Stories About My Family & Friends
My husband and I were in Toledo when we stopped in Rossford to visit with one of my older brothers. I asked him about his occupation. I have so many vague memories of him owning his own NAPA store/franchise and now, he owns a bar in Rossford.
“What exactly do you do for a living?” I asked while sitting with him in the bar he owned. “Are you a bookie?”
“No, no, honey…, not at all,” he answered. “I’m a financial consultant for those who wish to earn money in sports games.”
Remembering all those holiday family meals with him in front of the TV, I realized, it wasn’t just for enjoyment. It was his life… his money was at stake.
I laughed at the memory and his ridiculous answer and said, “You’re a bookie.”
My brother hung his head in defeat and conceded, “Yes, I’m a bookie.”
I crack up whenever I remember that moment. He’s a riot!
During the week of Christmas we kept our granddaughter. She’s soon to be four and as all grandparents believe, she is the most precious thing we’ve ever seen. In fact, she’s so precious that even the dog loves it when she visits.
I have kept a journal of the dog’s play with my granddaughter:
Day One: I’m so excited! The tiny person they call Angel Pie is here (hopping and wagging tail) – we will have so much fun playing together. At least she throws my squeaky toy and runs after me. She seems to enjoy my toy as much as I do. The bonus is, Dog Mom lets me lay on the couch with her as long as I put my head in her lap. Oh and I get tons of cookies from her, too.
Day Two: She’s back, she’s back! Look, Angel Pie is back and we’re going to have so much fun! I will follow her everywhere. Today we’re playing dress-up – Wait, what are these things she’s putting over my eyes (paws the sunglasses off her face several times). Oh boy, there goes the squeaky toy…
Day Three: It’s cookie time again (runs and gets her toys). It’s my favorite time and we get to play, play, play. Why is she putting a cape (beach towel) around me and Dog Mom’s hair band? It’s okay. I will sit very still so as not to disrupt her creativity.
Day Four: You’re back? Okay, just keep those cookies coming and we can play some more.
Day Five: Holy fur balls! She’s back AGAIN. Doesn’t this kid have somewhere else to be? Help me, someone… anyone (hides under my desk and refuses to come out when shes being called). You can shove those cookies in your tiny little ears, kid. I’m not moving (at least until Pie crawls up under the desk with her).
The dog was thankful for the weekend break, but my granddaughter is back this week too. Won’t they be having fun?
For the record… these two are buddies and the dog follows her everywhere she goes and hangs on to her every move.
I have a Blue Healer rescue dog and when we first brought her home, my son-in-law swore she tried to attack him because she jumped up on him to be petted.
In his defense, he didn't know the dog, however, no matter how hard we tried to tell him she was just wanting some love, he wouldn't listen. He even stated that he didn't want my 4 year old granddaughter around her for fear of an attack.
I wish I had taken pictures of this, but… while she was here visiting, she found an old beach towel. After she brought it out to the living room, she rummaged through the desk drawer and pulled out a pair of her little-girl sunglasses then took both items over to the attack dog.
My granddaughter started wrapping the towel around the dog who sat very patiently and very still while she did this. When the towel was around her, she placed the sunglasses on the dog’s face as she announced, “There, now she has her cape on and her sunglasses too!”
The attack dog, quite slowly, turned to me with a look of “please come get this child” expression before she was rescued (again). I wish I had taken a picture of her in the “cape” and sunglasses – it was so adorable!
(photoed is the attack dog playing dress-up with my granddaughter on another day - Look at that smile)
We had our granddaughter one afternoon (she’s three). We had taken her to the zoo and on the way home, as a special treat, we stopped at Gretal’s Candy House on Hwy 17 S. I wish I had a picture of the child’s face when we entered the store. She thought she hit pay dirt.
I handed her a shopping basket that would have easily been as tall as she had you stood it on the end next to her. She looped her arm through it and started browsing the store like a pro-shopper (she IS my daughter’s child, after all).
Grandpa whispered to me, “Are we sure we want to do that: give her free choice like this? It could be disastrous.”
“She’ll be alright,” I promised. “We can control the situation if she gets out of hand.”
In a world where children are taught greed and self-importance, I was very proud of my granddaughter. She loves chocolate (of course) but I don’t think she’s quite figured out yet that colorful candy is not chocolate. She picked three… only three things… and put them into her basket. They were colorful candy.
She walked up the to counter where the cashier was waiting and although, she couldn’t reach the counter properly, she reached up and slid her basket on top. Very politely she informed the cashier, “I have all that I need.”
The cashier chuckled and said, “Are you sure?”
My granddaughter replied politely, “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you.”
She’s polite and well mannered. Did I mention that she’s three years old?
I “stole” a pair of shoes from my daughter’s house one afternoon. I liked them because they were loafers and they fit rather nicely. That was several months ago. Apparently, my three year old granddaughter was not oblivious to what I did.
She was here visiting and like always, she plunders. During her plundering, she stumbled upon the shoes that were sitting on a shelf. She brought them to me wearing an angry scowl on her face and said, “You STILL have Mommy’s shoes?”
I said, “Yes, I do.”
She snapped at me and said, “But they are Mommy’s shoes, not yours!”
“I know, honey,” I said to her as I tried to hide the humor in my voice. “Let’s put them back on the shelf and when she comes to pick you up, we’ll give them back to her.”
“Okay,” she said simply as she returned the shoes to the shelf.
I noticed it wasn't just "you have Mommy's shoes," it was, "you still have Mommy's shoes."
I told my daughter about it later and said, “Holy crap! I thought the child was going to beat my ass and send me to my room with no dinner.”