A tad tardy

I meant to post this picture on Easter. But then it was the day after. And now it's the day after that. How did that happen?

I've been enjoying the mindless knitting of dishcloths. Today I was at Michael's looking for wire to make mini-hangers for the mini-sweaters, and I thought I would pick up more cotton dishcloth yarn. But the regular price was twice the sale price I paid a few weeks ago, so I'll just shove this project to the back burner.

On Easter morning, as Mr. Gadget and I sat with our coffee and the newspaper, I found myself harking back to an earlier Easter morning at the home of my grandparents. My grandfather, who I called Grandpa Guy because his first name was Guy, was as excited as all get-out when he called me over to look outside the kitchen window. There in the dirt below were two big footprints he was sure had been left by the Easter Bunny. I've never forgotten this all these years later.

Here is a picture of my grandparents with my mother when she was about 18. It was taken in the late 1930's.

My grandmother, whose name was Cleo and who I called Grammy, was a cat person. She always had several cats and I can still see her sitting in the rocking chair--one of those glider ones--with a cat in her lap, belly side up, with a flea comb. She was quite an accomplished seamstress and needleworker, and I have several yards of her beautiful tatting that I still have not found the perfect project for. She loved to feed the birds. She'd wire old tin cans to the back fence to hold bread crumbs and whatever else she thought the birds might like.

My Grampa Guy was, for several years, the postmaster in the small town where they lived just north of San Diego. I used to spend time with him in the post office...which pleased him....until the day I mixed the stamp money with the money order money, and then he wasn't so happy. Sometimes I would sit on his lap in the afternoons while he listened to Drew Pearson on the radio. And once in a while I would ask him to write something so I could admire his beautiful handwriting.

There were two special things I loved to eat at Grammy and Grandpa Guy's house. One was fresh apricots just picked from their apricot tree. The other was cake donuts dipped in coffee. I didn't like coffee, but there was just something about dunking those donuts that appealed.

Grammy died quite a few years before Grandpa which left him feeling rather lost. He would often drive up to our house (about 100 miles north) in his green Chevrolet and spend a few days, or a month. We never knew. I remember very few things about that time, but I do remember this. He would watch TV by standing right in front of the set with his hands behind his back. He would drink milk right out of the carton. And each night he'd leave his false teeth in a jar by his bed. Neither have I forgotten this all these years later.