed photo is of my three grandchildren at that same age…mugging for the camera are Brooke, Matthew, and Mika. Both, oddly, are a duplicate shot and it wasn’t planned. I love those two pictures. On the bookcases I have a wood cut of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame given to me by my good friend, Elaine; a goofy figure from Jeff, (my so-called 7^th son); a Jerry Garcia figure playing the guitar, but the guitar is now missing; a James Longstreet Mug, two lunch boxes of the Bee Gees; an old Bee Gees Record player; a Bernie Kosar framed photo and figure, and a Malkin bobble head! I also have a stand with rattan baskets and on that stand is a record player. There is another shelf filled with more computer paper, extra keyboards, books, and a plastic container of pens and pencils.

I have framed some of my stories that were published, a cactus sketch from Mickey for when I sold my first story, a movie poster from Come Away With Me, with the ‘hotty’ guy from Café Canole, the giraffe picture that my son, Chris, sketched when he was in the 5^th grade, and when we lived in Erie. There is also a framed poster of a woman looking over a railing entitled – Every Woman Should!

My computer desk is a mess! But as long as I can get to the keyboard, I am fine with this. The extra computer chair is stacked with writing as is the garbage can. I left a small opening to throw away crumpled paper and trash. My second desk, by the double windows is chuck filled of papers, markers, pencils, ink, a Browns cap and more CDs. There are some containers on the floor…two that are holding papers as well. It is a mess but I work best this way!

This is my domain where I rule! Or rather write, or attempt to do so.  And like a writer, I write!

New York Trip - Day 3

I was eager for my friend to see the beauty of Cooperstown. I had talked so much of the quaintness and beauty of the village and wanted my friend to see the magic of the town that I always talked about. It was a beautiful drive into the village and my friend was not disappointed. The day was perfect and the gorgeous color of the fall leaves added to the magic.

Our first stop was the James Fenimore Cooper Museum. Our trip was planned specifically to attend the special Dorthea Lange exhibit. Her black and white photographs were on display along with other photographers. All of their black and white photos were of the Depression Era. Lange is famous for her Migrant Mother photo which depicted the pain of the people living in the Dust Bowl during the depression years.

After touring the museum, we drove into the village of Cooperstown. If you stand in the center of the downtown area…you know the village is in a valley. Looking down both ends of the main street, you could see mountains and trees with their fall foliage colors greet you. That made for a spectacular photo shot.

I made my friend go into the Baseball Hall of Fame to see the 10 minute film about baseball. After that, I stayed in the Hall of Fame and slowly went through it again, soaking in all that baseball memorabilia of the past and present. My friend, a photography buff, spent her time walking around the village and taking pictures. We were both in our own individual worlds doing what we wanted to do.

When we were finished, we drove around the area, stopping at an old cemetery and taking photographs. Then we ended up going to see the Hyde House during daylight and taking more pictures.

That night we ate dinner at the Otesaga Resort Hotel. I always wanted to stay at the pricey hotel but eating at the Hawkeye Grill would do. And it did …we had the best service and the best meal. We ended our meal by sharing a delicious banana bread pudding. This meal and setting was the perfect ending to a perfect trip.

I have to say kudos to Suni for a well plotted Itinerary, and we kept to it, arriving back at my house at 4:00. Along the way, we passed signs that brought back memories from my 2002 trip.

Before I end, I have to say that Cooperstown is a magical village plopped down in a valley with the Glimmerglass Lake as a beautiful back drop. I still plan on going back there again…maybe for a long writer’s weekend.

New York Trip - Day 2

After breakfast at The Fine Thread B & B, we drove 40 minutes to corning, Hew York. Since this was on our Itinerary, we actually went into the Corning Glass Museum. My friend, the travel guide, already had Day 2 planned out. We had reservations to take part in a 30 minute glass making session, where we both chose to make sun catchers. The sun catchers would be heated, cooled, and shipped to us later. The glass making session was actually fun.

I did enjoy touring the museum and seeing all the different types of blown glass, glass ware, and objects on display. There was a special exhibit for Rene Lalique. His work was absolutely exquisite. I found a glass pane make by Dale Chihuly, which was different from his other works that I have seen, and even more beautiful. We also found a stained glass panel on display called Orphee aux Feuillages or Orpheus in Foliage designed by Jean Cocteau. This was totally breath-taking and we had to take a number of pictures of it. We ate lunch at the Museum Café and it was a perfect ending for our tour.

The drive to Cooperstown was another 3 hours. We found our motel, Lake-n-Pines next to Glimmerglass Lake (Otsega Lake). This lake was part of the setting for James Fenimore Cooper’s novels. Our motel rooms were great and overlooked the lake. I finally felt connected to the work because the motel had Wi-Fi, and that made the world a better place for me. That night, we had tickets for a Haunted House Tour at the Hyde House, a 50-room mansion. The house was recently featured on the TV series, Ghost Hunters. Most of the people actually said that they saw and heard things in the house, but I am a skeptic, and just chuckled when I heard them mention sounds and having orbs in their photos.

We ate a late dinner in Cooperstown, and the meal was worthy of another clean plate award. While we were eating, another group from our ghost tour was there and they showed us a picture that they took with an odd orb in it. I assumed it was supposed to be a ghost. It was an interesting shot and when I looked at my photos…everyone said that there were small dots in it, which were orbs. My thought was that the next time, I should make sure that I wiped off my camera lens of lint and dust.

All in all, it was another full day, strange sounds, orbs and all. I am definitely looking forward to Day 3.

New York Trip - 2014

I took another road trip to New York with a different friend. Before we even started, my friend sent me a 3-page itinerary of our trip! It started with our Friday, 9:30 departure from my house and our estimated arrival at Hammondsport, New York at 3:30. It was amazing because we actually left a bit later but did arrive at the exact time that was on the paper.

We had reservations at The Fine Thread B&B. We found it and stopped in our tracks when we looked at the door with its Halloween decorations and sign that said Do Not Enter. Besides that the house was run down and didn’t look like any B&B that I ever stayed at, the sign should have been a warning. We didn’t heed it and banged on the door and then called the owner. The 15 year old son, who appeared to not want the job as the tour guide brought us up the steps, pointed out the two separate rooms, and whipped out a note pad to take our breakfast order. OY!

We walked around Hammondsport which was a quaint and beautiful town, along the Keuka River. The houses were the old Victorian type, large and picturesque, and well cared for. The center of the town had an old, comfortable feel to it with a number of antique shops and restaurants.

We entered one restaurant and both of us ordered a yummy hamburger that was worth eating everything off of our plates. We walked around the town and took a few pictures and then went back to our B&B. The place did have cable but no Wi-Fi, which bummed me out. I tried watching TV but despite all the channels, I kept finding the same programs repeated over and over and pretty much couldn’t hear the TV, even with the volume up.

I have to say that the place was quiet and clean but I was happy when we left the next day after breakfast, and drove on to Corning, New York.

New YOrk Road Trip - 2002

In the summer of 2002, a friend and I took a marathon drive to New York. We used a guide book that plotted out a 2-3 day trip to New York and a few places to see along the way. We didn’t bother to check anything out by using the computer and we headed out early the day of our scheduled trip. We usually know where we are going and we have the directions to those places. And I might add we get to our destination without too many problems.

I can remember that the trip was during nice weather, the roads in New York State were perfect, and the scenery was gorgeous. And thus began our trip. Along the way, we stopped in Cuba, New York, and stumbled upon a delightful cheese shop. We bought a few cheeses, stopped at the grocery store for a drink, bread, fresh basil, tomatoes and a plastic knife. We ate our food at the Letchworth State Park, overlooking the falls. Letchworth is known as the little Grand Canyon of the East. Then we proceeded to drive past Watkins Glen, known for NASCAR races. We did stop and took in the sights of Sonnenberg Gardens and Mansion, in Canandaigua, New York. The mansion and gardens were beautiful!

We couldn’t find the B& B that we were supposed to be staying at. We drove back and forth and finally gave up. We were supposedly driving along a scenic tourist drive that was touted as one of the 15 most scenic routes in the world, according to British Airway Magazine. It was getting dark and I didn’t quite get what was breath-taking about not being able to see anything through the thick foliage. We did find our way to a motel and gratefully checked in for the night.

The next morning we stopped for breakfast, which we shouldn’t have because when we got to the Mackenzie-Child’s factory late, we missed the one and only tour. Instead, we did browse around the large store and it was like looking at a mini museum of hand crafted pottery items.

Then we got back into our car and headed to Corning, New York, to tour the glass factory. Somehow I wasn’t in the mood and we skipped it and drove to Ithaca, where my friend pointed out some nice sights as well and the bridge I was navigated across, and the water below it. Because I was driving, I missed that sight. We stopped in the town and found a ton of eclectic shops on Market Street, along with a few bookstores to check out.

The next day, on our return trip, we stopped in Salamanca, New York, to go to the Native American Museum which was high on my list. Since it happened to be Wednesday…we found a sign that said closed on Wednesday. We drove through the town which was a depressed place and every house needed to be painted. We did stop at the local library which kept the books in boxes. This only added to my depression. We skipped the casino…which was my fault because I was too busy complaining about the museum not being opened. Don’t know why I cared because the Museum was tiny and in a store front shop.

We did stop at a winery along Erie and sampled a few wines and brought some to take home. We should have bought the Foxy Lady, and drank the bottle as we drove but then I would have been stopped and arrested for a DUI! We drove some more and ended up paying $25 to park and enter the Chautauqua Institute…which was a very weird place, right down to the organ musical going on in the open shell area.

My friend made a book of our trip and this sums everything up – she left two pages blank and it pretty much represented what we missed because we were late, too early, wrong date or couldn’t find it!!! Our trip did end up being a big hit of misses, closed for the day, lots of miles on my car and a whole lot of laughter with my co-pilot. And at that time, God knew that I needed a whole lot of laughter!!!

Much Ado about Trees

Besides that Mondays are a pain after a nice weekend…mine turned out to be not just a pain, but a nightmare of a Monday. I started out having my new car inspected at the Ford Dealer. I thought since it was a 2014 model…my stay would be an in and out. After three hours of replacing things because of five recalls, I was out of there. They did do a free oil change and washed my car, and that would be the high point of my day!

I struggled with going to do my errands or going home to put on my gym clothes. Guilt won out and I drove home to change into my gym clothes. On my way home, I started to think about calling the tree service, which I had signed a contract with and sent in a hefty deposit, to find out when they would be coming out to cut down the trees.

As I pulled up to my house, the tree cutters were there, a few trucks were lined up and I had to park somewhere down the road. But I was happy to see them and not have to call. One of the workers pointed out what they had cut and ran over what else they planned to do. Then I looked at his hoody and saw the name of the tree service…J.R. Tree Service. As my stomach sank down into my knees, I looked at the guy and said…You are not Lumberjack’s Tree Service? I signed a contract with them and wrote out a check to them! We discussed the mix up because my daughter gave this tree service a verbal okay. They didn’t bother with a contact and now I was in a panic.

I ran in the house and took the steps, two at a time, sat at my desk and called Lumberjacks. After discussing my dilemma…the woman was okay with everything, and tore up the contract and would be sending me back my deposit.

I sat in front of my computer and felt the air go out of me. My head pounded and I just sat there for a while, wishing I was at a bar and could have ordered an alcoholic drink. I kept wondering why nothing ever runs smoothly for me? This screwy incident pretty much summed up my life.

I shook it off, stood up, went into my bedroom, changed my clothes and left my house. The sawing and noise of the machinery was hurting my head. I didn’t return until later that night. The next day my peace and quiet was spoiled as I had to listen to the loud grinding of the stumps and roots being grounded and cut away from the two trees that I had taken down.  And I would have two spots with soil and dirt in piles. For all the money I spent and the trauma, I would have thought the tree service could at least have run a rake and smoothed out the bombed out area.

Unfortunately, that is going to be my job over the weekend. Instead, I talked my son and grandson into helping me for a pizza and a pop!

Trick or Treat!

This will be the third year in a row that it will be raining while the kids go out and Trick or Treat. What a bummer! The rain will slow the kids down, and wreck their costumes and the candy and will actually shorten the time they stay out.

In my area, we used to get a good number of Trick or Treaters. So, we always had a lot of candy and when we ran out of it, we would use the candy that our kids brought back and discarded because they didn’t like. The weeks leading up to Trick or Treat night was exciting for our kids. They would always try to figure out what they wanted to be. With nine kids, we usually didn’t buy those costumes but made them, or pulled them together with whatever we had in the house.

When they were little and I only had a few kids…I would make their costumes…like Raggedy Andy, or a bunny or angel. Those were easy to make. Then when more of my kids started to go out…they were usually a bum! We always had old clothes around, lots of leaves to stuff under their over-sized shirts and pants, and a wine cork. The wine cork was essential because we would burn it and use the ashes to rub over their faces. It seemed like every year they would be bums. But then it changed to store bought costumes that were handed down or bought on sale, or maybe someone would use their football uniforms and go out and Trick or Treat.

When I was little, I remember always wanting a store bought costume. One year, I wanted to be a devil but my mother, who was Catholic, was against it. So instead my first store bought costume was a skeleton one. But that was the year that it snowed and my bones washed away. I looked like I just had a black outfit on. But that didn’t stop me. In those days we lived in the city. My brother and I would go out treating with a large brown grocery bag. When we had stuffed the bag to the top, we ran home, and got another bag and filled that up. Those we really the good old days!

Regardless of how Halloween is seen by adults…it is important to be part of it and those memories or similar ones like mine stay with you forever!

Happy Trick or Treating!

Sleepovers - Now

Lately, I have been trying to have my grandchildren here for a sleep over at my house. The grandkids are always asking to stay over. So I decided to have one or two or sometimes three of the grandkids stay over-night on the weekends.

One on one is better because I can zero in on that grandchild. Usually with just one grandchild, I can let them decide what they want to do or where they want to go. I usually have special snacks that they like. I also take them to Barnes and Noble, or Target, or Five Below to choose a few things that they like and want.

We play board games and card games. Maybe we rent a kids movie On Demand, or watch a special movie or program that my grandchild wants to watch. I let the grandchild or grandchildren stay up a little bit later at night. The next morning, I usually make them pancakes with sprinkles or chocolate chips, along with bacon. After breakfast, we play more games until I take them home.

Having one grandchild stay over, allows us to talk to one another. With two grandchildren, one has to give in to the other. And with three, it is just a bit more chaotic.

So far, I have had nine grandchildren over for a sleep over. I have quite a few more that haven’t had a sleep over yet, but I plan on it.

It is kind of fun being grandma and having a one-on-one sleepover with my grandkids. I really do get a kick 

out of it. And it reminds me of the old days when 

Sleepovers - Then

I remember in the good old days…that is the days when my kids were little, sleepovers were important to them. It seemed like every other weekend, they begged for sleepovers. That wasn’t bad but when you have nine kids clamoring for a sleepover, it is. Sometimes there would be nine extra kids over. Maybe some of my kids would spend the night over at someone else’s house. But then if that happened, it wasn’t uncommon to have a number of my kids having one or two of their friends staying over-night here.

The sleepovers became a ritual. Of course, their friends would come over early on Friday. That meant supper and of course that meant pizzas! Besides pizza, there had to be snacks and some sort of drink.

Sleepovers do not mean kids sleep. It means they come over and stay at your house, clean out your refrigerator and food pantry and stay awake all night long. This is where parents come in…they stock up the refrigerator and keep the food coming. They make sure that the kids keep the noise level down. This also includes hauling them back into the house late at night when you hear the basketballs bounce on the court with the outdoor light on.

The next morning after you don’t sleep…you have to get up early and get some food on the table. That means…eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, and someone does a run to pick up doughnuts. After the kids play some more…their parents slowly drag themselves over and pick up their kids. Other parents don’t show up for hours. Sometimes someone seems to be here for the whole day.

The sleepovers continued until my kids were well into their teens. Sometimes there would be at least another eight or nine extra kids here on some weekends. But it seems that every weekend there were extra kids over at my house.

The sleepovers turned into huge parties, and after prom parties. No one else was crazy enough to have those parties. Pizzas, pop, and snacks were a must. And the next morning an assembly line would form in the kitchen making platters of eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, and toast. By the time everyone went home…the house needed to be cleaned up.

Oddly, afterwards the house was strangely quiet. If our kids were at home, they would collapse on their beds from their hard night of being awake all night. The only people around and awake were us, the parents…cleaning up the house and trying to stay awake.

Honestly, I don’t miss the sleepovers but I do miss the kids!

Proud Momma

My daughter, the chef, invited me along to help her set up for her food demo at the women’s guild meeting at St. John Neumann’s church.

I sat with the other 18 women who were attending the demo. My daughter mentioned to me before the meeting that she hadn’t prepared what she was going to say and she would wing it.

Wing it? Not by a long shot. When you live your job 24/7, you don’t have to wing a thing or even practice what you are going to say. You know it all by heart. My daughter demonstrated how to make two different soups, pumpkin and French onion. She talked about all the ingredients that went into the soups and how those ingredients are probably already on your pantry shelves.

Her demonstration and talk was flawless. She’s been a chef for over 15 years and it showed. Erin didn’t have to practice a thing; she has been living her craft for years in her catering kitchen and now in her own deli, Erin’s Deli, in downtown Pittsburgh.

During her demonstration the women were taking notes and writing down the recipes. They asked a number of questions. Erin had already made the soups in her kitchen. But she showed the women how to make each, step by step. Afterwards, the women lined up and sampled both, and a number of them asked for her business card.

Like the proud mother that I was, I didn’t open my mouth during the food demonstration and just sat quietly in my chair enjoying watching my daughter talk about what she loves. I just beamed with pride as I watched Erin weave her cooking magic on the audience. All I could think of is that is my daughter, Erin, the chef!