In honor of St. Patrick's Day, and simply because I'm feeling blessed lately, I've decided to do 17 days of posts. Each post will include one reason that I feel lucky. Hopefully, you can think of at least 17 reasons why you're lucky too. Please feel free to share your reasons, because sometimes it just feels nice to be able to brag a bit.
May the luck of the Irish be with you this March, and beyond.
I'm lucky to have known my grandparents.
I have one grandmother that is still alive and doing very well. She quilts (She's the one that taught me how to quilt.), tells funny stories, and is even on Facebook. She loves to hear Peanut and Pumpkin play music. She's set in her ways, and a bit opinionated, but she is also very loving and accepting. She may not agree with me, but she will always love me. (It doesn't hurt that I bring her chocolate when I visit.) :-) Grandma used to take us to pick berries when when we were young. I remember soaking the raspberries in water to get those tiny black bugs to float out of them. Grandma always made strawberry jam and blueberry cake with the goodies we picked. Now, she has us pick them and she still does the "making".
While I only have the one grandmother that is still with us, I was very fortunate to be able to know and love my other grandparents as well. I have amazing memories of each and every one of them.
Grandpa loved to tease. He'd chase you around with pliers if you had a loose tooth. He would get lost on every road trip, but you'd never hear him curse. He even let us drive his truck through the woods on his farm when we were learning. He simply sat next to us and laughed. Even though he would tease, he was also very loving too. He often came to watch me play sports. Also, when we were very young he would buy us small pieces of candy when we came to visit. Grandpa was hard working, but always smiling. When I close my eyes and think about him, I can still hear his laugh.
My other grandparents were definitely more quiet. We could sit and watch TV together for hours. Grandpa loved old westerns. I remember racing to be the first to give him a hug when we'd go to visit. I couldn't wait to hear him say, "Hola Mija" as he wrapped his arms around me. He had a stern face and a kind heart. He worked hard his whole life and was willing to give anyone a helping hand. A man of few words, the words he did say were always very important. A simple "Mija" was all I ever needed to know he loved me. I'll always feel blessed and lucky to have heard that on our final visit.
Grandma was an amazing cook. When I think of comfort food, I think of the foods she made for us. Her potato salad was the only one I'd ever eat. She made the most amazing rice. I watched her make it, had her teach me to make it, and have tried for years to perfect it, but I've never even gotten close. In the middle of the summer in her hot house, she'd stand over the stove making tortillas for us all, because that is the easiest way she knew to show her love. When we'd go to leave, she'd sneak us a few to take home, since she knew we loved them so much. Grandma was short, beautiful, and very glamorous. She loved sequin. While I don't wear much sequin myself, my girls have a penchant for it. Every time I see them in a sequin top or shoes, I think of grandma and smile.
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