Memorial Day tribute

In recognition of Memorial Day, there is no GRAND Social today.

Instead, I share with you this:

Spend the day with your friends, family, loved ones.

The GRAND Social will return next Monday.

How to write a keepsake letter to a grandchild

Considering the proliferation of techy ways grandparents can now keep in touch with grandkids, it takes — for many of us — a fair amount of intention and forethought to actually create a handwritten letter for those little ones we love so much.

It takes motivation, too, and motivations are a plenty this time of year, considering the upcoming season of special occasions. Spring and summer are filled with graduations — from kindergarten through college — as well as pending departures to college, weddings, relocations and more.

Plus, regardless of season, there are always newborn grandbabies we want to commemorate with a letter for the baby book. There also are siblings of those newborns, to whom we want to express our love as they lose their only-child status and gain big brother or big sister status, and various special accomplishments and achievements for which we want to express our pride and delight.

The reasons for writing to a grandchild are many, yet it's apparent by the high number of "How to write a letter to a grandchild" search queries that lead folks to Grandma's Briefs that many grandmothers are anxious about putting pen to paper and letting loose with their sentiments. In light of those searches, today I offer some tips to help grandmothers (and others) do exactly that.

• Choose paper that's representative of you and of fairly heavy stock. Perhaps that means a flowery stationery, maybe monogram letterhead, possibly just an ivory sheet of paper. Be sure to have a pen that glides comfortably for you, as well. (Fluorescent pink ink optional!)

• One note before beginning: If you prefer using a word-processing application when writing your thoughts, first compose your letter in the application, then print for copying by hand onto the paper you intend for the special letter.

• Consider what you most want to convey. Are you writing to welcome the babe to your world? Congratulate the child on an accomplishment? Comfort him or her during a rough time? You don't need to know exactly what you're going to say at the outset, only the reason you're reaching out and a general idea of what you wish to express.

• Start the letter with the date at the top. As the letter will likely be cherished for years to come, it's important to have a date for the child to reference later when she pulls it from a box of keepsakes or finds it pressed between the pages of her baby book.

• Choose a salutation that is you. No need to be stilted and formal. If Hey, Babycakes! is more your style than Dear Robert, stick with it. And stick with your regular handwriting, too, just write neatly. (You can opt for printing it rather than cursive, if you expect the child will read it himself.)

• Begin with a loving statement on the child's well being, something along the lines of I hope you're having a great day. Or, if the child has been ill or dealing with a challenge, pose a question about the situation, such as How are things coming along with _____? Or for a new grandchild, try a simple Welcome to our family!

• Now it's time for the meat of the letter. Start off by flat-out stating why you're writing the letter: I'm writing today to tell you how proud I am of you. Or, I'm sending you this letter so you always have my words to look back on as you begin this new adventure. Maybe, I wanted to put down on paper some stories of your family, so you know the history of those who love you. You know why you want to write the letter, so that is where you start.

• From there, expand on the why. Write from the heart, from a place of love and caring for the grandchild. Don't edit yourself too much, and don't worry about saying things right and perfect and grammatically correct. Simply be yourself, and be conversational, as if you're talking in person to the grandchild. Sometimes we write better than we talk, and if that's the case, try imagining a conversation you might have with the child if you spoke the way you wish you could... then put that down on the paper.

• There's no ideal letter length, so go short, go long, go whatever length allows you to say what you wanted to say. Once you've done that, wrap it up with a loving statement or two. No need to apologize for ending, no need to say, "Well, I better go!" Simply mention how thankful you are for the opportunity to let your grandchild know what's in your heart and how much you love and care about him or her.

• Close with another loving statement: I love you. I'm thinking of you. You're in Grandma's thoughts. I'm praying for you. Again, just be you. Now might even be a great time to end with a phrase you want to be a special one between you and your grandchild. Hasta la vista, Baby! may not be the sentiment to share, but then again, if it's you, go for it.

• Now sign — as your grandchild knows you. Grandchildren will forever hold dear Grandma's signature, so make it clear but make it you.

Congratulations! You did it! You completed a handwritten letter to your grandchild.

Now deliver it! And don't forget that regardless of your grandchild's age, an age-appropriate sticker on the envelope is sure to bring a smile — even if the recipient is a soon-to-be college graduate!

Today's question:

When did you last handwrite a letter, to a child or otherwise?

What I learned this week: Gooey photos and more

One of my goals is to learn how to do really awesome things with Photoshop. Well, this week I did not learn how to do that. Nope, I did not learn how to do awesome things with Photoshop. I didn't even learn how to do crappy things with Photoshop.

I did, though, learn something kind of close — to the awesome, not the crappy.

What I learned this week was how to make "gooey" photos, not using Photoshop, but using Creative Kit. And it's super easy. And super silly. And, to be honest, super time-sucking fun.

Creative Kit, a Google product, was added to Picasa, the Google photo manager I — and many others — use to store and sometimes tweak photos. I recently found that the tweaking is even better when using Creative Kit (which replaced the former editing software, Piknik). In particular, I now no longer have to store in Picasa but upload to PicMonkey when I want to do something extra special.

Something extra special I don't typically do, like going gooey. For example, this photo of Andrea and her boyfriend, looking just a wee bit happier than they do in real life, after I used the "gooify" function in Creative Kit on their smiles:

As those two are all gooey about one another in real life, maybe the following would be a better example of what can be done with Creative Kit.

The first photo below is one of Jim and me, just being normal (well, as normal as Jim gets). The second is us looking far more interesting than we typically do, thanks to getting gooey and bearded and more:

Get this: You, too, can make friends and family far more interesting in Picasa, thanks to the Creative Kit option. (And, no, this is not a sponsored post.) It's located in Picasa as shown in the first photo; the second photo shows some of the fun things you'll find:

      

Using the goodies in Creative Kit works on animals, too. Here's proof — my now-evil cat, Isabel:

Actually, Isabel always has been kind of evil... in a loveable sort of way. But the red eyes? Creative Kit all the way.

That is what I learned this week!

Today's question:

What did you learn this week?

10 reasons this grandma needs new glasses

Yesterday morning I attempted to eat yet another Dove foil-wrapped chocolate egg left over from Easter — solely for the purpose of getting in my recommended daily allowance of dark chocolate, for the touted health benefits. (We'll ignore that the egg was milk chocolate, not dark.)

But I couldn't. I simply could not eat another chocolate egg. Literally — because I could not see the spot in the foil where I could begin to unwrap the darn thing so I could pop it into my mouth.

After cursing the foil for foiling my attempt to pack in a few more unnecessary calories, I decided to put on my reading glasses and give it another shot.

Voilà! I had the chocolate unwrapped and in my mouth in no time... quickly followed by two more easily unwrapped eggs. (Hey, don't judge; that was only half the suggested serving size.)

In the past few years, it's become increasingly difficult to do anything that requires me to see anything smaller than, oh, a golf ball. Like finding where the foil on a chocolate egg can best be opened. Lately, though, it's no longer just difficult, it's now downright impossible.

The time has come for me to invest in a new pair of bifocals to replace my once-not-so-necessary yet now so very expired pair. It's become a necessary evil, so I can be fully bespectacled and prepared for any less-than-golf-ball-sized matters that might come my way — without having to wear my reading glasses around my neck on a chain or readily available atop my head at all times.

I've come to this conclusion because the unfoiling of the chocolate eggs is just one minor example of everyday tasks I once did with ease that now require glasses. Here are nine more:

Reason No. 9: Seeing my wrinkles and brown spots. I thought my new face cream was doing surprisingly well, as my wrinkles were disappearing, my brown spots fading. Or so I thought — until I put on my reading glasses the other day to tweeze my brows (and, yes, chin hairs). Oh my! Nope, that to-remain-unnamed face cream definitely isn't working as well as I thought it was.

Reason No. 8: Seeing the time on my iPhone when driving.

Reason No. 7: Seeing who I'm trying to call — or who is calling me — when I'm driving. (Forget texting when driving... and not just because it's illegal.)

Reason No. 6: Reading the packages and price tags — or even my list — when shopping.

Reason No. 5: Choosing music on my iPod.

Reason No. 4: Choosing camera settings on my camera.

Reason No. 3: Picking and choosing what morsel to savor next from my salad. Or from any meal at any time.

Reason No. 2: Reading recipes — even those I've been making for years. (My memory has gotten nearly as bad as my vision.)

And the NUMBER ONE reason why this grandma needs new glasses: So I can see my grandsons when visiting through Facetime on the iPhone!

At this point, when connecting via Facetime without glasses — or even with my reading glasses, since it's all blurred when I have to hold the phone far enough away so they can see me — it's nearly impossible to tell if Bubby and Mac are as happy to see me as I am them. Well, as happy as I am to sort of see them.

I suppose that final reason could have been the first... and the last... and the only one mentioned. For that surely would have been enough.

Whether one reason or ten, though, there's no longer any reasonable doubt: This grandma needs new glasses.

Case closed.

photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What activities have recently frustrated you because of less-than-stellar vision?

I do not want what I haven't got... or do I?

While reading the introduction in this book I received for review, I came across a phrase I vaguely recalled hearing before, one that's apparently been expressed in a variety of ways by a variety of people.

When I did a quick Google search for the origin of the quote, the results listed hundreds of folks saying basically the same thing, everyone from Elvis to Rita Mae Brown, with plenty of others in between and beyond.

Ultimately, Maya Angelou best summed up the concept I had read in the review book, the phrase I had Googled, with this:

It has been said that we need just three things in life: something to do, something to look forward to and someone to love.

— Maya Angelou

In spite of such wise words imparted by Angelou and others, I often feel compelled to be continually searching for more, searching for purpose, searching for bits and pieces to further patch together a full and fulfilling life for myself.

Why do I do that? If those three things — something to do, something to look forward to, someone to love — do in fact make for a full life, my search could easily end here, as I already do have a very full life, indeed.

I have something to do...
Every day I have more on the agenda than hours in the day. I have much to do — and even more that, despite my best intentions, doesn't get done.

Some of the duties are self-imposed, others are simply the day in and day out requirements of being a woman, wife, mother, grandmother doing my best with the blessings (and, sometimes, burdens) bestowed upon me.

I surely am not wanting when it comes to things to do.

I have something to look forward to...
Something to look forward to? I have that and then some.

In the short term, my April calendar is jam-packed with things to do, events to attend, grandchildren I get to spend time with.

In the long term, I look forward to goals I'm determined to achieve, additional blessings I will receive — new sons-in-law, more grandchildren, the memories my husband and I have yet to make with one another as well as with our growing family before our time is through.

I surely am not wanting when it comes to things to look forward to.

I have someone to love...
No, I have not just one someone to love, I am fortunate to have dozens upon dozens of someones to love.

At the top of the list is, of course, my immediate family — my husband, daughters, son-in-law, grandsons. The list also includes my family of origin, my husband's family of origin, plus my friends I now consider family, many of whom I'm closer to than I am much of my birth family, many of whom are my friends reading this right now.

I surely am not wanting for people to love.

When I stop and consider it, my cup surely does runneth over. I am not wanting for anything.

Except, perhaps, for the wisdom to find peace and contentment in that, rather than continually feeling the need to search for more.

photo: stock.xchng

This post linked to Grandparents Say It Saturday.

Today's question:

How close to 'full' is your cup?

What I learned this week: My prerogative

I've been working with words my entire adult life, whether as a part-time freelancer while juggling a non-word day job, or as a full-time word slinger of one degree or another.

I'm also a pretty heavy-duty reader. I may not read as much as I used to, at least not books, but I do read and read and read... and read and read some more. I read all sorts of things online, in magazines, in the newspaper — plus, yes, books now and then, too.

With all my reading and wordy pursuits and professions, you'd think I'd be a pretty good speller, pretty good at knowing how to pronounce a fairly wide range of words. You'd think that.

But... don't think that, for it's not true. And this week, I learned that once again.

This week I realized there's yet another word I've spelled incorrectly, pronounced incorrectly for a very long time.

The word? The word is prerogative.

And, yes, that is the correct spelling.

I used the word prerogative in my post yesterday. Only, I thought for sure it was spelled perogative, pronounced per-og-a-tive. That's what I've thought forever. Well, at least as long as I've known the word.

What I learned this week is that I've been wrong forever, at least when it comes to prerogative.

That word — meaning, according to Merriam-Webster, an exclusive or special right, power or privilege — is spelled p r e r o g a t i v e. And that word is pronounced, again according to Merriam-Webster, pri-ˈrä-gə-tiv.

I did not know that. Now I do.

Oh, what a crazy language we speak. And write. And read.

 That, dear friends, is what I learned this week.

Today's question:

What did you learn this week? And for bonus points: Did you know that is how prerogative is spelled and pronounced?

10 signs of aging gracefully

When it comes to aging gracefully, forget the face creams, hair colors and exercises — the physical manifestations others see as we rack up the years. Instead, I prefer to focus on a different kind of trait that others see, one I think trumps the physical when considering how gracefully others are aging and how gracefully I'm aging myself.

That trait? It's attitude. For, as age is just a number, aging gracefully is just an attitude.

So when it comes to having the right attitude as I age, I look to the signs. Signs such as the following ten, which remind me of what’s important, what I need to remember as I attempt to age gracefully... as well as graciously, intentionally, hopefully.

Sign No. 10:

Sign No. 9:

Sign No. 8:

Sign No. 7:

Sign No. 6:

Sign No. 5:

Sign No. 4:

Sign No. 3:

Sign No. 2:

And the No. 1 sign of aging gracefully, the one I do my best to live by, day in and day out:

Today's question:

What does aging gracefully mean to you?

What I learned this week: The momentum has shifted

When my youngest daughter, Andrea, was in high school, she joined the soccer team. She'd never played before, not in earlier grades in school, not on club or park & rec teams. But in true Andie fashion, she chose the soccer team over the track team because her sisters ran track, and she was determined to do her own thing. Plus, she figured there'd be less running in soccer than in track.

Andrea was wrong about the running, but she was right about choosing soccer anyway, as that girl rocked the soccer field. She even chose to be goal keeper when no other girls on the team wanted the position, a position that eventually garnered her a spot — and a scholarship — on her college soccer team.

During her high-school stint on the soccer field, Andie's coach for the first few years was a young male teacher, not long out of college. His youth and enthusiasm for his job, for his team, for the game were a boon for the girls he coached. They absolutely adored Coach D. (His good looks had a wee bit to do with that, too, I assure you.)

Now, Andrea's high-school soccer team was not the best in the district. In fact, they were pretty far from it. But they had grit, they had dedication, and they had Coach D cheering them on.

Jim and I were fortunate to be able to attend the majority of Andrea's high-school soccer games. Many times, her team struggled to keep up with their opponents, often ending up on the losing end of the match. Sometimes, though, they'd manage to pull ahead.

It was during those initial moments of pulling ahead that Coach D's enthusiasm spilled over. "THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!" he'd shout to the sky, to those around him, but most importantly, to the girls. To which the girls would then run harder, faster, as they heard the sound of hope ringing across the field.

In every game, no matter how bad the beating seemed it might be, there would be at least one point where the exclamation would be made.

"THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!"

Every once in a while, the momentum would shift fully in the girls' favor, and Andie's team would come out the victors. Always a sweet victory indeed.

Ever since those days of watching high-school soccer games, hearing Coach D exclaim the moment of change indicating hope on the horizon, I've often heard his words ring out in my head — sometimes even spoken the phrase aloud or chuckled when Jim would say it at just the moment I thought it. I've heard it in my head at Andie's college games, while watching live or televised sporting events, when my daughters have overcome a challenge, when most anything in my life warrants the exclamation.

Well, this week, I learned this: The momentum has shifted... in my favor!

You see, the years since I lost my full-time job at the newspaper have been a heart-crushing struggle in a variety of ways, from trying to get books published — with my agent quitting the business midstream — to trying to keep my bank account filled with at least enough money to turn around and send it right back out again to pay the bills.

Many people have similar stories to tell, all beginning about the same time my financial woes began. The year 2008 and most since have sucked for a lot of us. I'm not unique in the challenges I've faced, I know. That hasn't really made it any easier, and I've wondered again and again when things would start trending up instead of continuing the downward slide.

Finally, though, it seems the downward slide has ended. In one small but significant way, the momentum has indeed shifted. Thanks to the copy-editing position I recently started — with much thanks to my online friend Carol — I'm finally able to see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, finally see hope on the horizon.

I must admit that this new position is not a high-profile one by any means, and it doesn't pay huge amounts. But it's enough to make a difference.

It's enough to give me hope.

It's enough to make me feel things are on their way up.

It's enough to make me say, with all the conviction of Coach D:

THE MOMENTUM HAS SHIFTED!

photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What have you learned this week?

What I learned this week: Love in action

As I mentioned last week, it's important to learn new things all the time — even if you have to dig deep to define after the fact what those lessons have been.

This week, I learned quite a bit about copy editing for a website that's not mine, as I started new online gig as a copy editor for SheKnows.com. Expounding on that lesson would be quite boring to many of you, I'm sure, so I have another lesson I learned this week that I'd like to share. (Yes, I did indeed learn two things this week!)

Here is what I learned this week: I learned that if I keep my iPhone close by, move quickly, and not let the subjects notice I think it's a big deal, I can catch love in action.

Love between Mickey (one of my dogs) and Abby (one of my cats):

 

This post linked to Grandparents Say It Saturday.

 Today's question:

What did you learn this week?

Photo replay: Another year older

Jim's birthday — March 2, 2013

Today's question:

What has been your favorite age so far?