Granny Knows Best

My Granny is very particular about keeping the ants away, which is one of the reasons we have to make sure that any food type trash goes immediately into a plastic grocery bag and to the outside trash. For this reason also many items that would normally be kept in a cupboard or pantry are kept in the fridge. This is a huge annoyance in my life. Just imagine you've eaten a few grapes as a snack, now what do you do with the stem? That's right. To the back yard trash can you go with your little stem. Of course we don't have ant problems indoors.

In this household we also eat all food and beverages (minus water) at the kitchen table. No cozy cups of hot coco or tea by the fire (oh wait, we're not allowed to use the fireplace), or while watching a movie (oh, wait we don't watch movies). This of course has benefits. No crumbs laying around the floor or dirty dishes sitting on the coffee table waiting to be washed. One of the difficulties of no food leaving the kitchen is that after working a 12 hour day plus commuting it is difficult to scrounge around for something to eat, sit at the table, and get those food items to the trash especially since Granny sleeping in her room off the kitchen at that time. After several nights of no dinner and out of consideration to Granny I began using one of the dresser drawers in my walk in closet to keep a few snacks, A few granola bars, instant oatmeal, fig newtons etc.

Since we don't watch movies downstairs and we don't watch them on the TV upstairs (because the tv is over Granny's bedroom) we watch them in my room on a lap top. Late one night after watching a movie my sister and I got to chatting and the time ticked away. As it got really late we decided we had better head to bead when my sister heard a scratching noise. "What was that!" she whispered. I of course heard nothing. Then again she heard the noise. I asked her if she had some kind of wrapper in her pocket. Which of course she didn't. Then I realized the noise was coming from my closet. My sister began to freak out. But with an 87 year old downstairs, I knew we couldn't freak out. I tried to calm her with the worst case scenarios. "Laura, it's probably nothing." "Even if it's a possum, it's probably more afraid of us then we are of it." "Even if it's an ax murder the worst case scenario is, we're dead." As I tried to keep her calm, I kept my eye on the open door of the closet. We grew increasingly fearful! Then all of the sudden my eyes grew bigger and bigger as a long tail came up out of the dresser drawer. I scooted and inched my way back creating as much distance as I could between me and the creature. Laura, definitely thought I was looking into the eyes of an axe murder! I didn't know what it was, but it was something with a very long tail! After a few moments I crawled off the bed acting as our island and quickly shut the door. Then I stuffed a towel under the door so nothing could crawl over me while I was asleep. Then as any brave women would do, I called my Dad left him an emergency message and then slept with my sister in her room.  

In an effort to keep this a secret from Granny the following morning my wonderful Mom and Dad drove an hour from their home under some kind of ruse of visiting to rescue us. While Granny was sidetracked with mom Dad and I snuck upstairs. Dad cleaned out the half eaten snacks and set traps. I was slightly mortified that in 2009 nothing other then the old fashioned Tom and Jerry mouse traps had been invented. I certainly did not want to have to deal with blood and guts. I decided to prepare the next day for the inevitble. I went to the hardware store and purchased rubber gloves, black trash bags, and a dustpan. After three sleepless nights and running out of clothes not in my closet, I had no choice but to open the closet door. I creaked the door open and leaned over the dresser drawer just enough to see that a piece of cheese was in a new location. As I leaned a bit further their it was... a little mouse. Poor Fievel, may he rest in peace. I was determined to handle the procedure of disposing of Fievel without Granny knowing. I put on my new rubber gloves, I got my black trash bag, and grabbed the dustpan. I inched my way back to the closet door and opened the door wide enough to peak through it again. I told myself to brave. After working at opening the door for a while I decided I needed a break and tried to enlist my sister's help. That certainly got nowhere. After half an hour of trying to convince myself I could do this. I did the next best thing and called in the real reinforcements. I got off the phone with my big sister Michelle and she drove an hour to come dispose of Fivel. She arrived before Granny went to bed and so we had to wait. As Granny chatted I worried, as soon as Granny headed to bed we headed upstairs. We waited until we thought she was asleep and then Michelle put Fievel in his body bag and then snuck him downstairs, past Granny's room, unlocked the three locks on the back door, quietly opened the door to keep the sleigh bells from ringing and out to the big trash barrel out back.

I guess Granny really does know best.

The food now stays in the fridge and the closet door is never left open.

Paper Towels

It seems Granny feels that paper towels are hard to come by or perhaps she believes them to be too expensive to use regularly. That's why I only use her paper towels when she's not looking and of course have my own Costco sized stash. She seems to have a weird fixation with them and often "preps" the towels by tearing off one or two sheets at a time and then lays them back over the roll so they're ready when she needs to grab one quickly. However, my belief with paper towels is that they were created to be convenient for all of humanity. That's why they're paper, perforated, come in different sizes, different thicknesses, different designs and have multiple dispensers. Besides that they're cheap! Prepping them really seems like too much work. Of course when I went to windex the mirrors today, I conveniently went to grab one of Granny's "non-prepped" towels, but as soon as I went to tear along that perforated line, I realized that there was something different about this paper towel. A section of it was glistening in the sunlight! Oddly, Granny had scotch taped a hole she must have created when she started the new roll. With a "marked" towel, I knew I wouldn't be able to use it without her knowing! Good thing I have my own stash.

Her Cup Runneth Over

In recent years Granny has given up using the china for more convenient plastic and paper goods. Rather then dealing with the ruler locked cupboards (see previous blogs) she leaves her cup out and refills it throughout the day. I wasn't surprised to see her two cups stacked on the stove the other day. However I have been surprised to see her actually drink from the cups double stacked. I suppose she wanted the beauty of the china with the convenience of the plastic.

Detail Oriented

Not only is Granny frugal, organized and somewhat anal (okay not just somewhat), she's also detailed and always looking for a way to make things more efficient. So, after the hot water pipe exploded last sunday, the plumbers were called in to replace all of the house's 100 year old pipes. For days we've endured freezing cold water, no plumbing upstairs at all, no access to the kitchen and a general mess. Granny though was quick to come up with ideas of efficiency. Microfiber dust clothes were placed every 5 feet throughout the house, "just in case you have to lean on a counter." The coffee pot was moved to the bathroom so as not to disturb the plumbers in the kitchen, and a little food stand on wheels for bread and peanut butter was put in the living room. 7 Days later the plumbers are almost finished, but still I had to traipse downstairs at 5 am this morning for the bathroom. I was praying with each step I took that I would not be trapped into another 30 minute conversation about the water pressure, crawl spaces left open, brass verses chrome faucets, the plumbers schedules, missed hair appointments, the comfort of higher set toilets, the cost of copper pipes, and of course how every surface was covered with dirt. No, after surviving days of mess and lack of water my urgent trip was obstructed for a Show N' Tell session of the newly arranged cleaning products under the sink. There was no "Good Morning how did you sleep?" No, Granny just launched into how she's been up for 2 hours cleaning and moving things around. I guess the location of the 30 sponges and 2 liter bottles of 409 spray weren't to her liking.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Granny's Recipe Box

Francis, You're So Smaaaart!

This morning I came down stairs for breakfast to find Granny cutting a kleenex box around its middle. I watched her out of cornor of eye as I made my espresso, curious as to why she needed to spend her limited energy cutting up a tissue box. Whatever she was trying to do looked like a difficult process. Of course, I minded my own business afraid I'd get a lengthy explanation should I ask her what she was doing. I thought perhaps she would use it for a container, maybe she thought it was too big for the trash, or she might be making a new cover for her daily devotional book. (a few years ago she replaced the cover with tissue box cardboard). I hadn't realized though that the box wasn't empty. After her struggling with the box for a few minutes she said, "These tissue boxes are just too big! So after I use a few tissues they don't want to come up anymore, so I just cut the boxes and make them shorter." As she walked away from the counter to put the box back, she mentioned she also had to make a shelf for the box to sit on and then she triumphantly proclaimed " Francis, you're so smaaaaaart!" (she uses this phrase every day with some sort of accent, but I'm not sure which accent it is, but basically you can't hear the "r' in the dragged out "smart"). Smart? Definitely creative.

Graminilla

I came home from a long morning of singing at church plus a stop at the grocery store thinking I'd make some lunch when I got home. Famished, I walked in the door and was met by the horrendous odor of clorox and chili. The clorox being from some sort of 1920's version of an air purifier. My sister has "Acute Bronchitis" and so granny has been running the air purifier non stop for days and it smells like there's a highly chlorinated pool in our living room, I suppose the aquamarine carpet could lend itself to that idea as well, but never the less I was quite overwhelmed by the smell. The clorox in combination with the "chili"( which we all know isn't anything close to chili except for the beans) made me want to run out the door and hope that Granny had never heard me enter. But alas, the alarm system (sleighbells on the door) gave me away. She quickly asked if I was hungry since she had just made enough "chili" to feed a family of 12! Amazingly my appetite had quickly faded so I managed to respond without actually lying and narrowly escaped more Graminilla food. Now I will do the usual routine of "taking chili to work for lunch!"

Butter Butt

(August 2008)
By Laura

I decided to make scones for my small group. They turned out scrumptiously. I packed the butter, jam, whipped cream, and honey. Granny stayed in the living room the whole time, a little annoyed that I turned the oven on in the heat wave we were experiencing.

I returned home about midnight. There are chimes on the door (the signal for robbers), so I was careful to sneak through the door. I had too much in my hands so it was hard to maneuver. The next thing I remember I hear this weird swishing sound...what the...I look, and to my shock and horror, the bag with the butter is leaking!! There is a waterfall of butter pouring into the turquoise carpet. I put the scone bowl under the bag and run to the fridge and shove it all in. Next, I grab 3 paper towels. I would have loved to grab more, but granny keeps a careful eye on her roll of paper towel, and she is not above recycling barely used ones. In fact, she usually has two sheets sitting on top of the roll, just to keep track.

I try to soak up the butter, but the three paper towels won't do. I take off my undershirt and use it to soak up the rest. I am sweating with terror. I wake my sister up. That's what I do when I can't function. She helps me clean up the carpet and it looks like granny will never have to know. My sister lets me know I have a butter stain on my brand new jeans. She recommends I clean them right away, so the stain doesn't set in. Good advise. She hands me the bottle of Shout.

I lay my jeans out and spray them until their drenched. Being super smart, I let it soak in. I come back in about 10 minutes. What is that smell? Bleach. Turns out I grabbed the bottle that was on the floor, instead of the bottle I set on the counter. I ruined my new jeans. By this point, it's just better that I go to bed.

The next morning, my sister gives me word that we are in the clear. My buttery carpet dried perfectly. Granny will never have to know.

(Rebekah) I came down to have breakfast the next morning. I'm sitting at the table with coffee and toast amused by all that we've managed to cover up, when Granny rolls by with a HUGE wet spot on her bottom. My first thought was she sat in some water, hopefully she hadn't had an accident, but when she walked by again it wasn't looking any drier. I realized I couldn't let her go walking around with a huge circle of who knows what on her bottom. In the back of my mind I figured it was somehow the spilled butter, but I was hopeful it wasn't. I let her know she'd managed to get something on her bottom and then felt the seat of every chair inside and outside to figure out what had happened....over use of bug spray?? After finding nothing I went upstairs to find my sister and asked her where there might be butter. It turns out, Laura forgot that she set that buttery bag down on the chair when she first walked in, and that mess soaked through her chair.

(Laura) I was more than terrified because I know how much Granny values her things. We had truly hoped that Granny's stained shorts wasn't due to the butter. When there was no doubt that it was my fault there was nothing left to do but fess up. She surprised us and was gracious. It was more than I expected. "It was an accident", she said.

The carpet though is still a mystery to her.

A Reminder

I came down to the kitchen the other day to see granny's reminder note to herself.

"Pick up prescription at the pharmacy. I did."

Matchbooks

I am in the midst of baking cookies for the first time in at least 17 months. Granny has made herself scarce. She even had a football game on earlier. You know things are bad if she's watching sports. I've been searching the cupboards for the things I need to bake and I've had to text my sister several times to figure out where sugar is, measuring cups, bowls...the mixer. One cookie tray was in the oven when Granny came in to give me the third degree about the cookies and how to use the oven. When I wasn't to responsive she left and then came back about the time they came out of the oven. She exclaimed in her 86 year old voice, "You'd think you could get some news around here with the temperature, the weather, and what time the sun goes down." Since I was standing looking outside the window I thought, the sun is going down and the thermometer is right there. However, I kept my thoughts to myself. It was in her next comment I realized she wanted to light the Menorah. No, she's not Jewish, but her husband was. So after contemplating out loud about whether or not she should light it before sundown, she got out her matches to light it. She had some difficulty trying to light the matches. At first I was thinking perhaps it was due to her age and I was about ready to step in when she asked if I thought it was due to the moisture in the air. I didn't think so because it feels quite dry to me, but I told her it was possible. Although seeing as how she keeps them in a ziplock bag I really didn't think so. Without any pomp and circumstance she lit the candle for a couple minutes, blew it out, and then went back to the living room. I've now just looked at the matches and realized they most likely are hard to light since they were purchased in 1985 on their trip to Canada for my Dad's graduation. There was one in their from Bandon, Oregon which means those date between 1976 and 1980. Then again it could be the moisture in the ziplock bag.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving began with me waking up early, but trying to keep it a secret. I was reluctant to head downstairs to begin the day. Even if it meant a coffee headache, I felt that a little time to myself was in order as I would have the wonderful job of chauffeuring Granny in her car to the Thanksgiving festivities. (see. Ride of Her Life) Of course my sister and I have lived here a year now but my sister is still not allowed to drive Granny's car. I knew some very strong coffee would be in order to handle the trip, but I just needed some time. Eventually, I did make my way downstairs to where Granny was just finishing up 3 hours in the bathroom. She wheeled out wearing a fuchsia sweatshirt with a giant beaded reindeer on the front, along with her diamond earrings and diamond studded heart necklace. It's Thanksgiving so she had to pull out all the stops. Of course her concern was was that she was overdoing it with all the diamonds, however I thought the fuchsia sweatshirt and beaded reindeer was overdoing it. Once we were all ready to leave and we'd locked all the locks, and turned out all the lights, and turned off all the heaters and double checked the locks, and double checked the lights and double checked the heaters, I was allowed to get the car out of the garage and bring it around front by myself. It was just enough time to adjust the mirrors without Eagle Eye staring me down. A small blessing. We got Granny in the car and off we went. It was a silent hour drive to Mom and Dad's except for Granny falling asleep, but pretending she didn't. She likes to nod off for a good 20 min then she pops open her eyes and says something completely random like we were in the middle of a conversation. I never know quite how to respond. At Mom and Dad's I allowed the rest of the family time with her, while I enjoyed the company of everyone else. Of course dinner was delicious, Granny made a point of letting Mom know she'd seen the pretty floral plates Mom picked out, but had passed them by because she thought the pattern was too busy, and how amazingly Mom had made them work. After dinner my sister and I were playing games with my cousin and the friend that he brought when out of the corner or our eyes we saw the walker...... There across the room Granny sat bundled up, walker pointed toward the door with the purse hanging from one handle and on the other handle the thermos bag that had held her "famed" pistachio pudding salad. My sister and I looked at each other knowingly and then we both employed the tactics we used as children. Avoid eye contact and hope to stretch out the inevitable just a little longer.

Prudent, Thrifty, or Insane?

Last night when I arrived home from running some errands, Granny laughingly told me how she had accidently spilled water all over the kitchen table. It was a very dramatic story of how she had to immediately throw the placemats in the dryer and clean up all of the water. (Which I think is the only washing they've had in 20 years). She then pointed out the paper towel hanging over the kitchen faucet. I thought that perhaps the faucet was leaking, but she informed me she was drying it to use again since it was a perfectly clean paper towel

This morning as I was cleaning up my breakfast mess (my plastic dish) I reached for the dish towel hanging near by and noticed it was kind of stiff. Upon further investigation I noticed that granny has sewn on an iron on patch. From what I can tell the patch is to keep some threads from unraveling. I suppose I should look up to her for her thriftiness, yet I'm not sure why she wouldn't just allow the slightly disfigured towel to become a rag, it's not like she doesn't have enough dishtowels, especially in light of the fact that we only dirty minimal dishes.

Pic 1. Towels used for drying our dish

Pic 2. Fancy towels for decoration

Pic 3. the over abundance of towels used for drying other dish

Singing in the Rain Part 2

(It's hard to tell, but there are 6 umbrellas hanging here)

Unfortunately the umbrella Granny purchased from the Dollar Tree malfunctioned. So rather then having a dome shaped umbrella when it was opened all the way, it didn't expand all the way and had a dip around the center, which would of course collect water. Granny was very disappointed and so decided it was worth her time and effort to take it back to the store to get her dollar back. Which of course is very involved and I much would have rather have just given her a dollar. For Granny to go to the store it means getting her walker down the back steps, to the back gate which is padlocked, to the garage which is padlocked, open the garage (not automatic), unlock the car, put her walker in the backseat, put the seatbelt around the walker, get in the front seat, back out of the garage, get out of the car, shut the garage door, put the padlock back on the garage door, drive to the store, get the walker out, return it the umbrella and the repeat the process.....for a dollar! I know that the economy isn't doing so well, but seriously? The good news is my gracious big sister bought her a new pink umbrella, which I'm pretty sure cost more then a dollar. Granny was all aglow when she saw it, especially since pink is her favorite color.

It's now the middle of October and still, no rain.

Singing in the Rain!

I think Granny is having an emotional affair with the umbrella man in the cookoo clock. Granny's mood seems dependent on whether or not he comes out of his doorway. If he comes out of his door it means we shall see rain. She waits for him every day hoping and praying he will come out; living in California, it's not very often that he does. When he does, she just about comes unglued. The other morning, eventhough it was sunny and 85 degrees outside it "rained" (if you're not from California it would be considered a light mist.) I called to Granny to tell her the good news. I've never seen her leap from her chair so quickly. She nearly ran to the door exclaiming, "Oh, I just knew it would! (I think she actually teared up). She carried on with glee that there should be a rainbow in the east, sadly there wasn't, but she didn't seem to mind too much. She was just happy for the rain. Today (three days later) my older sister took her to the Dollar Tree (one cent more the the $.99 store) there she picked up an umbrella. Now, you may not think that strange, but I do. I think it's strange because first of all, it rarely rains here, Secondly when it does rain, Granny normally where a plastic bonnet to protect her hairdo. Thirdly, I've counted at least 7 umbrellas around the house, 5 or hanging around the bottled water stand, 2 are in my room, and I know there's at least one in each of our cars. You mights say she has the faith of Noah.

Colonel Mustard or Professor Plum?

Thursday morning I awoke with a startle, my sister was leaning over my head asking me if I had taken her comforter. As I came out of my deep precious sleep and could actually think coherently about what she was saying, I assured her that I hadn't taken it. There was panic in her voice as her worst fear came to reality. Granny took it! If Granny took it, why, and why didn't she say anything about it? She's been spying! We've been suspicious about her spying on us because old Eagle Eye has dropped a few homemaking hints in the past. Hints are helpful, except for when you realize someone has lifted up your comforter to see if the sheet corners are tucked in "hospital style." "Laura, um, I forgot to tell you when you're, um, making your bed you need to lift up the mattress to tuck the sheets in the right way." To which Laura casually replied, "I don't tuck the sheets in, because I don't like my feet tucked in at night." My sister doesn't like to sweat under polyester blankets in the hundred degree heat either and that's why it's been on the floor. The missing comforter is just for looks. Out of consideration for Granny and her home, we both quickly realized when we moved in that we wouldn't be able to make many changes to our living spaces. Our personnel touches to the rooms have been very minimal. We have done what we can to make it look like we don't actually reside in the rooms. Thus the scratchy polyester comforter and matching pillows are normally put back on the bed every morning. However, life has become busier and the bed making less of a priority. I asked my sister where the blanket had been and she confirmed what I thought. It had been on the floor for the last few days. I deduced that Granny didn't like it there and found some other place for it....of course without mentioning it to either of us. (Allthough, I'm sure all the distant relatives have been informed of our delinquencies and probably know where the blanket is.) The pillows were left behind as evidence that a crime had been committed. When Granny finally left for her weekly Friday hair appointment and I had a few minutes alone in the house I scurried around to investigate where the comforter might be. I checked the laundry, linen closets and the chest in Granny's room. Unfortunately the chest was locked and of course I couldn't check her closet as that is also locked. (Her sequin dresses from Carnival Cruise vacations hang in there.) It's been four days and the crime has not been solved. The whole situation is un"comfortable." Why would an 86 year old who can barely make it from the sink to the stove with out the assistance of a walker come all the way up 18 stairs to steal a comforter? Sounds like a case for unsolved mysteries.