Fun With Grandma

As you know, my mom died a year ago in June. We miss her and many things about her; however, we choose to hold close the things she taught us to do and the many things we do to honor her memory.  I hadn't been home since her funeral so it was nice to go out and visit her and show my girls where the better part of my aunts and uncles and other various relatives are now residing. I brought a bottle of wine and an extra glass to share with Mother.  She (and Ramona - who is right 'next door') would have enjoyed that.  BTW:  that is the bottle of wine I got at the Duty Free Shop.

Another fond memory with my mom was that she liked to drive around in her little red car. She knew who had lived in what house at one time or another and who was living where. Did she have an incredibly sharp mind or was she just really nosey?!  Carolyn was a little concerned that I had had a glass of wine whilst wandering the cemetery so she decided she finally would work up the nerve to learn how to drive - and in Grandma's car. Maybe my one (and Grandma's wine glasses are tiny compared to mine!) glass of wine made me just relaxed enough to be a pretty calm driving instructor.  Carolyn really did great - she had a nice soft foot:  no abrupt or jerky stops and starts. Uncle Garth would have been pleased.

Hands at 2 and 10, eyes on the road and no texting and driving. 

Of course, every time we come to Grandpa's house, we make him a lemon meringue pie. We managed to make it this time without his help - but it did take all three of us. Carolyn did the crust and the lemon filling; Elyse did the meringue; I was the sous chef and handed everything to the girls as they needed it. And like usual:  the pie was perfect.

Sorry, Teddy!  We didn't save you any!

Grandpa needed bread and we wanted fresh cinnamon rolls. We got Grandpa (my "Ted Year Old") settled on the couch for a nap and we tried to quickly get things mixed up before he could interfere or advise us...We were almost there when he came in to say, "Ah you need more insert expletive of your choice here flour." Followed by "I told you: you don't have enough insert expletive of your choice here flour." Of course I hated to admit it: but he was right. We added more and more insert expletive of your choice here flour and it all turned out just dandy in the end.

It was either Betty Crocker or my mother who said,
"When your finger imprint stays in the dough, it's raised enough to punch down."
I'm guessing it was my mother.