The first thing I do when I roll out in the morning is turn around and make the bed and put the decorative pillows in front of the pillows with shams. Then I lay the folded black and gray quilt Doris Kannard pieced and quilted, across the foot of the bed.

I can’t stand to see my bed unmade. I don’t like anyone sitting on the bed, and can’t stand to see the spread messed up. I made a queen size candle wicking bedspread a few years ago. I am really particular about anyone touching it or sitting on it when it’s on the bed, but even with my quilted puffy crimson spread I don’t want anyone messing it up.

While making the bed the other day the thought hit me; OMG! I have turned into my maternal Grandmother. She would never let me sit on her bed during the day. She had a white chenille bedspread that was very pretty and it stayed that way because no one, not even Grandfather, was allowed to sit on it. I understood why I couldn’t sit on it because I wore black patent shoes with a buckle strap. But Grandfather??

I remember her vanity table that matched her dresser and bed. The top of it was always neat as a pin with white doilies, a larger one in the middle where her treasured hand mirror lay, and one on each side with her favorite items sitting on them. Another OMG moment: I love doilies, especially crocheted ones and have them all over the house.

I was allowed to sit on the bench of her vanity table and use her brush, but I was not allowed to get into the side drawers. I wonder now what she had in the 4 side drawers, because she wore no makeup at all. The drawer in the knee hole held her comb and brush and hair pins but I doubt there was anything else in there unless it was an envelope with a new hair net. I was allowed to get the brush out of this drawer but nothing from the others.

Grandmother’s kitchen was always neat and spotless. There was the huge wooden table in the corner that could seat at least 6. But it was never pulled out because there wasn’t room. She only had 4 feet of counter space, across from the table, because of the huge farm sink that was bigger than the ones today.

There was very little on her counters, only the canisters for flour and sugar. The salt for cooking was in a little box that hung on the wall above the stove and a salt and pepper shaker were on the table. (Another OMG moment!) I don’t like things cluttering up my counters either.

The small refrigerator was always loaded but you could lay your hand on anything you wanted when you opened the door because everything was always in the same place on the shelves. And there was always a big pitcher of fresh brewed tea on the shelf and easy to get to. There is always a pitcher of tea in my refrigerator. (OMG moment!)

The only time there was a mess in her kitchen was when she made biscuits or pie crust. She always made them on the kitchen table. When I was 2-5 years old I would get up on a chair or sit on the end of the table out of the way to watch her. I would eat the scraps of dough if I could get my hands on them.

The need to keep everything in its place is another of her traits I have. I always wanted my vanity table kept clean and everything in its place and the drawers neat. But my little sister loved to mess the drawers up, because she knew I would go ballistic when I got home and found she had been in them.

I inherited my temper from my Grandmother and her daughter, my mother. You never saw their temper very often but it happened quickly when it flared up and they were in full ballistic mode in an instant.

My Dad could easily get Grandmother mad. It probably happened every morning when he dressed me for the day while mom was sleeping after her night job. All he had to do was put my dress on backwards, probably on purpose, and that got her day started off with high blood pressure and being mad.

I can get mad and over the top ballistic in an instant, especially if it involves my vehicle. If you remember the stories about the 3 incidents where I happened to be in the wrong place or in a friend’s car at the wrong time?

I went Ballistic in a flash and I didn’t know what I was doing or saying until about 15 minutes later. But by then I had burned the person’s ears that caused the incident with language I don’t normally use. Fortunately I have only been that mad 3 or 4 times in my life.

Yes, I definitely inherited my Grandmother’s Irish temper but I didn’t get her red hair to go with it. I am my Grandmother in lot of ways. To contact Sandy: [email protected].


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