pedestrian saga

My week in pursuit of happiness…

• Giggled through “A Colbert Christmas” on DVD. What’s so funny about peace, love, and understanding? Oh, plenty.
• Drank beer with Gordon and Joe Strummer.
• Forgave and forgot an uninspiring workweek.

• Adopted a mini myrtle. When a colleague presented me with this plant Tuesday I panicked at the responsibility. Saturday I took it back to the nursery for free advice on care and feeding from their bonsai guy. The outing doubled as a gentle (well, until the rain pelted us) 12-mile training ride on the tandem.
• (Grooming, Dog) Tamed The Fuzz with an array of implements. Latest secret weapon? Thinning shears. Yeah, the desk scissors really weren’t cutting it.

• (Grooming, Lawn) Pulled almost all the loathsome Cardamine oligosperma threatening hostile takeover of the landscape, before they had a chance to spit in my eye. Ha-ha! Then Scott cut the grass, and our early-spring garden is looking not too shabby.
• (Grooming, Self) Took time to administer a proper manicure, complete with cuticle conditioner—a preemptive alternative to gnawing my hands at work.
• (Grooming, Bicycle) Took time to administer a bit of TLC to my trusty steed—removing gunk and lubing the chain, raising the perpetually slipping seat, inflating the tires. The Monday commute was so much easier to face.
• Let go and played a little. My crossword puzzling has improved exponentially; my Guitar Hero-ism, not so much. But I hit 90 percent of the notes in easy-level “Message in a Bottle”—whoo-hoo!

Grammie died in her sleep Friday night, at home in Indianapolis. She was 85.

Grammie and me in the late ’80s

She was a sweet, soft person who doted on me all my life, whether in hugging range or from miles away, dispensing countless servings of butterscotch brownies and homemade macaroni and cheese, or valentines with her signature curly script.

Her demeanor was prim and proper; she spoke carefully, in a unique halting cadence. She was Winnie-the-Pooh to a family of Eeyores, Piglets, Owls, Rabbits, and Tiggers.

Grammie loved me even when I had really bad hair.

Scrabble and the Boston Red Sox would reveal her competitive side. And there was no skirting her demands, like clockwork, to know *exactly* what you wanted for birthday or Christmas.

Her home was Scottie dogs and big Labs, Beatrix Potter bunnies, All Creatures Great and Small and Anne of Green Gables on the telly.

Grammie and me in the late ’90s

I feel really sad that she’s gone before I had the chance to give her a final hug or challenge her to Scrabble one last time, that I never managed to introduce her to my dogs. But happy to be joining my peeps in Indianapolis this week to celebrate her life. And grateful that she died peacefully at home in the loving care of her family.

(My Grammie photo album)

(Aunt Mary documents the end of Grammie’s life)