Grammy really wants me to be organized. Really really. I'm not a very organized person, so when I moved in, I think I shocked Grammy with my lack of organization. For example, when I moved in:
-I didn't seperate my clothes when I put them away. I just shoved them into drawers.
-I have a lot of shoes and I didn't set them on a shoe rack. I just piled them in the closet.
-All my jewelry was just piled in a box.
-My summer clothes were mixed in with my winter clothes.
-My closet was extremely full of clothes
-My makeup was in a bucket on the dresser
I'm not really "messy," just cluttered. Anyway, Grammy has been working on me all year and I guess I'm a little more organized. Now, Grammy got me a shoe rack, and when my shoes aren't nicely lined up, she goes in and fixes them. She emptied out a drawer in my dresser and lined it so that I could put my jewelry in it. Grammy also went through and took out all my summer clothes and summer shoes and put them into storage. For my makeup, we found a little box and she also put a cover down on the dresser to set my makeup on. She found a tray to set all my perfume and lotion on, and also found a matching tray to put in the bathroom to set all my face and hair products on.
Currently, she is trying to get me to seperate all my clothes in my drawers and to get another shoe rack, so that all my shoes have a home. Sometimes I come home from work and there is a new box or rack that is organizing something else in my room. The other day, a mail rack showed up, since I previously piled all of my mail on any visible surface.
Grammy is the most organized person in the world; I think she gets this from being so perfect. Everything in the house has a special place. The best, though, is the treasure safe. This is where Grammy keeps all of her family heirlooms and keepsakes. It is so awesome, and she know right where everything goes. One day, when I first moved in, Grammy and I went down and went through all the things in the safe. My favorite keepsakes are my great-great-grandma, great-grandma (NaNa), and Grammy's wedding rings. I have no idea where I got my fat child fingers, because all of their rings are tiny. The only finger I could fit any of them on was my pinky finger. My fat fingers must be from my dad's side...
A couple weeks ago Grammy wore Nana's ring to church and then went to Kline's for Sunday lunch. After lunch, her and Papa went to WalMart and then came home and put away all the food. While Grammy was getting ready for her 20 min nap (she ONLY naps for 20 minutes a day. She says it is amazing and just revives her immediately), she noticed that the ring was gone and she started panicking. Something told her to go to the trashcan and look through the WalMart bags, and when she did, she found the ring. When she told me this story, she said: "God was looking out for me. He must have known how upset I would be to lose that ring!" And then she decided that she was going to leave that ring in the treasure trove.
When I told Papa that I had seen all the treasures, he didn't believe me. I tried everything I could to convince him, but nothing worked. I had to resort to listing off the contents of the trove and reminding him that I know everything. It worked.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
A visit.
The other weekend, two of my friends, Sarah and Abby, came to visit me and the grandparents. It was great. Here is how it went:
Friday, 5:30 pm: Abby and Sarah arrived at our house, and Papa was immediately ready to go to Clancy's and eat. So, we all piled in the Lincoln and headed to Rosebud. Sarah gets really carsick really easily, and Papa pulses the gas when he drives, so we're constantly bobbing forward and backward, and Sarah later told me she almost threw up in the car. I'm glad she didn't. At Clancy's, Papa wanted to try a new beer and he had one that he liked, but he couldn't remember what it was, so after the waitress went through all the beers on tap, Papa, Sarah, Abby and I all got a Smithwick's. Papa didn't really like it. He kept telling me how I better be careful about drinking and driving. I told him that I'll be ok, and he should be careful. Grammy took my side: "Alcohol affects old people more than young people. We're on all these meds!" We all got the fish and chips special, but Abby got a baked potato like Grammy, and Sarah got onion rings like Papa.
Friday, 7 pm: Abby, Sarah and I piled into my car and headed to Bourbon for the high school basketball game. Papa didn't want to go, so him and Grammy went to the Owensville game instead. We got front row seats (I know! We're so lucky! Front row at the Bourbon vs. Vienna basketball game!). Right when we walked in the door, my students bombarded me. It was a little overwelming. We think Bourbon won the game (we left early, but they were ahead.) Go Warhawks! (Yes, a "warhawk" is an imaginary bird...).
Friday, 10 pm: We arrived back at home. Then we just talked for a long time. It is nice to talk to people my own age.
Saturday, 9:45 am: I woke up because I heard Grammy talking to Sarah and Abby. Grammy, Papa, and I made breakfast: french toast, bananas, oranges, grapefruit, strawberries, blueberries, bacon, and breakfast dessert (cinnamon rolls Grammy and Papa bought from Owensville High School at the game). Sarah and Abby made fun of me because I didn't let my fruit touch any other type of fruit. You can't mix regular fruit and citrus fruits. It is not ok. Papa understands.
Saturday, 12 pm: We went down and looked at my quilt. They were impressed. I'm a quilting superstar. Grammy showed us all her quilt tops and all the patterns she is thinking about putting on them. She loves her quilts.
Saturday, 2:30 pm: Papa came up to me and asked:
Papa: You getting ready to leave?
Julie: Yup, we're about packed
Papa: Good, good.
Sarah and I walked outside to get in my mom's car (she left it down here for Papa to take to his mechanic Neil. Neil is the best, remember?) and the car was gone. We figured that he went to fill it with gas, so we just stood around and talked to Grammy longer.
Saturday, 3 pm: We were still waiting for Papa to get back and we started joking about how he probably went to McDonald's. Grammy decided to go look for him. She came back driving mom's car. He went to McDonald's. Sarah asked us what he does at McDonald's and Grammy and I had to tell her we have no idea what he does there. I think he eats ice cream.
Saturday, 3:30 pm: I took the scenic route to Columbia. Whoops. I forgot Sarah gets really car sick. Once again, I'm glad she didn't throw up.
Friday, 5:30 pm: Abby and Sarah arrived at our house, and Papa was immediately ready to go to Clancy's and eat. So, we all piled in the Lincoln and headed to Rosebud. Sarah gets really carsick really easily, and Papa pulses the gas when he drives, so we're constantly bobbing forward and backward, and Sarah later told me she almost threw up in the car. I'm glad she didn't. At Clancy's, Papa wanted to try a new beer and he had one that he liked, but he couldn't remember what it was, so after the waitress went through all the beers on tap, Papa, Sarah, Abby and I all got a Smithwick's. Papa didn't really like it. He kept telling me how I better be careful about drinking and driving. I told him that I'll be ok, and he should be careful. Grammy took my side: "Alcohol affects old people more than young people. We're on all these meds!" We all got the fish and chips special, but Abby got a baked potato like Grammy, and Sarah got onion rings like Papa.
Friday, 7 pm: Abby, Sarah and I piled into my car and headed to Bourbon for the high school basketball game. Papa didn't want to go, so him and Grammy went to the Owensville game instead. We got front row seats (I know! We're so lucky! Front row at the Bourbon vs. Vienna basketball game!). Right when we walked in the door, my students bombarded me. It was a little overwelming. We think Bourbon won the game (we left early, but they were ahead.) Go Warhawks! (Yes, a "warhawk" is an imaginary bird...).
Friday, 10 pm: We arrived back at home. Then we just talked for a long time. It is nice to talk to people my own age.
Saturday, 9:45 am: I woke up because I heard Grammy talking to Sarah and Abby. Grammy, Papa, and I made breakfast: french toast, bananas, oranges, grapefruit, strawberries, blueberries, bacon, and breakfast dessert (cinnamon rolls Grammy and Papa bought from Owensville High School at the game). Sarah and Abby made fun of me because I didn't let my fruit touch any other type of fruit. You can't mix regular fruit and citrus fruits. It is not ok. Papa understands.
Saturday, 12 pm: We went down and looked at my quilt. They were impressed. I'm a quilting superstar. Grammy showed us all her quilt tops and all the patterns she is thinking about putting on them. She loves her quilts.
Saturday, 2:30 pm: Papa came up to me and asked:
Papa: You getting ready to leave?
Julie: Yup, we're about packed
Papa: Good, good.
Sarah and I walked outside to get in my mom's car (she left it down here for Papa to take to his mechanic Neil. Neil is the best, remember?) and the car was gone. We figured that he went to fill it with gas, so we just stood around and talked to Grammy longer.
Saturday, 3 pm: We were still waiting for Papa to get back and we started joking about how he probably went to McDonald's. Grammy decided to go look for him. She came back driving mom's car. He went to McDonald's. Sarah asked us what he does at McDonald's and Grammy and I had to tell her we have no idea what he does there. I think he eats ice cream.
Saturday, 3:30 pm: I took the scenic route to Columbia. Whoops. I forgot Sarah gets really car sick. Once again, I'm glad she didn't throw up.
Driving with Papa.
Today, Grammy, Papa and I drove up to Jeff City after church (I had bells) because my little brother got his Eagle Scout award. For the first part of the day, my sister, cousin and I ran around the house flapping our arms like eagles. My uncle and my dad are also Eagle Scouts, so today was a big day for them. We're so proud. Tomorrow is my grandpa's (on my dad's side) birthday, so while we were eating cake, my dad, uncle and brother all sat around and compared their beads and their badges. I also found out that Logan is a Knotmaster. Sweet, huh? I told him he should put it on his resume.
Anyway, Papa drove up to JC, but I drove home because neither Grammy nor Papa like driving at night. I really don't like driving with Papa because he thinks I drive too fast and constantly tells me about it. This is how a typical conversation (and the one we had tonight) goes:
Papa: You know what I kept telling Rachel last week when she was driving? You should always drive 10 miles under the speed limit. The speed limit is based on perfect conditions and you should only drive that fast during the day when the weather is perfect.
Julie: It's ok, Papa. I have night vision. I can see everything perfectly. It really is amazing. I'm like a superhero, so don't worry.
Papa: Well, it has to do with your reflexes, too. How are your reflexes?
Julie: They're really good. I have excellent night vision and reflexes.
Papa: I don't know about that. Don't you ever worry about the other person? See, when I drive, I drive slowly because the other guy could just swerve into my lane at any moment.
Julie: Yeah, I don't think about those things.
Papa: Well, I think about them. I'm always thinking, you see. How do you like driving my car?
Julie: I don't like it. It is like driving a boat. (We're in the Lincoln that Grammy hates. We always drive the Lincoln when we go to JC or Rolla.)
Papa: I don't know why. I think it runs really well. It has a lot of power.
Julie: It is too fat and I just don't like it.
Reasons I don't like the Lincoln:
1) It is HUGE. It takes up the entire lane.
2) The gas pedal is extremely sensitive, so when I set my foot on it, the car jolts forward.
3) The brake is NOT sensitive at all. You have to push the pedal down at least halfway before it even thinks about slowing down. Thus, the car makes me seem like a bad driver because I end up slamming my foot on the brake.
4) The steering wheel is very sensitive, too, so if I turn it the tiniest bit, the car does a 180.
5) I always get carsick when I sit in the back seat. It is leather and smells like leather and the combination of the leather seats, the jolting of the sensitive gas pedal and the slamming of the brakes, makes me want to vomit.
6) I don't like leather seats. They are too slippery.
Despite my problems with the car, when we got home, Papa actually said "Well, you did a really good job driving. You actually are a good driver, though you drive a little too fast. You get a gold star."
My first gold star for driving! This is the beginning of something good.
Anyway, Papa drove up to JC, but I drove home because neither Grammy nor Papa like driving at night. I really don't like driving with Papa because he thinks I drive too fast and constantly tells me about it. This is how a typical conversation (and the one we had tonight) goes:
Papa: You know what I kept telling Rachel last week when she was driving? You should always drive 10 miles under the speed limit. The speed limit is based on perfect conditions and you should only drive that fast during the day when the weather is perfect.
Julie: It's ok, Papa. I have night vision. I can see everything perfectly. It really is amazing. I'm like a superhero, so don't worry.
Papa: Well, it has to do with your reflexes, too. How are your reflexes?
Julie: They're really good. I have excellent night vision and reflexes.
Papa: I don't know about that. Don't you ever worry about the other person? See, when I drive, I drive slowly because the other guy could just swerve into my lane at any moment.
Julie: Yeah, I don't think about those things.
Papa: Well, I think about them. I'm always thinking, you see. How do you like driving my car?
Julie: I don't like it. It is like driving a boat. (We're in the Lincoln that Grammy hates. We always drive the Lincoln when we go to JC or Rolla.)
Papa: I don't know why. I think it runs really well. It has a lot of power.
Julie: It is too fat and I just don't like it.
Reasons I don't like the Lincoln:
1) It is HUGE. It takes up the entire lane.
2) The gas pedal is extremely sensitive, so when I set my foot on it, the car jolts forward.
3) The brake is NOT sensitive at all. You have to push the pedal down at least halfway before it even thinks about slowing down. Thus, the car makes me seem like a bad driver because I end up slamming my foot on the brake.
4) The steering wheel is very sensitive, too, so if I turn it the tiniest bit, the car does a 180.
5) I always get carsick when I sit in the back seat. It is leather and smells like leather and the combination of the leather seats, the jolting of the sensitive gas pedal and the slamming of the brakes, makes me want to vomit.
6) I don't like leather seats. They are too slippery.
Despite my problems with the car, when we got home, Papa actually said "Well, you did a really good job driving. You actually are a good driver, though you drive a little too fast. You get a gold star."
My first gold star for driving! This is the beginning of something good.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Blueberry Muffins.
Last night, I walked into the living room to see what Papa was doing, and he was watching the MU game (Go Tigers!!). I went and got a cup of tea and then joined him. Papa looked over at me and said:
Papa: Be careful with that cup. I don't think the couch would like it if you spilled.
Julie: Papa, I never spill anything!
Papa: Well, you never know. This could be the first time.
Julie: Don't worry, I'll make sure to spill it all over my sweatshirt instead of the couch.
Papa: laughs Well, you know what I could go for right now?
Julie: What?
Papa: Blueberry muffins. Why don't you go into the kitchen and make some for me really quick?
Julie: Papa, it is almost my bed time.
Grammy: yelling from the kitchen William, don't you have her make you any muffins!! She has a sore throat! Let her go to bed!
Papa: Do you really have a sore throat?
Julie: Yeah, it's getting a little scratchy.
Papa: Where do you think you got that?
Julie: I guess I got it at school.
Papa: Well, did you take any medicine?
Julie: I'm drinking tea with honey.
Papa: Well, you know what I have? I have that syrup you can drink and it works real well. It tastes terrible, though. Have you ever tried it?
Julie: Yes, and it definitely does taste terrible.
Papa: Well, think about taking some. You just put it into a little cup and drink it really fast.
Julie: I'll think about it.
Papa: Don't spill that tea. I'm going to make some muffins.
Julie: I never spill.
Papa: Be careful with that cup. I don't think the couch would like it if you spilled.
Julie: Papa, I never spill anything!
Papa: Well, you never know. This could be the first time.
Julie: Don't worry, I'll make sure to spill it all over my sweatshirt instead of the couch.
Papa: laughs Well, you know what I could go for right now?
Julie: What?
Papa: Blueberry muffins. Why don't you go into the kitchen and make some for me really quick?
Julie: Papa, it is almost my bed time.
Grammy: yelling from the kitchen William, don't you have her make you any muffins!! She has a sore throat! Let her go to bed!
Papa: Do you really have a sore throat?
Julie: Yeah, it's getting a little scratchy.
Papa: Where do you think you got that?
Julie: I guess I got it at school.
Papa: Well, did you take any medicine?
Julie: I'm drinking tea with honey.
Papa: Well, you know what I have? I have that syrup you can drink and it works real well. It tastes terrible, though. Have you ever tried it?
Julie: Yes, and it definitely does taste terrible.
Papa: Well, think about taking some. You just put it into a little cup and drink it really fast.
Julie: I'll think about it.
Papa: Don't spill that tea. I'm going to make some muffins.
Julie: I never spill.
Texing.
So, last night I was on Facebook writing a message to someone and Grammy came downstairs. She came over to the computer and said: "Well, look at you down here! What are you doing? Is that 'texing'?"
I laughed really hard and told her I was writing a message to one of my friends: "It is like email, Grammy." And Grammy replied:
Grammy: Well, isn't that neat?! What a great way to keep in touch with your friends! What is "texing" anyway?
Julie: TexTing is when you send messages to people on your phone. Like, people send text messages to eachother. You can't do it on the computer.
Grammy: Hmm.
Man, I love my grammy. One of my favorite things about Grammy is her Grammy sweatshirt that she wears all the time. It looks like one of those shirts that has a sports team and then has XXL under it, but it says:
Grammy University
XOXO
Department of Spoiling
It is awesome.
Grammy and I also want to have a Food Network show called "Grammy and Me." It is going to be AWESOME! We'll make lots of healthy, but tasty things, because Grammy is a dietitian and I'm a nutrition major. It will probably involve a lot of baking, because that is what we love to do most. On our show, we'll teach people about different foods and how healthy they are for you and what kinds of things you should be eating. It will be tasty and educational.
I laughed really hard and told her I was writing a message to one of my friends: "It is like email, Grammy." And Grammy replied:
Grammy: Well, isn't that neat?! What a great way to keep in touch with your friends! What is "texing" anyway?
Julie: TexTing is when you send messages to people on your phone. Like, people send text messages to eachother. You can't do it on the computer.
Grammy: Hmm.
Man, I love my grammy. One of my favorite things about Grammy is her Grammy sweatshirt that she wears all the time. It looks like one of those shirts that has a sports team and then has XXL under it, but it says:
Grammy University
XOXO
Department of Spoiling
It is awesome.
Grammy and I also want to have a Food Network show called "Grammy and Me." It is going to be AWESOME! We'll make lots of healthy, but tasty things, because Grammy is a dietitian and I'm a nutrition major. It will probably involve a lot of baking, because that is what we love to do most. On our show, we'll teach people about different foods and how healthy they are for you and what kinds of things you should be eating. It will be tasty and educational.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Cooking with Papa.
Papa and I cook dinner most nights (most=all the nights we don't go out to eat). There are many specific procedures and guidelines we use in the kitchen.
1) We each have a special mug for our coffee. Papa's is of medium height, skinny and has colored squares all over it. Grammy's is taller than Papa's, skinny, and has flowers on it. Mine is tall and skinny like Grammy's, but has the UNC logo on it. One weekend when my mom came down to visit, I walked to the breakfast table and she was drinking out of my UNC cup! I just looked at her and told her "Papa knows that is my mug, don't you Papa?" He knew. She went and traded it out.
2) Papa has recently started cooking "easy" meals. This means, he buys lots of things in bags and boxes. Grammy doesn't like "those bag meals," but Papa always makes them anyway. They didn't used to eat things out of bags, but now Papa wants to do everything the easy way. When we were younger, we used to eat homemade meals for every meal, but Papa decided that he eats to live, not lives to eat, so we eat pre-made meals now.
3) There are special dishes and utensils for everything, and with those special dishes, each different food requires a certain amount of dedication. There is a special grapefruit knife that cuts the grapefruit into sections. When it is cut, we put it in the small, white bowls. In fact, we use these bowls for all types of fruit and we eat from these bowls with big spoons, NOT small spoons. These bowls also hold coleslaw when we make it. Salads require the white plates with the high edges; Papa doesn't like salad in a bowl. Papa's salad has lettuce, onions, tomatoes and a little feta cheese. Grammy's and my salads have lettuce, onions, feta cheese and croutons. We always use the big plates with the dark blue flower design for our main dish, even if it is only a grilled cheese sandwich. We always drink water out of the clear glasses; Grammy and I put lemon in our water. For every meal, Grammy has toast, which goes on a medium sized dark blue flower designed plate, and jelly, which is placed on the tray with a picture of a country house on it and taken out to the table. We eat soup with big spoons, but oatmeal with small spoons. Papa likes plates better than bowls, but I prefer bowls so that my food doesn't touch. The other day, we had burgers on the grill because the weather was nice, so I went out to help Papa. There is a special grate that we use for burgers, though I'm not sure if it works. When I went out, the flames were leaping out of the grill so I said:
Julie: Wow, Papa, that's quite a fire!
Papa: It's a good one, isn't it? I put a lot of lighter fluid on it. I pretty much drenched it.
The reason I don't know if the grate works is that the fire was so hot, it just burned the outside of the burgers. While we were eating, mine was suspiciously undercooked on the inside, so I had to microwave it. In conclusion, the burger grate requires more testing.
The other night, Grammy made a pumpkin pie for dessert, so she was eating a little sliver of it with her hands. I came over and cut a little sliver, too, and Papa asked me:
Papa: Don't you want a spoon to eat that?
Julie: No, I want to eat it like Grammy.
Papa goes to get a plate and a spoon.
Julie: What? You don't want to eat it over the sink like Grammy and me?
Papa: No, I'm more refined.
Apparently, we should have eaten our pumpkin pie with a spoon and on a medium-sized plate with the dark blue flower design.
4) There are certain ways to prepare all of our food, and Papa knows EXACTLY how to do it all and how long. He is an avid supporter of timing everything he is cooking. I'm more of an estimate-how-long-it-has-cooked-and-take-it-off-when-it-looks-done kind of girl, but not Papa. The other night we were broiling some fish and Papa cooked it for exactly 5 minutes on each side, but it wasn't cooked all the way so he kept saying "I already cooked it for 10 minutes! It should be done! Something must be wrong with it!" He cooks corn on the cob for EXACTLY 4 minutes; oatmeal cooks for 5 minutes on low and then is covered for 5 more minutes. Rice is 5 minutes at a boil and then cover it for 5 more minutes. If I'm cooking and Papa walks into the kitchen, he always asks me where the timer is and how much time things have left. I just tell him: "The timer is in my head, Papa. I know exactly how long everything has been cooking." Usually when I tell him this, he laughs and then goes and checks on everything I'm cooking, setting timers as he goes.
5) Nothing can touch the table. We lay placemats on the table to set all the food on, because it isn't allowed to touch the surface. Cups, plates, dishes, silverware, everything must be on a placemat. At my parents house, we set our dishes and cups on everything; pianos, bookshelves, desks, everything. At Grammy and Papa's, you never set your dishes on anything because the furniture isn't sealed so it leaves rings and heat marks. Whenever my sister comes to visit, she forgets this rule, so whenever she sets her cup down on the table, I look at her and signal (using Rachel Language) to use a coaster. Rachel Language is the language that my sister uses. Basically it is like living in a game of charades, because if she wants something, she'll just look at you and act out what she wants, or even worse, she'll just look at you and point at what she wants. Yes, she does speak, but she just chooses to use Rachel Language when she wants something. I refuse to respond to this language, and usually just look at her and talk to her like I used to talk to my preschoolers: "Use your words, Rachel. I can't understand what you want if you don't tell me with your words." However, I try to use Rachel Language around her so that she understands that she isn't allowed to set her cup on the table without a coaster.
6) Portion size is also important. Grammy gets the smallest portions because she doesn't eat a lot. Even when we give her little portions, she usually says something like "Wow, what a big meal we have tonight!" I get medium-sized portions, even though it is usually too much. Papa gets big portions. We try to get rid of all the food we make so that we don't have to eat leftovers, so once the original portions are distributed, we go back through and empty the rest of the pots and pans evenly on the plates. We're getting really good at estimating how much to cook, all thanks to Papa and his exact measurements.
On Wednesdays when Grammy and I go to bell choir, Papa has to cook dinner by himself. When we get home, he always says "Here I am, slaving away on dinner." And Grammy tells him "I cooked all the meals the first 50 years, you get the second." That must be why we eat bag meals. One Wednesday, after dinner, Grammy, Papa and I were cleaning up the dishes from our meal. Papa already did the dishes he used to cook dinner with, so he said:
Papa: You know, I cleaned all the dishes before dinner, too.
Grammy: Well, it doesn't look that way now!
Papa: I'm just saying I cleaned a lot before we ate.
Julie: What? Do you want a high-five?
Papa: No, I want a medal.
We usually have fish twice a week. Papa's favorite is Orange Roughy because it is the most expensive, which obviously means it is the best. Grammy and I think it is so expensive because it comes from the farthest location. We season all of our fish with Lemon-Pepper seasoning because it is Papa's favorite. He even has Lemon-Pepper tarter sauce to accompany it. One time Grammy and I seasoned our fish for dinner with this new seasoning we got from my older brother for Christmas, but Papa told us we should use Lemon-Pepper next time because it is better. I also don't think I've ever used so much butter while cooking than I do with Papa. He puts butter on everything. When we broil our fish, Papa sprinkles his Lemon-Pepper on top and then squirts mounds of squeeze butter onto the fish. It kind of negates the fact that fish is usually healthy for you, so I just pretend like he doesn't put it on there. He also puts a lot of butter on our vegetables. One night we were having canned corn (keep in mind, this was only one can) for dinner and I was stirring something on the stove and Papa came over and started putting butter into the corn. He put about two tablespoons in and was about to put even more in until he saw me looking at him. I told him: "That's a lot of butter you put in there." He just said: "I would have put more except you were watching me."
1) We each have a special mug for our coffee. Papa's is of medium height, skinny and has colored squares all over it. Grammy's is taller than Papa's, skinny, and has flowers on it. Mine is tall and skinny like Grammy's, but has the UNC logo on it. One weekend when my mom came down to visit, I walked to the breakfast table and she was drinking out of my UNC cup! I just looked at her and told her "Papa knows that is my mug, don't you Papa?" He knew. She went and traded it out.
2) Papa has recently started cooking "easy" meals. This means, he buys lots of things in bags and boxes. Grammy doesn't like "those bag meals," but Papa always makes them anyway. They didn't used to eat things out of bags, but now Papa wants to do everything the easy way. When we were younger, we used to eat homemade meals for every meal, but Papa decided that he eats to live, not lives to eat, so we eat pre-made meals now.
3) There are special dishes and utensils for everything, and with those special dishes, each different food requires a certain amount of dedication. There is a special grapefruit knife that cuts the grapefruit into sections. When it is cut, we put it in the small, white bowls. In fact, we use these bowls for all types of fruit and we eat from these bowls with big spoons, NOT small spoons. These bowls also hold coleslaw when we make it. Salads require the white plates with the high edges; Papa doesn't like salad in a bowl. Papa's salad has lettuce, onions, tomatoes and a little feta cheese. Grammy's and my salads have lettuce, onions, feta cheese and croutons. We always use the big plates with the dark blue flower design for our main dish, even if it is only a grilled cheese sandwich. We always drink water out of the clear glasses; Grammy and I put lemon in our water. For every meal, Grammy has toast, which goes on a medium sized dark blue flower designed plate, and jelly, which is placed on the tray with a picture of a country house on it and taken out to the table. We eat soup with big spoons, but oatmeal with small spoons. Papa likes plates better than bowls, but I prefer bowls so that my food doesn't touch. The other day, we had burgers on the grill because the weather was nice, so I went out to help Papa. There is a special grate that we use for burgers, though I'm not sure if it works. When I went out, the flames were leaping out of the grill so I said:
Julie: Wow, Papa, that's quite a fire!
Papa: It's a good one, isn't it? I put a lot of lighter fluid on it. I pretty much drenched it.
The reason I don't know if the grate works is that the fire was so hot, it just burned the outside of the burgers. While we were eating, mine was suspiciously undercooked on the inside, so I had to microwave it. In conclusion, the burger grate requires more testing.
The other night, Grammy made a pumpkin pie for dessert, so she was eating a little sliver of it with her hands. I came over and cut a little sliver, too, and Papa asked me:
Papa: Don't you want a spoon to eat that?
Julie: No, I want to eat it like Grammy.
Papa goes to get a plate and a spoon.
Julie: What? You don't want to eat it over the sink like Grammy and me?
Papa: No, I'm more refined.
Apparently, we should have eaten our pumpkin pie with a spoon and on a medium-sized plate with the dark blue flower design.
4) There are certain ways to prepare all of our food, and Papa knows EXACTLY how to do it all and how long. He is an avid supporter of timing everything he is cooking. I'm more of an estimate-how-long-it-has-cooked-and-take-it-off-when-it-looks-done kind of girl, but not Papa. The other night we were broiling some fish and Papa cooked it for exactly 5 minutes on each side, but it wasn't cooked all the way so he kept saying "I already cooked it for 10 minutes! It should be done! Something must be wrong with it!" He cooks corn on the cob for EXACTLY 4 minutes; oatmeal cooks for 5 minutes on low and then is covered for 5 more minutes. Rice is 5 minutes at a boil and then cover it for 5 more minutes. If I'm cooking and Papa walks into the kitchen, he always asks me where the timer is and how much time things have left. I just tell him: "The timer is in my head, Papa. I know exactly how long everything has been cooking." Usually when I tell him this, he laughs and then goes and checks on everything I'm cooking, setting timers as he goes.
5) Nothing can touch the table. We lay placemats on the table to set all the food on, because it isn't allowed to touch the surface. Cups, plates, dishes, silverware, everything must be on a placemat. At my parents house, we set our dishes and cups on everything; pianos, bookshelves, desks, everything. At Grammy and Papa's, you never set your dishes on anything because the furniture isn't sealed so it leaves rings and heat marks. Whenever my sister comes to visit, she forgets this rule, so whenever she sets her cup down on the table, I look at her and signal (using Rachel Language) to use a coaster. Rachel Language is the language that my sister uses. Basically it is like living in a game of charades, because if she wants something, she'll just look at you and act out what she wants, or even worse, she'll just look at you and point at what she wants. Yes, she does speak, but she just chooses to use Rachel Language when she wants something. I refuse to respond to this language, and usually just look at her and talk to her like I used to talk to my preschoolers: "Use your words, Rachel. I can't understand what you want if you don't tell me with your words." However, I try to use Rachel Language around her so that she understands that she isn't allowed to set her cup on the table without a coaster.
6) Portion size is also important. Grammy gets the smallest portions because she doesn't eat a lot. Even when we give her little portions, she usually says something like "Wow, what a big meal we have tonight!" I get medium-sized portions, even though it is usually too much. Papa gets big portions. We try to get rid of all the food we make so that we don't have to eat leftovers, so once the original portions are distributed, we go back through and empty the rest of the pots and pans evenly on the plates. We're getting really good at estimating how much to cook, all thanks to Papa and his exact measurements.
On Wednesdays when Grammy and I go to bell choir, Papa has to cook dinner by himself. When we get home, he always says "Here I am, slaving away on dinner." And Grammy tells him "I cooked all the meals the first 50 years, you get the second." That must be why we eat bag meals. One Wednesday, after dinner, Grammy, Papa and I were cleaning up the dishes from our meal. Papa already did the dishes he used to cook dinner with, so he said:
Papa: You know, I cleaned all the dishes before dinner, too.
Grammy: Well, it doesn't look that way now!
Papa: I'm just saying I cleaned a lot before we ate.
Julie: What? Do you want a high-five?
Papa: No, I want a medal.
We usually have fish twice a week. Papa's favorite is Orange Roughy because it is the most expensive, which obviously means it is the best. Grammy and I think it is so expensive because it comes from the farthest location. We season all of our fish with Lemon-Pepper seasoning because it is Papa's favorite. He even has Lemon-Pepper tarter sauce to accompany it. One time Grammy and I seasoned our fish for dinner with this new seasoning we got from my older brother for Christmas, but Papa told us we should use Lemon-Pepper next time because it is better. I also don't think I've ever used so much butter while cooking than I do with Papa. He puts butter on everything. When we broil our fish, Papa sprinkles his Lemon-Pepper on top and then squirts mounds of squeeze butter onto the fish. It kind of negates the fact that fish is usually healthy for you, so I just pretend like he doesn't put it on there. He also puts a lot of butter on our vegetables. One night we were having canned corn (keep in mind, this was only one can) for dinner and I was stirring something on the stove and Papa came over and started putting butter into the corn. He put about two tablespoons in and was about to put even more in until he saw me looking at him. I told him: "That's a lot of butter you put in there." He just said: "I would have put more except you were watching me."
Monday, February 2, 2009
Lunch.
Grammy and Papa always worry about what I eat for lunch. The only reason I can think of that they worry about it so much is because I always eat the same thing. I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I eat one every day for lunch. I don't see a problem. Papa always wants to buy me lunchmeat and cheese and Grammy always wants me to take tuna. I always eat the same meals every day. I told Papa that last year when I lived in my apartment, I ate grilled cheese with broccoli every day for dinner, and sometimes for lunch. I don't think he believes me, or if he does, he's trying to change me.
Every night, Grammy sets out all the materials I would ever need to make my breakfast and lunch the next day. She always sets out so many options for me, even though I always eat a bowl of cereal (frosted puffed wheat with soy milk) and a grapefruit for breakfast and I always make a PBJ for lunch. She still sets out:
Bread
English Muffins
Peanut Butter
Jelly
Tuna
Sweet relish
Raisin Bran
Frosted Puffed Wheat
Honey Nut Cheerios
Apple
Banana
Plum
Grapefruit
She also sets out many options of tupperwares, lunch boxes, and coffee mugs for me to choose from. Usually I choose the same ones, but sometimes I mix it up. Sometimes I take the candy cane mug instead of the green mug.
Like I said, Papa wants me to eat lunch meat sandwiches for lunch. And not just any lunch meat, he wants me to like honey ham, because that is what he likes. I just don't like ham unless there is absolutely NO fat or unidentified particles on it, but that usually doesn't happen. Papa marvels at the fact that I can find fat on any slab of meat he brings home. I'm good, I know. He could bring home the leanest piece of meat at WalMart, and I could still find fat on it. It is one of my skills. He always makes me try things, too. Even if I've had it before. For example, he brought home some shaved ham the other day and asked me:
Papa: Did you try that ham I brought home?
Julie: I don't like ham.
Papa: Well, maybe you'll like this ham, did you try it?
Julie: No, I didn't. I've had ham before. I don't like it.
Papa goes to the fridge and gets out the ham
Papa: Here, try a bite. It's good. I got the honey ham and it is really thin sliced. Grammy and I really like it.
I always end up trying it. I just don't like ham. Maybe I'll start acting like I'm sick to my stomach and tell him that ham makes me nauseous, like oatmeal and pheasant casserole makes him. I think ham is one of the reasons that Papa likes it when I go visit my friends for the weekend.
Reasons Papa likes me to visit my friends on the weekend:
1) Him and Grammy get to eat ham. They don't make it when I'm home, but every time I come home at the end of the weekend, Papa says:
Papa: Guess what we had for dinner this weekend?
And I always know that means they ate ham.
2) I think Papa is glad that I have friends. I don't have any friends under the age of 65 in Owensville and I think Papa is worried that I don't have any friends anywhere. Whenever I tell him I'm going to Columbia, he says "Good, good. Going to see all your friends?" and I tell him "Yup. I've got a LOT of friends."
3) Since I'm not there, he can listen to the TV on full blast all night long. Yes, I'm lame and go to bed at 10, even on the weekends.
Every night, Grammy sets out all the materials I would ever need to make my breakfast and lunch the next day. She always sets out so many options for me, even though I always eat a bowl of cereal (frosted puffed wheat with soy milk) and a grapefruit for breakfast and I always make a PBJ for lunch. She still sets out:
Bread
English Muffins
Peanut Butter
Jelly
Tuna
Sweet relish
Raisin Bran
Frosted Puffed Wheat
Honey Nut Cheerios
Apple
Banana
Plum
Grapefruit
She also sets out many options of tupperwares, lunch boxes, and coffee mugs for me to choose from. Usually I choose the same ones, but sometimes I mix it up. Sometimes I take the candy cane mug instead of the green mug.
Like I said, Papa wants me to eat lunch meat sandwiches for lunch. And not just any lunch meat, he wants me to like honey ham, because that is what he likes. I just don't like ham unless there is absolutely NO fat or unidentified particles on it, but that usually doesn't happen. Papa marvels at the fact that I can find fat on any slab of meat he brings home. I'm good, I know. He could bring home the leanest piece of meat at WalMart, and I could still find fat on it. It is one of my skills. He always makes me try things, too. Even if I've had it before. For example, he brought home some shaved ham the other day and asked me:
Papa: Did you try that ham I brought home?
Julie: I don't like ham.
Papa: Well, maybe you'll like this ham, did you try it?
Julie: No, I didn't. I've had ham before. I don't like it.
Papa goes to the fridge and gets out the ham
Papa: Here, try a bite. It's good. I got the honey ham and it is really thin sliced. Grammy and I really like it.
I always end up trying it. I just don't like ham. Maybe I'll start acting like I'm sick to my stomach and tell him that ham makes me nauseous, like oatmeal and pheasant casserole makes him. I think ham is one of the reasons that Papa likes it when I go visit my friends for the weekend.
Reasons Papa likes me to visit my friends on the weekend:
1) Him and Grammy get to eat ham. They don't make it when I'm home, but every time I come home at the end of the weekend, Papa says:
Papa: Guess what we had for dinner this weekend?
And I always know that means they ate ham.
2) I think Papa is glad that I have friends. I don't have any friends under the age of 65 in Owensville and I think Papa is worried that I don't have any friends anywhere. Whenever I tell him I'm going to Columbia, he says "Good, good. Going to see all your friends?" and I tell him "Yup. I've got a LOT of friends."
3) Since I'm not there, he can listen to the TV on full blast all night long. Yes, I'm lame and go to bed at 10, even on the weekends.
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