Hi everyone,
My current desktop photo is this squirrel with a nut in his mouth. I’m guessing he is collecting them and...
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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.
“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.
“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 1st 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.
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“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
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