A Very Special Birthday for a Very Special Lady

Orlando Grandma in her beautiful Panamanian dress

Since I first met her in 1979, Orlando Grandma has been welcoming, inspiring, supportive, loving, and like a second mother to me.

College graduation, UF, 1981, Orlando G-ma, Mr. Tennis, Tita and The Boston Lady

I didn't know my maternal grandparents at all except through pictures and have just a few memories of my paternal ones as they died before I was 12 and lived far away.  That's why it has been wonderful having my children's grandparents play a more significant role in their lives.  My parents lived about 2 hours away until the last three years of their lives, when they moved to Orlando. BUT, Orlando Grandma has ALWAYS been here for us.

I've always admired her pluck and determination when tackling a daunting task.  She has enormous inner strength that comes from her deep faith, something I believe she inherited from her mother, our Tita.

One thing people always notice about Orlando Grandma is her wonderful smile.  In just about all the pictures I have of her she is smiling and that's the way she goes through life, spreading good cheer and making friends wherever she goes.

This is one of my favorite pictures of Orlando Grandma.  She could tell you the exact year and place, but my guess is she was a college coed at this time and Grandpa Courtney snapped this picture of her.  This picture shows that happiness that radiates from her.

Long before The Boston Lady came into the picture, Orlando Grandma was a young mother who took great joy in raising three young boys.

Another  picture taken by Courtney.  Tony, Orlando G-ma, Kurt and Mr. Tennis in their station wagon. The perfect 1960s family!

Tony and Mr. Tennis holding newborn Kurt

The adventurous young mother from Panama was used to roughing it at times and was game for all the camping trips the young family took together.  I have listened many times over the years about how she and Courtney pulled a little trailer behind their car and traveled all over the United States with the boys.  Even when Kurt was a young baby. 

They camped in a large blue family tent with Gramps, Grandma Rose and the boys in the badlands and listened to their tent inflating and deflating with the fierce winds there.  The boys had a little section of the tent to sleep in and the adults would play cards in another part of the tent with the wind howling outside.

The infamous little trailer that could.

Okay, I admit she looks a little tired in this shot, but who wouldn't be after wrangling three squirming

boys all day on the road?

Enjoying the outdoors with her three boys.

All her "boys": Tony, Baby Kurt, Mr. Tennis and Courtney

  I always felt very fortunate because my family and Mr. Tennis' family could always get together and have a good time.  Sometimes it was at our house for Christmas, or at Gramps' lake house or at Orlando Grandma's house.  It didn't matter where we were, everyone got along well and enjoyed each other's company.  My father loved to try out his limited Spanish skills with Orlando Grandma and she always was politely delighted by his attempts.

With Grandma Hughes in College Park, summer 1989.  My mother thought the world of Orlando Grandma

She has been on hand for the births of both The Writer and The Maven.

Orlando Grandma, The Writer and Tita, December 1984

With The Maven at Florida Hospital a day after she was born, March 1989

And she has continued to be there throughout their lives to lend support whether it be at a basketball game, a band concert, school graduation or just sitting quietly listening to The Maven playing her guitar.  She always has a big hug and smile for them.

That special smile with a funny-faced Maven, summer 1989

Mother's Day at Lake Eola 1991

Giving advice to a very stiff looking Writer, Christmas-time 1998

The Boston Lady, The Maven and Orlando Grandma Homecoming 2006

Cheering on The Maven's BHS May 2007 graduation

Another UF graduation, May 2007

With The Writer, Christmas 2008

Well, we aren't the only ones who benefit from her unconditional support and love.  Her other two sons, of course are older, but still like to hang out with their MaMa:

Looks like Tony got his Mom some new earrings for her birthday!

Kurt and Orlando G-ma in the 1990s.  They like to cheer The Orlando Magic on together!

We have the Gibson Family with two more of Orlando Grandma's grandchildren. 

Eddie, Maria Victoria with Grandma and Maria, around 1997 by my calculations.  This year Victoria turns 13! And of course, she was joined by Joseph about a year after this picture was taken.

Pretty Victoria, 2009

Joe in 2009, aspiring soccer player

Believe it or not youthful Orlando Grandma is also a great-grandmother!  The Maven's and Writer's cousin, Chelsea, Orlando G-ma's first grandchild, has two children of her own:

Visiting with cousin Chelsea and her daughter, Nevaeh, in Columbia, SC, Thanksgiving time 2003. Nevaeh now has a little brother, Bryson. (Chelsea, I am sorry I don't have a picture of Bryson!)

As I have sat here writing this entry it has occurred to me that this could be an endless tribute.  I simply do not have enough pictures or space to display or mention everyone who this wonderful woman has touched in her lifetime.  That is truly a great accomplishment by her and our family is so blessed to have her in our lives.

Happy Birthday Orlando Grandma!

February 9

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother: HAPPY BIRTHDAY RICHARD!

I haven't talked a lot about my side of the family yet except for my dad, in this post. (Have you guessed my latest learned blogging skill - linking?) But this month brings about an occasion to talk about my eldest brother, Richard.

This is sort of a typical Richard picture, circa 1989

My brothers were 12 and 14 when I came along so I don't have any memories of them when they were very young except for what I have gleaned from family photos.

Richard was born about two years after my parents were married.  He was named after my dad, who was named after his dad.  But Richard, my brother is not a III, nor was my dad a II. They all had different middle names therefore doing away with the III or the II.  But wouldn't it have been neat if my brother had been Richard III?  Didn't they write a play about that guy?

Richard and our pretty mother.  I'm guessing he was about 9 months old. So, Winter of 1946?

Anyway, the story goes that my parents brought home their little squirming bundle of trouble and since the country was just coming out of WWII and everyone was trying to get back on their feet, my parents did not have a lot of furniture.  My dad always liked to talk about how Richard's first diaper-change at home was done on top of their second-hand baby grand piano.  Did you remember that story, Richard?  It's been imprinted in my mind for years!! Hey, Richard's been telling stories about my babyhood for years, so I get at least one shot at him!!!

Same hat and coat.  Must be the same day, but this is of course taken with his proud father.

Finding pictures of my brother in his younger years without asking him for them was somewhat difficult, but I managed to find some amongst some pictures my mother had kept and not lost in a move.

Here he is with our father's parents, Mary and Richard (I).  I'd say he is a little over one year old here because of the warm weather dress (love those sandals Richard!)

This picture is a better one that shows Richard and our Grandma Hughes (Mary).  Richard, Mark (our brother) and I were all born very blonde.  Richard has kept the blue/grey eyes that he had as a baby, which he shared with his father.

Richard was the first grandchild born to both sets of immigrant grandparents.  How thrilled they must have all been to see the next generation begin!  Our father's parents emigrated from Scotland and to this day I can still hear them both reply "Aye" instead of "yes" to a question.  They are the grandparents I have recollections of, but very vague as they both passed away before I was 12.  They lived in New Jersey, Richard and my parents were living in West Virginia at the time he was born and my other brother, Mark was born there as well. 

Our mother's parents were from two different countries.  Her father emigrated from Sweden and her mother came from Canada.  I have no memories of them as my grandmother died when I was about one, and my grandfather not too long afterwards.

Richard was the first of three grandchildren for them.  My brother, Mark and I being their second and third.  Although I don't remember them, I have many fond memories of their eldest daugther, my mother's sister, Dot and her gregarious husband, Al.  They lived with our grandparents in their declining years and helped care for them.

Cute Richard with our mother and her father, John Anderson.  This is the only picture I have of my grandfather.  I think his Swedish heritage really showed up in his first grandson with his blue eyes and blonde hair.  Richard's middle name is John, in honor of his grandfather.

This is Richard and his grandmother, Grace Anderson, our mother's mother.  I have a small picture of her when she was a young girl with beautiful thick chestnut colored hair.

As I said, my brothers were quite a bit older than me when I was born so you can imagine what it might have been like for two adolescent boys to suddenly have a baby sister.  My mother always told me that the first thing Richard would say when he got home from school was "Where's Ann?" (yes, I realized I used my "real" name, but it would have sounded funny for him to ask where The Boston Lady was, so be it) That makes me smile to this day.  I was a lucky girl with two big brothers.

Richard with his baby sister, probably one or two months after she was born.

Two brothers valiantly trying to hold up their wobbly little sister.

Here we are in 1988 almost 30 years later. Mark, Richard, The Boston Lady (pregnant with The Maven)

These are a few of the vivid memories I have of Richard in my earlier years:

Riding on the back of his snow skiis on the slopes somewhere in Montreal, I think.

Whem we moved from Montreal to Toronto, he made me a little "nest" in the back of the station wagon for the trip.

When he was home for the holidays, I would come home from school for lunch and he would just be getting out of bed.

We visited him at school in Vermont.

He joined the U.S. Army when I was in first grade.

My parents and I visited him in Europe while he was stationed in Germany.  He learned to speak German.

One Christmas he got me a goldfish, but I walked into his room unannounced and saw it - he got mad, but I got "Goldie" anyway.

He moved to Florida before we did.  Ft Lauderdale, I thought he was really glamorous.

He went with me to Disney World in 1973 and we bought mouse ears for our parents with their names embroidered on them.

Of course, there are many more memories and stories I could share about Richard and The Boston Lady after she grew up, but I like to think back on the lucky little girl with the two big brothers who always looked out for her.

Happy Birthday Richard!

February 7

Rain Delay

I had hoped to title this entry "And so It Begins...".  But it is not to be.  We live in an older home that has a carport, our only place to construct THE bed.  Today a system rolled through:

Please enter this as picture as Evidence A

The plan was to go to HD tonight when no one else was there, get someone to help us select wood, help us cut wood, help us sand wood.  Then, we would start assembling tomorrow afternoon.  Alas, as any good Floridian knows it takes awhile for things to dry out here.  Call us cowards, call us procrastinators, call us scared.  But, we know we need the carport to be dry to work in with the wood and electrical equipment.

Please accept this as Evidence B although I know it doesn't look particularily wet at the time this picture was taken.  Weather "experts" are talking about more rain and wind. BL and Mr. T don't want to "chance" it.  This is our future afterall, cut us some slack.

So, Plan B.  Mr. T and I will go Saturday nite (who will be there then?), acquire, cut, sand said wood.  At a decent hour on Sunday ( our alternate day to get wood should said carport not dry out) we will begin to calmly, assemble said bed.  There is no hurry.  There is no rush.  The Bostons and cats are quite happy with the current arrangement.  Even we, the humans, have gotten accustomed to getting out of bed in the morning and crawling on the floor until finding a place where we can grab and bring ourselves upright.  Not a problem.

I hope to give you all good news soon.

The very frustrated, yet okay about it all, Boston Lady, out.

Something Unexpected

Tonight I am making a dinner for Jacques, Vicky, Orlando Grandma, Kurt, Mr. T and The Maven.  I thought I'd make something with a French flair in honor of Jacques.  Having seen the "Julie, Julia" movie recently it brought back a lot of memories of my mother making Beef Burgandy or more appropriately, Beouf Bourguignon.  Julia's recipe is tres difficile, so I tried to find my mother's old recipe (that's her recipe box up there).  No luck, many cake recipes, but no BB.  I think she had it memorized because it was such a favorite of my father's.

Anyway, Jacques gave me the name of an alternate french cook who had a simpler version of this delicious dish.  It is a 3-4 hour process between browning and then slowly simmering the dish.  So, The Boston Lady rolled up her sleeves about 3pm and began.

Very simple recipe to follow and I am using the casserole dish my mother always made Beouf Bourginion in for luck.  Popped it in the oven and we are now about 1 and a half hours into slow cooking mode.

I went outside for a bit to wear The Bostons out so they wouldn't be nuisances while our guests are here and then walked back into the house and into my childhood.  They say smells are powerful triggers for our memories and the familiar smell of BB cooking just brought a flood of them back to me.  I have not had this dish since my parents left their home in Dunedin in 1999.  I don't know why I never made it myself.  Intimidated, I guess.  Anyway, I had to sit down and reflect back to all the happy dinners I, my brothers, Mr. Tennis and our kids shared that my mother had cooked.  It made me miss her very much. 

But thanks to Jacques' inspiration I have made a favorite dish that fills my house with familiar smells and I thank him for that.  (Oh, I guess the glass of red wine the recipe said the cook should have from the bottle going into the dish might have helped my nostalgic feelings too.)

Bon Appetit!

Birthday Cookies for My Second Son

When The Writer entered Kindergarten, he made a life-long friend who was a steady fixture in our house over the years.  They were truly opposites.  The Writer being somewhat quiet and introspective and his buddy, Elliott, a virtual whirlwind of activity and mischief.  It ended up being such a special friendship not just for The Writer, but for our whole family. Elliott was just a part of our household and we liked to think of him as our second son.

The Writer and Elliott with their sax teacher, Mr. Wier

circa 1999

When Elliott and The Writer were in middle school, I was the morning carpool driver.  The boys will tell you those were somewhat hellish mornings waiting for our third carpool member, a female, to emerge from her house, always 10-15 minutes late.  It was an exercise in patience and restraint. It was during these years that I started giving Elliott a little bag of homemade peanut butter cookies on his birthday.  A tradition I've sworn to carry on as long as possible.  Since Elliott still lived in O-town, this task has just been a matter of dropping the cookies off at his parent's house as I knew he would drop by there on his special day.  I always got a phone call, or special thank you note from him declaring it was always his best birthday present.  Well, I know my second son, and he is a flatterer, but I appreciated his appreciation nonetheless.

This year, Mr. Elliott is living in Oklahoma!  Awaiting the birth of his baby girl!  The Boston Lady had to think ahead this year.  I extracted Elliott's address from him while he was in Orlando in December.  I marked today as the day I would make THE cookies and Monday for mailing day so they would arrive to Elliott, Birthday Boy, Daddy-to-be, by Feb 3, his day of birth.

Elliott doesn't know the recipe I use.  It's one I've modified over the years, but it is a classic peanut butter cookie recipe that I always use from a cookbook my mother gave me when I married Mr. Tennis in 1981.

The book always falls open to the peanut butter cookie recipe because I've used it so much over the years for school bake sales, Christmas cookies, family get togethers and of course the annual baking of Elliott's Bday cookies.


So here you have it:

My Second Son's Birthday Peanut Butter Cookies:
(From The Joy of Cooking)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Sift:
1/2 Cup brown sugar
1/2 Cup granulated sugar

Beat until soft:
1/2 Cup of butter

Add the sugar gradually to the butter and blend until creamy.

Beat in:
1 egg
1 Cup of peanut butter
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda

Sift before measuring:
1 1/2 Cups all-purpose flour

Add flour to batter as well as:
1/2 teaspoon of vanilla.

I vary the recipe slightly by adding the vanilla when I blend the sugars and butters.  It just seems to help them blend better.  I also do not sift my flour.  After everything is mixed together (in my Aunt Dot's bowl, using my mother's wooden spoon) I add a bag of Reese's peanut butter chips.

Roll dough into 1 inch balls. Press a fork into some leftover flour and press down cookies forming the usually seen grid pattern on peanut butter cookies.

Bake 10 minutes, let cool ten minutes and then remove from pan and let cool on some paper towels.

Happy Birthday Elliott!!  Love, Your Other Family

The Writer's lovely GF, Sammy invited me to write this entry as a guest blogger on her fantastic blog which you can find right HERE!  Thanks Sammy!

Oh Boy...So, there's a delay

I know my loyal readers are going to be sorely disappointed that Mr. Tennis and I will have to postpone the juggernaut that is our rip-off PB bed foundation.  Unfortunately somebody in this household has to work, besides me, and Mr. T's talents are being called upon this upcoming weekend.

You will be happy to know that I, hard-working Boston Lady that I am, went to two, count them, two, home improvement stores today to see if they would pre-cut wood.  One would not. (boo, hiss, L's).  One will. (cheers, balloons, streamers, HD).  So, we may at least go and get our wood cut this weekend and then strategize about how to proceed from there.

Question for anyone who has worked with raw wood construction.  Do you sand the peices BEFORE putting them together or do you wait and sand the finished structure?  Advice is appreciated.

Mission Impossible, Or, We've Finally Lost Our Minds

To:  Mr. Tennis and The Boston Lady

Re:  Your Mission

Your, mission, should you choose to accept it is to build a PB knock-off Stratton King-size bed foundation.  This is a dangerous endeavour involving power tools, many instructions and most perilous of all, a threat to the happy marriage you currently are experiencing.

The payoff:  bonding time as a couple, a new bed foundation (possibly), the admiration (read ridicule) of your friends and neighbors and most importantly, the satisfaction of PB not getting your hard-earned money.

This, loyal readers, is what Mr. T and I have been reduced to after searching for a suitable bed frame replacement.  Yes, we have aged over the last few weeks and that is the only explanation for what is about to occur within the next two weeks.  Mr. Tennis' resistance to building my dream PB bed has been depleted.  I finally wore him down until he could take no more trips to furniture stores or look at endless platform beds online.  It didn't hurt that the Boston Lady turned into a shell of her former self, as you can see from the above picture.  Seriously, Mr. Tennis has gamely declared (read surrendered) that he is willing to give the DIY version of the PB bed a try.

Game Plan:  Boston Lady will take said plans to home improvement store this week and see if they are willing to cut wood to specifications.  Supposedly they will do such a thing... for a price.

Then, she will come home and cheerfully tell Mr. T that all wood can be cut and all they have to do is put it together with rented screw gun (I'm told they exist), rented nail gun (these I know exist, but have only seen them used in gruesome murder scenes in movies - oh no, is that foreshadowing?) and some wood glue.

What could possibly go wrong?

Guess you will have to tune in to find out as I will document this whole experience in excruciating detail, lest my loyal followers feel cheated.  Mr. Tennis and I will probably use some bad words, thus coming up with an appropriate name for said bed foundation. Nonetheless,  I'm hoping by this time a fortnight from now, we may have an unpainted (see, I'm not being too cocky about this- I did not say, totally finished, but we may surprise everyone) bed foundation that may possibly resemble my PB obsession.

Bostons, your bed domination days are numbered.

If anyone is interested in this really incredible blog here is the link: right here . She's quite a creative individual and if we pull this off, I will be trying some of her other plans. 

Why start small?

Boston Lady, out.