A thank you and a beer

We're a pretty communicative family, no doubt about it. Not only do my girls e-mail and text and call on the phone with chitter-chatter and pseudo tweets, they also mail me goodies. Real mail, snail mail, via the United States Postal Service.

Just last week I received a couple postcards -- not something I typically find in my mailbox.

First up was a precious thank-you card from Bubby. Megan's teaching the boy right and made him put pen to paper to thank Gramma and PawDad for his recent birthday gifts.

Bubby decorated the front of the card with stickers and special words. Megan translated, with Bubby's best comment of all -- for whatever reason -- being "Big banana. Eat it."

The back of the card was Megan's words because although at two-years-old Bubby obviously has the motivation, he's not yet mastered the fine art of thank-you-card protocol.

Coming in from the opposite end of the grandparenting/parenting spectrum was the postcard I received from Andrea last week. I'll let it speak for itself.

Front:

And back:

In her defense, Andrea did send a Thank You card last week, too, expressing her gratitude for the birthday gifts we gave her.

But it's the beer tour postcard that made me smile most because, c'mon, how many 25-year-olds share their drinking adventures with their parents? And think of dear ol' Mom and Dad while downing a pint or two at the pub? And actually fill out a postcard for them while there?

Like I said, we're a pretty communicative family.

Today's question:

When did you last send a postcard? Where did you send it from and to whom?

My answer: I actually sent a postcard just last week. It was part of my friend Amber's campaign to end breed-specific legislation in Denver (the legislation that bans pit bulls, like my Mickey).

Just walkin' the dog(s)

Most of my friends are pretty active gals. They regularly work out at the gym, fitness boot camp or other similarly strenuous locations.

Not me. I walk. With my dogs. Same time, same route, same five out of seven days each week.

Here are some highlights of our daily fitness routine:

Out the gate and ready to roll, with Mickey in the lead and Lyla working on the "focus" command.

Now she's got it, periscope ear up and all -- proof that she's focused! (Keep an eye on that ear throughout; it does not go down!)

On the road ...

... past the open area where the deer and the fox like to roam.

Up the hill to the house where the maniac dog of questionable breed rushes the chain link fence, providing the best arm workout of the trek as I try to force the dogs to maintain at least minimal composure. (It doesn't usually work.)

 

Back down the hill again.

Trit, trot, trit, trot (with a tangled leash, evidence that composure was lost on the way down the hill).

This is the house of the man who hates Mickey ... and Lyla ... and me ... and every other living being (except his grass, which I think he manicures with scissors).

Up the next big hill ...

... where wondrous views await ...

... of ... Walmart and its busy parking lot ... at 9:30 on a weekday morning! While K-Mart, across the street, sports a nearly empty lot. (Poor K-Mart.) Okay, not the greatest of views, but if you turn the other direction, you get ...

... ta-da! Pikes Peak! This is the view we appreciate most.

Even Mickey can't get enough of the natural wonder. (Lyla can't get over the empty parking lot at K-Mart.)

While standing in the same spot, we need only glance slightly to the left for a full view of Cheyenne Mountain, with NORAD deep within. Well, it used to be the home of NORAD but now they've gone and moved it to a totally unsafe -- in my opinion -- location, with just bits and pieces left deep inside the mountain. But that's another story, for another time and featuring fewer photos.

Continuing on our way, with me searching the field where the fox den is located, ready to provide a detour if a fox comes our way.

Past the house where the nice man likes to smile and yell across the street, "Who's walking who? Ha, ha!" (Like I've never heard that six hundred and fifty-two trillion times before. But that's okay cuz he's nice ... and he thinks it's funny.)

One more view of Pikes Peak ...

... then we're homeward bound.

Ah, home sweet home!

The dogs make sure the coast is clear: No squirrels. No birds. It's a go.

And we're back where we began.

Fitness mission accomplished!

Sure, there are no pushups, no pullups, no plank positions involved. But the yanking of the leashes this way and that way while avoiding fox, squirrel, deer and passing vehicles (which are like crack to Lyla, who's having a difficult time giving up the habit) is more than enough workout for this grandma.

Mickey and Lyla, on the other hand, are ready for more. They dash off into the backyard the second the gate is opened, scaring the cuss out of each and every robin, wren, mourning dove and squirrel who had the gall to relax in the shade, eat from the bird feeders or splash in the water while the dog patrol was out making its neighborhood rounds.

Today's question:

What's your exercise routine?

Two thumbs up

As I've mentioned before, we are a movie-going family. We love movies and we love going to them together, sharing the cinematic experience.

Bubby went to his first movie with me and Jim (and Megan and Preston, of course) when he was just days old. We saw "Wanted" with Angelina Jolie. He did great: no crying, no screaming, no fussing. Grandma didn't do as well. "Wanted" is an insanely loud film, with gunfire, explosions and more, and I spent the entire time worrying that we had made a huge mistake in taking Bubby with us and that we'd ruined our brand-new grandson's hearing beyond repair. But he seems to have done just fine with it and (as usual) my fears were unfounded.

We also took Bubby to his second movie: "The Dark Knight." Again, it was a loud movie. But as he was just one year old, he did okay with it, pretty much sleeping through the whole thing. I do believe Megan had to do a little walking around with him, but nothing outrageous, nothing to curb the movie going.

So we took him again. To see the last "Indiana Jones" movie. No major problems there. Bubby seemed to do quite well with the adult fare. Although from that point on, Bubby hasn't joined us -- or his parents -- for a film. Common sense prevailed over our movie fanaticism, and we didn't want to reach a point where Bubby would actually cry during a movie and upset other viewers who had paid a high price to watch a big show on the big screen.

This past weekend, while Jim and visited for Bubby's second birthday, we decided to forego the adult fare and give Bubby a shot at seeing a film on his level ... with popcorn and all ... and trillions of other kids in attendence. We went to see "Toy Story 3". And Bubby loved it!

He patiently awaited the beginning of "the big show," sitting nice and tall --and quiet -- in his booster seat:

Once the big show began, he watched ... and watched ... and watched ...

... until he didn't want to watch anymore. But in all fairness, his antsy-pants didn't kick in until about 15 minutes before the movie ended. And he had Grandpa to visit when the antsy-pants kept him from sitting in his seat.

All in all, Bubby's first real movie-going experience was a success. This final scene says it all:

Yep, a true success! 

Next up: subtitles! He's already such an advanced movie-goer that I don't see it being long before subtitled fare is on the bill.

Looks like we'll be keeping this kid in the family!

Today's question:

What's the first movie you remember seeing at the theater or drive-in?

My answer: "Benji" on a school field trip.

The tortoise and the hare-like grandma

Gah! With all the busy-ness of the past week or two, I completely forgot to get a gift in the mail to Bubby! How could I do that, especially for such an important event?

What? Huh?

No, I didn't miss Bubby's second birthday. We'll head to the desert to celebrate that in a few weeks. What I forgot to mark in a timely fashion is World Turtle Day!

World Turtle Day, sponsored by American Tortoise Rescue, was started to increase respect and knowledge for the world'’s oldest creatures. According to ATR, the critters been around for about 200 million years, yet they are rapidly disappearing as a result of the exotic food industry, habitat destruction and the cruel pet trade. The ATR website has some pretty dern informative turtle tidbits, such as, "If a tortoise is crossing a busy street, pick it up and send it in the same direction it was going. If you try to make it go back, it will turn right around again."

This year the 10th World Turtle Day was celebrated on Sunday ... May 23 ... while I was in South Dakota ... where the buffalo roam and where I saw lots of deer and antelope playing but nary a turtle that I had to help make its way across a busy street.

When I realized my blunder of forgetting to mark the day for Bubby -- it fits perfectly with my mission to regularly celebrate wacky nationally recognized dates with my grandson -- I hopped online in hare-like fashion and ordered the most awesome tortoise to be delivered to him lickity split. That's it in the picture above. Yeah, it'll arrive a few days late -- not so hare-like at all, I guess -- but I'm pretty sure Bubby will enjoy it just the same.

And because it's made of plastic, Bubby won't have to worry at all that his turtle toy will attempt any daredevil street-crossings! Frankly, he'll likely need to worry more about forgetting the little guy out in the hot desert sun where it'll melt into a puddle of ticky-tacky tortoise goo, which would be so not in line with the ATR's mission "to save turtles and tortoises for the next generation."

Happy belated World Turtle Day to one and all!

Today's question:

Did you or anyone you know have a turtle when you were a kid?

My answer: I didn't, but my cousins did -- and it was less than four-inches long, which, according to the ATR website, is a seriously illegal critter to have in one's possession. Tsk, tsk on Aunt Ruby for allowing such things! But then again, that was about 40 years ago and maybe turtle possession is one of those things that once skirted regulation ... kind of like hitchiking and entering stores without shirts or shoes.

Spring splash

Jim and I went to our first barbecue of the season on Sunday. We were thankful the weather reached a balmy 58 degrees, allowing us some pre-summer fun in the sun. Being the mountains, though, it was still chilly enough that the host lit up the firepit on the deck.

Things were far different in the desert where Bubby lives, where the weather climbed above the 90-degree mark. Huddling around a warm fire was the last place you'd find Bubby in such heat. Instead, he headed to his favorite watering hole:

 

Even in the desert, it gets a little chilly when the water fun is done.

Today's question:

When did you last visit a water park?

My answer: The last time I donned a swimming suit for water park fun was when we went to Disneyworld eight (or was it nine?) years ago.

Tube talk

Jim and I recently started watching the new television series Parenthood, the one by Ron Howard et al., based on the old(er) movie of the same name.

We like it so far. Which doesn't bode well for the show. It'll likely be canceled now that I've given it my stamp of approval.

For whatever reason, Jim and I have never been big TV watchers and -- despite a few attempts -- we never seem to home in on the shows that seem to be most popular with all the other TV watchers in the country. We don't watch the CSI or Law and Order shows. We definitely don't watch reality shows. And, much to the surprise of a few friends, we've never seen an entire episode of The Simpsons.

During our early years of marriage, our favorite shows were Soap, Quantum Leap, St. Elsewhere and MASH reruns. We grew to love Beauty and the Beast and Fame, as well as -- when we could afford cable -- The Hitchhiker and It's the Garry Shandling Show (just typing that one made me smile).

Then the 90s came and we were too busy to watch TV ... or the girls commandeered the only television set we had and Jim and I joined them for precious few shows. (We were willing to sit through Buffy the Vampire Slayer; not so much Saved by the Bell or, later, Dawson's Creek.) When we did watch on our own, it was usually 20/20, 48 Hours, Dateline or some other news show that kept us constantly worried about the safety of our children.

As the girls got older and ownership of the TV returned to us, Jim and I started watching more and more on the tube. Here are a few we watched regularly in the last, say, five years:

• Six Feet Under (HBO)

• Rome (HBO) -- Jim

• 24 -- Jim

• Felicity -- me

• Gilmore Girls

• Medium (although her waking-up-in-a-gasp schtick has grown tiresome and we no longer watch)

• Brothers & Sisters (the silly drama has grown tiresome and we're about done)

• Grey's Anatomy (ditto)

• Men of a Certain Age

• True Blood (we'll be watching this upcoming season at Brianna's, as we've canceled HBO)

• Glee (!)

• Ghost Hunters (thanks, Tammy!)

But here's the kicker. Here are our favorites of the past few years, favorites that apparently very few others favored because they were lured away by Biggest Loser, American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance or any other reality show we simply couldn't stomach. These gems were canceled far too soon for our unpopular taste, which made us question the intelligence of the average TV watcher very sad: Joan of Arcadia, The Riches, Related, Six Degrees, Life on Mars, Eli Stone, Pushing Daisies (thanks for the reminder, Pam!), Flight of the Conchords and Saving Grace (the upcoming season is the final season).

What's up, people?

A friend recently gave us the first season of Lost -- and we love it so far! It'll take us quite some time to get through the seven seasons, but at least we know this series can't be canceled on us.

I wish I could say the same for Parenthood.

Today's question:

What's one of your all-time favorite TV shows?

My answer: I really loved St. Elsewhere ... and Quantum Leap. But that may just be nostalgia talking.

Surprise!

On Saturday, I had what felt like a million chores to do, in preparation for Megan and Bubby's arrival on Sunday.

My list on the fridge:

• color my hair (in hopes of Bubby coming up with a new name for me, to replace Graya)
• mop the floors
• dust
• prepare the guest room, including setting up the Pack 'n' Play for Bubby
• do the catbox
• finish the laundry
• nag at Jim to get all his chores done

The only one I was getting very far on was the nagging at Jim. By noon I'd only knocked out the floors, had passed off the catbox chore to Jim and was getting ready to color my hair then hop in the shower.

I washed the gray right out of my hair and as soon as I stepped out of the shower, Jim was at the bathroom door, letting me know Brianna had stopped by.

"Great," I thought. Now I'll never get my chores done.

Then I heard banging on the piano. Jim likes to bang on play the piano sometimes, even though it's really my instrument while the guitar is his. But sheesh, this time he was banging and banging and banging.

I head out to the living room, where Brianna was standing in the doorway. I couldn't yet see the piano. I gave her the "WTF?", then whispered, "Is he trying to break it?"

I walked around the corner, ready to let loose on Jim for screwing around on my old upright ... then I saw Andrea sitting on the couch, grinning from ear to ear. I was a little confused, but figured she'd come to visit on her day off. Then I looked over at the piano ... and it wasn't Jim. It was BUBBY! Banging away on the ivories! With Megan standing over him, laughing away!

Surprise!

Megan and Bubby had arrived a day earlier than I expected! The entire family had been in on the surprise for months, doing their best to catch Mom off guard.

And they succeeded! Here I was, fresh out of the shower, chores not done, nothing planned for a family dinner that night, the Pack 'n' Play not even out of the closet yet. Completely unprepared (and I like being prepared.)

But makeup and dusting and made-up beds didn't matter. My Bubby was here! My Megan was here! I'd have one more glorious day than I expected with my babies.

I love surprises! And I love my family -- whom I often think of as completely incapable of keeping a secret, yet they're getting so darn good at keeping secrets and surprising me.

Yay for the extra day! The dusting truly can -- and will -- have to wait.

Today's question:

What's one time you were genuinely surprised?

My answer: In addition to this time and last time Megan arrived unannounced, I was very surprised by Jim's gift to me one Christmas. It was a book from the 1800s called "Eloping Angels" and I'd been looking for it for a few years. And Jim miraculously found it, bought it, surprised me with it! Yep, I love surprises!

Blowin' the game

I've always felt like I'm a pretty hip mom, a pretty with-it grandma.

Apparently I've been deluding myself.

Brianna and her boyfriend, David, were visiting recently and we, along with Jim, somehow got on the topic of Facebook, of which I'm a member (see, I'm sorta hip and with it).

Brianna said, "Yeah, I just became a fan of 'When I was your age, we had to blow on our video games.' Did you see that one, Mom?" She and David laughed as if it was the funniest thing on earth.

Jim's face went blank as he's not on Facebook and didn't get any part of the conversation. My face went blank as I tried to figure out what the heck that group could be about. All that came to mind was the old games in which miniature metal football players or hockey players moved across a metal playing field via magnets under the players' feet. I didn't remember those ever having to be blown into position, but then again, I never really played those games.

Brianna quickly realized I saw no humor in the blowing on video games group.

"Don't you get it?" she asked.

Uh, no.

She and David tried to jog my memory -- and Jim's -- with tales of having to blow on the Nintendo cartridges when the game froze up. They laughed and went through the motions of cartridge blowing.

"Everyone did it. Don't you remember?" Brianna asked again, as if maybe it were just a matter of diminished memory.

No, I don't remember. I don't remember because I never did that. And I never saw the girls do it while playing the Nintendo. (Sheesh ... what kind of mother am I to not notice such a weird thing?)

It was a moment of generational differences made oh-so clear. A moment that shattered my Cool Mama/Cool Grandma facade.

A moment that was to bound to come, I guess. Because I'm old. I'm uncool. And I never blew on my video games.

But, ya know what? If there's a Facebook fan group called "When I was your age, our video game was a dash-shaped paddle that volleyed a two-dimensional black ball back and forth across the screen" I am so all over that one.

Because, believe it or not, I am still hip in some circles.

Today's question:

What game do you remember playing most often as a kid?

My answer: I did play PONG as a kid, but more often than not, I was out and about, making up imaginary lives with my BFF, in games that didn't include boards or technology of any sort.

International Creativity Month

January is International Creativity Month. As many of you know, I like to send Bubby a little something each month in recognition of one of the off-the-wall celebrations designated for that month. You can read about some of the past goodies he's gotten from me here and here.

So for International Creativity Month, I'm going to give -- no, I'm going to BRING for Bubby when I go see him next week! -- CORNSTARCH!

Yay for cornstarch!

"That's pretty, ummm, creative, Lisa," you may say, adding, "and, uh, pretty stupid!"

No, no, no, dear reader. It will be fun! And it will be creative!

See, I don't often get to do crafty, messy fun things with my Bubby since he lives in the desert and I live in the mountains. But because I'll be babysitting him -- by myself -- for three whole days, it's the perfect opportunity to have some fun and make some messes while Mom and Dad are away.

Which is where the cornstarch comes in.

When Bubby's mom and her sisters were little girls, I was a stay-at-home mom and we did daily craft activities. One of our favorites when the girls were around Bubby's current age was fingerpainting -- with fingerpaints made out of cornstarch.

And it's high time Bubby gets a taste (literally?) of Grandma's homemade cornstarch fingerpaint.

So I'll arrive in the desert to take care of Bubby with my box of cornstarch in hand, ready for fingerpainting.

But the creative fun ala cornstarch won't stop there! With my box of cornstarch, we can also make cornstarch goop and we can make peanut butter play dough. Messy, creative fun where I don't have to worry that Bubby's going to stick his paint- or goo- or dough-covered hands in his mouth. I won't encourage eating the gooey goodness, but I won't freak out and fear for his life (or at least his digestive system) if he happens to swallow a bit of the fun.

So yes, for International Creativity Month, Bubby gets cornstarch. And here are the recipes I'll be using to turn said cornstarch into something memorable -- at least for me!

Cornstarch Fingerpaint

Ingredients:

3 cups water

1 cup cornstarch

food coloring

Directions: In a medium saucepan, bring water to a boil.  Dissolve cornstarch in a separate bowl with water.   Remove boiling water from heat and add cornstarch mixture.  Return to heat, stirring constantly.  Boil until the mixture is clear and thick (about 1 minute).  Remove from heat.

As the mixture cools, divide into separate bowls and add food coloring; thoroughly mix in coloring.

Peanut Butter Playdough

Ingredients:

Cornstarch

Peanut butter

Directions: Just add equal parts of cornstarch and peanut butter together; knead together til smooth.

Cornstarch Goop

Ingredients:

1 cup cornstarch

a small amount of water

Add water slowly to cornstarch until the goop drips from the spoon. The mixture will seem hard until you try to pick it up then it should slide between your fingers. If it is too liquidy, add a little more cornstarch. For color, add a few drops of food coloring.

Today's question from the Zobmondo "Would You Rather" board game:

Would you rather skydive without a lesson - OR - scuba dive without a lesson?

I'd rather skydive without a lesson. I've gone skydiving before (a tandem jump) and could at least guess at what I should do; if I guessed incorrectly, there's still a chance I may survive. But scuba diving? No way! I barely know how to swim and if you do the wrong thing under water, there's no way to take a deep breath and start all over again. It'd just be OVER. (Sheesh, just writing that kind of took my breath away!) Plus, there's scary underwater monster-like thingees that might just want to take a bite out of you.