Bad jokes for my PaPa

My PaPa passed away peacefully yesterday morning. He would have been 90 years old today. I guess he decided for his birthday he wanted to be reunited with NaNa.

There are a lot of things that I will remember about PaPa.

• How he left college in his freshman year because he missed NaNa too much. 
• How he drank "neer beer." 
• How he would rub my knuckles together when he shook my hand. 
• How he loved Schuler's Donuts (which are the only ones that could hope to compete with a Long's Donut from Indianapolis). 

But mostly, I will remember PaPa for his corny sense of humor and his never-ending quest to find and share bad jokes.

So PaPa, these jokes are for you:

What do you call rabbits running backwards? A receding hairline

Why did the golfer wear two pairs of pants?  In case he got a hole in one.

What is a bear without teeth called?  A gummy bear

What did the beach say when the tide came in?  Long time, no sea.

What do you call a cow with no legs?  Ground beef

What did one toilet say to the other toilet?  You look flushed.

This one comes from my Uncle Bill:

My favorite by far is his Hammond organ joke. I would be sitting in the living room while he was practicing the organ. PaPa would stop playing and said "You know, Hammond wasn't always in instrument business. He used to be a farmer. Back then the company was called Hammond Eggs..."

So PaPa, though we are sad to say "Wieder auderheisen," we will laugh on in your honor.

Readers, if you have a "PaPa joke" to share, please leave it in the comments and then spread the laughter today by telling the joke to someone who will groan appropriately.

It wouldn't be Thanksgiving without...

Thanksgiving is a favorite holiday around here. As Charlie said tonight, "all you do is eat and watch football, how could a day get any better?" It's still 9 days away, so to pass the time I've made a list of all the things that make Thanksgiving Thanksgiving in my book:

1. The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Sitting in jammies all morning long, watching the parade and hollering at the kids randomly. "Garfield is coming! Right after this commercial (and the next and the next and the next). Who wants to see Garfield?"
2. Black Friday ads. It doesn't matter that I will have checked out the ads online several times since mid-November. There is nothing like paging through ad after ad of deals so good even sane people consider heading to the stores at 3am. My favorites are the Target and Kohl's ad, but Walgreen's is usually a place for some good deals, too.
3. Green bean casserole. If it's not the original recipe from the can of Durkee's French Fried Onions, it's not green bean casserole. 
4. Falling asleep to football. I like to watch football. Really. But I like a nap during a football game even more.
5. Cranberry relish. This is new on my list of must-haves for Thanksgiving. Growing up, cranberry sauce always came out of a can, bearing the telltale ridges of the inside of the can. Yuck. But Mike's mom introduced me to cranberry relish made with whole cooked cranberries and little bits of orange zest. Delicious! 
6. Fat pants. My brother-in-law taught this to my kids. Either wear or bring with you big stretchy pants for post-meal bloat. And if Mom wants to take pictures of the family, better do it before dinner when everyone still looks decent. Otherwise she will get a picture of people in a varied assortment of sweats, sleepwear and perhaps even old maternity leggings.
7. Spending time with family. In the 21 years that Mike and I have been married, we have only not been with extended family once. And that's the way I like it.

What makes it Thanksgiving for you? 

Love, personified

Soft, wavy white hair, speckled with a few black strands that refused to back down. That's what I saw as I watched my Grandma sleeping so quietly and so small in the bed at the hospice center a few weeks ago. I leaned in to kiss her wrinkled cheek and followed with my eyes as it led to her beautiful, wrinkled ears. How do ears wrinkle, anyway?

I reached down and rubbed her wrist. Her skin hung loosely, but so softly, around the bones of her arm. Under the pink and white afghan, I could see how much she had shrunk in stature, so tiny in that bed.

I couldn't help but smile. That tiny frame could not contain the enormous strength of my Grandma, of this woman who had born 13 children and buried two, one in infancy and one in adulthood. I looked back at the defiant strands of black in her hair and smiled more. They were a biological symbol of the fight my Grandma had within her.

Death is a part of life. And when my mom called to say Grandma passed away this morning, I was immediately sad for the missing piece of my heart. But I am also filled with joy because if there is anyone who has earned this rest, it is Grandma.

She earned it through the days and nights of worry over her love -- her husband -- off to war and later off to fight fires in his job as a fire chief.

She earned it through more than 65 years of marriage. 

She earned it through the raising and correcting and loving of 13 children. In the thousands of exasperated utterances of "Patricia!" or "Bill!" or "Paul!" -- or pick any other of her children's names. 

She earned it through the thousands of meals, hundred of jars of home-canned foods, mincemeat pies, peanut butter frosted cakes and dozens of gumdrop cookies and springerles that came from her hands.

She earned it through the quiet rituals -- the wooden stable and nativity put under the Christmas tree each year; the cherries pitted with hairpins at the kitchen table on hot (and un-air-conditioned) summer days; the quick and certain kisses she gave to say good-bye at each parting. 

She earned it in the loving, but not indulgent, manner with which she greeted every child who crossed her door. Grandma showed us the only riches you need to raise an army of children and a legion of grandchildren are plenty of love and some chocolate ice cream dished up in avocado-green bowls.

She earned it in the faithful example of her life as a woman of God. It has been said "Preach the Gospel often. Use words if necessary." That was Grandma.

My Grandma was not a woman of many words. (In recent times, the deterioration in her brain loosed some of the quick-witted things she must have been thinking, but not saying for all these years, much to our amusement.) But her actions spoke volumes. They spoke love and compassion, loyalty and service and humility.

This is my Grandma (with my niece Kate):

 

She loved.

She was loved.

She was LOVE.

Trying to avoid the awkward family photo

It's church directory picture time again. I'm not sure whether to arrrgh or just sigh...

Our church is pretty big, at least as far as Catholic churches go. Some 2,000 families. So have a pictorial directory is a good idea. That way you can know the name of the family who always comes in after the first reading or the one who leaves a mess of Cheerios in the pew.

The first time we had our family picture taken for the directory, there were only 3 of us and Annie was just 10 days old. The last time, there were 4 of us. Charlie was 3 years old and Annie asked the photographer if he would take a picture of just me and her. Make me melt.

Now, there are 5 of us and probably the only thing melting that will happen is the meltdown I might have about what we're all going to wear.

In the last directory, one family all wore red clown noses. It was great -- no one even looked at what they were wearing, except on their noses. Another family all wore Cincinnati Reds t-shirts. This year, friends of our all wore Butler University gear. Perfect, as he works for BU. But that doesn't help me much.

Robbie would be happy if we all wore Angry Birds outfits. Maybe Mike and I could sport the red bird and King Pig costume heads? Charlie wants to wear basketball shorts and a t-shirt. If we were to get a photo taken that really reflects who we are as a family, we'd all be holding some kind of electronic device and I'd have a Diet Coke in the other hand.

Since that would probably make us look shallow and pathetic, I'm moving on to Plan B. Mike wants to wear jeans and sport coat with a white shirt. I don't love the jeans, but don't feel like finding and ironing his khaki pants, either.  The boys would be happy in jeans and as long as I don't make them wear ties, dressing them will be pretty easy.

Annie is all set to wear a hipster-approved, vintage-look dress with cardigan that she really does look cute in.

Then there is me. I scheduled our pictures for the latest possible date so I would have time to lose 20 pounds. Yeah, like that happened. Instead, I think I've gained 5.

So between now and this evening, I have to find something in a color that looks good on me -- I'm thinking purple -- that doesn't make me look like Grimace, Barney or any other large and cartoonish character. No matter what I decide to wear, I'm pretty sure Spanx will be part of the get-up. If only they made Spanx for chins...

If I want people to recognize us at church from our picture in the directory, I'll have Robbie slumping, Charlie staring off into space, Annie twirling her hair and Mike and I on the ends looking happy to just have made it (mostly) on time.

Yeah. Not awkward at all.

Roots and wings

There's a saying that you've probably seen on some cheesy wooden plaque at Cracker Barrel that goes, "Our parents give us two things. The first is roots, the other wings." I'm having a roots and wings kind of moment today. Except that I'm feeling one different sentiment for two different people.

Today is February 13. The date upon which Annie and Robbie made their entrances into the world -- in 1997 and 2003, respectively. So today they are turning 14 and 8 and I am left completely believing the cliche that they grow up so fast.

It's for Annie that I'm feeling the exhilaration of wings.

I am just marveling at the person she is becoming. She has found her niche in art and theater. She's off to high school in the fall. She cares for other people's children -- and her brothers -- so well that I sometimes forget she is really still a young girl herself. She is far more confident in herself than I was at her age. She's also stubborn and mouthy at times; I mean she IS a teenage girl. I find myself wanting give her space to enjoy this time in her life, to stretch her wings and figure out where it is she wants to fly and how it feels to do that.

Then there's Robbie. He has me clinging to roots.

Before we had a "baby of the family," I always thought it was ridiculous that parents seemed to treat the youngest of the bunch with so much ease and tolerance. But now I find myself fighting an internal struggle to stay firm and keep my expectations high. Annie and Charlie will tell you that I'm failing. I can't help it. He IS my baby. I secretly love that he climbs in bed with us in the middle of the night. I melt when he comes to me and asks if I will cuddle with him on the couch in front of a movie. So he doesn't tie his own shoes or ride a two-wheeler, yet. That means that he still needs me.

Yes, I am proud of the roots that we've helped Annie dig deep into the soil of who she is. And I do find joy in the wings of independence that Robbie is testing little by little. But mostly, I'm grateful for the opportunity to be here for the ride.

What I learned on New Year's Eve

We spent New Year's Eve at my parents' house with all my siblings and their families. There were 22 of us together in all -- 23 if you count my brother's giant, 100+-pound greater Swiss mountain dog. It was the best New Year's Eve I've had in a long time.

We kept it simple, ordering pizza for dinner and enjoying snacks that each of us pitched in for. We celebrated Christmas, creating a frenzied storm of flying wrapping paper and delighted squeals. All the grandkids (10 of them) got Pillow Pets. All the married kids got very cool family name plaques from AlphaPics.

There were multiple "puppet" shows (starring the Pillow Pets) put on by the nieces and nephews, complete with paper "tickits," and all the grown-ups dutifully watched and applauded. We played Catch Phrase and "Three Truths and a Lie."

The latter was quite fun. I learned all sorts of things about my siblings and in-laws that I didn't know before. Of course, the real dirt was divulged later in the evening, after the clock had struck midnight and a few folks were either a wee bit tipsy or just punch-drunk tired.

It was a fun, joyful -- and educational -- way to celebrate the New Year.

This is what I learned:

1. Laughing until you literally wet your pants is hereditary (no, it wasn't me), as is staying up until all hours of the night (guilty for that one).
2. If you're going to have 22 people and 1 very large dog in one house for a long period of time, bring plenty of air freshener -- and GasX.
3. It's not just my husband who is happy to help -- if asked -- but who otherwise is happy to sit on the couch.
4. The amount of noise generated by 10 kids is frighteningly huge.
5. I am still my mother's favorite. Ok, she didn't come right out and say that, but I know that's what she meant when she said, "Please pass the pizza."
6. Just as married couples shouldn't hang wallpaper together, they also shouldn't be on the same Catch Phrase team. And for the record, dear, I still don't think "Arms Blown Out of Proportion" was just a bad guess.
7. There are dogs in the world who don't steal food from the table.
8. Almost-14-year-old-girls will still play with Barbies given the opportunity (and no friends who are watching).
9. It's a good idea to do a head-count every once in a while.
10. The warmth of family togetherness with 22 people in one house lasts approximately 24.5 hours.

All-in-all, it was a great way to finish the old year and ring in the new. How did you greet 2011?

Christmas presence

Last week I drove 300+ miles to Cleveland, Ohio to go Christmas shopping at Target, JC Penney, Sears, and Bed Bath & Beyond -- all stores that I could drive to before 2 songs pass on the radio at home.

Mike pointed out that fact when I called him from my Aunt Susie and Uncle Howie's house to update him on my progress on the annual Christmas shopping trip with my mom and her sisters in my Aunt Susie's town of Strongsville, Ohio.


I'm guessing this tradition started about 25 years ago as a way to help my NaNa shop for the kids, grandkids and eventually the great grands. Since NaNa passed away three years ago, my PaPa goes instead. Anyone who has graduated from high school or who is not walking yet is welcome to come.

We figured the most number of people who've ever been on the trip is 11. That must have been NaNa; my mom; aunts Connie, Susie, Bonni; me, my sisters Angie & Shelley; and my cousins Teresa and Tina. I'm still one short, but I'm not sure who I'm missing. Anyway, this year was a pretty small group. Aunt Susie, Uncle Howie, PaPa, my mom and I. (I should note that Howie is always there, but he tries to avoid most of the shopping part). My Aunt Connie is undergoing chemo and didn't feel up to the trip and Aunt Bonni couldn't get the time off work.

When I heard that the group was going to be so small this year, I gave some thought to not going. I wasn't planning to buy that much anyway. Up until about an hour or so before I was supposed to leave, I was still debating whether or not to go. I'm so glad I did.


I drove to my folks' house in Dayton, Ohio on Wednesday night. I stayed up too late talking to my mom, as usual. Then in the morning, she and I headed to pick up PaPa. When we arrived at his house around 9am, he was waiting -- with Schuler's chocolate bismarck donuts! This is definitely part of the tradition.

In the first five minutes at PaPa's house, I was so happy that I decided to come on the trip. I felt overwhelmingly grateful to be there with my 86-year-old grandfather who is the sweetest person I know. I got teary just feeling my heart swell up with love for him, though some of those tears were also for how much being with PaPa made me miss my NaNa.

The time away also gave me a chance to spend time with my mom, which I don't get to do often enough, and my Aunt Susie and Uncle Howie. They came to Indianapolis for my 40th birthday party in August, but with so many people there I didn't have much time to spend visiting with them.

So yes, I did drive more than 600 miles (roundtrip) to go to stores I could have reached in about 5 minutes. But this trip was not just about buying Christmas presents. It was really about savoring Christmas presence.

Who would you like to give some Christmas presence to? Can you make that happen?

Just peachy

Hey y'all! Greetings from Georgia! Actually, there are so many northern transplants here that I haven't heard anyone say "y'all," or "fixin'," or "reckon."

Despite my apprehension, the trip from southern Indiana to my brother's house in Kennesaw, Georgia was not too bad. Oh sure there was the "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom" 15 minutes after we left the gas station where everyone said they didn't have to go potty. And there was the "Are we there yet?" about 140 times. But I was pretty pleased with how everyone -- including me -- fared on the trip.

Had I known what was about to greet me when I stepped out of the car, I might have left my seat belt on, the engine running and told the kids I'd be back to pick them up on Thursday. I don't want to give you the impression that anyone was misbehaving, because they weren't.

But take five cousins ages 12 and under -- three of whom are little boys -- who haven't seen each other since Thanksgiving, stir in one 90-pound dog, and a mom who has been solo parenting for 10 hours worth of drive and you've got the makings for a lot of noise. Happy noise, to be sure, but noise definitely.

Within the first two hours of our arrival, we went to the park once, let the dog escape twice, and doled out snacks three times. No matter, my niece and nephew are adorable and have grown so much since we'd last seen them, it was all definitely good.

We were playing in the back yard and Robbie, Camryn and Jack were all climbing a tree. (If you can call 4 inches off the ground climbing.) Happy to be out of the freezing rain of Indiana and in the warmish-Georgia climate, I took off my shoes and socks. Jack, who is 3, was quick to follow suit, which I thought was cute. That's when my sister-in-law Erin came home and said "Jack! Where are your shoes and socks?!"

Oops! Guilty.

Camryn wanted to show me everything -- flips, tree climbing, her fancy purse, her Sleeping Beauty dress. I love spending time with them, especially since my kids are all beyond the cute preschooler ages. The dog is another story.

Toby is a sweet dog, but he's so BIG and so energetic. Think Marmaduke. The kids were all laying on a futon watching a movie tonight and Marma -- I mean, Toby -- sat his hind end on the futon and his front paws on the floor! The kids all hollered, my brother called Toby into the family room, tossed him a ball and the scenario played out over and over again.

Thank goodness this was after my margarita!

Then before the movie was over, Charlie wouldn't give Robbie a ball (which I had repeatedly told Charlie to put away), so Robbie slugged him. That was enough for me. I sent them both to bed. Robbie for punching, Charlie for disobeying me about the ball in the first place.

When I left the room where Robbie was (supposed to be) sleeping, I saw the light on in the room where Charlie was (supposed to be) sleeping. I opened the door to find him playing a video game. Just as I was about to read him the riot act, my brother piped up.

"I gave it to him." Guess turn about is fair play. And it's vacation, so I didn't get too upset. And I was too tired to do anything about it.

They've all had trouble settling down tonight. I hope that means they'll sleep in late. We're climbing Stone Mountain tomorrow. And word has it that crabby kids get left at the top.

The 12 blogs of Christmas: #1 -- Shopping traditions

I've talked about my shopping trip to Cleveland several times, but haven't taken the time to fully explain the significance of this trip or even why a group of women would choose Cleveland, Ohio as their Christmas shopping destination.

The trip started 22 years ago with my Mom and her three sisters accompanying my NaNa to a suburb of Cleveland where my Aunt Susie lives. The purpose of the trip was to help NaNa do her Christmas shopping -- at least that's what everyone told their husbands.

Since then, the trip has happened every year in the first week or two after Thanksgiving. Anyone over the age of 18 is invited to tag along, as is anyone who is not yet walking. I think I made my first trip when I was about 22.

I remember expecting that we'd have a nice leisurely lunch, stroll through the mall and turn in around 9ish. Boy, did I underestimate these women.

We generally pull into Cleveland around 1 or 2pm and head to the mall for lunch. Over lunch in the food court, the lists come out. Some lists are computer-generated, others are scratched onto lined notebook paper. Some are color-coded, others are divided by stores at which the purchase should be made. But be assured, everyone at that table has their lists. This is also the time that the coupons come out -- Bath & Body Works $10 off, JCPenney save an extra 15%.

Just in case the other shoppers can't detect the seriousness of the mission, our group has chosen to identify itself with matching shirts, a relatively new phenomenon in this event's history. This year's shirts -- recycled from last year -- aren't too bad. Denim with a reindeer embroidered in the "Izod" spot and a reindeer pyramid on the back.

In years past, the annual shopping shirts definitely would have made the What Not to Wear "worst of" show. The first year was sweatshirts of the iron-on-outline-with-fabric-paint-variety. Purple sweatshirts with bright Christmas lights on them. Then there was the glowing turqouise sweatshirt with ironed on snowmen pictures. I think the worst was the ivory sweatshirt cardigan with a snow Statue of Liberty bearing the phrase "Life, liberty and the pursuit of the perfect gift."

The shirts help us find each other in a sea of shoppers and keeps other people wondering if we're going to stop at the Santa village and break into carols. Be thankful we do not.

Once the pre-work over lunch is finished, the shopping begins. Generally at a department store like JCPenney or Sears. We scatter throughout the store and then meet back again at a designated time. This is also about the time that the antics begin. Depending on who has joined the trip, mishaps and misadventures occur, some taking on legendary status, including:

• the year that not one, not two, but FOUR of the group pushed the wrong elderly lady in a wheelchair out the door of Penneys
• the year that my little brother, then 18 months, threw up in his stroller and then proceeded to lose his winter coat -- in Cleveland, in December
  
• the year that Aunt Bonni decided to conquer her fear of escalators and failed miserably, much to disappointment of the shopper in front of her who ended up wearing Aunt Bonni like a backpack for the rest of the ride
  
• the year that NaNa decided to try out one of those electric carts and put a hole in the wall at Sears
• the year that we discovered the hole was still there -- at least two years later
• the year that I was ginormously pregnant with what would turn out to be a 10+ pound baby and everyone watched my every waddle, certain I would go into labor at any moment, though my due date was 10 weeks away
  
• the year that my mom peed her pants laughing so hard...wait! That's every year. Except the advent of discreet incontinence protection has robbed the rest of us of the chance to tease her about it.
  
• the year that Aunt Connie bought so much stuff -- including 8 pairs of boots and 6 giant bags of clearance rack clothing, that there wasn't room for NaNa's wheelchair in the car.

Once we close down the mall at 10pm (open late after Thanksgiving), we head to Kohl's to scoop up the deals there. Then it's back to Aunt Susie's house for dinner -- at 11pm. No need to ask what's on the menu: lasagna, salad, bread and butter. The meal is as traditional as turkey on Thanksgiving.

We all fall alseep fast and hard. In the morning, we sit down to the annual egg casserole and bagel breakfast and map out the morning's shopping. Though there's not much mapping to be done -- we go to the same stores every year. Target, then the Champ's outlet, Old Navy, and if Aunt Connie is with us, T.J. Maxx. Back home for the traditional lunch -- sloppy joes, potato chips and pecan sandies cookies -- and then the traditional jamming of all the purchases into the cars already full with people, pillows and overnight bags.

For all of the traditions, things have changed over the years. The biggest change is that NaNa is no longer with us. She passed away in August 2007. So PaPa comes instead. And since he broke the estrogen barrier, my uncle Bill has started coming too.

(Mom, Aunt Susie, my sister Shelley, me, Uncle Bill, PaPa.
Aunts Connie and Bonni were both sick this year and couldn't make it.)

I know that Christmas isn't about the shopping and the presents. But it is about love and family and amidst all the strategizing and bargain hunting, that's precisely what our annual shopping trip is about too.