Lone cascarón

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Once upon a time, I was a Girl Scout leader. During the eight years I was privileged to warp shape the minds of little Daisies and Brownies, my troops and I engaged in awesome — and some not-so-awesome — activities. One that I remember each year around Easter is the creating of the cascarones. It was one of the most successful crafts of my tenure.

Cascarones, as I enlightened my followers, are confetti-filled eggshells (cáscaras) broken over the heads of others to bring good luck. It's a popular tradition of the Hispanic culture, often seen at weddings and especially at Easter time.

Cascarones are pretty simple to make. Here are the steps and some photos:

1. To hollow out an egg, gently whack the smaller end of a raw egg with a knife to create a wedge for prying off the end.

2. Gently remove the end of the shell, creating a hole about the size of a 50-cent piece.

3. Gently remove the raw egg inside by letting it drop into a container.

4. Gently (yes, "gently" is the key to most of these steps!) rinse out the egg, using your finger (gently) to remove any egg white sticking to the shell. Set aside to dry.

5. Once the egg is completely dry, decorate the outside as desired. Gently, of course. A simple method with children is to use markers, as I did (hastily) with this example. Some traditionalists color the egg with commercial egg dyes typically used to color Easter eggs. Don't decorate with stickers as they prevent the shell from breaking during the fun.

6. Fill the decorated egg with confetti. Packaged glitter confetti from a craft store is best because it's most gleefully messy festive. Or use a hole punch or paper shredder (the "cross-cut" ones work great!) to make your own from colored paper.

7. Using a glue stick, carefully line the edge of the hole and glue a square of tissue paper over the hole. Allow glue to dry completely. Store egg in a safe place until the festivities.

The year of the Girl Scout cascarones, my family stepped out onto the front lawn Easter afternoon to crack wishes of good luck upon one another's noggins. We laughed and loved and left layers of confetti in the grass. Tidbits of good tidings were visible through the blades of green grass for months. Years after, a glint of gold or green confetti would often catch my eye as I sat on the porch swing, swaying and smiling as I remembered the multiple cascarones we cracked that festive Easter.

This year, I have one lone cascarón. Made for this post. With only a single egg to crack upon the head of a loved one, I'm considering which of those I'll be spending Easter Day with most needs a smack upside the head dose of good luck. Jim, Brianna, and Andrea best beware.

Unless, that is, a little Googling reveals the cascarones tradition has no rules discouraging the cracking of the goodies upon one's own head. Because these days, I'll take good luck any darn way I can get it!

Today's question:

What special memories do you have of decorating Easter eggs?

Valentine's Day and other overhyped happenings

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Valentine's Day is Monday, which makes this the ultimate weekend of love. Or so we've been made to believe. I'm usually not cynical about much -- I prefer to find the magical in even the mundane -- but Valentine's Day is one of those happenings that has been overhyped and underperforming for years, so it's hard to get all mushy-gushy, misty-eyed and magical about it.

Jim and I have never really made a big deal out of Valentine's Day. Mostly because it seems so forced, so obligatory ... and so packed at restaurants on the big day. We mark it in small ways, nothing huge.

But my daughters want (and deserve) the magical. They want (and deserve) the mushy-gushy. Yet they've spent plenty of Valentine's Days down in the dumps because they're single. Or down in the dumps because they're NOT single and their truly beloved isn't being as lover-ly as he was expected to be.

Bottom line is that Valentine's Day never lives up to the hype. For me or for those I love. So I wish the hype would just go away, disappear from our collective conscience and let love and other things fall where they may.

I don't mean to take only poor Cupid to task, though, for Valentine's Day is far from the only overhyped happening in my experience. Here are a few more:

Lisa's list of things that fall short of their hype

1. Rocky Horror Picture Show ... oh, and Citizen Kane

2. High-school proms and homecomings

3. Turning 30

4. For that matter, turning 16, 18, and 21

5. New Year's Eve

6. Disneyworld

7. Calgon baths

8. Champagne

9. Godiva chocolates

I think the root of the disappointment isn't the happening in itself, it's the expectations surrounding it. So I'm learning to lower my expectations. Better yet, I'm working to have no expectations at all.

My only expectation now is this: That limited expectations just might lead to unexpected mushy-gushy, misty-eyed and magical moments all year long.

If not for myself, then at least for my daughters.

Today's question:

What have you found falls miserably short of its hype?

National Hugging Day

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Megan passes along my hugs to Bubby.When I pose questions to the subjects of my Grilled Grandma feature, one of the questions always included is, "How do you maintain the bond between yourself and your grandchildren between visits?" I ask that question partially for selfish reasons: Because I want ideas to add to my list of ways to maintain a strong bond between Bubby and myself despite the 819 miles between us.

One of the things on my list that I do as often as possible -- although admittedly not as consistently as I'd like -- is to mark unusual holidays and dates of recognition with Bubby by sending him a toy, a book or some other inexpensive goodie related to the day. This works especially well in months when there is no major holiday, no scheduled cause for celebration or connection.

So here we are at January 21, and it just so happens to be National Hugging Day. And what better way to recognize National Hugging Day than with a hug? Right?

Well, considering that I'm in the mountains and Bubby's in the desert, a real, live, lovin'-touchin'-squeezin' kind of hug unfortunately isn't possible. But there are virtual hugs to be shared. Not quite as satisfying, of course, but we long-distance grandmas -- and long-distance grandkids -- have no choice but to get our hugs (and even a minimal bit of satisfaction) any way we can.

So I'm sending Bubby a hug. Via e-mail. Luckily American Greetings has some perfectly appropriate hugging cards, so I'm zapping one off to Bubby care of his Mommy's e-mail address.

One good thing about this kind of hug is that he'll have it to open again and again, any time he needs a hug from Gramma, even though she's way far away in the mountains. And that'll do for now, at least until he gets the real thing from me in thirteen days!

Coincidentally, just as I reached this point in writing this post Thursday afternoon, Megan called. Bubby got on the phone to tell me how very sad he is because "all my toys are packed" for the move to their new house this weekend. He woefully explained that he has only "one truck" to play with (which Megan refuted, saying he has a cold and is being a drama king). I went along with the drama and after he told me the truck is red and black and yellow, Bubby said he's so sad and needs ... you got it ... a hug! So immediately after hanging up the phone, I went ahead and sent my National Hugging Day card a day early, just so Bubby would have a hug in his time of need. Like I said, being a virtual hug in an e-card, he could have his hug early then still have hugs from Gramma any time he needs them, including on the actual National Hugging Day.

In recognition of National Hugging Day, I urge you to go out and give somebody a hug today -- virtual or otherwise. Just like I did with Bubby, you may find yourself extending your arms at exactly the time someone needs them.

And from me to you, happy National Hugging Day!

Today's question:

Some people give so-so hugs, others give super-duper satisfying bear hugs. Who in your life gives the very best hugs ever?

Calendar girl

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Yesterday I copied all the birthdays and anniversaries from my 2010 calendar onto my 2011 calendar then added the old calendar to my stack of those I've saved for years -- every year since 1997, to be exact.

I abhor packrats and do my best not to be one, so holding onto reminders of dentist appointments and "No School" dates of years past may seem in opposition to my cause. But the old calendars are so much more than appointment reminders: They are time in a bottle. Snapshots of the hustle and bustle of a once busy household. A record of the good, the bad, the scary, the sweet -- an organic record that didn't require me to journal or scrapbook or keep a diary or update a blog to maintain it.

Most of the markings on the grids of daily happenings are in my handwriting. Others are in the handwriting of one or another of the girls, applied in painstakingly perfect penmanship befitting an occasion important enough to be included on the family calendar for all to consider in their schedule.

Each notation holds much more than just a record of where we had to be and what time we had to be there, though. They hold stories, stories that bring mostly grins (birthday parties and school sporting events) and groans (dentist appointments and work schedules). Others cause my eyes to well up, my heart to grow a little cold, and a lump to form in my throat. Those are the notations of occasions that serve as poignant reminders of our challenges, the growing pains that strengthened our family fabric and made it the resilient, tight-knit one it is today.

As I skim the calendars before placing them back on the shelf for another year, here are some of the scribbles that touch my heart:

April 28, 1997: "Closing" - This is the date we officially bought the house we rented for 10 years before finally getting up the nerve -- and the income -- to ask our landlords if we could buy it. It's the house that became the childhood home of our three girls, the place we raised them all, from kindergarten through college.

July 21-25, 1997: "Brianna in Texas" - Brianna went to Work Camp; we remodeled our new house to add a fourth bedroom while she was gone. Andrea and Megan rejoiced at no longer having to share a room, no longer having to divide the space with duct tape down the center. Jim and I rejoiced that the bickering would end.

May 25, 1998: "Andie leaves" - Andrea spent a week at Sea Camp in San Diego and to this day still dreams of working with dolphins. Somewhere. Somehow. Which is a tad challenging considering she lives in the Rocky Mountains.

March 22, 1999: "5:30 a.m. Brianna skiing" - Clinches the heart a bit as Brianna will likely never ski again after the damage done to her back when her (stopped) car was rear-ended at a stoplight by a landscaping truck.

April 24-25, 1999: "Retaining wall" - One of the many "huh?" markings on the calendars, important at the time but now completely forgotten.

October 15, 1999: "UNC College Day" - Our first visit to check out a college for our first-born.

July 18, 2000: "Test w/HR 2:30" - The beginning of my newspaper career.

July 28-29, 2000: "American Co-ed Pageant" - Megan needed college funds and left no stone unturned. She won no pageant money but we both received an unexpected -- and unpleasant -- introduction to pageantry and "pageant moms." Believe me when I say Little Miss Sunshine resonates.

October 25-27, 2001: "Seward" - Our first visit with Megan to what would become her college town. And eventually Andrea's college town.

June 22-27, 2002: "Disney World" - Our last vacation as a family. <sniff>

June 29, 2002: "Marked words: Brianna will NOT be with Eric at this time next year!" - Too funny now. What's not funny is that marking one's words doesn't make things magically come true ... or eliminate the need to keep marking them.

May 25, 2003: "Andie's Graduation Party" - My baby, my last daughter, graduated and soon off to college.

June 27, 2003: "I'm old" - Any guess as to whose birthday this was?

July 22, 2006: "Meg's wedding!"

June 18, 2008: "BUBBY!" - Okay, it doesn't really say "Bubby," it says his real name. An all-caps pronouncement of joy just the same.

December 5, 2008: "D-Day!" - This was the day my layoff was scheduled ... and occurred. The end of my stint as a special sections editor. The end of my newspaper career.

Sprinkled throughout the calendar pages, amidst notes about the girls going on mission trips, attending prom, graduating from high school and college, are red-letter dates of concerts and performances that Jim and I were to attend: Pearl Jam, Live, Tommy, Black Crowes, Rent, Counting Crows and more. Memorable occasions all. But my pile of ticket stubs serves as a better reminder of those particular dates. And, yes, serves as another large stack of paper this non-packrat refuses to get rid of.

On second thought, maybe I am a packrat after all. A sentimental packrat with lots of memories worth holding on to.

Today's question:

What do you do with your old calendars?