Thanks for Everything!

The Opi's went south for the holiday.

First Stop:
Trump International Hotel Las Vegas.
Luxury room--$108--no casino,
directly across the street from Nordstrom's front door.
I was thankful.

The next day we crossed the desert, passed Joshua trees,
and arrived at a grand oasis--

a place to be restored!
(We were thankful.)

Opa buttered up the turkey,

Emmie buttered up the table,



And Sam buttered up his Oma.
(I'm always thankful for butter.)

All four grandparents had a personal server who filled our plates,
replenished our drinks and cleared away our dishes:

Jake


Emily

Sam


Luke.

After dinner we all just kicked back for the weekend
and felt thankful.

Thanks for everything!

Pie Night

Coconut Cream Pies

Yep. I made 'em—homemade pies by OMA.
I'm a little proud as you can see.
I've never thought of myself as a pie maker.

Grandma Bagley

Grandma Bagley was the pie maker. Dad stopped to check on her every night on the way home from work. There was always a banana cream, a lemon meringue, peach, apple, chocolate or custard pie. Dad was a dutiful son, but grandma employed a secret method to encourage devotion. When I worked for my dad during my teens I got in on the visit and my favorite was coconut cream.

My kids have a tradition called Pie Night. It happens the Sunday before Thanksgiving, a get together to celebrate the sweetness of family. With 7 kids, 7 in-law kids who all come from big families on every side, it's never been a goal to get us all together for Thanksgiving. Little groups meet up and have Thanksgiving—the eastern families met at an Amish cabin for a few years, a group made a trek to St. Louis last year. One of our families gets a condo in Sun Valley with the in-laws every other year. We Opis family hop—we've been to Boston, Pennsylvania, Denver, San Diego, and this year we're in Arizona for the big day.

I have a family of event planners. Any occasion deserves a name and a theme, a game or two and some spectacular food. A great joy of this phase of life is visiting our kid's homes as guests. We are treated royally. Today one grandkid is assigned to each of the four grandparents coming to dinner, as their slave. They will serve us our food, clear our plates, replenish our glasses and be our dinner companion. It's so fun to watch Luke make place cards, and Sam light candles. Emily helped me tear up bread for the stuffing while Jake went off to play (officially) in his first turkey bowl. I LOVE seeing Gabi and Brad on their own turf, totally in control of the whole day. It is a treat beyond anything . . . even beyond pie.

Which brings me to my perfect pie recipe:

Old Fashioned Coconut Cream Pie

One can coconut milk, and enough half and half to make 3 cups liquid.

3 egg yolks

1 cup white sugar

1/2 cup cornstarch

1/4 t salt

1 cup flaked, sweetened coconut

1 baked pie shell

1 cup sweetened, whipped cream

In a medium saucepan combine eggs, sugar, flour and salt. Slowly stir in coconut milk/cream mixture. Bring to a a boil over low heat, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and stir in 3/4 cup coconut, 1 teaspoon vanilla, and 1 T butter. Pour into pie shell and chill 2-4 hours.

Toast 1/4 coconut on ungreased pan in a 350 degree over 5-7 minutes until golden brown, stirring often. Cool. Sprinkle toasted coconut on top of pie. Serve with a dollop of whipped cream.

Stand back and wait for compliments!!!

Gotta go and taste-test some rolls!

Happy Thanksgiving!

P. S. I'm thankful for you!

P. S. P. S. Kirby Puckernut wants you to visit his blog! Click here!

Interior Design: Playroom

Amy's an artist.
Always has been.

She was just a kid when she started drawing on my walls. I remember a little house sketched next to the light switch in her bedroom, and some crayon designs on the closet door. A few years later she painted life-sized stick figure kids playing on our basement walls, complete with flowers and trees. It was darling!

The other day she arrived at my door with brushes, masking tape and a few cans of paint. "Want your Christmas present early?" she asked. "I'm here to paint the Cousin's Clubhouse."

That's what the grandkids named the closet under the stairs when they recognized its possibilities. I hung a full-length mirror at the back (next to a basket of dress-ups) and tucked in a toy train, but it still needed some personality.

Amy brought it! Keeping with our travel motif, she sketched a scene from Amsterdam, then taped off the buildings with masking tape and painted every other one. When the second coat was dry, she removed the tape from one building and re-taped its neighbor, so the colors wouldn't blend at the edges.

She cleaned up her gear and left it to dry overnight.

The next day she came back with black markers to add some details, and outline the buildings freehand, in her trademark style. Her girls inspected the work, and gave it high marks.

Tile corkboards were set in the painted frames, and members of the Cousins Club took their place on the official roster. The moral of my story is this:

Let your kids draw on the walls.
It's good practice!

Ghost of Christmas Present

Kirby Puckernut and the Christmas Surprise

I'm the ghost of Kirby Puckernut. He's a real guy—a real elf, I should say—and Santa Claus put him in charge of a blog this year. (They're trying to put the North Pole on the map, I guess.) Anyway, Kirby got hold of me and in a very high-pitched squeak asked if I was really a ghostwriter. I assured him I was, and he squeaked, "Will you be mine?" How could I resist?

It turns out Kirby is the star of a darling new Christmas book about Christmas magic, and Santa has received zillions of letters from folks asking for tips. With the Christmas rush and all, there just wasn't time for Kirby to learn the intricacies of blogging, so I've been entrusted with Santa's secrets. I'll be posting them on Kirby's blog every Thursday from now 'til Christmas.

But I'll let you in on a secret—I need your secrets. Do you have unique ways of creating Christmas magic? Here are some questions for you to mull over with your cider:

1. What is Christmas magic?
2. What unique Christmas traditions bring magic into your home?
3. What do you say to "Is Santa Claus real?"
   
4. What about the Christmas when everything went wrong?
   
5. What's the most stressful thing about Christmas?

I'd love to hear your secrets! Since I'm just Kirby's ghost, I can't give you credit for your ideas on his blog ("The secret of creativity is knowing how to hide your sources."—Albert Einstein) but you'll get full credit here on mine!

Leave a comment, or a link to your post.

And go meet Kirby!

Taking the Grand Tour

"Write what should not be forgotten."

—Isabel Allende

One of my Oma goals was to take my grandchildren to Europe. Who better? I've been "over the pond" twenty-five times, and lived there twice. I wrote this goal in my journal twenty years ago, planning the trip for when they each turned ten. Of course this was before I had twenty grandkids and when I assumed I'd be rich in my old age.

Several grandkids have turned ten (and eleven, and twelve . . .) without me, but finally I have a local grand old enough for her Grand Tour. We just took it the other way around.

Chloë in the lobby of Grand America Hotel, Salt Lake City

We pretended Chloë was from Paris, meeting her long-lost Grandmama at a fancy schmancy hotel—the Grand America in Salt Lake City. A valet parked our car, and we walked past a long, white limo, so it was easy to imagine we were traveling first-class.

Catching her breath.

Chloë took almost a hundred photos as we explored the hotel. She loved the tapestries, the fountains, and the statues of deer in the gardens. One room caught her eye—the Grand Ballroom. Even with chairs strewn all over and tables only partially put away, it made her shriek with delight. I reminded her she was from Paris and had probably been to Versailles, but this was still the swankiest room she'd ever seen, and she pirouetted around like Cinderella.

There were little cubicles off a long hall, each with a built-in desk. "There's an old-fashioned telephone in there! Is this where people sit to take their calls?" she asked. (The old-fashioned telephone was just a regular phone that had a cord.) "That is so cool."

The bathroom blew her away. Real cloth towels, gilded mirrors and two posh sitting areas, plus "each toilet has its own miniature room!" A bit classier than the 4th grade lavatory.

Chloë is overcome at the Grand America.

Seeing a place through ten-year-old eyes, with a ten-year-old imagination was absolutely grand! I was reminded that to kids, everything is new. Even just a trip downtown can be an adventure—it's all in the presentation.

"Look up, Oma!"

Chloë pointed out every chandelier and every ceiling decoration; she appreciated all the little touches. "The salt and pepper shakers match our dishes!" (At home her salt and pepper shakers match her dishes, too, but I think she expects little paper packets at restaurants.) The waiter "brought bread automatically," crusty sourdough, with a "personal dish of butter," and she got to figure out which of her three knives was especially for spreading. Afterward we stopped in the little French bakery and drooled over gelato and chocolate truffles before we each chose a macaroon to eat at a tiny wrought-iron cafe table in the corner.

"We're making a memory," I told her over lunch. "Do you think you'll remember your first Grand Tour?" "Maybe," she said, her mind on the waiter bringing her lemonade.

Lunch at Grand America

Not to worry, Chloë. I don't remember all the things I did with my grandmas, either. But somehow I knew they loved me and recognized my individuality. Although I was one of 13 on one side, and one of 24 on the other, I felt appreciated for myself, even as I took pride in being part of a large group.

Those are the memories I cherish, and the ones I hope to recreate—a deep, down, inner conviction for each grandchild that we know they are unique and love them because of it. I'll share my vast wisdom if they are interested, and if I have something to teach (that they want to learn) I'll pass it on, but most of what I want to give my grandkids is confidence and faith that they're here at this time with inborn traits, abilities and spiritual gifts that are needed. I want them to have the courage to follow their promptings to go where they can make their contribution to the world.

My true goal for them is to take their own tour of life, find personal adventures and a repertoire of experience that will prepare them for each successive tour of duty: school, mission, college, army, marriage and stops along the way I don't know about yet. That's the Grand Tour I'm most interested in. But I'm glad to be part of the training tours along the way!

DIY Scrapbook Papered Bookcase

1 old bookcase + 12 sheets of scrapbook paper = proud Oma

The old bookcase looked pretty tired in the new bedroom, but if I wanted a new one I had to do it myself. My DIY projects have to be cheap, quick and easy, and this one was. I chose paper that was easy to match on the edges, then measured and cut the sheets to fit the back of my bookcase.

Dee sprayed the adhesive,
Benji manned the door,

And I quickly stuck the paper on the bookcase.

In typical fashion, I had measured wrong and didn't have enough paper for the bottom shelf. No worries. I just filled in with a different pattern.

The whole project took less than an hour, but it needed some finishing touches: I turned a wooden utensil box on its side to display miniatures, and glued a collage of scraps on two boring hatboxes.

Oma's reading nook

A showpiece for my showpieces!

Office Tour

"I'll see you in my office now."

This is where I spend my time.

Writing on the Wall

On one side of my office is my library. Reading, writing and research books, stories for the grands, old letters, maps and travel books (stashed in the suitcases) and file boxes along the bottom with tons of family history info.

Office Suite-y

You've already seen my computer.

My Bibles

If I turn my chair the other way I'm facing my work table. Between the bookends are resources I need at my fingertips. The loose leaf holds research I've done for my work in progress, aka The Widow's Waltz. It's a great example of my new catchphrase, "Planning is the enemy of finishing."

Since last November I've compiled almost three hundred pages outlining setting (Vienna, just before World War II) plot (American businessman is murdered) and character back-story (based on real letters) but not a sentence of the actual book. It's time to stop planning, so I can start finishing.

Editor's Desk

But I have finished a couple of big editing projects recently. Right now I'm working on a manuscript by a surgeon who served several tours of duty in Afghanistan. It's serious and funny—a little like Hawkeye's life on MASH.

Office Accessories

Little details: I use my pewter collection to hold office supplies. The IKEA Lazy Susan gives me instant access to red pens, blue pencils, scissors, chapstick and my back-scratcher. It suddenly seemed nutty that these pretty pieces were hidden away in a cupboard. What was I saving them for??

Check books

Here's my bill paying station. I chucked my ugly brown accordion folder and now I stash the bills that need attention in one fake book, and the others hold receipts, stamps and envelopes.

File It

These space-saving filing cabinets came from TJ Maxx. Since the folders are on display, I bought a package of cute blue ones to match my decor, and put them in front. They hold everything—address labels, greeting cards, newspaper clippings and blog ideas.

Inspiration Board

When I was packing up my stuff to move, I found some handmade paper we bought in Italy ten years ago. Apparently I was saving it. For what? So I cut it up into squares and used it to line a bulletin board. Postcards and old calendar pictures of women reading and writing inspire me.

Scraps

A rusted, yellow mailbox begged for old letters, but the slots were too deep for my stationery. I cut some scrapbook paper up and taped a few pieces together so they'd be exactly the right size, and then stuck on some vintage-looking stamp stickers to make them look authentic. Old postcards added color.

Anything for me?

Voila! A cool in-and-out box for my desk. (I stash the real letters-to-be-mailed behind the fake ones—a check being sent to the phone company doesn't seem as cute.)

Speaking of letters . . . Nancy emailed these questions:

"How do you preserve what you've written, photos and all?
Do you have a backup system for memoirs?"

Actually, my blog is my backup system. A few years ago I accidentally deleted my archive of photos. The pictures I had used on my blog were the only ones I could find again, because they were floating around the Internet. That's why I've written a lot of my memoirs on my blog—I can access those memories from anywhere, anytime. (And so can all my descendants who can't wait to read every word Great-grandma Oma ever wrote.)

So, how do you preserve what you've written?

I loved your comments about why you blog. Now you need to write about where you blog. Leave a comment and we'll come over and tour your office.

Congratulations to Grandma Cebe!
(She won a copy of my book!)

Buy it here!

Ten Reasons to Blog

Here's where I blog.

I've been asking myself—why do I blog? TravelinOma is five years old next week, and this is my 5,000th post! Each post takes me at least two hours to write, so that's over 10,000 hours I've spent working on this little hobby—not counting all the prepping, designing and linking. Since I don't have ads, there's no money-making involved. So is blogging worth it?

Ten Ways Blogging Has Paid Off For Me

1. Blogging introduced me to one of the great loves of my life—Mac. You can read about him in a post I called An Affair to Remember.
   
2. Blogging is it's own reward—I'm becoming a better writer. I've got three shelves of books on writing that I'm always studying, and I use my blog to practice the techniques I'm reading about. Looking back at my early posts, I see improvement, and that's satisfying to me.
3. Because of my blog I take more pictures, download them that day (in case I want to use them on a post) and label them immediately so they're easy to find.
   
4. All my old photos are now organized in iPhoto. At first I was searching through boxes and scrapbooks for pictures to use on posts, so I started scanning them in and making digital albums, labeling them with names and dates. (Another bonus from blogging.)
   
5. I learned how to scan—and create files to store scans in. And color code my files. Initially it was just for my blog, but my eyes were opened to a world of possibilities. (You have to remember I was raised during the Dewey Decimal decades, and this is all new to me.)
   
6. I learned to cut and paste, and then to copy and bookmark and explore icons, which taught me to add images and make italics, and change fonts. That gave me confidence to try other writing programs like Pages and Scrivener. Now I can create my own templates for newsletters—and novels!
7. I haven't even mentioned what I've learned from your blogs. You find humor in the mundane and miserable moments, and you relish the joyful ones. Reading what you write encourages me, and I feel refreshed by dipping into your day. (Even though I hardly ever comment anymore.)
   
8. When something interesting pokes my mind, I think, "Blog." It's a great motivation for research. I wrote about Anne Frank once, and that post alone has had 51,000 hits!
9. Blogging has given me a new outlet. Even the bleakest of days can turn into a memorable post.
   
10. Finally, I love blogging! At the beginning of my blogging career the prevailing attitude (of non-bloggers) was that it was a waste of time. I felt defensive. One of my most popular posts is called Wear Your Paper Bag With Pride, and after I wrote it, I settled into my blogging grove—with pride.

"When I sit down at my writing desk, time seems to vanish.
I think it's a wonderful way to spend one's life."
—Erica Jong

How long have you been blogging?

Leave a comment before Saturday November 5th at midnight,
and you'll be entered to win a copy of my book!

Buy it here!

Grandmummy Halloween Party

Mummie Parade

There's nothing better than being a Grand-mummy. Real mummies have to sew costumes, go trick-or-treating and deal with sugar highs. Grandmummies get to prepare for parties without boo-hoos, howls or shrieks in the background—it's a hoot!

We had cheesy cracker pumpkins, ghostly bananas and sliced lips
(two apple slices spread with peanut butter,
and baby marshmallow teeth in between)
plus a cup of blood . . .

to dippy our mummy dogs in.
(Wrap refrigerator crescent rolls around a hotdog.
Bake 20 min at 350, dot with mustard eyes.
Dip in ketchup.)

The scariest part of dinner was when I choked on an apple. A Grandmummy should not turn blue in front of her boys and ghouls! After I was revived and calmed, we proceeded with the planned party activities.

Mummy Wrap

Who wants to be a mummy? Each mummy is given a roll of TP and a team of wrappers. The first team who finishes a roll wins applause.

Spider Web

Sit in a circle with a ball of black yarn. Toss it back and forth saying "I'll catch Benji (or whoever) in my web." Each person holds on to the yarn when he throws it and a web is created in the middle. When a little ghoul steps in the middle because she's bored, the game is over.

What do spiders catch in their webs? Flies!!


"I know an old lady who swallowed a fly!
I don't know why she swallowed a fly . . .
Perhaps she'll die."
Each kid stuffed something in the old lady's mouth
until finally she swallowed a horse.
"She's dead of course."

Ghosties
Pass out tissues, cotton balls and rolls of tape.
Place a cotton ball in the middle of the tissue, wrap it with tape
and you've got a ghostie. Put them everywhere.

Dance in the Dark
Everybody gets a glow-in-the-dark bracelet.
Then turn out the lights and dance to Monster Mash . . .

Zombies!

. . . and Thriller!

Ghost Stories
While the lights are out, hold a flickering candle under your face
and tell a few spooky stories.
"In a dark, dark wood, there was a dark, dark house . . ."

"And the gob-e-lins'll git you
Ef you don't watch out!!"


Each little goblin picked a spook off the tree,
shivered,
and flew off into the night.
The Grandmummy Halloween party was all wrapped up!

Sibling Relationships

Cowboy Brothers

I love writing about family relationships. In Son of a Gun some of my favorite scenes explored the relationship of two stepbrothers. This excerpt depicts how young teenage boys show affection. I based it on the interaction between my own sons as they were growing up.

Son of a Gun
by
Marty Halverson

“You lowdown mavericker! You thievin’ my cattle, agin, boy?” With a whoop, JJ leaped on the back of his brother’s horse, attacking MJ in a Texas wrestle. They had the common knowledge that they were tough, but who was toughest on a given day depended on who could pin who.

Sliding to the ground, MJ had trouble putting down his younger brother, and might never have made it if Trespass hadn’t leaped in and begun licking JJ’s face and nipping him in the side til he hit his ticklebone. That got JJ to giggling so hard he couldn’t fight, and MJ was glad to press the boy’s shoulders flat into the dirt of the trail and quit while he could.

They got up, knocking the dust and twigs off themselves to cover the awkward spell that was bound to set in when big boys had carried on too catnippy for their ages. As always, it was JJ who got to talking first. As they walked toward the barn with Trespass yapping at their feet and pawing for attention, he babbled a blue-tailed streak, as if they’d been separated for a month instead of just a few days.

“Ain’t you had nobody to talk to, Jage?" MJ asked. "That cowlicked filly a’ yours stopped listening to your chatter?” JJ faked a scowl but went right on jabbering, letting his brother lap up the family news.

It's fascinating to create characters—they actually come to life! As I got to know these brothers, I loved the relationship they had.

Do you have young sons, brothers or nephews?
I'd love to hear your observations about how boys show affection for each other.
How is it different from girls?

Leave a comment!