Archive for August, 2010

Weekend at Grandma’s

This weekend I visited my grandma, for the second time in about a month. That’s at least one more time than I typically visit her in a 6-month period, even though she only lives about 2.5 hours away. I don’t know why 2.5 hours has always seemed like such a long drive. It isn’t. Not really. She’s 88 years old and one of my favorite people in the entire world. We never do much when I visit; just sit and talk, and if the right murder mystery show is on – like 48 Hours or 20/20, we watch that. Or, if it’s during the day, we’ll comment on the various talents and hairstyles of some of today’s popular country artists while we watch music videos on CMT.

My grandpa (who is 14 years her junior and in seemingly great health) takes it upon himself to be the family cook and housekeeper now. Although he much prefers to keep himself busy outdoors by fishing on the lake, cutting grass (theirs and the neighbor’s), or putzing around the yard.

At some point during my short visits, my father almost always makes an appearance, and it’s always incredibly awkward. I know that the moment I tell my grandma I’m planning to visit, she calls him up to make sure he comes over. She tries to force a relationship between us that just simply doesn’t exist. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t make eye contact, he just sits hunched and frail, lips puckered like he’s sucking a lemon but it’s really just the way his lips fall over his gums since he’s missing so many teeth and refuses to wear the false ones my grandma bought for him. Looking at him now, it’s easy to feel sorry for him. But knowing that he did this to himself makes it harder.

At one point, he thanks me. For visiting my grandma, for bringing my carpet shampooer and cleaning her carpet. And I say, “you’re welcome” only because I have no idea what else to say. Part of me wants to be offended that he feels like, perhaps as my father, that he should thank me for being a good granddaughter. As if he had anything to do with it. But then I realize that he probably just doesn’t know what else to say to me. Like in my birthday card from him earlier this year that read “Happy birthday. Your grandmother picked out this beautiful card for you. Please call her when you can.”

Eventually, he leaves. And for once, my grandma doesn’t ramble on about how she’s so worried about what will happen to him when she’s no longer around to take care of him (financially). I know she’s thinking it though. Instead, she likes to ask me if there’s anything in her house that I want after she passes. I don’t know why old people insist on talking about this stuff, but they do. Last time I was there, she insisted on taking me to her plots to show me her headstone. Fun times. I get it that when you’re 88 years old, these things cross your mind, but man is it depressing.  

I guess that’s why I’m trying to see her more often. It’s easy to be almost 30 and think about all these childhood memories with my grandparents, forgetting that I can still make memories with them now. I don’t have to rely on all those old childhood memories. And most people aren’t that lucky. So if you have a grandparent still living, go hug them while you can.

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Talking Twitter

I’ve been on a Twitter for a couple of years now. (I’m @missliz27 if you want to follow me!) I go through spurts of rapid-fire updating, to essentially weeks without a single peep. As Katy Perry would say, I’m hot then I’m cold; I’m yes then I’m no. Lately, I’ve been the queen of over-sharing. It’s getting to be quite unnecessary, yet I can’t seem to stop myself. Examples:

  • I went for a walk and sent AT LEAST 5 tweets in less than 4 miles. Two of them were pictures, so that’s got to count for something. Mild entertainment for bored Internet junkies perhaps? I’ll take it.
  • I’ve seen the Fail Whale so many times, I’ve given him a name. I call him Walt.
  • I’m one Olsen twin away from following the ENTIRE Full House cast. I’m not even kidding. I’m even following Kimmy (http://twitter.com/andreabarber). But hey, so are 16,000 other people. #losers
  • I make up hashtags which serve no purpose other than to amuse myself. #amnotevendrinkingyet
  • Speaking of drinking and amusing myself…I attempted to insult John Mayer, but I’m pretty sure I’m the only person who found it funny. He said: Just learned that when ordering a drink, a “twist” of orange is different than a slice or wedge. Twist = just the rind. I said: @johncmayer That’ll teach you to stop ordering drinks like a girl.
  • And then I laughed. John hasn’t responded. I think he’s ignorning me.

Are you on Twitter? Leave your Twitter name in the comments so I can stalk follow you!

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Light a Fire

Let me start by saying I haven’t been to the pool ONCE all summer. Nor have I been to a home baseball game all season. This is completely out of character for me. Last summer, our beach/pool bag was always kept at arm’s length because you never know when we might have a few free hours on the weekend or random weeknight to lounge in the sun. And our Cardinals attire was always kept in the top drawer for those spontaneous night games complete with beer and nachos.

Speaking of beer and nachos, it’s no wonder I typically gain a few pounds in the summer, only to lose it again by winter. Except this year, I don’t have the excuse of baseball games and lazy pool days. In fact, I don’t have an excuse at all. I have no idea where the summer has gone, but my entire “life routine” has been thrown off and I’m eating poorly, lacking sleep, unmotivated, and minus a few meet-ups with friends, relatively unsocial. I’m not unhappy by any means; just unsatisfied sprinkled with mild disappointment.

But then something happened. I can’t really explain it except to say, I’m sick of the way I’ve been living my day-to-day. (That last sentence just sounded too perfect to not be someone else’s line or song.) I have a new plan that encompasses every aspect of my life – work, social, health and fitness, etc. And hey, maybe even my blog too. I have an idea of who I want to be, but I’m just not her yet. So I’m forming a plan to get from here to there, and I think with a little focus and determination, I can make it before 2010 comes to an end.

You know that saying, “someone needs to light a fire under him/her”? Well, a fire has been lit. And I’m the one that struck the match.

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No one is buying my house.

Actually, that statement would be the good news, because someone would have to actually LOOK at our house before considering to buy it. And that hasn’t happened either.

But! We’re moving forward, as best we can, and this weekend begins the packing fiasco (see how optimistic?). It’s been awhile since I’ve done this whole moving thing, but, and I could be wrong, I seem to remember having a lot less shit.

Also? I miss my dog. He’s staying with my parents so as to not deter our potential buyers (yeah, the ones NOT looking at our house) by both his presence, and the presence of his fur. My parents do not live close, so it’s not like we can visit him during the week or even on the weekend. I’m sure he feels like he’s on doggie vacation, what with all the ball tossing and belly rubs, but I’m looking forward to getting him back and having all my black pants covered in white hair.

It’s the little things.

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