Happy Labor Day!

August 7, 2010

Today's question:

How would you rate your horse-riding abilities?

You gotta see this video. As Megan wrote when she sent me the link to it, "It's incredible what a little exercise will help you accomplish even in your 70s!"

Wow, Wow and WOW, wouldn't you say?!

Have a fantabulous Labor Day weekend!

Today's question:

What's on your schedule for the long weekend?

1. The book read to me to prepare me for the hospital visit. I recall there being brightly colored pictures of a little boy who's hospital gown didn't stay closed very well and nurses in white uniforms with the matching hats they wore back in the day. I search for that book every time I vist a used-book or antique store. I'm determined to one day find it.

2. Jello being served to me in the hospital bed afterwards.

3. Quisp. The character from the cereal. Somehow Quisp figures into my tonsil-removal experience. I think I received the stuffed Quisp doll from someone ... or maybe a lucky child in the bed next to me received the quirky alien ... or maybe I've imagined the entire thing. Imagined or not, the Quisp doll and tonsils go hand-in-hand in my mind.

(Let me stop here and say that if you are one of the young-uns who don't know what the cuss Quisp is, you can catch up by reading all about the cereal, the character and the battle with Quest right HERE.)

So last weekend, Brianna and I were out shopping for butt-toning shoes for my walks, along with a few other things. I bought my shoes, she bought two pair (not butt-toning ones) and we moved on to Target.

No, I do not fill my ceral bowl this full. Illustrative purposes only.We're toodling toward the kitchen gadgets -- or whatever the heck it was we were there to get -- and what do I happen upon but an end cap stocked to the brim with, you guessed it ... no, not Jello ... but QUISP cereal!

The quirky little pink alien smiled from the blue box, just like I remembered from 40 years ago, beckoning me to the shelf. My eyes widened, my heart leapt and phantom pains from long-gone tonsils squelched squeals of delight. So I didn't squeal, but I did smile wide, pick up a box and share my Quisp story -- or my imagined Quisp story -- with Brianna.

I also bought a box. How could I resist?

When I got home, Jim, too, squealed upon seeing Quisp. Okay, he didn't really squeal, but he was just as excited to see the little guy as I was. Which surprised me because he certainly didn't know me when I had my tonsils out and never had the good fortune of seeing my Quisp doll. And he definitely is not a fan of cereal (I've never seen him eat a bowl of cereal in our entire lives together).

"Now that's a cereal I could handle," he said. "Dry, of course." (His aversion to cold cereal has something to do with milk, I've been told. Never, ever will he eat cold cereal with milk. Dry, apparently, is another story. Especially if it's Quisp, even more so apparent.)

So I happily placed the alien cereal in the cabinet, looking forward to having a bowl or two during the week. Which I did yesterday. And it was everything I remembered: little flying saucers that hold smidgens of milk ... and float in the milk as the saucers become few. A sweet, crunchy taste much like Cap'n Crunch -- without the damaging-to-the-roof-of-the-mouth crunchiness of Cap'n Crunch. Soggy saucers if if not eaten quickly enough. And the nausea that comes soon after swallowing the last bite.

Nausea? Yeah, the stuff always made me sick to my stomach for some reason. But I loved it so much -- call it successful marketing, maybe -- that I ate it regardless of the nausea, regardless of how I'd feel afterwards.

Also regardless of the nausea: I plan to buy two more boxes of Quisp before it disappears from Target. Not because of the taste -- nausea's not as easy to ignore as it used to be -- but because <insert drum roll here> with just three proofs of purchase and $4.95 for shipping and handling, I can receive by mail an authentic Quisp T-shirt!

I am so ordering it! And I plan to forevermore proudly wear my Quisp T-shirt as I peruse used-book stores and antique shops in my hunt for the out-of-print picture book featuring a little boy's hiney peeking from his hospital gown as he visited the hospital for his very first medical procedure. A little boy who wasn't as fortunate as I to receive a Quisp doll during his visit. Or to even imagine receiving a Quisp doll, as my case very well may be.

Today's question:

What do you remember about your very first hospital visit (well, first other than being born)?

Early in the book, Holloway writes of how Wills names his soon-to-be-adopted puppy -- a puppy that would decidedly be female -- "Cowboy" after a quick run-through of ideas with Mom. His first choice (for a female puppy, mind you) was Vincent, of which Holloway writes: "'Vincent is good,' I said, hoping we'd come up with something more upbeat and less like the conniving killer with the bone-chilling laugh in The House of Wax." So she offered up "Ringo." Wills countered with "Cowboy" (from his bedtime song of Cowboys Sing Good Night). "And it's okay that Cowboy's a girl?" Holloway asked him. "Who cares?" was his response. Simple as that, Wills' puppy became Cowboy.

ShannonIt reminded me of Andrea -- the biggest animal-lover in our family -- and her penchant for giving animals unusual names, starting with the naming of her first cat at about the same age Wills named his first puppy.

For many years, our only family animal was a beautiful blue-point Siamese I named Sadie. I can't remember why I chose that name, and I don't recall there being any huge significance to it. The name just sounded good, it fit, it stuck.

Then for animal-loving Andrea's fourth birthday, she was given the kitty she'd begged and pleaded for after seeing it during a July 4 party hosted by a friend of mine. (I'll never cop to a few drinks being the reason I gave in to her requests.)

MickeyFor Andrea, her new itsy-bitsy gray-and-white kitty's name did have huge significance. So she named it Shannon. After one of Brianna's friends. The loveliest of older girls, with long blonde hair, an infectious laugh and a perpetually sunny disposition. All the boys at school pined for her; Andrea idolized her. So she named her cat after her. Which was perfectly fine -- except that Shannon regularly got out of the house and I had to try to lure her back in. Calling out the door or roaming the block calling "Shannon ... Shannon ..." surely sounded like I was the worst of the worst mothers ever, nonchalantly searching for a lost child who'd wandered away.

Soon after, we got Moses, a black lab/collie mix and our first family dog. I gave him that name in hopes he'd live up to it and follow our commandments. Then my sweet Sadie passed away at 19 years old and was (eventually) replaced by tabby Abby. Then, soon after Andrea went off to college, her precious Shannon passed away and was replaced (for me and Abby, not Andrea) with crazy Isabel, a Halloween cat if ever there was one.

KamileahAndrea had no say-so in naming that batch of animals. But when we unexpectedly rescued a sweet 8-week-old pit/pointer mix who'd had both back legs broken by his previous owner, we offered for Andrea name him so that although she was away at college, she'd feel some ownership of the newest family pet. The puppy was white with caramel-colored spots and made Andrea think of her favorite thing in the world at that time: Caramel Macchiatos from Starbucks. She wanted to call the puppy Caramel Macchiato -- but I couldn't go that far in allowing her free reign on the naming. We settled on Mickey. Good enough, she agreed, huffing adding that she'll just name her own animal Caramel Macchiato when she gets one.

LylaAnd her first animal did, indeed, have the same coloring as our Mickey. But she chose to name the calico cat Kamileah, which means "perfection" in Egyptian, Andrea says, and was chosen after much Googling and searching for the absolute perfect name for her very own pet.

LukeHer next very own pet, a rescue dog of black lab/shepherd descent, she named Lyla. Because in Persian it means "dark as night." And Lyla she remains -- although she's been adopted by Grandma and Grandpa (meaning me and Jim) after apartment living didn't suit her style ... and her overactive bladder, constant chewing, and hyper disposition didn't suit Andrea's patience.

It was only with her most recent pet acquisition that Andrea settled on something a little more "normal." A few months ago she purchased the cutest little fluffball of a dog ever, a Zuchon, and she named him Luke. Of course, unlike her mother who names animals just whatever sounds good, she crowned the puppy Luke because he looks like an Ewok from Star Wars, but calling him Ewok would have been a little bizarre, she thought. So she named him Luke ... after Luke Skywalker.

And it was that reasoning, that relatively normal name for a pet -- coming from a young adult who not so long ago thought Caramel Macchiato was an acceptable name for a puppy -- that led me to the most bittersweet of realizations: My animal-loving little girl, the last of my three babies, had truly grown up.

Today's question:

What's the strangest name of one of your past or present pets?

It's here, though, on Grandma's Briefs, that you can find out why I say Dian is not only a coupon queen, but the ultimate Nana as well. By reading Grilled Grandma: Dian, you'll find out:

1. What Dian's daughter thinks Dian has trouble keeping to herself.

2. Why Dian (unfortunately) no longer gets to see her grandchildren every day.

3. The story of "Daddy jealousy," featuring Dian's granddaughter.

You'll also get to see some of the cutest little kiddos ever (a preview of which is above -- see what I mean!?)!

Once you're done reading Grilled Grandma: Dian, I'd love to hear from you with names of grandmas you would like to see featured as a Grilled Grandma. Whether you nominate yourself, a friend, or a family member, there's more than enough room on the schedule to fit in one and all. All you have to do is send me a first name and e-mail address, and I'll take care of the rest. I promise you this: The grilling won't hurt a bit!

Today's question:

Dian's blog is full of great deals and coupon options. How often do you use coupons when grocery shopping?

When I was young, my grandmas were strange yet beloved creatures. As I grew older, I realized it wasn't just my grandmas, but that most grandmas seemed to be strange creatures, all with interesting, amusing, sometimes even downright baffling quirks and mannerisms.

Well, in the short time since joining the ranks of the strange creatures known as grandmas, I've learned they're not so strange after all. While some quirks and mannerisms still remain a mystery, here are ...

9 THINGS I NOW UNDERSTAND ABOUT GRANDMAS

1. I now understand why grandmas wear their eyeglasses on chains around their necks. With six pair of glasses strategically placed around the house, I definitely see the value of wearing them around the neck. I don't do it (yet), but I now understand it.

2. I now understand why grandmas always have the best snacks ever in their kitchens. It's not because their cabinets are always filled with such goodies (Grandma -- and Grandpa -- would weigh 10 tons each if that were the case). It's because they stock up before the little ones visit, ensuring no culinary craving of a grandchild goes unsatisfied.

3. I now understand why grandmas are such excellent cooks ... and/or bakers. They've had years of experience, so what else might one expect? More importantly, though, all their kitchen concoctions include heaping helpings of love, which makes all the difference in the world.

4. I now understand why grandmas are in their jammies by 8 p.m. As it's no longer likely someone will stop by for a visit that "late," why not get comfortable. And even if some night owl did stop by for a visit, grandmas no longer really give a hoot what someone may think of them being in their jammies by 8 p.m. -- or any other time.

5. I now understand why grandmas back in the day wore dresses more often than not. Gosh! It took me years to realize dresses are soooo much more comfortable than pants ... especially jeans. Luckily the house dresses of old are no longer the only casual dress options for grandmas.

6. I now understand why grandmas place protective coverings over the "good furniture." Although I first saw the light on this one in terms of keeping cat hair off certain chairs, I quickly realized how handy it could be for easy cleanup of baby spit-up, leaking diapers or little hands covered in popcorn butter while enjoying a flick with Grandma and Grandpa.

7. I now understand why grandmas spout so many sage (and sometimes silly) words of advice. After years and years of collecting witticisms and adages it's hard not to pass them along to those little pitchers with big ears -- or big pitchers who should use those big ears more often.

8. I now understand why grandmas squeeze their grandchildren so tightly when they hug them. It's because they love the kiddos so darn much they just want to eat them up. Eating them would be rather bizarre though (not to mention illegal), so grandmas simply squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until the impulse to nibble passes ... or until the grandchildren wriggle away.

9. I now understand why grandmas have non-stop smiles on their faces when with their grandkids. The reason? Because nothing -- absolutely nothing -- fills up grandmas and makes them quite as happy as the moments they spend with their grandchildren. (That, or they've just gotten lazy in their old age and are following their own advice regarding it taking 43 muscles to frown yet only a mere 17 to smile.)

Photo courtesy Flickr/freeparking

Today's question:

What do you find amusing, interesting, baffling or bizarre about grandmas -- yours or others' (or even yourself)?

Imagine the quintessential grandmother -- her dress, her personality, her mannerisms, her quirks.

Got her in mind?

Did you envision Grandma as plumpish, gray hair pulled back, dressed in comfortable clothing (sweats? jeans and a T-shirt? a house dress?), enjoying her rocking chair and knitting after just pulling the last pan of cookies from the oven?

Or did you you see a chic career woman with the latest hairstyle -- definitely not gray hair! -- picking up Chinese takeout on her way home from work, wrapping up the loose ends of a long week as she prepares for a relaxing weekend getaway?

Both visions are correct, of course. Although I'd say a combination of the two is likely a more accurate picture of what today's grandmothers look like.

Whatever your vision of "Grandma," one trait sure to be included is patience. For the quintessential grandma takes her time with her grandchildren. She doesn't rush them to get dressed. Doesn't roll her eyes at their curiosity with everything on the way out the door -- or out of the room. Doesn't tap her toes and look at the clock as scheduled activities and appointments await while those meant to be there hem and haw and take their sweet time getting. in. the. car.

No, there's none of that "hurry up" harriedness with grandmas. For grandmas are patient.

Those grandmas who live near the grandchildren, that is. Those who see their grandkids on a regular basis.

Not so much with the long-distance grandmas.

At least that's my theory ... a theory formed after spending a week with Bubby.

You see, years ago I was a fairly patient person. I was mother to three young daughters; I had no choice but be patient. You simply can't rush little kids. So rather than tap toes and grit teeth, I learned to be patient.

Then my little girls became teenagers. And I became less patient. I won't even go there, won't go into detail, because we all know what teen girls are like -- we've either had one or we've been one. And we know it does a number on a mother's patience.

Then the girls left home. And I was left being a rather impatient person.

I try. But God knows -- and Jim will certainly attest -- that I lean a bit more toward being an impatient screaming mimi than a relaxed picture of patience. Most days, most of the time.

Except for the time I spend with Bubby. During such times, my patience returns. I don't rush him to do anything. I couldn't rush him to do anything. He's on his own clock and it doesn't tick anywhere near as furiously as mine.

So I adjust mine a bit. And I do so with no qualms, no complaints. Because I love Bubby, want to spend every possible minute with him. And when I'm lucky enough to be given such minutes, there's nothing more pressing on the docket than following his schedule.

During our recent time together, we'd be on the way to get him dressed for the day and Bubby would happen upon a car -- or truck or motorcycle or dinosaur -- that needed zooming around the room. No problem! Zoom away.

We'd be packing for a trip to the park and Bubby would first want to watch for squirrels out the dining room window. No problem! "Here squirrelly squirrel."

When it was time to color, proper set up by Bubby was required first. Meaning he'd lay out each and every crayon, one next to the other, perfectly aligned before even considering opening the coloring book to choose a page. No problem! Lined-up crayons create a beautiful rainbow.

When it was time for the dogs to get a morning treat, Mickey and Lyla would sit nicely, awaiting the treat Bubby planned to award them ... after he turned each dog biscuit around and around in his hands, reciting the ABCs inscribed on the goodies. No problem! Even the dogs understood patience was the order of the day.

And when we had to go up stairs ... or down stairs ... Bubby would take one step with the right foot, then one step with the left foot, onto the same stair. Right foot again ... left foot onto the same stair. Right foot again ... left foot on the same stair. One-by-one we did double time on each stair. No problem! It simply meant I had a little bit longer to hold Bubby's hand in mine as we traversed each staircase.

I was okay with all of it. Every s-l-o-w second of it. My usual hurry-up harriedness didn't apply while with Bubby. Didn't matter while I was with Bubby. And that, I theorize, is the case with all grandmothers when they're with their grandchildren. And when they're with them often, patience becomes part of who they are, a trait they possess without question. Patience becomes permanently instilled in them.

My hope is that one day I will be a permanently patient person.

My hope is that one day I will no longer be a long-distance grandma.

Today's question:

Mine is impatience and being a control freak. What is one of your less admirable traits?

Playing the part of Little Trooper in this scene is Bubby, who tries his darnedest to make things clear for his not-so-nimble-minded grandmother.

Today's question:

I get the bit about the piggy, but what's your best guess at what Bubby is trying so hard to relate to Gramma?

Judging by a few comments and e-mails I've received, though, many folks -- and not just grandmas! -- are still a bit intimidated by video chatting in general and Skype in particular. So here I offer you an explanation of Skyping, straight from the source:

Yep, it's as simple as that!

(By the way, did you notice "Lisa" and "James" in the list of contacts. I swear, it's not me, it's not Jim. I found that pretty amusing.)

One thing the little video above doesn't tell you is that you first need to download the program and install it on your computer. You'll find that on the Skype website.

Another very important thing the video doesn't mention: You need a decent Internet connection. There's nothing more frustrating than getting a glimpse of your grandchild grinning from ear to ear then CRASH, he's gone. Or the video freezes up. Or the whole experience feels like you're viewing a jerky reel-to-reel film on its last leg. Believe me; I've been there.

Once you have those three things in hand -- the know-how (from the video), the program (from Skype) and a decent connection (from whomever you have your connection with) -- you're on your way to Skyping with your sweeties!

Let me know how it goes!

Disclaimer: I'm not affiliated in any way with Skype and they paid me nothing for this plug. Although I really think they should.

Today's question:

How often do you video chat, using Skype or any other video-chat program?