Monday, December 8, 2008

Worry............it seems my whole life has been centered around worry. Did I say the right thing? Did I wear the right clothes? Should I return to school to get a degree? Did I spend enough time with my child today? (That was a BIG one when the children were smaller.) Did I pay that bill? Where did I leave my glasses? Did I spend too much? Should I have eaten that HUGE dinner? and then those snacks on top of it? Why do I need so much fabric? or beads? or paint? Why can't I finish things? Why do I start so many things? Am I ADD?

I really don't like worry. It is such a waste of time...........and I can't stand to waste time - unless I intend to. I even resent sleeping. It takes away from living. So why do I worry? Well, I think it's my grandmother's fault.

She was this huge woman. Huge in the ways of life, not in stature. She outlived three husbands. Each of them was a phenomenal man who adored her. Each of them was unique and had such wonderful life stories. And the two I knew were beautiful men.....inside, where it counts. Somehow, this 4'10" woman was able to snag three good men. And I'm sure each of them would tell you that she added far more to their lives than they brought to hers.

She was a tower of strength, a shrewd investment banker, an inventive chef, an iron-fisted prison warden, a dedicated teacher, an extraordinary clothing designer, an entrepreneur, a comedienne with great one-liners......in short, a woman. Like many out there, she wore lots of hats and did all of them well. But she had this great secret...................................she worried.

You could find her in the middle of the night sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her, a cigarette between her fingers ("Mary, you're about to lose your ashes") playing solitaire. If you asked her why she was up, she'd tell you she couldn't sleep. Never a word about worry. But next to her was the pile of bills - or the report card with D's - or the broken whatsit that she was trying to figure out how to get fixed. She never complained. But you knew she worried. It was apparent when she talked with you the next day. Whatever she was worrying over had usually been resolved one way or the other in the night - in her mind. So, the words came out.....the ones that let her have peace over that particular turmoil. And in the midst of all of this, she would smile at you and you knew the world was a good place.

So thank you, Grandma, for so many things............................but not for the training on worry.

Here's a photo of my Grandma with a table full of cookies. She always started making them sometime around Thanksgiving, putting them in the freezer until she got them all done. She made somewhere between 20 to 25 different kinds of cookies. And she gave them to everyone. But she probably always worried that she wouldn't have enough.

Here's one of her recipes that my children love:
Chocolate Peekaboos
Combine over hot (not boiling) water one 6 oz pkg (1 c) Nestle's Chocolate Morsels, 1/4 c water and 1/4 c maple-blended syrup. When chocolate melts, stir till blended and smooth. Combine in a bowl 1 1/2 c finely crushed vanilla wafer crumbs, 1 c chopped walnuts or pecans, 1/2 c sifted confectioners sugar, 1/4 tsp instant coffee, 1/4 tsp salt; mix well. Add chocolate mixture and stir well. Cut 18 marshmallows into quarters. Shape 1 tsp chocolate mixture around the marshmallow, leaving part of the marshmallow showing. Let them cool and get firm before storing. Enjoy!!!

3 comments:

Tina said...

oh momma! i love this story. and now i know where i got my middle-of-the-night worry sessions! and do you know what i do when i can't sleep - i play solitaire on my phone! i am not even kidding. it feels awesome to think that i'm kind of like grandma... i love you!!!

Tasty said...

Love you both!

jinksy said...

I'm a Blogland traveller of under ten days, and am still happening upon delightful nooks and crannies of other people's minds. I love this nook of yours - or would you rather be a crannie? Your mention of Khalil Gibran was enough to make me want to follow you further into the Blogland hills.