Pinterest to the Rescue?

Hello, my name is Granma, and I'm a Pinterest junkie...  There isn't anything you can't find there with a simple search.  While looking for quilt ideas, I found a paper bowl bird feeder (complete with Fruit Loop embellished hanging strings).  Searching for science experiments, I came across elephant toothpaste.  It's a whole website of dreams!  Someone dreamed it up and made it happen and put it online for the rest of us to peruse.  And when one believes in the dream and their ability to recreate said magical creation, go at it with gusto!  Sadly, some perfectly executed online dreams turn into our nightmares.  And when that happens, we are generally out a few art "supplies," but have gained a great story!  Sometimes, even when the dream works pleasantly enough, the story is still better than the final product.  Here's hoping that happens with today's blog...

Easter is coming, and so were the three eldest grandloves:  Bryce, Bella and Tyler.  Rainy weekend that it was, Easter egg coloring seemed a good idea.  Perhaps I should have stopped there, but, no, I proceeded to Pinterest.  Did you know you can color Easter eggs with shaving cream and food coloring?  In hindsight, I realize that half a good idea was just then gathering steam and rolling down the mountain at break-neck speed.  It did occur to me that if the Pin was a fail, I might need a plan B before an egg fight broke out in my dining room. The eggs were hard boiled, so the mess would not have been overwhelming.  Shaving cream, on the other hand....  I'm running ahead of myself.

Watchfully assuring that the shaving cream spout was aimed in the proper direction, ditto for the food coloring, and we were, I hoped, on our way to a successful pin!  To a base of shaving cream, we added drops of food coloring, lightly mixed by running a toothpick through the fluffy, gentlemanly-smelling whiteness.


Now to roll the egg in the prepared lather.  Not for the squeamish - not that anyone objected, mind you.  Upon successfully coating the eggs, the grandloves rolled their hands in the same mixture.  This picture of Bryce's fingers is just for show.  All thoughts of contemporaneous photo-documenting disappeared when the first, second and third set of goopy hands (fronts and backs) came bounding my direction.


The eggs rested in their lather for 10 or 15 minutes while hands were washed - and the table - and the sink - and Tyler's shirt (which miraculously came completely clean).  Tyler and Bella returned to Legos while Bryce and I considered how to get the goop off the eggs.  Half a roll of paper towels later, we had a beautiful bowl of Easter eggs!  We were all quite impressed with our success!  And just to prove our efforts were genuine, the grands took a bonus piece of the project home with them, safely embedded in their fingerprints and palms and nails.

Dear Pinterest, Might I suggest plastic gloves?  Unless, that is, Easter hands are now an "in" thing.  And next time we will try Cool-Whip rather than shaving cream, opting for improved smell and taste while still maintaining texture.  It might result in Easter mouths and noses to match our fingers.  We'll let you know - next year...

Kiss Me, I'm Irish!

I'm Irish!  Or at least I think a part of me is Irish.  Basically, my heredity is European, and Ireland is over there somewhere, so I claim it.  Besides, everyone is Irish on St. Patty's Day!  So I stand by my statement:  I'm Irish!

A few years ago, Bryce was staying overnight on St. Patty's Day Eve, a wee bit of a holiday followed by a grand one.  I listened with great interest to his tale when he confided that if you trap a leprechaun, he has to grant you a wish.  I took the bait.

First of all, the miniature magic of Lucky Charms' fame is attracted to silver and gold.  We all kind of knew that, right?  Apparently, though, and I'm getting my info from a very wise grandboy, they aren't interested in U.S coinage.  They want real silver and gold.  I guess I could have risked some of my jewelry for a chance at that wish.  It might have been a really good idea, though I just now thought of it.  Besides, if the sprite took the bait and Bryce took the wish, I would have ended up with an X-box or something, which is not stylish in the least.  Selfish or wise?  Hmmmm  Anyway, I've heard it said that leprechauns are near-sighted, so we improvised.  Admittedly, we were short on the gold, but buttons wrapped in tin foil have an attractive glitter that was sure to attract an imp or two.  We wrapped lots of buttons.

The next step was to devise a trap.  Bryce went to work.  There was a box held up by a stick - kind of the classic catch a rabbit trick.  Again, though, worried about our prey's eyesight, we decided not to take chances.  Bryce trailed post-it notes down the stairs and across the room, ending at the trap.  How's that for a grand welcome!  A trick for the trickster!  Eventually, as all good sleepovers should include, Bryce fell asleep, with visions of green dancing in his head.

When we awoke the next morning, we traveled the same trail of post-its to claim our prize.  And there was a prize, though not a leprechaun or a wish. Instead, the little green elf left us a message.  "Thank you for the silver!  Since you were so generous, I decided to leave you some gifts, too."  Makes me glad in reverse that I didn't leave him real gold and silver!  In addition to the hat and pin Bryce claimed, as seen above, there were green Peeps and Andie's Mints.  Bryce wasn't overly generous with the green sugar, but he's not beyond being guilted...

So Friday is coming, and with it St. Patrick's Day, and my mother's birthday (which might be even more important!).  So dye the river green, speak with an Irish brogue, hide your gold and wrap your buttons in foil!  It's a great day to be Irish!

Christmas Recap

Naomi enjoying second breakfast

Christmas preparations take months!  All the planning and buying and wrapping and baking and, and, and...  and then it's over in the blink of an eye.  In truth, Christmas Day in the Harris household was one LONG blink that started abound 9 am and ended 10 hours later.

We started with stockings and Butter Braids - gooey sugary goodness wrapped around a cinnamon center.  Yum!  We moved on to gifts.  I can't give you a list of items received. My vision was hampered by flying wrapping paper. But I did see smiles all around.

Joyfully Josiah

Next came dishes for some of us, games for others and then a feeble attempt at gingerbread houses. Granma was losing steam by then. Somewhere in the afternoon there were several rounds of naps: by the very youngest and by several of the parents. The eldest of us relied on caffeine to prepare the next round if eating.  There was a salad assist (thank you, Corey) and potatoes mashing (thank you, Colin).  Dinner arrived more or less as scheduled and as planned.  One salad spent a lonely Christmas, forgotten in the basement frig. The dishwasher, on the other hand,

did not get a holiday, either the mechanical or the human variety.

We ended the day with the most beautiful dessert ever, courtesy of Christine.  And it tasted better than it looked. Bella loved the rum sauce; she was allowed an entire thimbleful.  It was quite rummy!

The best way to sum up the day came from Elijah aka Zeke aka Nugget (he answers to them all). With perfect 2 year old diction he intoned, "Ho, ho, ho!  Mer-wee Crit-with!!!"  And it was, sweet one!  It absolutely was.

Nuggets of wisdom - Mer-wee Crit-with!

Cookie: Monsters and Minnions

Some Christmas traditions just must occur.  I might spend some time wistfully thinking how much easier the season would be without hours spent, say, wrapping gifts or decorating the tree, but I wouldn't give it up.  That makes me either a hopeless sap or obsessive compulsive.  I prefer sentimental Granma hoping to pass on a tradition or two - though OCD is pretty descriptive, too.

I am hardly the investor of the Christmas cookie baking tradition.  There are a lot of us sugar plum(p) fairies during the holidays!  As a child, my siblings and I required our Mom to make gingerbread Santas.  They were about 6" tall, frosted and an unquestioned stocking stuffer.  No one really ate them, but they were not Christmas optional, either.  Mom grew tired of making them long before we moved out of the house.  They are still required when we go home for Christmas...

About 17 years ago, (how could it be that long?) my bestie invited me to join her in making Christmas cookies.  I think the first year we had a dozen different kinds, the second year we made 13.  Each year we tried to top the previous year - until we realized we weren't that impressed with ourselves.  Six is a good number for anyone wondering, a fact that we proved again last Sunday.  We were heavy on the chocolate, which might not make for the most photogenic sugar gathering, but it sure tastes good!

Just a couple of days previous to that, Josiah and Aidan joined me in round of frosting art.  Their cookies, as you can plainly see, are a study in eye catching design.  Little to no chocolate was employed, though marshmallows were popular, as were sprinkles.  We started with more marshmallows than you see here.  Apparently, it's pretty easy to sneak those fluff balls - there is no tell-tale crunch to call attention to the guilty pleasure/party.

At one point, I caught Josiah "sprinkling" his tongue with red sugar.  Upon extracting the bottle from his mouth (and bidding it a premature farewell), I looked left to see Aidan taste-testing the blue sugar in much the same fashion.  Brothers...  It has been a few days now, and I'm starting to remember with fondness, and a giggle, two little boys with red and blue smiles.  I must remember to get more sprinkles before attempting cookies with them again.  Who knew it a whole bottle of sprinkles was a single use item?

So who won the cookie cook-off of 2016?  Well, for looks, I have to give it to the mini monsters.  They beat the besties with color and creativity!  However, for general public consumption of a more sanitary nature, I recommend the chocolate.  Seventeen years of practice has to show up somewhere - besides our hips...

Merry Christmas!!!

Christmas Magic

There are some special "grands" Christmas memories.

Last year was one of them.  Holding two precious baby girles, home from the hospital, but still tethered to oxygen.  How sweet that was!  This year, holding them is much more difficult - they want to be down and moving, especially Faith.  She gyrates in your arms, demanding the freedom of the floor.  What a wonderful, miraculous, welcome change!

Bella's first Christmas with us was last year, too.  She arrived walking and talking, of course.  She and I made ornaments to decorate the tree, dancing snowmen and gingerbread men and women.  We started out following the directions.  We ended up with a whole village of our creations - no two the same.

A dozen Christmases ago, was Bryce's first, all six weeks old of him.  I was still trying on the name 'Granma,' and hadn't settled on the spelling yet.  But I certainly had settled on Bryce!  He has sparkled on Christmas every year since.  I'm looking forward to some boardgames with him this Christmas.


Tyler was almost a year old by the time his first Christmas arrived.  Older and wiser, he enjoyed all the gifts, especially the wrapping and bows.  I love to watch the world through his eyes, which haven't lost the wonder of expectation.

Elijah slept through much of his first Christmas, a mistake he won't make again, I'm sure!  Being grandboy number five at the time, the pack-and-play was a safe location for him, while the rest of the world spun out of control with laughter and bits of colorful confetti raining down.

But my favorite grandboy Christmas memory is the year Aidan learned to blow out the Christmas tree!  He walked into the house, straight up to the tree and started blowing.  The behavior seemed a bit odd, quite frankly, two-year-old adorable, but odd.  Court and Christine let us know that we should stand at the ready by the light switch that controlled the outlet to the tree lights.  We were a quick study.  The lights went off (or back on) with each watery blow from his lips.

My next favorite memory is too intertwined to be a separate memory, though it happened two years later.  Aidan was then in control of the light switch for two-year-old Josiah.  His younger brother would giggle with delight that started at his toes.  Aidan, sharing in the joy, joined a duet with the shear joy of toddler laughter!

I can't wait for Christmas!  I wait expectantly with the joy of a toddler for the gathering of the red and green grands!  Merry Christmas, everyone!  And merry memories in the making!

The Parade of Halloween

Colin circa 1991

I'm not a major Halloween fanatic.  Well, I was when I was little.  Nothing like a sugar coma that can last for weeks. At some point, though, I realized that since Reese's come in two packs, it was far easier and almost as attractive to simply apply one to each hip.  Sigh.

As I kid, I would spend weeks leading up to the fall fest planning what to wear - AND gathering the parts and making the costume.  I have never worn a "store-bought" costume.  They probably weren't as prevalent when I was a child, but I don't remember lusting after them.  I kind of felt sorry for the poor kids whose parent's couldn't create a costume designed by the heart's desire.

When my boys were in the trick-or-treat age span, they never wore "store-bought" costumes, either.  I enjoyed creating whatever they wanted to be.  In their youngest years, of course, I was able to guide their requests based on ideas and props I had on hand.  There were lions and tigers, crayons and pumpkins, baseball players and maffiosa. In later years, they put me to the test. One year Colin was a baseball.  Another year Corey was a baseball card.  Court made an adorable T-Rex.  But if there is one contume that stands out among the many, it was the year that Colin decided he wanted to be a milk carton.  It seemed an odd request, but not an impossible one.  And, hey, he works in the grocery business now, so maybe it was just foreshadowing...

I thought my costume creating days were over.  Let's face it, now the store-bought can be pretty impressive - expensive, but elaborate.  This Halloween, though, I got "the call!"  I didn't even know I was missing the call, until it came:  costumes for Bryce, Tyler and Bella.  Bryce wanted to be a Pokeball (which I contend looks like a bobber.  I think his father should dress as a fish.  Just a thought.).  Tyler is Mike Wazowski (I'm hoping you guessed that from the picture).  And Bella, well, she is a Southern Bell(a), of course.  Unfortunately, she wasn't available to model for this picture.

So, Happy Halloween, everyone!  Not spooks and goblins, but fun and imagination... and candy!!!

Water, water everywhere!

Memorial Day.  A time to remember and reflect, and I do!  With a heartfelt thanks to my grandfather (WWII), my father (Korea) and my son Colin (Operation Iraqi Freedom), among the multitude of others owed a debt of gratitude.

But in a whimsical (exact opposite of the initial intention) and new-traditional bent, it is also the start of summer.  On a personal note, I love spring because it means summer is coming.  I submit to fall's natural air conditioning and I endure winter to get to spring.  Thus, for absolutely personal and trite reasons, I love Memorial weekend that much more - the unofficial start of summer.  Last weekend did not disappoint.  Sunday, the grandboys and girlies and those who I love on up the generational-relational ladder, gathered for a celebration of family.

In addition to "grand" love, hugs and kisses, where was food and laughter and family nonsense - a normal gathering.  Grampa got extra smiles and love from Naomi - and if you zoom in, a trail of liquid love extending from her mouth to his shirt.  Those would be 10-month old brand of kisses!

Elijah shared his water with me after playing in the pool with the "big" kids - and crying foul at their antics.  Well, certainly crying anyway.  He came up to sit on my lap instead.  Thankfully, no pictures exist of Granma's well loved and dampened lap.  Let's just say it didn't remind anyone of a pool.

Then, of course, there are water guns.  Aidan looks like his valiant attempt to hold his own might be waning.  Uncle Corey's self-satisfied look of triumph seems to validate that assumption.

 Eventually water gave way to the park and then whiffle ball (ish) and soccer (ish) and a game of Monopoly (straight up - see the May 10th blog).  This Granma left just after all the aforementioned, except for the conclusion of Monopoly, which as we all know, is endless.

Happy Memorial Day to all!   Bring on the water! And the happiest start to summer!  It is going to be a great one!

Rudolph, the Wrap Up

If you spend a fortune on a gift that you know he will love, the child is more likely to play with the box.  It was true when my babies were...babies.  It still holds true for a child under the age of 2.  They don't even need wrapping paper, except for the photo op, which will be, of course, the most tangible and lasting byproduct of those Christmases.

A child age 5 and up puts everything on their Christmas list that is just above the dollar limit you have set for Christmas -that is, above your ENTIRE Christmas budget.  This trend will not change for many years to come, though the excitement of the day itself tends to make them forget their gift list - a nice side benefit of all the wrapping paper and bows and lights and sugar...

But the golden age of Christmas gift receiving, I think is between the ages of 2 and 4.  It is the age where ANYTHING goes on the list, but EVERYTHING is the ultimate prize.  They just love to be the center of attention.  Their fancy needs slightly more than an empty box to tickle it, but not much more.

Aidan and Josiah got Rudolph noses in their stockings, and true to their namesake, they glowed.  It was the toy de jour.  Of course, the all-too-predictable nose local grew old quickly and they went in search of alternate placements.

If there is one sad fact about these glowing nasal prosthesis, besides the wonderful elastic indentations that comes from prolonged usage, it is the lack of ability to refresh the batteries.  Within mere hours, the reindeer glow was waning, a fact that did not escape the wearer's notice.  By the next morning, I fear, it was Mama's turn to explain why Rudolph was red, but no longer capable of lighting the way.

Merry Christmas to all my grandboys and girlies!  And my thanks to them for making it merry for me, too!

Out-Gobbled - a Bonus Blog

The Thanksgiving eat-fest has come and gone.  Well, not really gone since we are still enjoying turkey sandwiches and turkey pie and all manner of other things turkey.  But the pies are gone and the dressing and the crowds at the dining room table.  The thought of all of them make me smile.

There was more food than a small village could reasonably be expected to eat - Colin and Elijah, notwithstanding.  But in this bonus blog, I thought you would like to know how the contest turned out between the two.  First, it should be noted that at 15 months, manners are still optional for Elijah.  Therefore, while Colin was forced to cut his food and eat by the fork-full, his competition's food was inhaled more like a contestant in a hot dog eating contest - fist-fulls at a time.  But the wee one's real advantage was his speed out of the starting gate.  Colin, being forced to wait until grace was said, was already one round behind before he took his first bite.  Elijah exploited that advantage.

When dessert was presented, Bella opted for pumpkin pie.  She has had my cherry pie before, and she knows it comes with potential pits.  Her fear was my gain!  And by the way, NO pits!  Which is probably a first in this household.  In our traditional cherry pie pit contest, the winner generally places 2-5 seeds onto their plate.  That was a total non-sequitur, but again, it makes me smile.

When we all rolled away from the table, I believe the count was three helpings a piece for Colin and Elijah.  Both of them went down for the count.  Here is Colin and Corey sleeping off dinner.  Elijah was also in a food coma, but cuter in his slumber, though no picture exists.  You will just have to take my word for it.

You might think the day ended in a tie, but it didn't.  Roused from their slumber, both Colin and Elijah returned to the scene of the competition.  Colin played a board game with his brothers - where again, he did not prevail.  Elijah used the location for its more traditional use - he ate again.  Colin gave him one look and admitted defeat. Elijah just kept happily munching away.

All hail the winner of Thanksgiving-fest 2015.  Elijah!!  I love that kid!

Gobble, Gobble

Uncle Colin and Elijah
The Contenders!

I don't need to tell you that this Thursday is Thanksgiving - unless you are reading this after the fact or you are a citizen of a different, non-turkey-obsessed country.  In which case, it gives you a frame of reference.  In two short days, we will each eat three days worth of calories in the span of a few hours and then lull around in a food coma for the rest of the day.  I do love Thanksgiving!

Thirteen of us will gather around the table.  Actually, the two tiniest will not be at the table, nor will they dine with the same type of caloric intake.  If tradition holds, and it generally does, my son, Colin, will make a valiant effort to make sure there will be no left overs.  He will not succeed.  Either he will admit defeat, or his father and I will point that fact out to him.  However, despite his gastronomic efforts, Colin will not be crowned the biggest eater of the day.  Most assuredly, pound for pound, that title will go to Elijah.  

Eli is the happiest little bundle of energy - until he sees or senses food.  Once anticipated, this grandboy insists upon filling his tummy immediately!  There is not time to finish preparations; there is no point to reasoning with his rumbly tumbly.  Give the child FOOD!  Rest assured, whatever stopgap provisions you give him will not suffice until everyone else is seated.  Keep seconds at the ready.

That is the glee-filled gobbler in his orange bib.  In front of him are four chicken tenders and a handful of fries.  Fifteen minutes and a third of a muffin later, his tray was empty of anything large enough for toddler fingers to grasp.  His smile was as winning at end as it was at the start.  Meanwhile, his elder brothers completed their own few fries and one or two tenders each - and a third of a muffin.  It was necessary to interrupt their chattering every couple of minutes to remind them to use their mouths for other purposes.  Elijah never needs such a reminder.

At a recent birthday party, our youngest grandboy topped off a full belly with cake, of course.  Not even those who blew out the candles enjoyed the sugar as much!  Note to Granmas everywhere:  purple frosting is not necessarily the best color choice when dining in a more formal room in the house, but it does make for great photo ops!

Happy Thanksgiving from this extremely blessed and thankfilled Granma!  I can't wait to see what he will do with pumpkin pie!

Happy Halloween

I love to read.  Not quite an earth shattering revelation.  When I think back about favorite books, there is A Man Called Ove (making a recent appearance on the list), The Screwtape Letters and The Narinia Series (C.S. Lewis is timeless), Starship Troopers (the book, NOT the movie), and World War Z, an Oral History of the Zombie War.  Now you can see why I can never quite answer the question of what type of books I like to read; it runs the gamut.

WWZ was a surprise addition for me.  It didn't sound like my kind of book.  The whole concept of zombies is ridiculous to me:  dead is dead and living dead is more moron than oxy in my humble opinion.  Actually, I hate the whole zombie fascination, which is one reason I refuse to see the movie, Brad Pitt notwithstanding.  (For the record, I love WWZ for the writing style and the sociological commentary the book delivers.)

But it is that time of year when attentions are turned to the gross and disgusting, or at least the fanciful and fall festive.  There are some Halloween traditions that I have perhaps chronologically outgrown.  Actually, that's not true.  They are just traditions that should be enjoyed in a traditional way - that is, WITH someone.  I find it difficult to find someone my own age who would like to join me.  Luckily, there are grandboys around to humor me.  Carving a pumpkins falls squarely within this diatribe.

Bryce and Tyler were coming for dinner last week, so I made sure to have a pumpkin at the ready.  I even cut the top so if they backed out on me, I would still feel obligated to carve the orange orb. Bryce will be turning 10 in a few days, and I'm never quite sure where the too-old-to line is for any given activity.  I am aware, however, that it is a moving target.  I'm all about target practice.

Tyler was totally non-plussed at the idea of carving a pumpkin.  Bryce was equally disenfranchised at the thought of scooping out pumpkin guts.  Problem solved - Granma got to play in the goo.  Apparently, though, just-shy-of-ten is the perfect age for playing with a (safety) knife.  I'm happy to report that Bryce not only did an excellent job of carving, but he was having too much fun to let me take a *stab* at it.  I am old enough (just barely) to let him keep all the carving fun to himself.  The final product, I'm sure you will agree, is spook-tacular.  (I agree, that was even too corny for me, though I didn't apply the delete key...)

Knowing it had to be a blog, I asked Bryce to pose with his creation.  THIS is what you get when he says, "nah," and I, with my best Granma puppy eyes, says, "Ahhh, come on."  Here is a zombie I can love unequivocally.

Happy Halloween, Bryce!  Thanks for the play-date!  I love you!

Hoppy Easter!

I usually start a blog with a bit of an idea that hopefully grows into something useful and then add a picture.  Sometimes a picture reminds me of a story.  Fear not!  There is plenty of material for this Granma's Tuesday morning Snippets!  It seemed appropriate this week to have an Easter story.  But I couldn't think of one, at least not one that was developing into something useful.  But I have the perfect picture!

Three years ago, we moved into a new house, boasting a rather large crawl space.  It was also a cold Easter, so the egg hunt was held indoors - in the crawl space, to be exact.  Being no fool, I let Court hide the eggs - I try to stay out of those cramped quarters as much as possible.  That fact would be obvious to anyone who dared to look around in that receptacle of can't-quite-discard memorabilia, which tends to gather near the entrance.  Actually, even Bryce doesn't want to go in there any more - not that I blame him.  So those of us too wise (read "old") to enter got a good laugh at those who did.  And those who did, got candy and coins - a good trade all in all.  Sorry, that's all the better that story gets.

But the picture has been one of my Easter favorites ever since.  I can't decide if Bryce's expression says:  I just saw a cotton tail disappear around the corner!  OR I just stepped in something that might have passed close to a cotton tail.  Either way, it makes me smile every time.

So - aren't you glad a picture is worth a thousand words and that I'm not going to actually tell you what those words might be?  Please join me in enjoying a Granma memory and maybe a grandboy nightmare quickly banished by hugs and chocolates.

Happy Easter to all!