Uno with the Bollschweiler's

Uno has always been a beloved game in my family. It comes from the Bollschweiler (my mom's) side. They tell of a time when my mom was passing cards between her toes in order to cheat. They are all a bunch of cheaters. And no one, not one person, is worse than my grandma. She looks sweet and innocent and has the, "Oh, did I do that wrong?" expression down to a T. But we all know better.

We are playing in the dining room. Across the hall and down the hall there are two babies sleeping trying to sleep. No one in this house knows how to whisper and when the game is getting heated, as it always does, we only get louder. I won three hands in a row and then they were determined to unseat me.

The worst part is that Uncle Allen and myself are the only ones quick enough to play our hands and keep an eye on Mistress Cheater - Grandma - and when we are arguing among ourselves over a disputed move, Grandma manages to slip two or five cards in to the pile.

She looks so innocent, but she's a horrible cheater!

Poor Kevin, a friend of my cousin's, claims to be from a family of cheaters, but was hardly able to keep track of Grandma and his own hand. He's just as loud as the rest of us, though, so he fit in perfectly.

We play Uno with the "matching" rules; things get insane when we try to add the "Armstrong" rules into the mix (trade hands on 0 and slap the deck on 9). The game goes by a lot faster with our rules than it does in an ordinary game, and honestly, I don't think I can sit through a boring old Uno game anymore.

I love this family.

Vest Prophecy

When we were little kids, my Grandma Armstrong used to bring us bags and bags of clothes that she would pick up on her weekly garage sale hunting. As younger kids, we looked forward to these bags of "new" clothes with excitement. One never knew exactly what Grandma would find. But as we got older and more self-conscious about what we were wearing and worse, where it came from, we started to be more picky and less grateful for the trash bags of treasures.

My grandma was very crafty. She wore shoes and vests and hats that she had puff-painted and had scads of buttons on everything. One of the things that she seemed to find for me at the garage sales were vests. Lots of vests! I remember particularly the ones that looked as though they had been quilted together and had buttons and bows and such.

My dad told us that if we didn't appreciate the items Grandma gave us, then we had to tell her ourselves. So one particular visit to Lexington, I told her. "Grandma, I do not like vests."

She made me try on her newest find anyway.

"I won't wear this," I said. "I really do not like vests."

And then she made a prophecy that I cringed at.

"You've just got to find the right one," she said, taking the vest from my arms and draping it over the recliner in her bedroom.

I didn't believe her. I swore never to wear a vest again.

I think about that conversation with my grandma every time I put on the black vest I like so much. It is drape-y and forgiving, and kind of cool. And I got it for less than $5. I think Grandma would be proud - although, she probably would have haggled down the price to 50 cents. I thought about it again when this past weekend I found a sheer, crocheted top and flow-y, tiered looking vest that I just had to have. I think it is one of my favorite purchases in a while. Although, I paid more than Grandma would have ever paid for it.

Grandma was right though. It just took the right vest - and for vests to come back in style - before I went against my vow to never put one on again. Who knew that she was a prophetess?

Grandma Stories

I love my grandma. And my great-grandma.

I do not love that my grandma does not know how to work a phone. I swear the women was born in 1737 instead of 1937, as she does not know how to communicate at all.

Regardless, I love my grandma.

I mentioned the thong story in my previous post, and I thought I would expound. My grandma and her two sisters go swimming every morning as a way to exercise. They are well-known at the community center where they have a membership. The woman at the front desk recognizes them when they walk in and pulls out their bowl of marbles which they use to keep track of the number of laps that they do (they are up to 22 laps every morning).

The dressing room at the community center is not a place meant for modest. Sure, there are dressing stalls for women to change in and out of their bathing suits, but that doesn't mean anything, as the women stand naked in the tree of life showers, in the sauna or next to their lockers.

One morning, my grandma, Barb and Jo (her sisters) walked in from the pool and a lady was changing next to her locker. She was wearing... her thong. When Jo noticed, she tapped the lady on the bum and said, "Hey, you're missing half your pants!" And then walked to her own locker, leaving my grandma and Barb standing there with their mouths hanging open.

The lady - thank goodness - laughed and said something passe, and then left. She came back a few days later and told Barb that she really got a good laugh and happily told the story to several people. To which Barb said, "That wasn't me! That was her," and pointed to Jo, wondering why she always looks like the troublemaker while my grandma and Jo always look like the innocents.

Another day, Jo was wearing her bathing suit that is wearing thin. The skirt is so droopy, it goes down to her knees. Now, my grandma takes her swimming very seriously. She has flippers and webbed-gloves in order to help her work out. This particular morning, her flippers and Jo's skirt got tangled up! Which was really rather ridiculous...

But yesterday (Monday), I had stayed over so I could go swimming before coming back down to Provo to work. They had told me all these stories, and as we were walking towards the pool, the lifeguard said to Jo, "Hey, you're not wearing your evening gown today!"

To which we all responded with rowdy laughter.

I love going swimming with my grandma. I love how popular they are at the gym and how people always notice when they bring me - a stranger - with the group.

Now, my great-grandma, sits in her little rocking chair and watches a movie or two before going to bed. I've never seen her watch anything other than what is on TCM. I don't blame her, though, because TCM plays some really quality movies. I did not know that they play silent movies, but apparently they do, because when we rolled in on Sunday, that is what my great-grandma was watching. I was immediately drawn in, and then laughed when grandma said, "I don't remember them having such silly movies back when I was a girl."

Because she did watch the silent films when they had the piano down at the bottom of the theater going while the movie played. They are a bit dramatic, and definitely silly, but probably no more silly than what we watch now. I really liked sitting there watching with her, though, and then listening to her explain the narration to my grandma about how "he said this" and then she "said that." When my grandma asked how she knew what they were saying, my great-grandma reminded us that, "You have to use your imagination," and I really loved that.

Flash Trip to Kuna

I drove up this weekend with my grandma to visit my uncle and his family in Kuna, Idaho. I got off work late on Friday, spent the night at my grandma's (where I went to bed at 10:30 p.m.!) and then we woke up early to hit the road Saturday morning.

A few things about the trip up.

1) My grandma talks a lot. She has always owned up to being gabby, and I must admit that I possess a similar trait. But I'm pretty sure that out of the five hours we drove up there, she was not talking for maybe, half an hour of that. It made the drive go by really fast, and even if I did hear the thong story* for a third time, I didn't mind.

2) We drove my grandma's truck. Honestly, I knew that it was going to be expensive to fill that sucker up, but I don't really trust my car to drive up to Boise anymore, and so I didn't want to offer to take my car, and my grandma doesn't like to drive her blue car. (I know, "blue" is not a type of car. I just have no idea what that thing is...) So I didn't offer to help pay for gas, even though I know that my grandparents do not have a lot of extra cash to be spending on trips and such. What I did do, is offer to pay for our lunch on the way there and on the way back. I sort of expected resistance, as that is what happens when you are around your grandparents, but my grandma happily let me pay and it made me feel like an actual adult instead of a child. It was a cool feeling, to know that she thinks of me on kind of the same level.

3) My grandma also let me drive. This demonstrated that she trusted me, because I know she thinks I drive like a maniac. Not because she has ever been in the car when I'm driving like a maniac, but simply because - ready? - I take less time to get up to her house than it takes her to get to mine. I'm pretty sure that she thinks I drive way too fast, and way too crazy. But she let me get back behind the wheel, and I don't think I scared her once. Or maybe, just once.... but I was just getting used to the brakes.

When we got to Allen's, it was great to see the kids. I love going up there, and I really love those kids. They are so fun and silly and they compliment me like no other! They give me hugs and want to tell me stories and even Tess, who is the youngest, snuggled up next to me as we watched a movie on the couch. Before she did that though, we went off looking for a inexpensive, fun activity. The weather was practically spring-like, so we knew that it had to be outside.

We ended up at a dam somewhere outside of Boise. This led to a lot of "dam" jokes, that made the kids blush and stammer and say, "Daaaad!" They couldn't believe what they were hearing, and I was completely in awe of their young innocence. Was I really like that as a child? I know I was, I used to physically abuse my friends when they said swear words.

Why is it that throwing rocks into a body of water is so therapeutic? I don't know, but we certainly entertained ourselves for several hours.

We stopped on the other side of the dam because after Allen blamed everyone for stepping in poop, he realized that it was him, and so he needed to clean off his shoes before he could make the drive back home. It was getting cold, but it was really pretty. Once we were "de-pooped" we made it back into town.

 Afterwards, we did dinner and a movie at home, and I was in bed again by 10:40 p.m.! It was a miracle. We woke up and made it to 9:00 a.m. church, and then Tanner was ordained a teacher - which was the whole excuse for our trip. I can't believe that kid is 14, and even more so, I can't believe how much he has grown even since the last time I saw him! He's almost as tall as me and he is already taller than his mom and grandma.

After church, I tried to get grandma to stick around, but she was anxious to get on the road and back to grandpa. She is always very nervous about the driving conditions, be it traffic, weather, or road conditions, she is ready to have the driving over with before it even begins.

It was a fun, but too quick, trip - and it really feels like I didn't even go. I'm just glad I took pictures as evidence that I did get up there this weekend!

Swimming at the Rec Center

My grandma and her two sisters go swimming at their local rec center 3x a week in order to stay healthy as they age. And every so often, I get the chance to tag along.

It seems that whenever I go, the trio of ladies have become more celebrity-like at their gym - everyone knows who they are, everyone expects them to come. When we enter, good mornings are given and the temperature of the day, locker room and pool water are all discussed. They talk about different quilting projects and their gardens and of course, their health. It hardly ever passes anyone's notice that they have brought a younger version of themselves with them, and so naturally I am introduced, or re-introduced as the case sometimes goes.

We do 12 laps. All in one lane. In a single file line, that often gets bent and twirled around as we each start gabbing. Grandma wears the float-belt, and Barb and Jo both use their noodles. We argue with Lee about whether or not we are on the 5th lap, or the 9th...because it seems that we can never keep track. And we make sure to let 0ther ladies have the lane next to us - because no one wants to get stuck next to Tsunami. Tsunami is an older gentleman that is, for the most part, very fit. He also splashes and causes waves throughout the whole pool as he does his butterfly stroke (or whatever it is) and getting stuck next to him could mean your life.

When we have finished the 12 laps, we make our way over to the shallow end so that Barb and Jo can continue to float on their noodles and Grandma and I do other mini-aerobics in the water. Lee will join us for a second to tell a joke. (This is a fairly new development, though enjoyable...) And then we make our way to either the sauna or the showers and to change.

The thing I like best about my grandma and her sisters is that they are NOT like other older women that come to the gym and are basically exhibitionists. The trio keeps their nakedness to themselves! That isn't to say there aren't other ladies in the locker room that do... So I'm just glad that my relatives are willing to use the dressing rooms.

And then we're done. The four of us walk out meeting Jo's husband Bernell, and my grandma promises they will be back in a day or so...and then we all go home.