black as midnight and heated with the hinges of hell
That is how George liked his coffee. It always made me chuckle a little bit when he said that. I think it was the 'hinges of hell' part. He embodied the straight and narrow to me, so even that seemed deviant, in a way.
Today I thought of him, as I was making myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I almost never have PB&J anymore. George had one every day for as long as I knew him. Not that I don't know him now, in death, but you know what I mean. For as long as he was alive, while I was alive too. Which was 28 years. A mere 28.
Sometimes I would make his peanut butter and jelly sandwich for him, and he would compliment me on how I always managed to get the perfect amount of peanut butter on the knife, without having to put any back, or get any extra. Apart from being an adorable compliment, it was also basically untrue, but I loved that he thought of me like that, the perfect peanut butter spreader. I also like to think that he is the one who taught me how to make the perfect peanut butter sandwich.
All that got me to thinking about all the things George taught me. As soon as I started mentally creating the list I was drawing a blank, but maybe if I start it will just keep going and going, forever, and then maybe those 28 years won't seem so tiny.
For now, some things George taught me:
-how to make the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich
-how to make the perfect pot of coffee (to accompany the PBJ)
-how to find sharks' teeth
-how to play chess
-how to drive
-how to hit a golf ball
-how to play pool
-how to tie a tie
He and Dot-Dot also kind of taught me how to swim and how to play tennis by signing me up for lessons, so I guess they count.
Tomorrow would be Dot-Dot's 86th birthday.
I know if I had woken her up on her birthday, to wish her a happy birthday, and I had sent her a pot of baby roses, and I was going to visit her next weekend, she would have thanked me, she would have gushed about how pretty they were, she would have asked for the millionth time about my flight plans, what I wanted to eat while I was there, or where I wanted to go. I wish my mom had taken more pages from Dot-Dot's playbook, before she died. As it were, I ruined her birthday by doing just the above. (I should have known her napping schedule, and the flowers came from FTD.) It is pretty hard being her daughter, but mostly I just feel sorry for her, I guess. I guess I also feel kind of sorry for me, too, but maybe that is just because I was lucky enough to have the greatest grandparents ever, and there is no one else like them in my family, in fact there is no other family at all, and I miss them horribly.
But on the bright side, it's 4.20 y'all! Mad props to sister viggie for her cellular love! I don't know what the smot equivalent of cheers is, but cheers, that kind!
Ja love? Ja love!
xo
Today I thought of him, as I was making myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I almost never have PB&J anymore. George had one every day for as long as I knew him. Not that I don't know him now, in death, but you know what I mean. For as long as he was alive, while I was alive too. Which was 28 years. A mere 28.
Sometimes I would make his peanut butter and jelly sandwich for him, and he would compliment me on how I always managed to get the perfect amount of peanut butter on the knife, without having to put any back, or get any extra. Apart from being an adorable compliment, it was also basically untrue, but I loved that he thought of me like that, the perfect peanut butter spreader. I also like to think that he is the one who taught me how to make the perfect peanut butter sandwich.
All that got me to thinking about all the things George taught me. As soon as I started mentally creating the list I was drawing a blank, but maybe if I start it will just keep going and going, forever, and then maybe those 28 years won't seem so tiny.
For now, some things George taught me:
-how to make the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich
-how to make the perfect pot of coffee (to accompany the PBJ)
-how to find sharks' teeth
-how to play chess
-how to drive
-how to hit a golf ball
-how to play pool
-how to tie a tie
He and Dot-Dot also kind of taught me how to swim and how to play tennis by signing me up for lessons, so I guess they count.
Tomorrow would be Dot-Dot's 86th birthday.
I know if I had woken her up on her birthday, to wish her a happy birthday, and I had sent her a pot of baby roses, and I was going to visit her next weekend, she would have thanked me, she would have gushed about how pretty they were, she would have asked for the millionth time about my flight plans, what I wanted to eat while I was there, or where I wanted to go. I wish my mom had taken more pages from Dot-Dot's playbook, before she died. As it were, I ruined her birthday by doing just the above. (I should have known her napping schedule, and the flowers came from FTD.) It is pretty hard being her daughter, but mostly I just feel sorry for her, I guess. I guess I also feel kind of sorry for me, too, but maybe that is just because I was lucky enough to have the greatest grandparents ever, and there is no one else like them in my family, in fact there is no other family at all, and I miss them horribly.
But on the bright side, it's 4.20 y'all! Mad props to sister viggie for her cellular love! I don't know what the smot equivalent of cheers is, but cheers, that kind!
Ja love? Ja love!
xo