Friday, August 27, 2010

Lard is not Good for You

Yesterday was not good.   Today is.  Everyone around here seems to be having a good day.  Including my daughter.  Who is, so far, very much enjoying high school.  Yaaay!!!  Sometimes it seems like there is very little she enjoys, especially me but today?  She is enjoying life.  Which makes me enjoy it too.

Enjoying things does not help with the blogging though.  I am always less inspired when happy. Angry, sad or hurt and I am on fire.  Content?  Big fucking blank.

Tomorrow kicks off high school football season.  I am looking forward to this.  My son has really found his niche with football and as he is otherwise motivated to do little but play XBox and spend money, this pleases me.  And he is good at it!  And I like to cheer.  A lot.  Loudly.  And they can bite me if they don't like it.  He generally doesn't complain's most Justine who wishes I was a little less enthusiastic.

Then after football, where I'm sure the Tornadoes will be victorious, it's off to my Grandma's 80th Birthday Party.  This Grandma is not the Grandma of the broken back hair washings and Bible Camp.  That Grandma can be found over here.  This Grandma is my German Catholic Grandma who never understood why I didn't like sauerkraut.  I still don't.  Nor do I care for cabbage rolls or kohlrabi.  This Grandma is full of all sorts of wonderful sayings and used to have a penchant for dozing off after supper only to wake herself up yelling at my aunt to do the laundry or something.  

This is a Grandma who worked very hard her whole life.  Who was widowed thirty years ago with a five year old, a seven year old and a 12 year old to care for.  She was not a warm fuzzy crafty grandma.  She was running her cafe and parenting.  Buying things in bulk and cooking everything with lard.  This is also the Grandma who fully accepted a grandchild that was not actually hers.  Not in a DNA sort of way.  I think we've covered this before but I am the 'love child' of my mother and a man from El Salvador.  I am kind of brown.  Unlike anyone else in my family.  And definitely unlike these people of German descent to whom which I then and now belong to.

I didn't quite know what to think of my Grandma when I was little.  I liked going to church with her.  I liked the ritual of the Catholic church before I knew about the hypocrisy surrounding it (and in my humble opinion, most religion).  I liked her cookies. 

It always comes back to cookies where I am involved.

And alcohol. Speaking of which, I have saved some wine from a little gathering I had last week and am now going to partake of.  After I go to Wal-Mart.

Um, I may have gotten off track.

What I think of my Grandma now comes from respect, love and understanding.  I don't know that any of her life has been tremendously easy and I know at times it has been unbearably hard.  She is strong and I am proud to call her my Grandma and DNA be damned.

Happy Birthday Grandma. 


*I'm sorry I couldn't resist.  She once left a message on our answering machine for my brother on his birthday and besides wishing him a Happy Birthday she said maybe she'd see him at his dad's on the weekend. Then said: "I won't be there though, too much snow"This is the essence of Dorothy...God love her.

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