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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Stuff

After my Grandma's funeral several of my out of area relatives were able to go through her little apartment and find some mementos of her to take with them. Surprisingly, we all have our own trigger items that make us feel close to Grandma and Grandpa. One cousin took the apple motif dishes, another wanted the case of bubbly yellow glasses. My brother wanted the grandfather clock that was my my grandfather's pride and joy. 

It also surprised me that the things in her kitchen drawer didn't find their way into my cousins and siblings small pile. Maybe it's because I'm the oldest female grandchild that Grandma's kitchen is the biggest warm memory for me. I'd think the boys would be all over that because my grandma was a great cook and did a lot of cooking over the years. 

Maybe it's because I got to help or that we would talk while she worked away at a pie crust or chopping. Anyway. I'm happy to have some additions to my kitchen drawers. And these items say so much about my grandma. For starters...the measuring spoons...vintage gold. The teaspoon marked with red fingernail polish. Even though grandma was losing her sight, she wasn't giving up on doing the things she loved doing. Baking was one of them. She was no victim. She found a way around her disability. What an awesome reminder for me every time I open my drawer. Never give up! 

I've mentioned her frugality. Oh my. The spreader screams frugality. She broke the tip off years ago. (My grandpa has been gone 19 years) Grandpa ground it back into a useable arc. Lesson? Broken, okay, let's just see what we can do to continue on and complete the task, shall we? 

The paring knife. I remember that knife in her hands, chopping, peeling, dicing. She was always using what was available to feed those who needed or wanted it. The forks, heirlooms from a long line of pioneer women cooks. And the pie server. Grandma was quite the pie baker and she'd be pleased that it's found it's way into my drawer, even though her pie skills never quite rubbed off on me.