Preparing for goodbye

As we inch closer and closer to the closing date on Brianna's house, I think more and more about how much Mickey is going to miss Hunter when Hunter moves to his new home with Brianna.

Hunter has lived with us three of Mickey's four years and although he can be a real shit sometimes (Napoleon complex and all ...), he's been a constant buddy for Mickey, especially since Moses went off to heaven in July.

He can also be a cute little guy that you just want to hug and squeeze and have sit on your lap. To be quite frank, I'm not sure who's going to miss Hunter more -- me or Mickey.

We're going to have to arrange lots of visits to Grandma's house for Hunter once he moves away. For Mickey's sake, of course.

Skyping with Bubby

Eventually Skype will be an incredible tool for keeping up with Bubby's daily doings. I imagine him ringing me up to share the latest on school happenings, requesting a little homework help (yeah, not likely since Megan's a teacher ... and far smarter than I am) and giving me a play-by-play of his latest game/match/round of golf.

Sooner than that will be Skype time involving the sharing of picture books, with each of us having our own copy of the same book so we can flip through the pages together; recitations of ABCs, numbers and maybe a song here and there; and tall tales he'll tell in a mostly gibberish language I won't understand but will happily nod my head in rapt attention to, eating up every syllable.

Our current Skype sessions, though, consist primarily of Megan trying to wrangle Bubby into a semi-still position in front of the camera for at least 15 seconds at a time so Jim and I can get a good look at him ... and he can realize Grandma and Grandpa are right there on the computer monitor, oohing and aahing and shouting "Bubby, Bubby! Hey, Bubby! How are you! Look at Grandma! We love you! Where's your eye? Show us your eye! What about your belly button? Where's ... Bubby's ... BELLY BUTTON? Show us your belly button!"

It's pretty limited verbal interaction. Bubby offers a grunt or giggle here and there to pacify his psycho grandparents, but he's mostly interested in the office supplies on the desk or Roxy (his dog), who wiggles and wags around the chair, begging to be part of the excitement.

But the visual interaction during our Skype sessions, like the one last night, provides me and Jim with exactly what we need: glimpses of our handsome, goofy, rapidly growing, desert-dwelling Bubby:

And that right there is what makes Skype the very best invention since multi-grain Cheerios!

National Cookie Month

My most recent batch of chocolate chip cookies.I recently made a pact with myself that I would send Bubby off-the-wall gifts in celebration of various months of national recognition. It's just a goofy way of connecting with my grandson, not because I feel particularly strongly about any of the designations.

So far I've sent Bubby maracas for Happiness Happens Month (August) and a wild and crazy chicken for National Chicken Month (September). In searching for ideas of what to send him for October, I found that October is National Cookie Month. And although I make the best chocolate chip cookies in the world -- or so I've been told many times by many people -- I won't be sending Bubby chocolate chip cookies. Not because he can't eat chocolate or because I worry they'll turn to crumbs in the shipping, but because my chocolate chip cookies are already made regularly at his house -- by Preston!

My chocolate chip cookies have a supporting role in the story of Megan and Preston. When Megan went to college in Nebraska, in the small town where Preston had lived most of his life, she needed to find a part-time job to bring in a little cash (and car-payment money) while there. Preston was part of the group of friends Megan initially made there and although they truly were "just friends" at that point, he helped Megan get on at the local grocery store where he'd worked for quite some time.

Megan was deeply grateful and needed a way to thank him appropriately. So she asked me to bake up a batch of my cookies and send them to him. And I did. And Preston fell in love with them. Then soon fell in love with Megan ... and she fell in love with him.

I'm pretty sure my cookies had very little to do with the mutual love fest between Megan and Preston, but they did become rather legendary.* I regularly mailed batches off to Nebraska for Megan to share with Preston and made sure the cookie jar was full when Preston came to visit during school breaks. Now that Megan and Preston are married, Preston has taken on the cookie-making for their little family -- using my chocolate chip cookie recipe. I'm honored, in a small way.

So, since Bubby already has a source for cookies for National Cookie Month, I'll just share with you all the recipe for the cookies Preston loves so much. And I'm posting it early enough for you to head to the store for the ingredients and have the goodies made in time for the kickoff of National Cookie Month, three days from now.

To be honest, my chocolate chip cookie recipe is simply the original toll house cookie recipe -- except that I use butter-flavor Crisco instead of butter or margarine (it makes for a fluffier, puffier cookie). And I don't mix the dry and wet ingredients separately ... which started as a time-saving measure but has worked just fine for the past 20 years I've been making these.

Here ya go. Enjoy!

Lisa's Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 cup butter-flavor Crisco

3/4 cup sugar

3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 eggs

2 1/4 cups unsifted flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

12-oz package (2 cups) semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In large bowl, combine first four ingredients; beat until creamy. Beat in eggs. Add flour, baking soda and salt (sprinkling the soda and salt over the mixture so there are no "hot spots" of either). Mix well. Stir in chocolate chips. Drop by spoonful onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 8-9 minutes. Transfer to wire rack for cooling. Makes about 4 dozen yummy cookies.

*Brianna actually has a mechanic who, after her first time of thanking him for a job well done by giving him a plate of the cookies, now accepts only batches of cookies as payment for the auto work he does for her!

Grandma's boogedy boiler

The first cold snap of the season has hit the mountains, bringing with it snow, the need for jackets and the kicking on of the heating system. In our house, that means it's time to brace ourselves for another season with the boogedy boiler.

I love my house. We bought it two years ago after having lived in the same basic tri-level for 20 years, and one of the main draws of the place was that it was clearly an ideal grandma and grandpa house. We didn't even have grandkids at the time of purchase, but Jim and I knew little ones (and big ones) would love to explore the many nooks and crannies inside and the secret (overgrown!) garden outside and that they'd look forward to spending time with Grandma and Grandpa, if for no other reason than the wild and wacky home in which we lived.

So, to put it mildly, we love our house ... everything but the heating system. I absolutely HATE our heating system. We have a boiler, and if you've never lived with a boiler, be thankful for what you're missing.

We first moved here in the winter so we were introduced right away to the clanging and banging of our home-heating contraption that looked like something straight out of Willie Wonka's factory. The noise was so alarming that we had a heating company look at it for us -- three or four times in the first couple months! It was brand new, thanks to the red-flagging of the old boiler the week before we closed on the house, but I still envisioned explosions that would not only ruin our new home but take our lives in the middle of the night.

Again and again the heating guys assured us that it's safe, that boilers just take a little getting used to, that they add personality and character to the home.

Well, our boiler has multiple personalities, a few of which aren't too pleasant to be sharing space with.

Because our house is relatively large, there are five "zones" for the boiler, each zone taking turns coming on at different times to warm different areas of the home. Three of the personalities zones are pretty quiet and their heat cycles go unnoticed. And when the boiler kicks on in the fourth zone -- which covers the downstairs family room where we watch TV -- it likes to pretend it's a massive military jet taking off from our rooftop but we've learned to accommodate it, muting movies and conversation at times as we wait for the jet to be in full flight and out of hearing distance.

But it's the fifth zone, the one that covers the study just below our bedroom, that freaks me out the most ... every night ... while I'm falling asleep. This is the zone where the boiler's worst personality makes its presence known.

Each night as I finish reading, set my book aside on the nightstand and settle in under the covers, it starts. There's a bit of a rumbling, a wheezy, heavy, asthmatic monster-like breathing sound ... that gets louder ... and louder ... and LOUDER. "I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down! Mwahahahahahaha...!" it threatens ... and drones on ... and on ... for several minutes. Then comes the loud, "Boogedy, boogedy, boogedy! Bang. Bang! Clang, clang. Bang. BANG!! click."

Just like that, the boogedy boiler stops. Instantly. Just as I'm reaching near hysteria and considering waking Jim (who doesn't even notice!) to shout that he HAS TO go see what's happening with the boiler, there's a simple "click" and it's quiet. And I breathe easy ... and I think I must be crazy for worrying that my house is going to explode when all the expert HVAC guys have told me it's nothing to worry about. Things are quiet ... and I start to fall asleep.

Then Mr. Boogedy Boiler decides to warm things up a bit again, and the whole show starts over. And I hold my breath and long for hot summer nights when my only complaint is that air-conditioning sure would be nice.

And I think about what a good thing it is that the grandkids will likely spend more time at Grandma and Grandpa's house during the hot and sweaty nights of summer -- considering summer vacations and all -- than they will in the winter, when Grandma's boogedy boiler would surely scare the holy bejeezus out of them!

(And yes, my post is a little late this morning. I'm tired! I didn't sleep well ... for obvious reasons.)