Pigs have flown. Hell has frozen over. If you are not on Facebook and missed the memo, Mike and I are engaged!!! I am still getting used to this major change in our relationship but I am thrilled (and a little overwhelmed.) So, if I have not called, emailed or texted you back, please give me a little time and I promise that I will get in touch with you.
Do you want to know the story? I have always been very adamant that I would not write about my engagement when it happened because it is such a private moment. However, I think I can manipulate the story so that you get the gist. Sorry, no pictures of the ring will be posted. Ms. Manners would be appalled!
This all happened exactly 6 years and 10 days after our first date. Mike and I planned to get dinner and were trying to figure out where to go. We got ready and went down to the garage where Mike informed me he had forgotten his keys. I didn't think twice about this and suggested that we take my car. Instead, he asked me if I wanted to walk to dinner. Now this was a little out of the ordinary. Every time I go for a run/walk/any form of exercise I try to get Mike to go with me. He used to play tennis, and has since informed me that he is not a runner, and has never taken me up on any of my walking invitations. I was so excited that he wanted to walk with me and we headed outside.
The issue Mike had not considered is that we live at the bottom of an incredibly steep hill. We started the hike and I did note that the conversation was pretty awkward. I attributed this to the fact that Mike and I were both sweating and catching our breath as we continued to climb. About halfway up, Mike suggested we go get the car, but I made him keep going. He also informed me that we must have walked at least a mile at that point. I run that hill and sadly had to tell him that we had only walked about .1 miles.
We finally made it to the top directly underneath a lamp post. Mike stopped walking, which I assumed was because he was catching his breath. I later learned that there was was another couple coming towards us, which almost thwarted Mike's plan. I turned around and told Mike to hurry up because I was hungry. (Oops.) When I turned around again, he was on one knee asking me to marry him. I cannot tell you how excited I was. My aunt said when I called her, she was afraid I was going to hyperventilate and that I wasn't making much sense. I could not stop shaking and crying.
Of course, we had to walk back DOWN the hill to call our parents and let me digest the surprise. Apparently, he asked my father for permission in December 2008. (I know.) He had had the ring since May! I can't imagine how many times he wanted to get the ring and throw it at me when I was complaining about the fact that we were still not engaged.
And so the planning begins. The great thing is, I have been planning for quite awhile now, so I have a pretty good idea of what I want. We are still waiting on the date and the venue to make sure they are available. More than anything, I just keep staring at my ring to make sure that it is really there. Last night at work, I discovered that maybe the pizza industry isn't so bad. After I cleaned the windows, my ring was even more sparkly. Maybe 409 is another form of jewelry cleaner!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Life Goes On
Well, I'm back. I am somewhat disappointed in my lack of blogging lately, but I have to tell you I am so exhausted that all I want to do when I get home is get in the bed. I have been working a lot of double shifts which are tough just because you are on your feet for a long time. (Thank goodness for Dr. Scholl's inserts!) Additionally, my race is only three weeks away so I have been running a lot. Just to give myself a pat on the back, I ran 19 miles yesterday! For any of you who have watched people train for marathons and they inform you of the extensive miles they are running, I have a few things to tell you. First, there ARE water stops and bathroom stops, so you do get to stop every couple miles. I know there are people out there that run the whole way, but I need to keep hydrated. Also, the LONG run is not really very fun. Yes, there is a huge sense of accomplishment when you finish, but every part of my body hurts the day after. Even that weird "poor man shiatsu" stick does not make things better!
From now on, I will be "tapering" so I will be shorter distances to ensure that I do not hurt myself before I head to Chicago. It is amazing to me that I used to have a hard time completing 4 miles and am about to embark on a terrifying journey that requires much more strength and determination that 4 miles does. I truly am scared.
I am not going to go into work. It is fine, nothing has changed. The only difference is that I have a huge pile of cash sitting in the kitchen that needs to go to the bank. I look like a drug dealer, or perhaps a lady of the night!
I want to tell you about my adventure Thursday night. I always thought I was an outgoing person, ready to try new things. I had an epiphany Thursday night. I am not adventurous. For this I blame my parents. (Of course.) I think because we were a flock of girls, my dad took charge and took care of us. We followed and knew we would end up where we were supposed to be. I think this is part of the reason I have had a tough time in St. Louis. I don't know why, but I prefer to run errands with other people and don't really like to try new things on my own. The reasoning is, I don't really know the area and am afraid of what could possibly happen.
Ok, so Wednesday night, Mike's best friend from birth (literally they were born a few months apart) came to visit. He was in town for business, so that worked out well. Thursday night I was working and the boys went to the casino. Mike told me to call him when I was taking out the trash at the restaurant. (That is when I make my secret phone calls!) The plan was to meet somewhere after work for a late dinner. When I called him, he told me he was playing poker and to call when I got home. Did you know you are not allowed to use cell phones when you are in a gaming facility? Apparently, people can cheat with their phones, so they are prohibited. I did get in touch with Mike when I finally got off work and he suggested that I meet them downtown.
Here, downtown is not a 10 minute drive. Mike suggested that I take the metro. I had never tried this method of public transportation in St. Louis, but never heard anything good about it. Also, it was 10 pm. I didn't want to drive and have 2 cars downtown, so I headed for the metro stop. This is where everything started to go downhill. I bought my ticket and walked down the stairs. I knew I needed to go East, but nothing was appropriately marked, and of course, I ended up on the wrong side. After I watched 2 trains go by on the other side, I walked back up and down to wait on my train. I waited. And waited. More suspicious characters began to gather as I stood out like a sore thumb. I began calling and texting Mike about how what a stupid idea this was but he was not answering because he was at the poker table.
Just as I was typing, "I am going home" a train pulled up. I took a deep breath and hopped on. I kept giving myself pep talks, but I was upset and more than a little nervous. (Please keep in mind I was exhausted and hungry and probably the best choice would have been for me to stay home.) Then a shifty couple sat down next to me. I listened as the girlfriend asked what all the papers were that her boyfriend was holding. He explained that they were papers from his public defender and one showed all the drugs he had on him when he was arrested. This is when I started tearing up. (Not kidding.) I was mad at myself for getting upset and figured that this made me look weak, but I kept on crying.
When I finally got to my destination I walked towards the restaurant where we were supposed to meet. I was in full tears as I walked up to the door. For some reason, there were 2 bouncers standing outside of the sushi restaurant. (FYI: If you encounter a girl in tears, do NOT try to talk/flirt or do anything aside from what she wants.) One of the bouncers said, "Hey little lady, where do you think you are going?"
Me: "I want some sushi."
Bouncer: "Well, you can't just go walking in like you own the place."
Me: "Really? To get sushi?"
Bouncer? "Some ID please."
I handed him my license.
Bouncer: "Alabama? What are you doing so far from home little lady?"
Now I am mad. I pushed passed them and headed for the restaurant. I heard one of the bouncers say, "Oh, all you wanted was sushi? You aren't trying to get into the club?" How many times did I say I just wanted to get some sushi???
When I walked into the restaurant, Mike could not understand why I was a basket case, but promised me that I would never have to ride the metro again. The waiter informed me I looked like I needed a glass of wine, and I tried to calm down. An hour later we were done with dinner. The boys wanted to go back to the casino and I wanted to go home. I hopped in a cab and mourned the $50 I spent for an hour of raw fish!
From now on, I will be "tapering" so I will be shorter distances to ensure that I do not hurt myself before I head to Chicago. It is amazing to me that I used to have a hard time completing 4 miles and am about to embark on a terrifying journey that requires much more strength and determination that 4 miles does. I truly am scared.
I am not going to go into work. It is fine, nothing has changed. The only difference is that I have a huge pile of cash sitting in the kitchen that needs to go to the bank. I look like a drug dealer, or perhaps a lady of the night!
I want to tell you about my adventure Thursday night. I always thought I was an outgoing person, ready to try new things. I had an epiphany Thursday night. I am not adventurous. For this I blame my parents. (Of course.) I think because we were a flock of girls, my dad took charge and took care of us. We followed and knew we would end up where we were supposed to be. I think this is part of the reason I have had a tough time in St. Louis. I don't know why, but I prefer to run errands with other people and don't really like to try new things on my own. The reasoning is, I don't really know the area and am afraid of what could possibly happen.
Ok, so Wednesday night, Mike's best friend from birth (literally they were born a few months apart) came to visit. He was in town for business, so that worked out well. Thursday night I was working and the boys went to the casino. Mike told me to call him when I was taking out the trash at the restaurant. (That is when I make my secret phone calls!) The plan was to meet somewhere after work for a late dinner. When I called him, he told me he was playing poker and to call when I got home. Did you know you are not allowed to use cell phones when you are in a gaming facility? Apparently, people can cheat with their phones, so they are prohibited. I did get in touch with Mike when I finally got off work and he suggested that I meet them downtown.
Here, downtown is not a 10 minute drive. Mike suggested that I take the metro. I had never tried this method of public transportation in St. Louis, but never heard anything good about it. Also, it was 10 pm. I didn't want to drive and have 2 cars downtown, so I headed for the metro stop. This is where everything started to go downhill. I bought my ticket and walked down the stairs. I knew I needed to go East, but nothing was appropriately marked, and of course, I ended up on the wrong side. After I watched 2 trains go by on the other side, I walked back up and down to wait on my train. I waited. And waited. More suspicious characters began to gather as I stood out like a sore thumb. I began calling and texting Mike about how what a stupid idea this was but he was not answering because he was at the poker table.
Just as I was typing, "I am going home" a train pulled up. I took a deep breath and hopped on. I kept giving myself pep talks, but I was upset and more than a little nervous. (Please keep in mind I was exhausted and hungry and probably the best choice would have been for me to stay home.) Then a shifty couple sat down next to me. I listened as the girlfriend asked what all the papers were that her boyfriend was holding. He explained that they were papers from his public defender and one showed all the drugs he had on him when he was arrested. This is when I started tearing up. (Not kidding.) I was mad at myself for getting upset and figured that this made me look weak, but I kept on crying.
When I finally got to my destination I walked towards the restaurant where we were supposed to meet. I was in full tears as I walked up to the door. For some reason, there were 2 bouncers standing outside of the sushi restaurant. (FYI: If you encounter a girl in tears, do NOT try to talk/flirt or do anything aside from what she wants.) One of the bouncers said, "Hey little lady, where do you think you are going?"
Me: "I want some sushi."
Bouncer: "Well, you can't just go walking in like you own the place."
Me: "Really? To get sushi?"
Bouncer? "Some ID please."
I handed him my license.
Bouncer: "Alabama? What are you doing so far from home little lady?"
Now I am mad. I pushed passed them and headed for the restaurant. I heard one of the bouncers say, "Oh, all you wanted was sushi? You aren't trying to get into the club?" How many times did I say I just wanted to get some sushi???
When I walked into the restaurant, Mike could not understand why I was a basket case, but promised me that I would never have to ride the metro again. The waiter informed me I looked like I needed a glass of wine, and I tried to calm down. An hour later we were done with dinner. The boys wanted to go back to the casino and I wanted to go home. I hopped in a cab and mourned the $50 I spent for an hour of raw fish!
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Back to the Daily Grind
Well, I am feeling much better and wittier than ever. When I tried to blog last week I was putting myself to sleep. All I did was sleep, and watch television. Again, the house looks like a bachelor pad, but Mike did help by doing some laundry and a couple loads of dishes. (We had a lot of bowls backed up because I was eating so much soup.)
And so today, I returned to my favorite pizzeria across the street. There are usually 3 server assistants (SA's) on the weekend because it gets so busy. Lucky for me, one girl called in sick and the other blew a tire on her way to work. I was alone to man the door AND the floor. It was quite a chaotic night. First, they keep telling me," just keep an eye on everything. That's how you will know what to do." That is the least helpful criticism I have ever received. Instead, I end up running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to complete all the jobs that I see unfinished.
Today I got in trouble while I was attempting to communicate with my manager across the restaurant. Now bear with me, this has a point. There is a system that we use so that one SA on the floor can tell the SA at the door that a table is bussed and set for the necessary amount of people. So, I was trying to find out from my manager how many people needed to be seated at a specific table. I kept holding up 2 fingers, then 3, then 2 again. She finally acknowledged me by slicing her hand across her throat in a very aggressive motion. I knew I was in for a talking to. Manager came over almost immediately to inform me that when she is speaking with a customer I am not to interrupt her. Yikes!
Another thing I have noticed is that there are cliques in the restaurant industry. If you have future plans to leave the wait staff and do not wish to serve the minions for the rest of you life, you are not in the clique. There is one girl, whom I call the Bully, who ignores me and blatantly invites all the servers to do special things with her. "Hey! You guys want to get a pizza?" "Hey guys, let's go out tonight!" I am never invited on these outings, nor am I allowed to eat their pizza. No one even cared to ask what sort of pizza I like. That's fine, I got my salad and went home.
That's enough about silly work. Obviously I am still trying to look for a 9-5 salaried job, but something else fun occurred this weekend. Mike and I celebrated our 6 year dating anniversary. Here is one positive about St. Louis. People do not freak out when they hear that you have been with your significant other for more than half a decade. I have heard more people tell me they dated their now husband for 7, 8, or 9 years before they got married. While that is not the path that I am willing to take, it does make me feel better!
Saturday afternoon I didn't have to work and we got up to walk around and scavenge some lunch. We were not aware that the St. Louis Art Fair was going on down the street (seriously) but that ended up being perfect. We walked around there and got some food. We got some good people watching in too. Picture this - an at least 70 year old man, walking around in jean shorts, a denim button down, a Hermes type scarf and black HIGH HEELS!! I could not believe it. I was pretty impressed with how well he was walking in them and kept asking Mike how in the world he could have found shoes his size. Mike was in shock and and had no answers to my flying questions.
We had dinner reservations at a French restaurant that sits on the rooftop of a building. It was a gorgeous night and we got free champagne because of our anniversary! After dinner, Mike decided he wanted to go to the casino. It was right across the street so we headed over there. While I was in the bathroom texting (sorry friends) Mike was buying the tickets or whatever is required to enter the doors of the gaming industry. When I came out, we got in line. I quietly whispered that I didn't have my ID with me. Oops. Rookie mistake.Before we left for dinner, I packed a little clutch, and as we were running late, I forgot my ID and credit card. I tried to sweet talk the lady into letting me in, but she was not interested in my excuses, or the fact that I am well over the legal gambling age.
So, we headed home. We had a wonderful night. It is always so fun to spend some quality time together - especially now that I am working hours that none of the rest of the world works. Hope y'all had a fabulous weekend!!!
And so today, I returned to my favorite pizzeria across the street. There are usually 3 server assistants (SA's) on the weekend because it gets so busy. Lucky for me, one girl called in sick and the other blew a tire on her way to work. I was alone to man the door AND the floor. It was quite a chaotic night. First, they keep telling me," just keep an eye on everything. That's how you will know what to do." That is the least helpful criticism I have ever received. Instead, I end up running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to complete all the jobs that I see unfinished.
Today I got in trouble while I was attempting to communicate with my manager across the restaurant. Now bear with me, this has a point. There is a system that we use so that one SA on the floor can tell the SA at the door that a table is bussed and set for the necessary amount of people. So, I was trying to find out from my manager how many people needed to be seated at a specific table. I kept holding up 2 fingers, then 3, then 2 again. She finally acknowledged me by slicing her hand across her throat in a very aggressive motion. I knew I was in for a talking to. Manager came over almost immediately to inform me that when she is speaking with a customer I am not to interrupt her. Yikes!
Another thing I have noticed is that there are cliques in the restaurant industry. If you have future plans to leave the wait staff and do not wish to serve the minions for the rest of you life, you are not in the clique. There is one girl, whom I call the Bully, who ignores me and blatantly invites all the servers to do special things with her. "Hey! You guys want to get a pizza?" "Hey guys, let's go out tonight!" I am never invited on these outings, nor am I allowed to eat their pizza. No one even cared to ask what sort of pizza I like. That's fine, I got my salad and went home.
That's enough about silly work. Obviously I am still trying to look for a 9-5 salaried job, but something else fun occurred this weekend. Mike and I celebrated our 6 year dating anniversary. Here is one positive about St. Louis. People do not freak out when they hear that you have been with your significant other for more than half a decade. I have heard more people tell me they dated their now husband for 7, 8, or 9 years before they got married. While that is not the path that I am willing to take, it does make me feel better!
Saturday afternoon I didn't have to work and we got up to walk around and scavenge some lunch. We were not aware that the St. Louis Art Fair was going on down the street (seriously) but that ended up being perfect. We walked around there and got some food. We got some good people watching in too. Picture this - an at least 70 year old man, walking around in jean shorts, a denim button down, a Hermes type scarf and black HIGH HEELS!! I could not believe it. I was pretty impressed with how well he was walking in them and kept asking Mike how in the world he could have found shoes his size. Mike was in shock and and had no answers to my flying questions.
We had dinner reservations at a French restaurant that sits on the rooftop of a building. It was a gorgeous night and we got free champagne because of our anniversary! After dinner, Mike decided he wanted to go to the casino. It was right across the street so we headed over there. While I was in the bathroom texting (sorry friends) Mike was buying the tickets or whatever is required to enter the doors of the gaming industry. When I came out, we got in line. I quietly whispered that I didn't have my ID with me. Oops. Rookie mistake.Before we left for dinner, I packed a little clutch, and as we were running late, I forgot my ID and credit card. I tried to sweet talk the lady into letting me in, but she was not interested in my excuses, or the fact that I am well over the legal gambling age.
So, we headed home. We had a wonderful night. It is always so fun to spend some quality time together - especially now that I am working hours that none of the rest of the world works. Hope y'all had a fabulous weekend!!!
Thursday, September 10, 2009
HI
Hey Guys
I just wanted to give you the heads up that I have basically been in the bed since Saturday with some sort of crud. I was pretty sure it was Swine Flu, but Mike nixed that. I will write more when I am feeling better.
Really you haven't missed much - a lot of working, running and laying in bed. OH - I did drop an entire tray of glasses at work on Wednesday. Everyone in the restaurant turned around and some woman freaked out like her foot had been sliced open. (There was no scratch!) That may have set me back a few months as far as becoming an actual waitress!
Will write more soon. I am still here!
I just wanted to give you the heads up that I have basically been in the bed since Saturday with some sort of crud. I was pretty sure it was Swine Flu, but Mike nixed that. I will write more when I am feeling better.
Really you haven't missed much - a lot of working, running and laying in bed. OH - I did drop an entire tray of glasses at work on Wednesday. Everyone in the restaurant turned around and some woman freaked out like her foot had been sliced open. (There was no scratch!) That may have set me back a few months as far as becoming an actual waitress!
Will write more soon. I am still here!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
This is Wearing Me Out!
I am not sure why, but this job may be the most exhausting one I have ever had. It's not like I am using my mind, but I am on my feet through the shifts and supposed to be "keeping an eye on everything." Do you know how hard that is to do? As soon as I have bussed one table, someone else has left, there is a bell going off for me to get a pizza and bring it to another table, and someone has walked in the door for me to seat. It appears that as I have gotten older, my ability to multi-task has decreased significantly.
I didn't fall asleep until 3:30 last night and had to be at work at 11. I was chugging Red Bull and trying to pull myself together when I finally ran across the street. My manager asked me how I would feel about training someone tonight. I said, "If you feel comfortable with that, that is fine with me!" Then she informed me that I would be training on the floor, because I seem to be more at ease on the floor than at the door. When you are at the door, all you have to do is welcome people and seat them. Apparently I am not as sociable as I thought and much better at manual labor.
I think the problem I have with the door is that I cannot handle stupid people. Listen to some of the questions and issues I dealt with Sunday night. "Umm, can we order our pizza now so that it will be ready for us when we sit down?" No. Where can you do that?? Also, our restaurant has a rule that if you have a party of 6 or more and the restaurant is busy, half your party must be there before their name can be written down. We don't take reservations (it's a pizza place - come on) we just quote times. So this lady comes in and tells us she is going to have a party of 14. Great. She was with her daughter, but no one else was there. I explained the rule to her, and she immediately started arguing. "I got here early so that I could save a table." I continued to repeat the rule, but let's be honest, you can only repeat yourself so many times. Finally, she says, "I can look really pitiful..." My response: "Yes ma'am, and so can I."
Finally, another lady decided to come during peak dinner hours (around 6:30) with 5 or 6 kids in tow. She also had several other adults with her. I gave her a quote time of about 15-25 minutes. Well, that didn't happen. People were sitting and enjoying each other's company rather than leaving. After 25 minutes, the lady came up to me and started yelling that it was ridiculous to quote a time that wasn't correct. How in the world am I supposed to know exactly how long a table is going to take to eat? She had no argument, which made me even more mad, so I just turned around. Then she started yelling that her kids were going to have a melt down. The kids looked perfectly fine playing - I think that mom was about to have a meltdown. We even brought them out grapes, strawberries and cheese to munch on. No one else got that kind of service! The manager offered her a beer on the house, but she denied it. I kind of wanted to force it down her throat. She needed to relax.
Oh yeah - good thing I have two shirts (which will be deducted from my first paycheck, as well as my apron.) As I was dumping trash from a plate today, a cup of salad dressing somehow flipped up in the air and landed all over me. As soon as I thought I had gotten all of it off, I spotted a new stain. I am staring at one right now that I didn't discover in time. Ok, I am going to take a nap before I head back across the street at 5 to "train." Hope you are having a great day!
I didn't fall asleep until 3:30 last night and had to be at work at 11. I was chugging Red Bull and trying to pull myself together when I finally ran across the street. My manager asked me how I would feel about training someone tonight. I said, "If you feel comfortable with that, that is fine with me!" Then she informed me that I would be training on the floor, because I seem to be more at ease on the floor than at the door. When you are at the door, all you have to do is welcome people and seat them. Apparently I am not as sociable as I thought and much better at manual labor.
I think the problem I have with the door is that I cannot handle stupid people. Listen to some of the questions and issues I dealt with Sunday night. "Umm, can we order our pizza now so that it will be ready for us when we sit down?" No. Where can you do that?? Also, our restaurant has a rule that if you have a party of 6 or more and the restaurant is busy, half your party must be there before their name can be written down. We don't take reservations (it's a pizza place - come on) we just quote times. So this lady comes in and tells us she is going to have a party of 14. Great. She was with her daughter, but no one else was there. I explained the rule to her, and she immediately started arguing. "I got here early so that I could save a table." I continued to repeat the rule, but let's be honest, you can only repeat yourself so many times. Finally, she says, "I can look really pitiful..." My response: "Yes ma'am, and so can I."
Finally, another lady decided to come during peak dinner hours (around 6:30) with 5 or 6 kids in tow. She also had several other adults with her. I gave her a quote time of about 15-25 minutes. Well, that didn't happen. People were sitting and enjoying each other's company rather than leaving. After 25 minutes, the lady came up to me and started yelling that it was ridiculous to quote a time that wasn't correct. How in the world am I supposed to know exactly how long a table is going to take to eat? She had no argument, which made me even more mad, so I just turned around. Then she started yelling that her kids were going to have a melt down. The kids looked perfectly fine playing - I think that mom was about to have a meltdown. We even brought them out grapes, strawberries and cheese to munch on. No one else got that kind of service! The manager offered her a beer on the house, but she denied it. I kind of wanted to force it down her throat. She needed to relax.
Oh yeah - good thing I have two shirts (which will be deducted from my first paycheck, as well as my apron.) As I was dumping trash from a plate today, a cup of salad dressing somehow flipped up in the air and landed all over me. As soon as I thought I had gotten all of it off, I spotted a new stain. I am staring at one right now that I didn't discover in time. Ok, I am going to take a nap before I head back across the street at 5 to "train." Hope you are having a great day!
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Nostalgia
Not too much has been going on here..I was off work for 2 days so no new stories from there. Yesterday I cleaned the house (a serious clean) and Mike made dinner (Steak, potatoes and sausage.) I had to make asparagus so we would have something somewhat healthy on the plate. Anyway, we ended up watching Snatch and going to bed. Today has been pretty useless. Mike is preparing for his 2nd Fantasy Football draft and I am going to watch a movie. Are you yawning yet?
Recently I have been thinking a lot about my mother's mother. I am not sure why, but random things seem to conjure up images and memories of her. She passed away when I was 16 and I wasn't able to go to her funeral because I had torn my ACL. That is a whole other post. Anyway, My Memere, (french for grandmother) lived with us for at least 6 or 7 years. When my grandfather, (Pepere) passed away I was 6 years old. Memere had severe arthritis, making it difficult for her to live by herself. She moved from their quiet apartment in Arlington, VA to Birmingham, AL with 3 crazy kids under the age of 6, my stressed out mother and my out of town father. He traveled a lot when we were growing up, which I am sure made things even more stressful for my mom.
Anyway, the point of this post is not to be depressing. I have just been reminiscing about all the things we did together that became routine. Memere moved into the office downstairs, which we had redone to include a small bathroom and an area for her "kitchen." She made her lunch and breakfast there, and then joined our family for dinner. One of the things I loved about Memere is that she seemed to enjoy me visiting her. (maybe she was just being nice). On the weekends when I woke up, I would head to Memere's room. My parents were pretty strict with us as far as television watching and our diet when we were growing up. We didn't drink sodas, or eat white bread. (I guess those were the major things, but it seemed pretty serious at the time!) I would head into Memere's, where she would be making breakfast. White toast and butter - this was heaven for me! I had to go ask my mom if I could please have some white bread with Memere, and when permission was granted, I would run back there to smother my toast in butter. That stuff was so good! Then we would sit and watch what was on t.v.
Memere was a very devout Catholic. For awhile while her joints were still in somewhat good shape, we would drop her off at the Catholic church down the street for mass. I often attended, especially on Saturday nights when there was a folk band or something like that playing. Once she became more limited by her disease, she would watch mass on T.V. That wasn't as exciting for me, so I generally did not sit through it. However, one time I thought I would be helpful and bring her some Communion, because she was unable to take it from the priest. It did not occur to me that I was not a priest and somehow this could be offensive. I cut up some graham crackers into circles and poured some cranberry juice. When I brought "communion" into her room, she was so mad. I never understood until later what the problem was.
That was the only time I really remember her getting mad at me. (She had a lot of other opportunities.) We would watch The Golden Girls, Wheel of Fortune, and Rescue 911 together. I don't know if my mom just wanted me out of her hair, but do you remember Rescue 911? That is not appropriate for a child under 10 to be watching. However, when I was in Memere's room, all bets were off and I could defy my parents (after asking permission) as much as I wanted.
I used to give Memere manicures and roll her hair. It was a regular salon in there! When my parents went out, Memere was in charge. One evening while my parents were painting the town red, my sisters and I were playing upstairs. While we were playing, we spotted a roach. If you have ever lived in the deep south, you know about these roaches. They are generally at least 2 inches long, and they FLY. Although we were used to seeing them, we always screamed when we saw them, particularly when they decided to fly at you! We screamed for Memere to come kill the roach, which was selfish because she could barely climb the stairs. We then got her a chair to stand on while she swiped at the roach with a broom. And then, she fell. She ended up breaking her arm and we had to call 911. (Good thing I had watched all those shows!) It was scary for all of us and I have always felt bad about that.
Memere grew up speaking French. Her parents were from Canada, so she spoke English at school and French at home. While my mother was growing up, Memere and Pepere would speak in French when they didn't want the kids to understand them. (My parents did that too - we all took French in high school. We also quickly learned the french word for ice cream when we were young.) Memere had this old school speaker phone that she would talk to her sisters and friends on. (She was one of 8 children.) I would sit by her door and listen to her as she spoke French fluently to her sisters. Who knows..she could have been talking about me, but it was amazing to listen to.
I am not sure how to conclude this post. I have just been thinking a lot lately about how little you know about your grandparents and extended family if they die while you are still young. I would love to have conversations with her now, to see what she truly thought about living in our crazy house and about her incredible life. There is no doubt that she touched more people than she probably ever considered.
Recently I have been thinking a lot about my mother's mother. I am not sure why, but random things seem to conjure up images and memories of her. She passed away when I was 16 and I wasn't able to go to her funeral because I had torn my ACL. That is a whole other post. Anyway, My Memere, (french for grandmother) lived with us for at least 6 or 7 years. When my grandfather, (Pepere) passed away I was 6 years old. Memere had severe arthritis, making it difficult for her to live by herself. She moved from their quiet apartment in Arlington, VA to Birmingham, AL with 3 crazy kids under the age of 6, my stressed out mother and my out of town father. He traveled a lot when we were growing up, which I am sure made things even more stressful for my mom.
Anyway, the point of this post is not to be depressing. I have just been reminiscing about all the things we did together that became routine. Memere moved into the office downstairs, which we had redone to include a small bathroom and an area for her "kitchen." She made her lunch and breakfast there, and then joined our family for dinner. One of the things I loved about Memere is that she seemed to enjoy me visiting her. (maybe she was just being nice). On the weekends when I woke up, I would head to Memere's room. My parents were pretty strict with us as far as television watching and our diet when we were growing up. We didn't drink sodas, or eat white bread. (I guess those were the major things, but it seemed pretty serious at the time!) I would head into Memere's, where she would be making breakfast. White toast and butter - this was heaven for me! I had to go ask my mom if I could please have some white bread with Memere, and when permission was granted, I would run back there to smother my toast in butter. That stuff was so good! Then we would sit and watch what was on t.v.
Memere was a very devout Catholic. For awhile while her joints were still in somewhat good shape, we would drop her off at the Catholic church down the street for mass. I often attended, especially on Saturday nights when there was a folk band or something like that playing. Once she became more limited by her disease, she would watch mass on T.V. That wasn't as exciting for me, so I generally did not sit through it. However, one time I thought I would be helpful and bring her some Communion, because she was unable to take it from the priest. It did not occur to me that I was not a priest and somehow this could be offensive. I cut up some graham crackers into circles and poured some cranberry juice. When I brought "communion" into her room, she was so mad. I never understood until later what the problem was.
That was the only time I really remember her getting mad at me. (She had a lot of other opportunities.) We would watch The Golden Girls, Wheel of Fortune, and Rescue 911 together. I don't know if my mom just wanted me out of her hair, but do you remember Rescue 911? That is not appropriate for a child under 10 to be watching. However, when I was in Memere's room, all bets were off and I could defy my parents (after asking permission) as much as I wanted.
I used to give Memere manicures and roll her hair. It was a regular salon in there! When my parents went out, Memere was in charge. One evening while my parents were painting the town red, my sisters and I were playing upstairs. While we were playing, we spotted a roach. If you have ever lived in the deep south, you know about these roaches. They are generally at least 2 inches long, and they FLY. Although we were used to seeing them, we always screamed when we saw them, particularly when they decided to fly at you! We screamed for Memere to come kill the roach, which was selfish because she could barely climb the stairs. We then got her a chair to stand on while she swiped at the roach with a broom. And then, she fell. She ended up breaking her arm and we had to call 911. (Good thing I had watched all those shows!) It was scary for all of us and I have always felt bad about that.
Memere grew up speaking French. Her parents were from Canada, so she spoke English at school and French at home. While my mother was growing up, Memere and Pepere would speak in French when they didn't want the kids to understand them. (My parents did that too - we all took French in high school. We also quickly learned the french word for ice cream when we were young.) Memere had this old school speaker phone that she would talk to her sisters and friends on. (She was one of 8 children.) I would sit by her door and listen to her as she spoke French fluently to her sisters. Who knows..she could have been talking about me, but it was amazing to listen to.
I am not sure how to conclude this post. I have just been thinking a lot lately about how little you know about your grandparents and extended family if they die while you are still young. I would love to have conversations with her now, to see what she truly thought about living in our crazy house and about her incredible life. There is no doubt that she touched more people than she probably ever considered.
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