What makes a house a home?

Our son, Nick, and his fiancé, Kristi, bought a house!  It’s official – they are homeowners!  He will be living there alone until they get married in October.  Of course, in true Granger form, it’s a “fixer-upper”!  So, we’ve been spending every evening and every weekend over there, working our butts off!  We’ve painted, cleaned, scraped and swept.  We’ve tiled, laid hardwood, rewired and built walls.  We’ve done all this to make this cute, little house a home for Nick and Kristi . . . but, here’s the question:  Does all this work really make a house a home? 

Will the transformation from this:

 

to this:

make a happy home for our kids?

Will the the blood (yes, there has been an injury or two!), sweat, and tears make their marriage more successful?  Will the fact that the walls are freshly painted or the floors are shiny and new make our future grandkids any happier or healthier? 

Of course not. 

THIS is what makes it a home:

It’s the family and friends that show up to help.  It’s laughter and silliness, singing along to oldies on the radio, and the smell of chili in the crockpot while you work!  Nick and Kristi are blessed with family and friends that love them.  THAT’s what makes this house a home!  

To my firstborn . . .

Happy 23rd birthday to my sweet boy!

You've been such a blessing and bring so much joy to our home!

Love you, Bud!

What’s Next?!

I went to the eye doctor this week.  It was long overdue.  My eyesight has been getting progressively worse over the last few years.  Although I wore glasses as a child, and contacts in high school and early adult life, somewhere along the way I reached a point where I no longer needed to wear any corrective lenses.  I have enjoyed several years of carefree sight.  However, in the last couple years, I have noticed a steady deterioration.  In fact, it has gotten to the point where I feel I’m taking my life into my own hands every time I get behind the wheel of a car.  But, it’s not just distance sight I’m struggling with.  As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been struggling with focus issues when reading, too.  Knowing all this, I was still disappointed and totally shocked to hear the doctor ask, “How do you feel about bifocals?” 

Well, let’s see.  How do I feel about bifocals?  First of all, I feel they’re for old people!  I’m sorry, Dr. So-in-so, but you must have read the results wrong.  When, exactly, did I become bifocal material?  Of course, after the initial shock wore off, I realized I’m actually what one would consider “middle-aged”.   It sure happened fast!  But, I’m here.  So, I’d better get used to it.  Time to start preparing for the inevitable.  Which got me thinking:  What’s next?!

• Osteoporosis? I never drink milk – blaaachh!  I don’t take a calcium supplement.  The only calcium I get comes from cheese, ice cream, or yogurt – and I don’t eat much of that.  Are my bones going to get brittle?  Am I going to wake up one morning with a broken hip?   

• 

  Here I am, sporting my new bifocals, deteriorating rapidly!

  Memory loss? This one actually worries me a bit because I’m pretty sure it’s already started!  Did I remember to unplug the curling iron?  We had something planned for May 3rd – what was it again?  Where did I put those sunglasses?  How many times have I forgotten what I was going to say, just seconds before I open my mouth?  Oh, yeah.  I’m a gone-er on this one!
• Dentures?
• Wrinkles?
• Hearing loss? 
• Arthritis?
• Diapers?!

I began obsessing about my deteriorating body and the aches and pains I suddenly felt.  Then there was the fact that I used to get told almost daily how young I looked.  When was the last time I’d heard that?  Awhile.  When and how, exactly, did this happen?  When did I go from a young hottie to a chubby, bifocal-wearing, middle-aged old bag? 

This doctor’s prescription for bifocals really threw me for a loop!  So, I did what I always do.  I immediately called my husband.  He’ll tell me how beautiful and young-looking I still am.  He thinks I’m the bomb-diggety.  Talking with him for awhile will bring everything back into perspective.

However, it didn’t exactly happen like that.  I think Todd’s immediate response was something like, “What?!  Baby, you’re getting old!”  Then he laughed at me!  Not the response I was hoping for; but, before I knew it, he had me laughing, too.  And then, as we were hanging up, he said the best thing he could have said, “Goodbye, grandma!”

Grandma!  Yay!  That’s a good thing!  Something I am definitely looking forward to!  There’s also retirement, travel, Senior Citizen discounts, and being considered “wise”.  All good things.  There will be time to try new recipes, bake decadent desserts, read sappy love stories, and visit with friends.  Getting old ain’t so bad!  This could be fun! 

So, what’s next?!

Is Your Participle Dangling?

I have always loved words.  Even as a kid, writing, English, and grammar were my favorite subjects in school.  I loved learning about verbs, nouns, adjectives, sentence structure and phrasing.  Just give me a list of sentences to diagram and I’m a happy girl!  It’s fascinating to me how words can be put together in so many ways to evoke such strong emotions and attitudes.  A truly gifted writer can make you laugh, cry, question, or commiserate in just a couple paragraphs.  I don’t claim to possess that gift, but I do have a passion for sharing stories and ideas through carefully chosen words.  Sometimes, words and ideas will swim around in my brain for days, until I finally just have to sit down and spill them out.  Hence, this blog.

However, as much as I love words, I detest poor grammar!  I don’t got no use for it!  In fact, if I hear poor grammar, I usually can’t stop myself from correcting it in my head.  When I was young and dumb, I'd correct it aloud.  Not a good idea.  I found most people don’t appreciate my grammar assistance.  They’re happy to continue mixing their tenses, doubling-up their negatives and dangling their participles.    

I realize it’s pretty brave (or foolish) to admit I’m a grammar snob, given the fact that I write this blog for anyone to read.  It’s like asking you to review all my previous entries and dissect them for grammatical errors.  (The phrase “saying ‘sick’em’ to a dog” comes to mind!)  So, here’s my disclaimer:  I don’t necessarily blog in correct grammatical form.  My entries are quite often written in a  “conversational” style.  So, don’t waste your time – you’d be here awhile!

Foodie Fodder

I have never had a lot of hobbies or obsessions.  I don’t collect things.  I’m not crafty or athletic.  I don’t get excited about gardening or running a marathon.  I live a fairly quiet existence.  (As in activities, not noise.)  However, I love food.  I love everything about it.  So much so, I’ve recently proclaimed myself a "foodie".  Big-time.  Almost to nerd-ish proportions. 

For those of you who have never heard the term foodie, it's a fairly new term meaning (according to our friend, Mr. Webster):  

• a person having an avid interest in the latest food fads, or
• a person keenly interested in food, especially in eating or cooking

So, what distinguishes me as a foodie as opposed to just a person with a normal interest in food?  It could be my 24/7 obsession with the Food Network and all those ridiculous food competition shows:  Next Food Network Star, Worst Cooks in America, Cupcake Wars, and my very fave, Chopped.  Then there are the shows that highlight cool restaurants or amazing dishes, like Diners Drive-ins and Dives or The Best Thing I Ever Ate.  And I'd be lying if I didn't admit to crushing on some of the Food Network stars:  Guy Fieri, Ted Allen, Scott Conant . . .

In addition to my obsession with Food Network’s shows and stars, I’m obsessed with the food verbiage.  The chefs throw around words like gastrique, coulis, ceviche, remoulade and chutney.  They discuss molecular gastronomy, purple potatoes and romanesco.    The extent of their food knowledge is staggering.   It makes me want to learn something!  I have a fantasy of attending a culinary institute to study obscure vegetables, classical cooking techniques, food history and Ninja knife skills!  To know that much about anything is absolutely fascinating to me!

I believe my food obsession stems from a basic love of eating, and all it entails.  I love sitting down to a good meal with my family, or even the anticipation of a good meal – whether it’s a planned date to a favorite restaurant, the excitement of trying a new recipe, or just smelling a hearty soup stewing in the crock pot all day.   I also love the emotions and memories that can be wrapped up in a particular dish.  Warm donuts remind me of coming home to my mom's homemade donuts and hot chocolate after a day of sledding.  Beef roast or fried chicken remind me of Sunday family dinners.  Corn-on-the-cob and fresh tomatoes from the garden bring to mind those summer nights when it was just too hot to cook, so we’d eat corn and tomatoes and cucumbers pickled in vinegar and water. 
I know I shouldn’t be so obsessed with food.  I know that I’m too heavy and I need to lose weight.  Chocolate cake is not a necessity; and a good, juicy burger is bad for my cholesterol.  But, I’ve recently adopted a new philosophy, thanks to an entry entitled “When Food Attacks!” in my new favorite blog. (Be sure to check it out.)  According to the blogger (or, as she calls herself, “blarger”), food is not “bad” or “good” or “sinful” or “naughty”.  It’s just food.  Period.  So, I can obsess all I want about chutney, ceviche and Ted Allen.  I can wake up in the morning and start day-dreaming about dinner that night.  I can watch four chefs go head to head in a battle of skill, using the basket of mystery ingredients.  I know there are limits and guidelines.  I know I must deal with food in an intelligent, responsible manner.  But, thank you, dear blarger, for reminding me that food is not my enemy.  It’s actually my friend.  A friend that satisfies my hunger, stimulates my curiosity, and stirs my emotions.  I am a proud foodie!

Vacate Reality

Vacation is over.  Tomorrow I go back to work after being off since last Saturday.  I had a great week of fun in the sun with my sisters, my niece, my daughter, sweet friends – but, alas, all good things must come to an end!  I must admit, I’m not ready to go back.  You’d think, after ten days of relaxing on the beach, floating in the pool, and shopping, I’d be energized and ready to get back at it – but this past week has only spoiled me!  I’ve decided I want to be one of those pampered, non-working, lay-by-the-pool kind of gals, taking full advantage of how lucky I am to live in this gorgeous place!  Is that too much to ask?