Well, you had to know there would be a part two to the blueberry muffin saga. (Please read the "Snowman Update" below) Yesterday we had a family dentist appointment. The first magazine I see when we walk in is Family Circle. The most delicious looking blueberry muffins are pictured on the cover. After reading the recipe, I ask the hygienist if she would be so kind as to make a copy. She tells me to just take the magazine. We head home with sparkling teeth and fresh breath. I read over the recipe on the drive. It is basically the same as mine, only use orange zest rather then lemon and top with sugar. I tell Big Daddy we have to stop for fresh blueberries and an orange. I'm so excited, baking does that to me, I tell Big Daddy I think these will be really good.
I decide I should wait until Donny is in the bath before I attempt to make the muffins. Everything was going well. We prepared the Valentine's the day before, now I just need to make the muffins. That's when it happened. Big Daddy walked in and said, "Donny has a fever. You know you're screwed right? You still have to make the muffins after what
happened with the teacher." No big deal, I'll just take the kids in their PJ's and wait in the drop off line. (In case you are wondering, Big Daddy had leave for work in the morning.) Considering Donny was up most of the night with a fever, coughing and a 4:20 a.m. breathing treatment, I decided against the drive to school, which is roughly a one hour round trip. I called my dear friend (Miss D) and asked if she would take them to school for me. Donny didn't know about the party and I didn't want to upset him, so I told him we were going to share the muffins with Miss D. He got angry, said he wasn't sharing then threw the bag of muffins against the basement door. My beautiful muffins were now a bit crushed, I didn't care, those muffins would be at that party. We agreed on a muffin/Valentine drop in Miss D's
cul-
de-sac.
I failed to mention the strong winds we are having. So strong, our temporary garage blew over on its side. I tried to pull the garage back down with the extension cord that was tied to the post, but considering the garage weights around 300 pounds I was just hanging on an extension cord. So I wrapped the cord around the step of the tractor, hoping that was enough to keep it from blowing into the neighbors yard until I returned from the muffin drop. I went back in the house to get the kids, by the time I returned to the driveway, the garage had blown back down to the proper position. I crossed my fingers and went on my way. Muffin drop accomplished, I started home hoping the garage would still be there. Halfway home I realized I forgot to call the school to report Donny's absence. I pull into the driveway thrilled to see the garage is still there. I tried to secure the garage with two very large rocks. I get the kids in the house and call the school. The school director answers, I tell her Donny is sick and won't be there today. Then the conversation goes as follows:
Big Mama-"Please tell Mrs. M. not to worry about the blueberry muffins, I sent them with Miss D."
Director- "Oh, she has the muffins, I saw them sitting out."
Now here's the problem, I spoke to the director at 8:45, Miss D is still driving to school. What blueberry muffins is the director referring to?
Although four years have passed since Grandma fell, I was not prepared for the grief I am experiencing, most of which began on the return flight to New York. The quiet of the flight allowed me to finally begin to think and remember. I am not going to lie, Grandma was a tough woman. She was very strong in her beliefs, I would always try to avoid conversations about religion and politics. She was one of the few people who didn't like JFK, but she LOVED Ronald Reagan. She was very smart when it came to money, I think she knew every state and federal tax law. She was a great cook and wonderful baker. We all loved her chicken and noodles, which New Yorkers do not understand, noodles on top of mashed potatoes, a starch on a starch does not make sense. Grandmas' jelly and nut bread were always in hand after a visit. As children, she would bake our favorite cake for our birthday, then the entire family would have dinner at her house. Gathering her family was very important to her and she would be very upset if one did not attend.
Grandma taught me many things; the art of entertaining, the proper way to put on pantyhose (I was surprised to find out how many of my friends didn't know the correct way), the importance of family, how to set a table, to enter a room after your elders (I learned that the hard way somewhere in Tennessee), the importance of manners and thank you notes, and how to sew.
Grandma was an incredible seamstress and made many of our clothes and coats. My favorite coat was a camel coat that matched my Grandfathers. All of her creations were made in a small sewing room on the second floor tucked away in the rear of the house. I loved that room, it was packed full of sewing accessories. A large chest with three drawers held her scrap material and all of her patterns. She would fold them up and return them to the package when she finished her project which is not an easy task. There were countless spools of thread in every color, hundreds of buttons and miles of ribbon and rick rack. The sewing room was one of the few places I didn't get in trouble. 
My first real sewing project was a gift I made for my mother, Grandma and I kept it a secret until Christmas. The gift was made from a scrap piece of green and white check, seersucker gingham fabric. I stitched about ten squares each with different colored thread and Grandma stitched my name and the year, 1975. She had the fabric framed and I gave it to mom for Christmas. I was so proud of that gift, I worked really hard threading the needle each time I changed a color. I have sewn many different projects since then and I always think of Grandma when I am sewing.
