Well, it's officially 2009. For those of us born in the magical year of 1969 it's time to turn 40 years old. My birthday is three months from yesterday (it's April 2) and I'm dreading it a little bit. It's not like it's ruling my life or anything, but it's a milestone. And with milestones come reflection. I've been reflective these past couple of days.
As my devoted blog readers know, I've been getting little gifts from my family (although everyone denies it) since April of last year. See this blog, this blog and this blog for more information on the gifts I've gotten. The past couple of months, the birthday fairies have left more things for me. I will share those now.
In November while at my mom and dad's house, I received a bag of Happy Birthday Hershey's
Kisses. The significance of the Kisses goes back a long way. When I was a kid, my grandpa (dad's dad) would bring me Hershey Kisses anytime I was sick. He said they were medicine and they'd help me feel better soon. He was a chocoholic and loved Kisses. He never brought a whole bag or anything, but five or six at a time, maybe everyday that I was home from school. I remember it most when I was sick for a week with the chicken pox when I was a freshman in high school. The fact that I got this bag of Kisses in November may have been planned, but the significance of it was not lost on me. My grandpa died in November of 1988 and it was the first death in the family that I was old enough to remember (my mom's dad died when I was two). Grandpa's death left a huge hole in our family and I still miss him 20 years later. Right before the funeral, my sisters and I put some Kisses under the pillow in his coffin. When I pay my respects at the cemetery, I don't take flowers for grandpa's grave, I take Hershey Kisses. I line them up on the headstone and I know that somewhere he's laughing and slapping his knee like he always did when he was alive.
The next gift arrived (coincidentally) right after my sister Teresa was at my house in late November. I got a bag with three pair of underwear (the granny-panty kind although they're pretty colors) and some Poise pads. The note says "For those times when laughing may cause you to wee your knickers...Always be prepared!" This is going to be embarrassing and I'm not sure why, but I'm going to share the story anyway.
The summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college, my sister Jenny and I went on a trip. We flew to Boston and spent several days with a high school friend of Jenny's who lived on an army base with her family in Natick, Massachusetts. We toured that area and then hopped on the Amtrak and went down to New York for a couple of days. New York was interesting for us, but that will have to be in another post sometime. The Poise pads and underwear are related to our time after NYC.
After those two days and nights in New York, we boarded the Amtrak again and went south to Washington, D.C. Neither one of us had been to the area before and only had one full day to see 
what we wanted to see. So we started bright and early that August morning and walked from one side of our map to the other. We went from the Capitol building down along the reflecting pools to the Washington Monument and then continued to the Lincoln Memorial and right across the bridge and into Arlington National Cemetery. As we were walking around the base of the Monument, Jenny was pondering her map then she said, "It says the Washington Monument is supposed to be here, but I don't see it." She was really disappointed. I looked at her, thinking she was joking, but she wasn't. I told her to look up. She argued with me about whether or not it was the actual Washington Monument. She finally (grudgingly) agreed that it could be. Later in the day, we bought some drinks in souvenir cups and they had pictures of all the D.C. landmarks. What do you know, the Washington Monument was on it! I razzed her about this all day. I couldn't believe she didn't know what it was. After we watched the changing of the guard at the tomb of the unknown soldier in Arlington National Cemetery, we filled our souvenir cups with water from one of the spigots that are typically in cemeteries for the purpose of putting water in the flowers mourners bring. We had to jump a fence, but we got our water. More laughter ensued because by this time we'd walked all the way across our map and we were tired, sweaty and punchy. Then we discovered the subway system in Washington, D.C. Tired and weary, we boarded the train and started making our way back to our hotel. We ended the evening by eating Chinese food at a restaurant across the street from our hotel. It had definitely been a long day. When we got back to our room, we called our parents to let them know we were all right and had survived touring the area. I was talking to my mom, telling her about our conversation at the base of the Washington Monument and I was laughing so hard I could barely talk. Tears were streaming down my face when I suddenly realized I hadn't gone to the bathroom all day. And by then it was too late. I threw the phone at Jenny and made haste to the bathroom, but it really was too late. The laughter had been the last straw. Now Jenny was laughing so hard she couldn't talk, but managed to relate the story to mom, who was confused at all the chaos and laughter. After the trauma of the wetting incident and exhausted from the day's sightseeing, I laid down to sleep. Apparently (this is according to Jenny) I was snoring so loudly that she had to move closer to the television to hear it. But I'm not sure I believe that. After all, she didn't even know what the Washington Monument looked like!
This quilt was made for me by my great-grandma Jones (she was my mom's grandma). Mom can't remember whether she made it for me when I was a baby or for my dolls, but she made it for me either way. On my last trip to Ellinwood, a little over a week ago, my mom gave me this quilt to bring back to my house. She had come across it looking for something else and isn't that always how it works. I love this quilt. It's a very simple pattern with regular squares, but the colors are beautiful and my favorite part are the stitches. Here's a closer look at it.
You can't tell very well from this picture, either, but the stitches are what my mom called "chicken feet" stitches. I've seen other things that grandma Jones did and she used these stitches a lot. This quilt now has a place of honor on the quilt rack in my bedroom, along with the Sunbonnet Sue quilt my grandma Holl (my mom's mother and grandma Jones's daughter) made for me.
Someday I'll post pictures of the quilts I've made. Hopefully they'll be as special to those I've made them for as these are to me.
