It's All About the Memories

I've not been much in the mood for blogging lately. My grandmother passed away, and while it wasn't unexpected, it still seemed to happen quickly.

There are so many things that I remember about my grandma, so many little parts of me. Swimming in her pool, even when the water was only 65 degrees. No matter what time of year, she would let me go swimming. And we always started my visits with trips to the grocery store. Oh, she used to load me up on Oreos, or Toll House cookies, Chunky soup, and roasted chicken; Mc Donald's was usually a stop, and there was a See's Candy right next to the market and we would usually stop in for a lollypop. More often than not it was Butterscotch.

And she would read to me, Go Dog Go and The Emperor's New Clothes. She would let me color with crayons and pastel chalks, finger paints and acrylic paints. Then there was the whole craft stage in jr high, which was always a trip to Michael's to get supplies. I loved going to her house- because no matter what, I could just be me there. For some reason I recall watching The Monkeys and parts of the Thorn Birds, being scared to sleep when the NightStalker pyscho was loose in Southern California. Polishing her big wood coffee table wih Pledge and watering her plants in the livingroom. Playing with my barbies.

I remember she had a whole box of the same color of lipstick. I don't remember if she was trying to sell them, or if she just liked the color so much that when they discontinued it she bought a whole box. She had this weird stationary bike that I would ride every so often. It made a strange whhhooooshing sound when you got it going.

She loved to talk to people, especially the last few years of her life. She would talk to anyone, as long as they talked back. And she loved to learn. She gave me my very first journal to write in when I was 11. I wrote in it every day, and then came the stories, the teen-angst poems, the teen introspection. She encouraged it all. She always felt bad that she didn't have much money, but it never mattered to me cuz she always had a smile and laugh and hug.

She was a wonderful grandmother, and I miss her. RIP Doris Oseplan, I hope you are looking down on all of us with those big blue eyes and that happy laugh!