Sunday, December 28, 2014

Hi everyone,

I trust you had a good Christmas. It was kind of quiet, here at my house. My phone didn’t ring once! I didn’t even think much about it. I just figured everyone was busy with their family celebrations. My oldest, much adored sister Patti is the only one of my siblings that I could count on for a Christmas Day Call, but since I had just talked to her a day or so previous and we wished each other a “Merry Christmas!” I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t call again. And as for the kids, I ‘chatted’ with my beautiful daughter Kat on the FaceBook and exchanged Christmas Wishes with her. Our youngest and very handsome son Kevin was sick and we don’t want to get sick, so although our dinner with them was postponed, we did talk on the phone.

Kandyce, Kevin’s beautiful wife, has an awesome chicken casserole recipe that she was going to make for us and I was going to take a dessert. “What should I make?” I asked Kevin when we were making these plans.

“Anything you want.” That’s what he always tells me. “Everything you make is good.” Also what he always tells me. Ha! Just wait till I tell him about my Christmas Dinner SNAFU!

You know what SNAFU stands for, don’t you? Situation Normal All F*&%$# Up!

So for a few days, What to make? was rattling around in my head. Then, after I talked to Patti something clicked. I remembered making a Turtle Cake for her and her handsome cowboy husband Lee many years ago and it was a big hit. I haven’t made it in a long time but I knew I still had the recipe.

“I know! I’ll make Turtle Cake!” I told Mike.

“Okay, but leftovers stay at Kevin’s house,” Mike told me in no uncertain terms. Cause if it’s in our house, we will eat it. And Kevin has a disposal system for all things fattening. He takes it to his work. Those dock guys work so hard that nothing sticks to them!

So for two days the special ingredients for Turtle Cake sat on my kitchen counter. “Should I make it anyway,” I asked Mike after our dinner plans with the kids were canceled. I didn’t think a practice run would hurt anything and I would just re-buy the special ingredients when our dinner was re-scheduled.

“NO!”

“Okay!” I heard that one loud and clear. And I put the caramels and chocolate chips and evaporated milk and cake mix in the cupboard.

Christmas Day here was just beautiful! Sixty degrees! Not bad for late December in mid-Missouri!

Mike and I decided to have a prime rib roast for out Christmas Dinner. I have never cooked a prime rib before and I didn’t want to screw up this expensive piece of beef so we talked to lots of people and I consulted Betty Crocker. According to Betty my size roast should take just under three hours so I had all of my sides planned to be done at that time.

“You should put it in a really hot oven for half an hour,” the guy at the meat counter advised. “Then turn the temp down and finish cooking it.”

Betty Crocker doesn’t say to do that.

Mike talked to our friend Margaret, who cooks an awesome prime rib, and she says that she also uses a hot oven for half an hour. It seals in the juices. And she uses a meat thermometer. “Your thermometer will tell you when it’s done.”

So we set our oven for 425, stuck the newly purchased thermometer in the roast and put it in the oven. Half an hour later we turned the oven back to 325. Ten minutes later my thermometer is showing a well done roast.

“It can’t be done,” I told Mike. We let it in the oven for another twenty minutes and fretted the whole time.

“I don’t want to ruin it. Call Margaret.”

“If the thermometer says it’s done, you better take it out,” was the advice Margaret gave us. So we took it out and I hurried to throw the rest of the dinner together. I made the stuffing and popped it into the oven, put the broccoli in the microwave and then I got busy making the horseradish sauce. I mixed sour cream, horseradish, a few drops of lemon juice and salt and pepper, just like Margaret said to do.

“Here. Taste this,” I commanded Mike when I thought I had enough of everything in it.

Mike tasted it and made an awful face. “What?” I asked. He didn’t say anything, he just grimaced again. “WHAT?” I demanded.

“I don’t taste any horseradish,” he said.

I tasted it again. I couldn’t believe it. How could he not taste any horseradish? Okay, I thought to myself. Out loud I said, “I can put more in if you want.”

“If you like it it’s okay,” Mike said shrugging his shoulders.

This was not what I was going for. I was going for, “Mmm-mm,” or a “It’s good,” in the very least. But not getting either one of those I pressured Mike to tell me what was wrong.

“Nothing! If you think it’s okay, it’s okay.” Then under his breath he added, “But I’m not eating it.”

“What?” I asked, but I heard him.

“Nothing. Should we cut the roast now?”

Everything I’ve ever read or heard says that before you cut any meat, it needs to sit for ten to fifteen minutes so the juices don’t run out and you end up with dry meat. So we dutifully waited to cut into it. And guess what?
If you guessed it was raw in the center, you would be right. Despite what the thermometer said, it was not well done.

“What should we do?”

“We’ll have to put it back in and cook it some more.” We did. An hour later we took it out, let it set for ten while I warmed sides, then we sliced two pieces from the end and true to his mumblings, Mike wouldn’t eat any of my horseradish sauce. I didn’t care. Well, I did, but what are you gonna do? I ate it on mine and actually enjoyed it.

Dinner over, dishes washed, tummies full, we settled in for an afternoon of TV watching, recliner slumbering (for Mike) and I played on my Cricut.

The whole time Mike and I were planning this, whenever we talked about the horseradish sauce, I pictured the bottle of horseradish I already had in the door of my fridge.

Have you ever done that? Made a mental picture?

And even though the horseradish I had was fine for cooking, I thought I wanted something different for the sauce. Something grated finer. I thought I’d look for something when we went to the store.

Unfortunately...

We forgot. It wasn’t on my list. “It’s okay. I’ll just use what I’ve got.”

So now, hours later, this whole thing with Mike not liking my horseradish sauce is still bothering me. I replayed all of our conversations about horseradish sauce and how to make it, over and over in my head. I just couldn’t understand why he didn’t like it! Then, just like instant replay and slow mo all rolled into one, I see me pulling my bottle of horseradish out of the fridge and I see it. I actually see it in my minds eye.

“See what?” you ask.

I see the words on my bottle of horseradish. It said Garlic. “OH MY GOODNESS!” I exclaimed right out loud as the realization dawned on me.

“What?” Mike asked.

Then I laughed. It is kind of funny. “No wonder you couldn’t taste the horseradish in my sauce,” I fessed up. “I didn’t use horseradish.” He looked confused. “I used garlic!”

I had horseradish and garlic confused in my head.

Has that ever happened to you, confusing things in your head or is it just me?

“Mike, why didn’t you tell me it was garlic?” I yelled at him, like it was all his fault. But he didn’t have an answer for that. In fact, the only answer is because he didn’t know it either. All he knew was it just wasn’t what he had his mouth set for.

Nine o’clock Christmas Night rolls around and it’s time for me to make my daily call to my mother. I pick up my phone, flip it open and see I missed five calls and one text.

LOL. Yeah. You want a quiet day? Turn the ringer off on your phone!

Kevin knows that I do silly things like that sometimes, or that I’ll go out and not take my phone with me. So if he really needs to talk to me, he calls Mike’s phone. Mike is not near as apt to go off without his phone as I am and as far as I know, he never silences it.

So now we have a Christmas Story we can laugh about. In fact, I have to tell you that Mike has been having a field day with this, at my expense.

We were at breakfast Saturday morning, at our favorite breakfast place and Mike called Sue-our favorite waitress-over. “Ask Peg about her horseradish sauce,” he told her.

Sue looked at me expectantly, but I wouldn’t tell the story. Not again. He made me tell Margaret in the car on the way to breakfast. “She can read about it in next weeks letter,” I said.

“Okay,” Sue simply said and went back to her waitressing duties.

You may have noticed something about this weeks letter that you may never have seen before.

“What’s that?” you ask.

I did not start my letter this week by showing you my desktop photo. You wanna know why? Because I haven’t changed my desktop photo this week, that’s why. In fact I haven’t been out to take photos since the 18^th of December and that’s a long time for me, but I am otherwise staying busy.

Like I said earlier, I spent Christmas afternoon playing on my Cricut machine. I started out making butterflies and I ended up making eighty of them in varying sizes and colors. I have a little OCD don’t you know. I didn’t start out to make eighty but I was really having a good time. I love to make things.

 

“What are you going to do with eighty butterflies?” you ask.

That is a very good question! One I wondered many times as I proceeded to make owls, mushrooms, and squirrels to add to the menagerie scotch-taped to my wall.

Then I thought of Momma. She could use them to decorate her lampshade. She already has one of my creations on there and she could change it out.

Then I was chatting with Kat and she told me she could use something to decorate one wall in her new apartment. So I made her a bee hive, six inches tall along with thirty bees. Some yellow, some orange.

 

But I warned her. The larger pieces may pull the paint off when she takes them down.

 

I know. Trust me, I know.

I took my Merry Christmas down and now, right behind the bee hive (in the picture), I have to touch up the paint on my kitchen wall.

Sigh.

But if I had to find that out then, this is a good time for that to happen.

“When is pulling the paint off the wall ever a good time?”

When you are remodeling.

 

We are in the process of combining a small recycle room and hallway into one room that can serve as a bedroom to some future tenant or even an office. For us, it is where we will put our fitness equipment.

Walls came down, new walls went up, new ceiling, trim, drywall, all that good dusty stuff. Besides cleaning, we’ll have to paint so it won’t be a big deal to touch up the kitchen wall.

Blessings, you know what I mean?



I am going to end this time by telling you that we had five additions to our clan this year. My handsome nephew Dustin gave us Oliver in July.

My beautiful niece Ashley gave us Kevin in September.

Born in November to my handsome nephew Farley was Kinsley, our German baby.

Beautiful niece Erin gave us Luke on December 22nd and just one day later, Autumn came into the world, born to handsome nephew Tim. And the exciting news doesn’t end there! No sir-ee! We are on track to have more additions next year. Niece’s Bambi and Taysha are both going to have babies and our first great-grandchild will be born in 2015. Hard to believe that I am 55 years old and going to be a great-grandmother.

Until next time, lots and lots of love,

Peg and Mike





　

December 21, 2014

This handsome guy was at my feeder and now he is on my desktop. He thinks he sees something behind the mirrored window, or maybe he hears something but either way he was looking for me.

I have a couple of things on my list from last time that I didn’t have a chance to write about, so I want to start this time with those things.

Guess what I saw as Mike and I were driving down the highway a week or two ago? I wasn’t even sure what it was at first and as we got closer I could see it was an eagle on the branch of a tree. Aren’t they just about the most majestic bird you’ve ever seen?

I don’t see eagles enough to get over the awe of it whenever I see one in the wild. Although we do have eagles that live around here year round, I hardly ever see one. This time of year we get an influx of eagles as the northerners come down to spend the winter with us and that makes it much more likely that I’ll see and photograph one. After all, I know where they hang out.

“Where’s that?” you ask.

The eagles tend to congregate at the dam as it has proven to be a source of lots of free and easy food for these beautiful birds of prey.

“How’s that?” you wonder.

Ameren, the power company, generates electricity by opening the gates, allowing water to come in and turn the turbines. Unfortunately some fish come in with the water and when they come out the other side, they are all sliced and diced; served up fresh and ready for the eating. You just have to wait and watch for the tasty little morsels to come floating to the surface. And because the river level could change drastically and quickly, Ameren sounds an alarm to let fishermen know the gates are going to be opened. The eagles have come to recognize this alarm as a call to dinner. At least that’s how it has been in the past. I don’t know how it is any more with all the new EPA standards. I know that if too many fish come through the turbines the EPA could fine the electric company.

“It’s an eagle! Look! Mike! An eagle!” I exclaimed pointing. But I’m not sure Mike spotted him as we were speeding down the highway at 70 miles an hour. Then I realized I hadn’t even tried to take his picture. “Doggone it! And here I sit with my camera still in my lap!”

We continued on our way, ran our errand and headed back the way we had come. “I wonder if that eagle is still sitting there?” I mused out loud. But not wanting to have my hopes dashed on the rocks of disappointment, I dared not hope. Instead I got to be excited when I saw he was still sitting there and that is how I got a second chance to take his photo.

 

Andrew turned two on Wednesday and we hosted a small get-together. Besides Andrew and his mom and dad, our friend Margaret was the only other guest. I cleaned my house and made a rich, dark-chocolate cake with sweet and creamy Betty Crocker Butter Cream frosting on the afternoon of the party. Then I went to the store. I needed candles and I thought I would pick up some candy decorations like I used to put on my kid’s cakes when they were growing up.

The store I went to didn’t have them so I settled for dinosaur candles.

So much for last minute thoughts.

 

I made Andrew’s birthday card with my Cricut machine. It’s cut from sticky vinyl and put together in layers. Each color is a different layer. It was my first attempt at a card and I’m sure my second attempt would be better but as it was this took three hours of my time and lots of love.

 

Which reminds me. I thought I might like to make Andrew an ABC Book out of vinyl. But after I saw what it took to make this card, I couldn’t image what it would take to make 26 pages plus a front and back cover. I still might do that but in the mean time, I cut stickers and put them on my lower kitchen cabinets. Andrew height, don’t you know. This is all the further I got on that project.

 

Guess who got to watch that little star of her show? If you said, “You,” you would be right!

But before I tell you about that, I want to tell you how it came to be.

Kevin and Kandyce had movie tickets they needed to use before they expired and about the only time they could go was Sunday afternoon. They talked about it while they were here on Wednesday. I heard them.

I write on Sunday’s...

But I love to watch Andrew!

“I’ll watch Andrew for you,” Me heard myself say.

Phones came out, movies and times were checked on internet browsers and plans were made.

Therein lied (laid) the conundrum. I didn’t know how I was going to write and watch Andrew. Yeah. That isn’t going to happen. I’m pretty sure I can either write OR watch Andrew, but not both at the same time. I’d work that out later though. And thankfully, I did. I found a few hours between Wednesday and Sunday and had gotten a really good start on my letter. I finished writing early Sunday-earlier than I normally do-and even managed to get it posted while Andrew napped. Although, in my haste to get the job done, I wasn’t careful and I missed posting one of the photos. Not much of a big deal except it would have made the way I wrote it make more sense.

But having my letter written freed me up to enjoy Andrew.

It was pretty nice outside and Andrew wanted to walk the dogs. Not wanting Andrew to think of playing in the sink with tea cups and water, I thought a walk was exactly the right kind of diversion. We harnessed the dogs and put on our jackets and out we went. Andrew likes to hold the dog’s leash and as you can tell, Itsy wasn’t crazy about the whole Andrew thing.

Andrew, on the other hand, was having a great time!

 

Itsy doesn’t walk very long before she wants to be carried. She’ll put her brakes on and then it’s either drag her or carry her. I usually carry her. In this case I had to switch leashes with Andrew and let him walk Ginger while I carried Itsy. Andrew didn’t care which leash he held as long as he got to hold one. He wanted both leashes at first, but I told him no, he could only have one, and he didn’t fuss about it. Sometimes I can fake him out and carry Itsy while he holds the leash, but he’s caught on to that little trick and doesn’t let me get away with it anymore.

Ginger is kind of funny. She’ll walk for anyone until she sees it’s not me on the other end of her leash. Luckily she usually walks ahead of me, so as long as she didn’t turn around-and Andrew didn’t whip the leash-she wouldn’t know. Then I’d have to take the leash back for a while and when she isn’t looking, give it back to Andrew.

Halfway to the iconic Indian, Andrew reached his little arms up for me to carry him. I picked him up and plopped him on my hip, but with his bulky winter jacket on, me carrying Itsy, holding Ginger’s leash AND my camera, it was awkward. I had to put him down.

“Let’s just go to the Indian then we’ll go home,” I told Andrew and he walked some more.

We made it to the Indian, took a few photos and were headed for home when Andrew asked me to carry him again.

 

I know! Inspiration struck. Being a farmer’s daughter, and sister to seven brothers-I know how to carry things that are heavy or just plain awkward to carry. Put them on your shoulder!

I got this, I thought to myself and put Andrew on my shoulders. And now to pick Itsy up. I really didn’t think it would be a big deal.

Yeah, famous last words, right? Or in this case, thoughts.

Itsy wears a harness. It goes around her front legs and puts no pressure on her neck, not even if I pick her up with the leash. Which is what I do most of the time so I don’t have to bend over and pick her up. It freaks people out though, when they see me pick her up that way, so if there are people around, I usually bend over and pick her up. But Itsy is used to being picked up this way and with Andrew on my shoulders I knew I couldn’t bend over and pick her up.

So there I am with Andrew on my shoulders, camera around my neck, Ginger on the end of a leash and Itsy won’t walk. I have to pick her up. I pulled her up and just as I reached for her, Andrew started to wobble. It only took me a split second to make a decision.

One I didn’t even have to think about.

I dropped Itsy and grabbed for Andrew’s little foot. Then I juggled everybody around and got situated and had the long walk home to think about it.

“Peggy! All’s well that ends well.” Isn’t that what they say?

Here’s the thing though. Once I had a chance to think about it, I scared myself. I could have hurt Andrew. Accidentally, but he could have been hurt badly falling from the height of my shoulders onto a concrete sidewalk.

The more I thought about it, the more horrified I became! How could I even take a chance with this precious little life that was entrusted to me! I never knowingly would!

“We know Andrew’s okay, but how’s Itsy?” you wonder.

She’s fine. I dropped her from about three feet and she didn’t even cry. Small comfort, but comfort none-the-less.

Embarrassment. That’s what I felt next. Andrew won’t tell. If I don’t tell, no-one will ever know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“I almost dropped Andrew,” I confessed to Mike.

“Well don’t tell the kids. They’ll never let you watch Andrew again,” Mike said.

The kids come back from the movie and walked in as Andrew and I sat in front of my computer...

Oh! I have to tell you this...

I have an extra mouse that doesn’t work right anymore. So what I do is sit Andrew in my lap in front of my computer and I let him click on his mouse while I shuffle through photo’s or move cards around with my mouse. He thinks he’s doing it and for now, it makes him happy. One of these days he’ll catch on and I’ll have to think of something else.

Isn’t it just amazing how the kids these days pick up on computers so fast! They’re little sponges, aren’t they? I’ve seen babies who can name every president by their photo, read words on flash cards or name every player on a ball team. I think that was on America’s Funniest Video’s years ago. And they say babies can pick up languages really quickly too. Even before a baby can talk they can do sign language. Sign for milk and stuff like that. And what’s a computer but another language.

I have seen Andrew reach up and touch my computer in much the same manner he does when he pets our animals. With a caress. And caress means gentle touch. You can tell he’s caressing the keyboard, feeling the smooth surface. And when his little fingers finally reach the keys, he feels the difference and moves his fingers like he’s typing. Gently, like it’s delicate, not pounding like the clerks at the check-out do.

Amazing, I tell you. Just amazing.

Something that has been on my mind lately is something that maybe youse can answer for me.

“What’s that?” you ask.

Are all babies as amazing as my grandson?

“Weren’t your kids that amazing?” someone I love asked of me when I was gushing about Andrew.

“I don’t remember,” was my honest answer. “But I suppose they were.”

And Andrew is not our only grandchild. He is just the only grandchild I’ve ever lived close enough to to be able to see.

I’ve missed out, haven’t I. I’ve really missed out. And I feel sorry for me. Sigh.

But. Anyway. I can’t change what has been, anymore than you can.

So. Back to my story.

The kids come back from the movie and walked in as Andrew and I sat in front of my computer. After we chatted for a while, I unloaded my guilt. “I almost dropped Andrew,” I told Kandyce.

“Oh yeah?” was what she said and dismissed it. She didn’t say, “You can’t ever watch Andrew again!” Or anything like that.

Kandyce isn’t easily flustered.

Kandyce is a down to earth kind of gal, not given to hysterics.

I love her. And I feel so much better!

Confession is cathartic, isn’t it. That’s what I realized as I told Mike, my life partner and Kandyce, the mother of my most amazing grandson. I felt better after each telling. By those rules, I would feel even better if I told it again! Wouldn’t I?

I call my mother every night. You know that. Well, most nights anyway, more nights than not. So when I called her that night, I told her. She laughed. “Almost doesn’t count.”

And there is another woman that I love.

There is only one other bit of news I have for you.

I think a short, 150-word article that I wrote will be published in our local free newspaper next week.

It is about this new business coming to the Strip and how this man, George Tucker wants to see the whole Strip prosper and thrive.

 

I’ve been trying for a few months now to get paid to write stories for our local paper, but she-the editor-thought my stories were too cutesy and fun. She wanted to see something more serious. And I think that is where I goofed up. Instead of sending her something more serious, I suggested she come to lunch at Luby’s, I’d get Mike Luby to pay and she could meet me. I thought I’d pitch my idea of doing a column about the Strip and she would love me and hand me money.

Naïve. I know.

Instead she hated me. She must have because she didn’t respond to my emails begging for a response.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Mike told me. Mike used to be involved in city politics and this now editor was a reporter at that time. “I’m telling ya, she hates me.”

But why would anyone cut their nose off to spite their face?

I always presume innocence. It’s part of who I am and I have another story on that for you some other time-Remind me.-but after waiting for two weeks and not getting any kind of reply, I began to wonder. So I sent it to another newspaper. That night, I got a reply. “Thanks. I’ll get it in either the 24^th or the 31^st.”

What do you think about that?

Lots and lots of love,

Peg and Mike

Sunday, December 14, 2014

Hi everyone,

Well! I certainly got a rise out of my mother! Shortly after I sent my letter last week, this was waiting in my inbox for me.

“Peggy! I was not glad that you didn't call me at the hospital because I didn't care. It was because I had to get out of bed to reach the phone. It was kind of back in a corner, and both beds in the room used the same phone so the call might have been for the other person (and mostly was). So, I let her answer it first! Love you very much and now you CAN call me anytime. Mom.”

See! You were right! She didn’t mean it the way I took it. And I’ll be honest with you on a couple of points. First, my feelings were only hurt for about a minute and second, I can be just as guilty of having things come out wrong too.

I had this photo of an evergreen bough up on my desktop for a while this week. I like the soft colors of the background.

But it’s not what’s on my desktop now. No siree! Guess who got to watch Andrew for a little while last week? Yep. Me! And Pop-pop. Once again I got lots of wonderful photos of this little guy who is the star of my show.

Andrew and Baby Blue grace my desktop now. Those two seem to have a special relationship. Even though Andrew sometimes grabs Baby Blue by her tail, she just cries until he lets her go. She has never-ever, not even one time-ever used her nails on Andrew. But before you go feeling too sorry for Baby Blue, know that once he turns her loose, she usually comes right back for more. She’ll rub against him and teasingly flip her tail at him and that’s it. The chase is on.

In case you are wondering about this photo of Andrew and Baby Blue, I’ll tell you how it came to be.

Like I said, I was watching Andrew and Andrew heard some pounding. Construction noises from next door and I don’t even hear them anymore but Andrew sure did. He gasped and looked up at me expectantly.

“What was that?” I asked. “Let’s go and see,” I scooped him up and we went into the bathroom, pulled the blind up, pushed the window open and I stood Andrew on the toilet tank. “Those guys are working right over there,” I said pointing. “See them?” I held onto Andrew as he stood there in the rush of cool air; the hammer and saw sounds even louder now.

About this time Baby Blue came bounding in. She may be mostly blind but she can hear a window open from anywhere in the house and Baby Blue loves to sit in the window anytime it’s open. She jumped up onto the toilet seat, then the tank and stretched her front paws up to the window sill. The two of them just stood there, side by side, looking out the window and THAT’S the photo I wanted! But I didn’t have my camera. I picked Andrew up, “Let’s go get my camera,” I told him as I hurried us away. I got my camera and went right back to our construction site viewing spot as quick as I could. I stood Andrew in front of the open window and he greeted Baby Blue who had taken that opportunity to get in her sitting spot.

Then he turned to look out the window and Baby Blue leaned in closer to him. Her ear tickled his cheek. Andrew laughed and looked at me, then he turned back and waited for her to do again, and you know what? She did! He stood still and she leaned closer and her ear tickled his cheek again!

I sense an air of anticipation in this photo, don’t you?

Andrew said something to Baby Blue…

Then he reached his hand up to her.

Perfect…just perfect. One of my favorite shots.

Then Andrew’s attention was drawn to the hammering and he sees the men on the roof.

I snapped another picture as Andrew turned to look at me. This photo totally surprised me when I saw it on the computer. I had no idea there was a tear in his eye and I don’t have a clue why it’s even there. He hadn’t been crying…allergies? The cool air? I don’t know what caused it.

And my last favorite shot is this one where both Andrew and Baby Blue have their faces turned towards me.

After we were done in the window I put Andrew and Baby Blue down and closed the window up. Then I went to check the pot I had cooking on the stove. Andrew saw me lay the big wooden spoon down and indicated that he would like to have that.

“That one’s dirty,” I told him. “But I’ve got lots more.” I picked him up and let him pick two spoons from the holder on the counter. I say two spoons but he actually picked a spoon and a rubber spatula. Then I put him down and let him get in the cupboard for a bowl. He took everything to the table and pushed the chair out and climbed up in the chair. Once up to the table he spotted the bag of domino’s that live on my table. He added them to his bowl and gave it a good stir.

Andrew played at that for a while before he thought about playing in the sink.

“If you’re going to play in the sink you have to go find your dishes,” I told Andrew. He hopped down and went to his toy drawer, opened it up and started rummaging around in it. He came back to me holding this.

I smiled, snapped the photo and helped Andrew get set up for an hours worth of play at the sink. I tossed him a towel to dry his wet belly.

Believe it or not, Andrew rounded his night out with some quiet time in the big chair with Pop-pop.

Andrew loves this little book of Halloween Riddles and always asks Pop-pop to read it to him two or even three times in one sitting.

Hey! Check out my latest flea market finds. I found a red handle potato masher in the style of the one my mother used to use. I haven’t seen one in years and I have been looking too! The handle came off mine. I’m guess that when it was washed and put in the drainer to dry, it was put in upside down. The water stayed in the ferrule and rotted the wood. So I needed a new one. I also found a new set of dominos for a dollar. I didn’t really need another set, but it was a hard deal to pass up and we love to play dominos in this house.

Another thing I find hard to pass up, even if I don’t need anymore is jigsaw puzzles. The one on the table with the masher and dominos is a drive in movie from the Home Town Collection. Those are easy, fast and fun puzzles to put together.

Yesterday was the Christmas Parade here in Lake Ozark, Missouri. The Betterment Committee is in charge of it and even though it seems like we won’t be ready or don’t have enough help, everything seems to come together at the last minute.

That beautiful lady, Mary Ellen (the owner of Curves), her husband Jim and Massey agreed to judge the floats for us.

“It was fun,” Mary Ellen told me when they got back.

Thanks to a couple of gals on the committee we had a fabulous spread of snacks for all the kids that came to see Santa.

And guess who got to ride in his mom’s work car while mom was driving in the parade?

Yep! Andrew! The best part of the whole parade! Okay, that might just be proud grandma speaking there.

Let’s do January birthdays.

Edward Mark Bowers, 7^th; Dylan Allan Ammerman, 8^th; Katilynn Mary-Eva Buhmeier, 11^th; Ashley Bowers, 19^th; Kandyce Buck Kraft, 19^th; Paul James Bowers, 20^th; Noah Lee Dycus, 20^th; Charles (Cork) Luby, 21^st; Taysha Moon Bowers Burns, 21^st; Gerald J. Soden, 22^nd; Twins Lisa Renee and Anthony Michael Cosentino, 28^th.

I like to include middle and maiden names and as always, if you have any additions or corrections to my list, please, just let me know!

Lots and lots and lots of love,

Peg and Mike

On The Strip

Peg Kraft

 

 

What’s new on The Strip?


Tuckers Shuckers Oyster & Tap, a Midwestern oyster bar, is set to open March of 2015. Owner George Tucker (inset) has been coming to the Strip since he was little and although he already owns a successful business, Paradise on the 24 mile marker, he has wanted to have a business on the Strip for about three years now.

The menu will feature fresh never-frozen oysters, flown in special for Tuckers Shuckers, as well as wings, burgers, steaks and 30 beers on tap. There will be 28 big HDTV’s and live music several times a week.

This 7,700 square foot building will feature a 1958 17-foot Kris Craft as part of it’s décor as well as a second floor patio to afford an awesome view of the Strip.

“I’m not here to be selfish,” George told me. “I want to see the whole Strip be successful.”

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Hi everyone,

My current desktop photo is this squirrel with a nut in his mouth. I’m guessing he is collecting them and...

 

...dare I say it?

Why not!

I’m guessing he’s collecting nuts and squirreling them away for the winter.

Sorry. I couldn’t resist.

Last time I wrote I got off on my favorite subject-the star of my show-yeah, you guessed it, Andrew! By the time I was winding down on my Andrew stories and pictures I was at the bottom of page nine and decided to quit. Nine pages was enough to make you suffer through for one week. I could have written more, both about Andrew and an update I missed and some other news too!

Sigh.

And now this week I have a new update for you plus a correction. Luckily there wasn’t much going on this week so that allows me to get you all caught up.

“Correction?” you wonder.

Yeah. In my dreams you didn’t catch my HUGE spelling error. Because that’s what it was you know. A spelling error. I didn’t write the wrong word all together, did I?

Doggone it. Every time I read what I had written both to myself and to Mike, I read it the way I meant to write it.

I copied my letter, posted it to the blog, uploaded the photos, copied and pasted it to the email, printed my copy and all the copies I mail and hand out, then I sat back in my chair feeling pretty pleased with myself. I glanced at my computer screen where page nine of my letter was still up and what do I see?

There it was, big as day!

Are you kidding me! I thought as I came straight up in my chair. I couldn’t believe it!

“Peg! What is it?” you ask.

“Droopy Draws.” I meant Drawers! You caught it or you didn’t. Either way you are all so kind not to call me out on it.

The update I missed was about the gal running around in her panties on the Strip. My best friend Linda, who owns Bob’s Sunglasses, let me know that this gal was staying at one of the local motels, someone called the police on her, they found drugs on her and they arrested her.

I bet you are not even surprised.

Birth...

....and death.

It is the cycle of life. In this letter we are going to talk about both of these things.

I want you all to meet my brand spankin’ new grandniece Kinsley.

 

My handsome nephew Farley, son of Paul, one of my younger brothers, took a ten hour flight to be with his wife Julie when their baby was born. It was a long plane ride for him and we all anxiously awaited the news of Kinsley’s birth.

“A ten hour flight!” you exclaim.

Yes. Julie is in Germany and that will give Kinsley dual citizenship.

Kinsley Morgan Bowers came into the world at 1:18 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, weighing eight pounds and 20 inches long. Isn’t she beautiful! (Not a question, statement of fact.)

Welcome to our world Baby Kinsley!

　



Kevin!

What can I say about him!

Lots! That’s what!

Kevin is an awesome son, that’s one thing.

Kevin is a mighty hunter, that’s another.

And there are lots of great things in between those two things too.

Kevin bagged his first deer EVER!

I knew Kevin was going deer hunting that Saturday morning but when I didn’t hear anything I just assumed he didn’t get anything. Then mid-week he calls me.

“I got a deer Saturday morning,” Kevin tentatively broached the subject.

“You did!” I enthusiastically exclaimed.

“Yup,” I could hear the pride in his voice. “Then I got a second one.”

I was surprised. “Are you allowed two?” Isn’t that awful. I know Kevin would never do anything illegal.

“Yeah,” he quickly answered. “You’re allowed a buck and a doe or two doe’s and button buck counts as a doe.”

“How did you get two?” was my next question.

“I shot one, the other one ran away then it came back, so I shot it too!”

“That’s great!”

“But, uh, I didn’t know if I should post a picture on FaceBook or not.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or offend anyone,” he stated.

I couldn’t help but feel like maybe a little bit of that concern was for my feelings. He knows I hate to see things die. And I was sad for the deer-for just a moment-but in this case... “You’re feeding your family!” I told him. “I’m proud of you! Go ahead and post it.”

“Okay,” he said.

“After 32 yrs I finally got my first deer plus one more for a bonus,” Kevin posted on FaceBook along with this photo.

 

After I hung up, I told Mike about my conversation with Kevin. “I hate venison,” Mike said.

“Indiana venison’s good,” I told him. The flavor of wild game depends very much on what that animal eats. “The deer are corn feed and taste very much like mild beef.”

Thanksgiving morning I watched Andrew for Kevin and his beautiful wife Kandyce. When they got back from phone shopping we talked for a while.

“You know, the things that Andrew understands amazes me,” I told Kandyce and then I told her of his turning the light off and on for me. “But I bet you’ve had him do that before.”

“Andrew always amazes me too. Even things he has never been asked to do before he understands perfectly.”

When we were done talking about my amazing grandson, I asked how their venison was.

“All we had was a couple of steaks and they were pretty gamey tasting,” Kandyce told me. “I even marinated them in this,” Kandyce said reaching into a cupboard, retrieving a bottle of something and holding it out to me. I don’t remember what it was anymore. “I thought this would make it taste good, but I guess I’ll have to find something else.”

“Do you know what my mother did when she cooked wild game?” I asked.

“No, what?”

“She cooked it with onion,” I said.

Before I left I was given two one-pound packages of deer hamburger and that is what we had for supper last night. I cooked the venison burger with onions and when it was done, I tasted it.

“Mmmmm.” I said. I got another lump on my fork and turned to Mike where he was sitting at the kitchen table. “Here!” I commanded and Mike turned to look at me. “Try this,” and I thrust it at him. Mike pulled back and wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like venison,” he said.

“Oh com’on. It’s good.” I told him. “It’s most likely mixed with something because venison’s too lean on it’s own.”

He tasted it and agreed it wasn’t too bad then I put the taco seasoning in and it didn’t matter anymore. Taco seasoning will overpower the flavor of the cheapest hamburger so I didn’t think it would have any problem disguising the taste of wild game.

Itsy and Ginger both thought venison was pretty good too!

I had a conversation with my mother a couple of weeks ago that went something like this...

“Oh, did I tell you? Patti (my oldest sister) found the death certificates for Grandma and Aunt Nora for me,” Momma said. I could tell there was something about them that excited her.

“She did!” I fain enthusiasm.

“Would you like to see them?”

“Absolutely.” How could I say no now?

Momma went to the trouble of contacting Patti and having her send me copies of the death certs and once I got them, I looked them over. Actually I read them line for line. The next time I talked to Momma she asked me if I saw all the good information that was to be taken from them.

“Like what?” I asked. I saw that my grandmother witnessed both certificates and she isn’t Mary Agnes Smith, she’s Mrs. Ralph Smith. But considering the times, that would have been her identity. I saw the doctor was the same on both certs, and so was the undertaker. I saw dates of birth, I saw they were both born in Ireland to the same parents, now that’s convenient-considering they are sisters. Bridget McCarty Earles allowed her children to immigrate to the U.S. but they had to come over by two’s when the younger of the two was old enough to make the trip.

Aunt Nora came to the United States as a nineteen year old, Momma thinks. Grandma came when she was sixteen and she came with her twin.

“How many kids were there in the family?” I asked Momma. “And who did Aunt Nora come with or did she come by herself because she was older?” I tend to ask run-on questions, don’t you know.

“Oh no, I think she came with a brother,” Momma answered my last question first. “And there were eight or nine children, I don’t really know-and I would like to know! I think that one of the sisters was Anna and another was Hannah. Their father was Michael and I think one of the sons had the name Michael too.”

“Do you think he was a junior?” I asked.

“I don’t know but I think they called him Black Mike,” and before I could say anything about that, Momma continued, “I think he was a blacksmith.”

Momma told me that after all the children came to the States, Grandma Bridget came over and spent some time, but ultimately she hated it and went home to Ireland, but her brother Uncle Dennis is buried here. Momma doesn’t know the circumstances around Grandpa Michael’s death but she believes he was gone before the children started coming over.

Now, for the information the death certificates tell us.

Grandma Margaret...we know that she was probably first diagnosed with kidney problems in March and the doctor last saw her in April. She died September 1^st of chronic interstitial nephritis. Nephritis means kidney inflammation. I googled this chronic interstitial nephritis and found out that most often it is not fatal. Most often.

 

On Aunt Nora’s death cert Grandma Bridget’s last name is spelled wrong. There is no h in McCarty. Aunt Nora must have fallen, probably on the 31^st of October because the doctor certified he saw her alive on the 31^st and death occurred shortly after midnight that night, which is technically November 1^st, of a cerebral hemorrhage.

 

If anyone has access to the records of Ellis Island and can find out anything about my mother’s aunts and uncles, could you let me know.

“How is your mom?” you wonder.

She is doing good. Momma stayed in the hospital until Tuesday

“I missed you Momma!” I cried on the phone that Tuesday night. “But I didn’t want to call you at the hospital and bother you!”
“Good. I’m glad you didn’t,” she said. Not, I missed you too, or anything like that. I thought for sure she might miss our nightly chats just a little. But no! “Good. I’m glad you didn’t,” was what she said. My feelings got a little hurt.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way,” you say. Bless your heart. I’m sure she didn’t mean it that way either.

More news, no more room.

Lots and lots of love,

Peg and Mike

November 30, 2014

Hi everyone,

My current desktop photo is one of us girls having a bad hair day. Itsy’s little topknot has made it’s way to the side. We could maybe call it a sideknot if it had more hair in it instead of barely hanging on like it is in this photo. When I saw this, I laughed and hurried to grab my camera. I’m guessing Itsy had a rub-fest with her blanket and this is the result of that.

I miss my mother.

As I sit here writing on Saturday night, getting an early start on my Sunday Letter, I have to tell you that I miss my mother a lot.

“Why Peg? Where’s your mother?” you ask.

She’s in the hospital.

“What happened?” you ask.

My oldest and much adored sister Patti sent me a text message early Wednesday morning. Momma’s Life Alert had called her.

Momma had pushed the button on her Life Alert.

She was having pain in her chest.

Life Alert sent an ambulance to get her and they took her to the hospital.

Her heart is fine but she has pneumonia again.

I have spoken with my mother almost every night for more than fifteen years. Now I haven’t spoken with her in four days!

Are you feeling my pain?

I don’t want to call Momma at the hospital. I want her to rest and get better.

She knows I love her.

Still, I really miss that woman!

Okay! Onward!

I have so many exciting things to talk about this week, I hardly know where to begin! At least one of my stories could be a letter all in itself, replete with photos. Another story might cover two or three pages, with no photos. Then there are updates.

“Updates?” you wonder.

Yes. If last week wasn’t a life-time ago for you, you may remember I talked about persimmon seeds in my last letter. I said that I thought persimmon seeds were tiny. I said the ombudsmen said the photo I sent him was raccoon droppings and persimmon seeds. I said I would open up a persimmon and find out for myself. Do you remember that? I just want you to know that I did open a persimmon up and it did have five big seeds in it. Persimmon seeds are NOT tiny. In fact, they are so big, in this tiny little fruit, that there isn’t much room for pulp!

“Did you taste it?” you ask.

Yeah. I did. But only very tentatively. It was fruity and sweet and left my fingers sticky.

The texture was mushy.

And I didn’t really eat any of it.

I understand persimmon make good jelly and deer love them. And now I know that raccoons like persimmons too!

Something else I talked about not very long ago was assumptions. Do you remember? I told you that assumptions rarely turn out well for me. Did that not sound like a woman who had learned her lesson about assuming?

Well, to my chagrin, I did it again.

“What did you do this time?” you wonder, and you don’t sound all that surprised. After all, a leopard can’t change his spots, can he? Although I try hard not to assume things, it always seems to catch me off guard.

It is better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than open it and remove all doubt.

And sometimes the same thing applies to the written word.

Stephanie, my beautiful first-cousin-once-removed, emailed me asking for my address.

It’s getting on to Thanksgiving, I think to myself. Some people start sending Christmas cards about this time. I bet Steph wants to send me a Christmas card.

Well that is a bet I lost. But what makes it embarrassing is in my return email I said something to the effect that I haven’t decided if I’m going to send out Christmas cards this year. Now she knows what a dumb-butt I am! I couldn’t have just sent her my address and not written anything else, could I? Geeesh!

But blood is thicker than water and I know she forgives me my faux pas.

“If not a Christmas card, then what did she send you?” you ask.

Stephanie sent me the nicest thank you card, ever!

Did you guess that?

Yeah. Sometimes the most obvious things escape me. But what can I say?

I want to take a minute here and tell my cousin Lorraine, youngest daughter of my beloved Aunt Marie, that she did good. She and her husband Mark have raised a very fine daughter. One she can be proud of!

My best guy and I got to hang out for a couple of hours Thanksgiving morning...

There was a sale on cell phones and Mom and Dad needed new phones. Only a few were available so they had to be there early. Would I come and stay with Andrew while they went?

Absolutely!

The things this little almost two-year-old knows, understands and can do never ceases to amaze me! I was there, at Andrew’s house, for about twenty-five minutes before he woke up. I heard him. He made some noises and I knew he was awake. I went in, sing-sawing “Hello Andrew! Hi Baby!” I could see the confusion in his eyes as I greeted him. I totally was not what he expected!

“What are you doing here?” his look says. But I let him wake up slowly and I talked to him as soothingly as I could manage.

“Come on,” I said, and Andrew stood up and held his arms up to me as I lifted him from his crib. I hugged him and kissed him and changed his bottom and carried him into the living room.

“You want some milk?” I asked and set him on the couch. Kevin told me Andrew might want milk when he wakes up, then he maybe would or would not eat something. I got Andrew some milk and we chilled on the couch for a while watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade as he drank it.

 

“Are you hungry?” I asked Andrew and I got up and got him a cereal bar. “Do you want this?” I asked when I got back and held it out to him. He took it and checking out the package he realized it wasn’t open and he handed it back to me. I opened just the top and handed it back to Andrew. He stuck his little fingers in the opening I had made but he couldn’t get the bar out. He tried to give it back to me, but I refused.

 

“You can do it,” I said encouragingly. Andrew didn’t argue with me, he just pulled the package back and started working on it.

Victory!

 

And to the victor go the spoils.

 

Andrew ate about a third of his breakfast, then he was done.

I honestly don’t remember how I came to be on the floor, which is where I was when I snapped this photo of Andrew and Andrew is so patient with me! He waits until he hears my camera click before he moves on to other, even more adorable poses and I kid you not! Andrew totally plays to the camera!

 

I think Andrew accepts my photography as part of who I am. He knows it’s what I do. But in this instance I couldn’t get the camera to focus on his face before he climbed off the couch. I still like the photo though and wanted to show it to you.

“Andrew,” I said. Andrew is a man of few words, but he stopped to listen to what I had to say. “I think my Nook is my bag,” I told him. It’s so funny. His little head snapped on his neck so fast as he turned to look at the table. He spots something up there. He thinks it’s my bag, but it’s not. He reached the table in super-sonic speed and launches himself up onto the bench.

“That’s not my bag,” I called.

Andrew stops.

“I think my bag’s in the chair.”

Andrew climbs back down and goes for the chair. It’s funny. There is more than one chair in this house but he somehow zeroes in on the one that holds my bag. Maybe my sweater on the chair back is a dead giveaway.

I got up to help him get the Nook out. I didn’t want the contents of my bag strewn across the room. He stood on tip-toes as he peeked inside. “There it is,” I said. Andrew reached in and grabbed a colorful carry-all. “Not that one,” I told him, “the pink one.” He let go of the colorful one and grabbed the pink Nook case and hauled it out with all the expertise of fishermen reeling in a prize fish! And his smile was no less proud either!

I am not surprised that Andrew didn’t know my Nook was in a pink case. When he comes to my house and plays with my Nook, it has never been in a case, it just sits on the headboard. I only put it in a case when I am toting it somewhere.

Regardless that Andrew has never seen my Nook in a case before, he figured out how to get it out of there pretty quickly.

 

He knows how to turn it on and he knows how to move things around on the screen. Look at that finger action, would ya! Perfect.

 

Andrew knows how to use a touch screen. He knows how to turn pages by swiping and he knows how to make things smaller by pinching his fingers on the screen. He is so smart!

Andrew loves technology. I have seen him hug my Nook. Both to his chest and to his face.

But today, this Thanksgiving morning, Andrew picked up the Nook as I sat there capturing the moments on my camera, and put it in his lap. He’s working on closing my puzzle down when he hears something on the TV that draws his attention.

 

I don’t even know what it was but when it was over Andrew picked up my Nook, carried it over to the step, set it down and made himself comfortable.

 

I watched Andrew for a while before I called him over. “Let me see it,” I said.

Andrew brought me the Nook and sat in my lap and that’s when I realized that he had wet the whole way through his PJ’s.

“Let’s go change your bottom first,” I told him and set the Nook aside. He didn’t fuss as I scooped him up in airplane mode and we zoomed off on our way to the changing station in his room. Upon pushing the door open with my stocking clad foot, I realized I didn’t have a hand to turn the light switch on with.

“Andrew, can you turn the light on?” I asked.

His giggles stopped and he became serious as I held him up to the switch. He concentrated on holding his little finger out and as I stood there he found the bottom of the switch and pushed it up. Just like that. He didn’t do it wrong. He didn’t try to push down first. He knew on was up.

I changed him and he is the nicest baby to change. He can push his bottom up so I can get his diaper under him. “Thank you Babe,” I tell him when he complies to my requests.

I only had one problem. Don’t laugh at me. I didn’t know how-and I still don’t know how-to use the new-fangled diaper disposal systems they have out these days. I figured out how to open the top and I put the diaper in, but I couldn’t find a button or anything to make it suck it down into the bottom part. And pushing it wasn’t working! How the heck does this thing work? I wondered as Andrew patiently waited. Where’s that button? I looked and looked and looked! I found the button to open the bottom to change the bag in the system, but that’s the only thing I figured out how to do.

I meant to apologize to the kids when they got home about leaving the wet diaper on the changing station. But I didn’t know what to do with it. I already had one diaper stuck in the top of the diaper bucket!

Sigh.

Once Andrew was changed, I set him on the floor and he zoomed out of the room.

“Andrew!” I called. “You forgot to turn the light off.” He stopped.

“Hmmmm?” he asked in mid-stride.

“Come and turn the light off for me,” I said. He has such a glow about him! Andrew zoomed back to me and I scooped him up and held him so he could reach the switch and with one finger extended, Andrew turned the light off. I set him down, secretly pleased with my genius grandson, and off he went.

Once back in the living room, I settled on the couch and Andrew picked up the Nook. I called Mike to see what he was up to, and Andrew!

That little stinker!

He set my Nook on the floor and looking right at me, he stepped on my Nook.

“Get off my Nook,” I told him and he did. But it seemed like it was some kind of test. I hung up with Mike and suggested to Andrew that we should put the Nook away. He fussed a little but then he spotted his hat, sitting on the end table.

He picked it up and put it on his head and Nook forgotten, went off to explore his toy box.

 

Andrew has some wooden puzzles. As I quietly watched, Andrew got his puzzles open and dumped out, then, one by one, he fit them back into the correct spots. I was amazed, but didn’t say anything to him.

When he was done I helped get the puzzles all packed up and he put them away.

 

“Hey Droopy Draws, pull your pants up,” I said.

Andrew reached down and grabbed a handful of denim just above his knees and pulled. But it didn’t do any good and I just smiled.

Andrew took one of his puzzles and went to the window box, climbed up and lined up the pieces in the groove of the window. I could imagine that he has spent many hours playing here and I just watched as he pulled the pieces out and lined them all up, facing all in the same direction.

 

“He’s a little OCD,” his mama once told me and I could see it here.

He was still playing in the window when Mom and Dad came home.

I wonder if they know how special I think Andrew is.

Let’s call this one done.

Lots and lots and LOTS of love,

Peg and Mike