I could write a blog. I have thoughts.

Life at the library, adventures with friends and other hysterics...

Monday, February 18, 2013

Cause baby I can love you, baby I can love you better.

It's not official yet.

I've still got like 12 hours of 24-dom yet.

So don't even say it.

I've got until 3:09 PM.

Which means I'll get a text from Sketch at like 3:10 like every year.

Last day at the farmhouse cause I have to work tomorrow. Mom and I watched a Castle marathon then I headed to see the boyfriend. We hit up Walmart - woohoo - where I got Star Wars the complete saga on Blu-Ray (birthday present for myself) and he got PB Blaster for his motorcar stuff.

And some sort of three-pack movie thing that had Se7en, Taking Lives and I can't remember the third, but we watched Taking Lives.



Scale of Awesome says about 8/10, I was really intrigued, totally jumped more than once. But nothing I'm gonna watch again, nightmare central. I told him to turn on a comedy and instead he turned on The Brave One. Another badass chick movie, but we only got through part of that. That one I'd say about 6/10, but it could have gotten better.

Alright, it's way late and I gotta work tomorrow so music, more family history and then I'm out.

I Can Love You Better - Dixie Chicks

missing the farm life.

they will forever be my favorite country singers.

My grandma, Amolia, was born to parents Fredereka and Azariah on July 8, 1911. They lived on a farm. She was the youngest of three children. Because of complications at birth the doctor believed she would not live for more than a few days. Her father became blind so they sold the dairy farm and bought a boarding house in O’Neill. This is where she met Francis. She graduated high school in 1929 and was involved in many school activities. Not only was she a great piano player but apparently she was the go-to singer in O’Neill. She had the best voice and sang for anything including weddings, funerals, cantatas and plays.

Soon after graduating she married my grandpa in 1931. They became the parents of six children, two of them dying shortly after their births. Most of their 71 years of marriage was spent living on a farm outside Geneva. They raised chickens, horses and cattle.

As lovely and nice as grandma was, she also had a stubborn streak than ran a mile wide. One that I might add was passed on down through our family – fortunately for us but not so fortunate for others. Grandma hated cleaning chickens. Her mother lived not too far away and would come over and say, “We’re doing chickens tomorrow!” Which would be followed quickly by a “But I don’t want to do chickens tomorrow!” Her mother would leave and lock the chickens in the pen. Grandma would wait until her mother was gone and then go let the chickens out thinking if they couldn’t catch them then they couldn’t clean them. When her mother would come over the next day and see them out she would stomp off. This occurred multiple times. Grandma says Grandma Merrell would stomp back home, cool off and then come back a few days later when she got lonely, not even acknowledging what had happened.

Grandma loved to cook. Mom says that it was impossible to diet around her. A line frequently heard after dinner was “Who didn’t eat their pie?!” There was one time when my mother and various other family members were headed to Iowa with grandma in the front seat. Someone decided that pop was necessary so they opened some. Unbeknownst to them, the pop had frozen and one that was opened started leaking all over. Grandma was holding it and everyone yelled “Drink it!” to which grandma replied, “But it’s diet! I don’t like diet!” and continued to let it spill all over the car.

I remember eating a lot of hot dogs, lima beans, Mac-n-cheese, rice and pineapple, peanut butter sandwiches with actual butter – grandma loved her butter – and homemade chicken noodle soup which required the entire kitchen for space. There would be noodles hanging off the backs of chairs and all over the counters. When they got older Kentucky Fried Chicken became quite popular. Every time we went through York or Hastings we would pick some up and bring it home. I still haven’t been able to eat fried chicken since they’ve died. Grandpa liked his water with no ice and grandma liked extra ice in hers. They had these green plastic glasses and an abundance of salt and pepper shakers. When we had pancakes grandpa ate them with white syrup. I did too since he was my favorite. All the coffee and hot tea was made in a yellow pot. It was brought out daily during meals and when company was over.

To keep me out of the kitchen while they were busy cooking, grandma would take the rack out of the oven and lean it against the door. It acted as a make-shift gate that I continued to climb over anyway but once I was over it and had knocked it over I would put it back up and climb over it the other way. I was entertained for hours and they didn’t worry about me getting in the way.

Grandma loved to take naps in the afternoon. When it was time for me to take a nap she would volunteer to put me to sleep. I have pictures proving that she did more sleeping than I ever did. Other than sleeping she also did a lot of visiting. Grandma was known for her “gift of gab.” When grandpa would lose focus she would smack him with her cane. She once talked for twenty minutes to someone who had dialed the wrong number, learning all about their life story.

At her funeral they played her favorite hymn, “How Great Thou Art.” My sister Sarah had it played at her wedding and I’m sure the section of the congregation that was looking up would have noticed Cindy, Sarah and I breaking out into tears in front of the alter. Amolia, the child who was only supposed to live for a few days lived happily for 91 years surrounded by her family and friends.

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