Whirwind weekend
Hey look, SB! It's an actual journal post, not a book update!
Family and food..
I spent a whirwhind 31 hours with my sister and parents this weekend, when we met under sad circumstances for the second time this summer. This first time was in July, mourning the loss of my favorite aunt. This time it was to travel to the U.P. for the memorial mass of my step-grandmother, who passed away Sept. 6.
I met up with my sister and parents at a gas station in Portage just before 2 p.m. on Friday. We left my car in the driveway of a police friend of my mother’s, and began our trek north, after a quick stop for ice cream.
As my sister and father put it, I drew the short straw and got to sit in back with my mother and the giant pumpkin she had to buy at a farmer’s market. We caught up with each other on the trip, and our first stop was in Hurley, to have dinner at the Liberty Bell Chalet.
Dad and I shared a pizza, Mom had the Poor Man’s Lobster, and my sister had a pizza and let us each have a bowl from the Caesar for two she ordered. After dinner, we stopped at my step-grandmother’s home to visit with her daughter and family.
My parents had been in the car since about 4 a.m. Central time, making the trek from Cleveland, so it wasn’t long before we made tracks to my maternal grandmother’s house. We unloaded the vehicle and caught up with my Grandmother and aunt, who fired up the sauna for us.
I used to have a good tolerance for high temp saunas, but that was when I was using the sauna about once a week. The temperature topped out at 180 degrees Fahrenheit while I was in there, and I could only take it in five minute spurts before escaping to the change room for a cool off. Still, I was still sweating an hour after leaving the sauna.
I slept in my old bedroom, the one my parents had built for me when I was a senior in high school, and they uprooted me from my Colorado high school for a move back to the U.P. It was just like old times when my wake-up call was my mother and sister burst in the room 10 minutes before my alarm was set to go off.
Breakfast was leftover pizza and pannukakku (a Finnish oven pancake). We got dressed and left for the church for the visitation and memorial mass. I know viewing the body of the deceased brings closure and comfort to some people, but not me. My sister and I eventually escaped to the choir loft, where we could see the altar and lovely flowers, but not the coffin.
We flipped through hymnals, singing some of our favorite songs. We were caught in the act by the choir director. She tried to recruit us into staying in the choir loft and helping sing for the mass, as she was short-handed. Most of her choir were at a retreat for the day. Turns out the woman graduated the year after my mother did, and she declared that my sister looked like my Mom, but that I didn’t.
The service was about to begin, so we went downstairs to join our parents, promising to do our part and sing along from below. The songs included “Be Not Afraid” and “On Eagle’s Wings.” I’ve always loved “On Eagle’s Wings.” The choir director had a gorgeous voice. The best part about Catholic services is the singing. Reading through the hymnals was what got me through being dragged to Mass almost every weekend from my early childhood until my Sophomore year of high school.
After the mass, the funeral procession brought us to the cemetery, where my step-grandmother was laid to rest between her husband and my grandfather.
The meal after the service was at the Liberty Bell Chalet, and the only thing that could have made it better would have been the addition of Caesar salad. I skipped the tossed salad and chicken and piled my plate with carbs- fresh Italian bread, gnocchi, homemade noodles in red sauce, and meatballs. There was coffee and red or white wine, and dessert was biscotti with Anise seed. After the waitstaff packed up leftovers for my step-grandmother’s family, my sister and I were allowed to fill up to-go containers. There weren’t any meatballs left, so we loaded up on more noodles and gnocchi. We made a stop in the Italian deli adjoining the restaurant and bought aprons emblazoned with the restaurant’s name.
We went back to my grandmother’s house to change and pack, and then spent the afternoon visiting friends. The highlight was getting a ride in a re-built 2000 Camaro Z28. It was painted a bright yellow, and was an amazing ride,even stuffed into what passes for the backseat. My knees were so tucked up against my chest, I could have used them as a boob rest.
Since my parents and sister don’t get back to Ironwood much anymore, we waited until after 5 p.m. to leave.
Why?
That’s when the Liberty Bell Chalet opened for dinner. Mom and Dad picked up six pizzas, so they could leave some with my cousins in Chicago. My sister and I loaded up on food at the Italian deli- frozen pizzas, gnocchi and cheese ravioli, along with jars of the Bell’s red sauce.
We had one pit stop on the trip south, to fill up the tank in my sister’s vehicle. We wound up making two more stops before getting back on the interstate, Dairy Queen for me and Dad, and Culver’s for my mother. It was the third Culver’s stop in less than two days, because my mom can’t get Culver’s in Ohio.
What can I say? When my family gets together, it’s all about the food.
I was dropped off at my car shortly after 9 p.m., and hugged my family good-bye. I made it home by 10 p.m. and zonked out on the couch by 11 p.m. Sunday was a very lazy day, mostly spent in my PJs until I had to leave to pick up Jace.
I’ll be seeing my family again this weekend, with Jace this time, as we gather south of Chicago for the interrment of my aunt’s ashes.
I need to book tickets to travel to my parents’ house for Christmas, so we can look forward to time spent together in happy circumstances.
Family and food..
I spent a whirwhind 31 hours with my sister and parents this weekend, when we met under sad circumstances for the second time this summer. This first time was in July, mourning the loss of my favorite aunt. This time it was to travel to the U.P. for the memorial mass of my step-grandmother, who passed away Sept. 6.
I met up with my sister and parents at a gas station in Portage just before 2 p.m. on Friday. We left my car in the driveway of a police friend of my mother’s, and began our trek north, after a quick stop for ice cream.
As my sister and father put it, I drew the short straw and got to sit in back with my mother and the giant pumpkin she had to buy at a farmer’s market. We caught up with each other on the trip, and our first stop was in Hurley, to have dinner at the Liberty Bell Chalet.
Dad and I shared a pizza, Mom had the Poor Man’s Lobster, and my sister had a pizza and let us each have a bowl from the Caesar for two she ordered. After dinner, we stopped at my step-grandmother’s home to visit with her daughter and family.
My parents had been in the car since about 4 a.m. Central time, making the trek from Cleveland, so it wasn’t long before we made tracks to my maternal grandmother’s house. We unloaded the vehicle and caught up with my Grandmother and aunt, who fired up the sauna for us.
I used to have a good tolerance for high temp saunas, but that was when I was using the sauna about once a week. The temperature topped out at 180 degrees Fahrenheit while I was in there, and I could only take it in five minute spurts before escaping to the change room for a cool off. Still, I was still sweating an hour after leaving the sauna.
I slept in my old bedroom, the one my parents had built for me when I was a senior in high school, and they uprooted me from my Colorado high school for a move back to the U.P. It was just like old times when my wake-up call was my mother and sister burst in the room 10 minutes before my alarm was set to go off.
Breakfast was leftover pizza and pannukakku (a Finnish oven pancake). We got dressed and left for the church for the visitation and memorial mass. I know viewing the body of the deceased brings closure and comfort to some people, but not me. My sister and I eventually escaped to the choir loft, where we could see the altar and lovely flowers, but not the coffin.
We flipped through hymnals, singing some of our favorite songs. We were caught in the act by the choir director. She tried to recruit us into staying in the choir loft and helping sing for the mass, as she was short-handed. Most of her choir were at a retreat for the day. Turns out the woman graduated the year after my mother did, and she declared that my sister looked like my Mom, but that I didn’t.
The service was about to begin, so we went downstairs to join our parents, promising to do our part and sing along from below. The songs included “Be Not Afraid” and “On Eagle’s Wings.” I’ve always loved “On Eagle’s Wings.” The choir director had a gorgeous voice. The best part about Catholic services is the singing. Reading through the hymnals was what got me through being dragged to Mass almost every weekend from my early childhood until my Sophomore year of high school.
After the mass, the funeral procession brought us to the cemetery, where my step-grandmother was laid to rest between her husband and my grandfather.
The meal after the service was at the Liberty Bell Chalet, and the only thing that could have made it better would have been the addition of Caesar salad. I skipped the tossed salad and chicken and piled my plate with carbs- fresh Italian bread, gnocchi, homemade noodles in red sauce, and meatballs. There was coffee and red or white wine, and dessert was biscotti with Anise seed. After the waitstaff packed up leftovers for my step-grandmother’s family, my sister and I were allowed to fill up to-go containers. There weren’t any meatballs left, so we loaded up on more noodles and gnocchi. We made a stop in the Italian deli adjoining the restaurant and bought aprons emblazoned with the restaurant’s name.
We went back to my grandmother’s house to change and pack, and then spent the afternoon visiting friends. The highlight was getting a ride in a re-built 2000 Camaro Z28. It was painted a bright yellow, and was an amazing ride,even stuffed into what passes for the backseat. My knees were so tucked up against my chest, I could have used them as a boob rest.
Since my parents and sister don’t get back to Ironwood much anymore, we waited until after 5 p.m. to leave.
Why?
That’s when the Liberty Bell Chalet opened for dinner. Mom and Dad picked up six pizzas, so they could leave some with my cousins in Chicago. My sister and I loaded up on food at the Italian deli- frozen pizzas, gnocchi and cheese ravioli, along with jars of the Bell’s red sauce.
We had one pit stop on the trip south, to fill up the tank in my sister’s vehicle. We wound up making two more stops before getting back on the interstate, Dairy Queen for me and Dad, and Culver’s for my mother. It was the third Culver’s stop in less than two days, because my mom can’t get Culver’s in Ohio.
What can I say? When my family gets together, it’s all about the food.
I was dropped off at my car shortly after 9 p.m., and hugged my family good-bye. I made it home by 10 p.m. and zonked out on the couch by 11 p.m. Sunday was a very lazy day, mostly spent in my PJs until I had to leave to pick up Jace.
I’ll be seeing my family again this weekend, with Jace this time, as we gather south of Chicago for the interrment of my aunt’s ashes.
I need to book tickets to travel to my parents’ house for Christmas, so we can look forward to time spent together in happy circumstances.