The Crab Chronicles

Laughing is Better

I was thinking today that I have the greatest mom in the world. Not perfect, but she has taught me so many things. She said to me last night that she marvels at my patience with Michael and said I am a great mom, and I didn't think to say it but I should've said "I was taught by the best."

We learn how to parent by watching our own parents, and either consciously or unconsciously deciding to be like them, or be totally unlike them. I think most of our choices about marriage and children are heavily influenced by our growing up years.

Mom didn't have an easy childhood but she did her best to make ours fun.

My mother has not had an easy life, but she hasn't had a terrible life either. Her motto in life is "If you don't laugh, you'll cry. Laughing is better."

Her first years were tough, for a lot of reasons. She was born in 1933 - the depth of the Great Depression, with neither of my grandparents working, and everyone in the extended families struggling to get by.

When she was small, my grandfather changed jobs a lot. All the moving was hard. Mom explained that to me. Papa would be hired by a company to manage and play on their company baseball team, but then the powers that be wouldn't let him run the team the way he wanted, and he would get fed up and quit. He was an intensely honorable person, and he simply wouldn't tolerate anything not aboveboard. Below, a team he played for in Buford, Georgia. The look on his face [he's seated on the end, below the guy in the hat] says it all.

From my grandmother, Mom learned a lot. Mamaw had grown up in a family of 12 children, and although her father was wealthy, there was still a lot of work, and she was right in the middle of the bunch. To some, Wilma Butler might've appeared to be a young debutante, spoiled, etc. but she wasn't. She was a very intelligent, funny, articulate person, and she was married to Papa for almost 40 years, through good times and bad, dealing with the Depression, WWII, precarious job situations, etc. with grace and fortitude. Mom says every time they had to move Mamaw would be cheerful and tell the kids they were going on to better things and everything would be grand in the new place.

On Christmas day this year we had our dinner on the Blue Willow china that Mamaw carefully packed in a barrel all through the Depression and took to each new home. Not one piece has ever been broken.

After World War II the family moved back to Atlanta. There was a housing shortage because of all the returning soldiers and they had to share a room in the home of one of Papa's sisters for a while, then they got a tiny apartment. One day my uncle Don was walking home from high school and saw a family moving from a lovely large home on 9th Street and he found a phone and called Papa to leave work and come put in an offer, and that was the house the family lived in for the next 25 years.

It was in that house that Dad proposed to Mom one day in fall 1956.

They were totally opposite in personality, which is why I think their marriage worked. Dad was energetic and excitable, and Mom was [and is] a low key, mostly easygoing person.

One of my favorite stories about their early marriage is that Dad expected Mom to instantly know how to cook and clean and be 1950's "wifely." She had no training or experience at anything like that. So about the third day they were married [their honeymood was a big 1 day trip over the Florida line] he announced that he was going back to work and he expected to get up the next morning and have bacon, eggs, grits, toast, and coffee. Mom did her best, but she had never cooked a big breakfast like that. Mamaw ruled her kitchen and didn't teach Mom anything.

But Mom tried her best. She would fry eggs and they wouldn't turn out, so she would throw the resulting mess out the back door and start over. It got to where all the dogs in the neighborhood congregated outside the tiny apartment to see what food came flying out the door early in the morning.

Dad refused to put his clothes in the hamper, refused to tell Mom where he was going or when he would be back, and called his mother every night as soon as he got home.

Mom has said laughingly about that time "it took me a while to get him trained."

She didn't trade him in, though. She stuck it out.

Eventually, we were born.

Bruce changed everything, of course.

She raised us, and had a respite for about20 years, and then she got round two - helping me raise my kids.

I am sure when she envisioned her retirement years, Mother never thought she'd be living with her daughter and grandchildren. She is my rock and my best friend, though, and makes my life a lot easier. I am so blessed.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM! LOVE YOU LOTS!

 

Happy Birthday Mom

Exactly 81 years ago today, my grandmother went into labor with my mom, and Elva Hasty was born on New Year's Eve. Happy Birthday Mom!

Mom and my uncle Don                                                            Mamaw

Mom me and my brother, 1971

and a cousin of mine sent me the photo below of my grandfather's baseball team, in Buford Georgia sometime in the 1930's - he's in the middle row on the end, below the guy in the white hat

Big Families

I have not fallen off the face of the earth, but there hasn't been anything much to report here. We've had a nice quiet few days, with no drama.

We had a lovely Christmas dinner: beef tenderloin, rolls, and Cabbage Casserole, the Dillard House recipe. I am not a big fan of cooked cabbage but it was wonderful. My brother had a big vat of kimchi we had gotten him from the Farmer's Market, which he dipped into at every meal. He likes cabbage a LOT.

Yesterday, we had a visitor. My mother's cousin Carol came by. She lives in Austin but was here in town visiting her nieces and a nephew who's in Emory Hospital, which is close to our house. She and Mother are about ten years apart in age, but Carol's parents were always close to Mom's parents, and at various times during the Depression and WWII some of Carol's siblings lived with my grandparents.

I took some photos of Mom and Carol but they didn't come out too well. Above is a photo from the year 2000, the extended Butler family. My brother and my uncle are on the back row, both in blue shirts. I am right below and between them. Mom is on the row below me, in a black dress. Carol is seated next to the lady holding a baby, and has on a flowered dress.

What's really mind-blowing is that all the kids sitting on the floor are grown now, and several are married and have kids. Wow.

We are all descended from Robert E. Butler and Beulah Phillips Butler, who had 12 children. Below, the family about 1921, in Marietta Georgia.

Christmas 2014

Christmas this year was pretty quiet and family-oriented but that's fine. I was ready for a quiet day. We had tons of rain in the past few days but it finally cleared up yesterday, too, which was a blessing.

Lesleigh texted yesterday morning and said she is sick with the stomach flu, so of course she didn't want to try and fly home. We miss her, of course. She is my cousin but much more like a sister. She needs to rest and recuperate, however.

Bruce came in last night. It's always good to have him here.

We opened presents about mid morning - because we have a teenager. No 6 a.m. wakeups. Yay.

Lola got a toy! She was so excited.

I have a cute video of her playing with her toy but I can't figure out how to upload it here...

Michael and I tried to go see The Imitation Game but when we got in there the theater was packed so full, the only seats were way down front. I didn't want to see the movie that way. So we asked for a refund and got it, AND got free passes to see a movie! Good old Regal 24.

Of course, every Christmas there are missteps. I got Mike some shoes that had to be returned because they were too big. He got me some speakers for my computer that don't work, but I think he can return them and get a store credit.. So be it.

I talked to Alesia this morning and she sounded good.

We are very blessed.

Hope your Christmas was lovely too!

Pre-Christmas Drama

I had my ancestry tested by 23andMe not long ago and it revealed I am 64% English and Irish. No big surprise there. So I am uptight and superstitious.

I love potatoes. Far too much. So there's my Irish ancestry.

I have a rapier-like wit, like a lot of English folks.

I think my Irish ancestry could be why I am very superstitious, in some ways. Or maybe that's just the influence of my mom. She says bad things come in threes.

So Sunday, Michael and I were at the Farmer's Market and I fell, right at the checkout line. Faceplant. Busted my lip and bruised my knee. Had to come home and rest. Plans for the day? Scrapped. [and no, I won't be filing a lawsuit. it was totally my fault.]

Yesterday, we had a cleaning service coming in. Normally we don't spend that kind of money but with me not feeling good from the fall and working full time it was a necessity. We didn't get everything done, just floors and bathrooms.

Michael was supposed to stay here and keep Lola out of their way. He wanted to go out and get a new tattoo. He called me at work and there was a huge argument.

I hate drama like that in any circumstances, but I really hate it when I'm trying to work. Then I try to just channel my inner Julia Sugarbaker and say something pointed and final. Didn't work. Calls to Mike, to Mother, etc. and apologies to my boss, and the whole afternoon was a drama-fest, all of it Michael's fault.

Case in point: he thought it would work to take Lola to the tattoo parlor and leave her in the car. We pointed out that she hates riding in the car, would likely drool and/or vomit in his car and he would hate that, plus being left alone for 1-2 hours in a car would totally freak her out. I couldn't make him understand the folly of that plan. Nor did I endorse the plan of leaving her in his room the whole time. She hates being left in a closed room.

I kept reminding him, she is a rescue. She endured some trauma before we got her, and we have to be very careful of her feelings.

So Lola ended up spending the whole time in Mother's room, barking. By the time I got home at 6, Mother was wiped out. The maids did a good job, though. I ran around and did some straightening and dusting, and now I feel much relief about this holiday weekend, and having Bruce and Lesleigh in.

Michael wasn't home when I went to bed at 10. I got up around 1 and he was downstairs asleep on the couch.

We've been pretty lucky, though, with him. He wasn't a pill very often until just the last year or so. I attribute a lot of that to his going through so many changes this year - first job, first car, starting college. He doesn't handle change easily.

However, I have to give him credit for doing really well with his grades this semester. Three A's, one B and one C. The C is in math. His teacher had a heavy accent and unrealistic expectations, so I didn't fuss about that grade.

So anyway, what's the third bad thing going to be? I don't know. I am bracing for whatever this day holds. Hopefully nothing I can't handle. Praying for wisdom...

below, Christmas day a couple of years ago...

The Secret to a Long Marriage

I wrote the post about Rocks the other day and yet I didn't make them. Go figure. I did, however, make some pumpkin bread, which I gave out as presents, and last night I made a pound cake. SO there are plenty of sweets in the house.

Also, my boss got a big gift basket and didn't want it, so I brought that home.

Even though there are only a couple of folks coming in for Christmas [Bruce and Lesleigh] I still feel the need to get my house straight and food bought. I am feeling overwhelmed.

Michael is a teenager. I have been trying to get him to get up and take a shower for about 45 minutes and he hasn't moved. I have about decided I will have to ignore him and do it all myself.

He came in last night from work and said it had been a busy night, and he'd made good tips. "Now I can get another tattoo!" he crowed.

"Have you bought anything for Granny or Uncle Bruce for Christmas?" I asked him.

No response.

Yesterday was all about errands. I took Lola to the groomers for a bath and nail trim. Took Mother to the beauty parlor. Took the car to the car wash.

The traffic was horrendous, even in my little corner of northeast Atlanta.

I was sitting on a bench outside the beauty parlor waiting on Mom and this little old man came out with his little old wife right next to him. It took them 10 minutes to go from the door to the car, and get in and shut the door. The car was maybe 15 feet from the door?

I am sitting there playing Words With Friends on my phone, and I hear the little old man say this phrase: SO THEY DIDN'T HAVE CORN MUFFIN MIX AT THE STORE THEY HAD CORNMEAL MIX! NO CORN MUFFIN MIX! CORNMEAL!    

The little old lady didn't reply. Didn't look at him. Didn't react in any way to his obvious anger and disgust.

He said it again, as they shuffled to the car. She didn't react.

He said it again. No reaction.

He let out a loud fart. Still no reaction.

He was still hollering about cornmeal as he got in the car. I snuck a peek at the car, a huge old Buick. The wife was sitting there completely ignoring him.

I told my mother this story later and her response was: "They've been married a long time. After a while you just ignore him."

There it is, folks, the secret to a long marriage. LOL

Christmas Cookies

My son said a few years ago that he couldn't wait for Christmas because he wanted to sit by the fire and eat pecan pie. I love that.

He is old enough now that I need to teach him to make a pecan pie. We have a simple and foolproof recipe. My brother learned to make it as a teenager because he loved that pie so much. He still makes it today.

So much of the joy of Christmas revolves around food. I see nothing wrong with that.

Food is a way I show people I love them. I prepare food with love and I think no matter how good or bad my cooking is, (mostly good, but there are Epic Fails sometimes, as my son says) serving it in a loving way makes a huge difference.

As a little child, part of the wonder of Christmas was the baking. I loved to get down my mother's Betty Crocker Cookie book and read all the recipes and stare at the photos of cookies. Mother often made chocolate chip cookies, and brownies, and Rocks.

Rocks were baked by my grandmother and her sisters in Hepzibah, Georgia, and my dad LOVED Rocks. The delight on his face when he bit into a rock was childlike and beautiful. 

My Aunt Ceph would never give anyone the recipe. Dad's brother married a wonderful cook, my aunt Diddy, and she figured out the Rocks recipe. Diddy is the Queen of Cookies - hers are always the best. She emailed me the recipe years ago.

One thing I love about this cookie is that it's savory, not just sweet. The nuts and raisins give it an unbeatable flavor.

ROCKS

This is the recipe I have, and have used for years:

1 t. soda                  1 t. cinnamon
2 egg yolks              1 t. cloves
3/4 c. butter            1 t. vanilla
1 1/2 c. flour            1 t. to 1 T. water
1 1/2 c. sugar           1 box raisins
1 c. chopped nuts ( preferably pecans)

Cream butter and sugar. Add egg yolks, well beaten. Sift flour, spices, and soda together, and blend well with butter and sugar. Add water, nuts, and raisins. Mix well. Drop by teaspoon on cookie sheet and bake in 350 degree oven approximately 15 minutes.

Dee, I use part butter and part margarine, and rarely add water unless the dough is too stiff after testing a few in the oven first.
I thought this was the authentic recipe. Anyway, it bakes heavenly cookies!

below, Diddy in 1972, with me just behind her, my brother in the yellow shirt

Captain America The Winter Soldier

I find most action movies boring and silly. However, Michael and I watched Captain America: The Winter Soldier last night, and it was really excellent.

I liked the first Captain America a lot. The backstory is intriguing. I like the fact that there IS a backstory, and that Captain America seems to be a real person as opposed to a cartoon stereotype.

I do want to point out some unintentionally funny things in the latest movie, however.

Scarlet Johansson is a very lovely lady but she must NOT be shot in profile. Her nose looks hideous. Totally changes her from a hottie to a witch. There is a long dialogue scene in the new Captain America movie where she is in profile for the entire.scene. Huge blunder on the part of the director.

Robert Redford as the villain?? Really? Terrible choice. He conveys no menace whatsoever. He is now an old man, almost 80. STILL has dyed hair but a super wrinkly face. It's ridiculous. He needs to take grandpa parts now and quit trying to act 20-40 years younger. ACK.

If you want a laugh, check out the honest trailer:

 

My Christmas Wish

There is always a Christmas present, every year, that I really really want, but I don't dare to ask for it. I don't dare to voice the wish, or ask God for it. It seems too much to ask. [It's never a tangible thing, either.]

Ten years ago, in 2004, my Christmas wish was to get my daughter home from Russia.

Below, Alesia's first Christmas in America, at age 13.

This year Christmas came early for me.

My beautiful daughter, who I haven't seen or heard from in months, called me this morning. She called me again tonight, and we had a long talk.

She is getting her life together. She is studying for her GED, and thinking about career choices. She is in a stable relationship. She has renewed her faith in God.

She can't come home for the holiday but that's OK. Hearing her voice, knowing she is doing well -- that's enough.

Thank you, Lord.

Catching Up

Wrapping Christmas presents has replaced Words With Friends as my primary activity while watching TV. I still play it, just not as much. I have finished my own shopping, but I am trying to help Mother and Michael finish theirs.

I went to Walmart twice today. Mother gets her prescriptions there. First time I went the pharmacy was closed. It wasn't as crowded as I had feared. I found a few small things.

Michael needed new work pants. Finding pants with a 30 inch waist and 28 length is just impossible. Walmart has 30/30, which is close, and that's what I have to buy. Every pair has to be hemmed. He wears a lot of shorts, but finally he is needing long pants and so we bite the bullet and get what we can find.

Michael was resentful about going to work tonight and I pointed out he only works 3 nights a week, 15-17 hours total - not a lot. Not when I am working 40-50 hours a week.

I'm glad to have the work. He needs to develop a good work ethic. Still not there yet. Heck, for the past few years I've been working mostly part-time gigs, and his birthmom [a severe alcoholic] never kept a job for long. So he didn't grow up like I did, watching my dad go off to work every day, rain or shine, sick or well, working his tail off. Not all bankers are fat and lazy; Dad sure wasn't. Then he came home and worked hard around the house, particularly in the yard. That was my example. 

I think we learn how to behave as adults based on what we see around us when we are kids. It's called "modeling" behavior. Like so many adoptive moms of older kids, I have to combat their early years of seeing moms and dads model very bad behavior, like reaching for the drink or drug when something was upsetting. It's frightfully hard to combat that early behavior modeling.

I am trying to convince Michael to go on to a 4 year college when he's through at Gateway. He's not convinced yet. Pray about it, please.

I've spent a lot of time in the past few days composing my Christmas letter. I don't do it every year, but this year I didn't get a photo card done. I have to admit, 2014 was a very challenging year for me personally and professionally. I think things are looking up, though.

There's nothing wrong with looking back. It helps me to plan what I want/need to do in 2015.

My current job ends in mid January, so I need something else to do. Looking pretty hard. Have some interviews lined up.

Lots to do tomorrow, between buying groceries, paying bills and doing laundry. That pretty much describes every weekend of my recent life...

below, the family of my maternal great grandmother Jennie McMillan...