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Tag Archives: Grandma
I grew up with my grandparents.
They were older. Not the type of parents that run with you in the park or play frisbee. They were old school. The type that told me to play in my room while they did adult things. But they made up for it with love and attention that most children can only dream off.
We spend time together in the evenings and played lots of board games and chess. My grandpa was brilliant, my grandma… Well let’s just say the woman has a heart of gold. And luck with cards.
I must have been about my son’s age when they bought me a memory game. It had 50 pairs, they were made of hard plastic and came in a pretty blue box. The images were graphic design like and the other side was just plain white. My grandma and I played it almost every day. I always won. That was probably one of the reasons they thought I was a genius. Which I might be. But the reason I always won was because I cheated. Kind of. See the design that was printed on the squares was very colorful. And as they were printing them, tiny little specks of paint splattered here and there. I memorized the ones that had a splash of purple, a green dot or a silver line going across it. They were so hard to see but I would scan the squares as we laid them face down and knew where at least five pairs were. The rest was easy. I am sure children have better memory then women eligible for a free senior’s bus pass.
I never really came clean about that. As years went by I started winning chess games with grandpa, card games with them both and Risk. On my own merit. The funny thing is that even as an adult when visiting them, grandma would pull out the memory game and I would remember the splash of purple, green dot and the silver line. Perhaps I have good memory after all.
The other day Little J asked if I wanted to play Go fish. He laid all the carton fish down, set up a purple boat for me, a green one for Bruce the Shark, Orange one for Simmy Sim and blue one for him. He took turns for him and his imaginary friend and I helped the stuffed shark and fished for my own win. Our glass dinning table is by no means small, but Simmy Sim is rather clumsy it seems and he kept knocking the fish down, which Little J was kind enough to pick up from the floor. From under the table. Glass table. See through glass table…
My 4 year old won the game. A few times in a row. He might be a genius. Trust me, it takes one to know one.
Bruce the Shark trying hard not to eat the fish. Photo is from my Instagram.
This is a tale of my parents.
After I finished primary school with very good grades, my grandparents who brought me up, were eager for me to attend vocational high school. Their fear was they might not be around to see me through college, so I am best to learn a skill and a title early on. I was disappointed because all my friends were signing up for regular high school, but I respected their wishes and looked for a school that would interest me. In the old part of the town, among roman ruins stood art school that was older then the Constitution. They were accepting ten pupils for art degree and twenty for graphic design and photography each. Since it was the only high school in which you achieved art degree in the country the competition was fierce. After the initial selection only the pupils with highest academic scores were selected. Then the auditions followed.
I was nervous that morning. I held my portfolio tight and double checked I had everything they required us to bring along. We had to draw twelve rectangles and then use our temperas to mix ten different shades of gray in sequence and apply them neatly between the white and the black one. Easy enough.
A few weeks later we received the results. I was not accepted. My Grandma was convinced it was a mistake. She demanded to speak to the dean. He invited her to view my work. She thought it was lovely and neat and insisted I am a great student and will be an asset to his program. He looked at her and said: “Madam, I tried to be as polite as I can. Your child has no talent whatsoever. She might be an excellent student, but she doesn’t not belong in art. Sorry.”
My Grandma came home and told me I was too good for them. I went to regular high school. They made a new will just in case. The rest is history.
They always believed in me. Tomorrow’s post I dedicate to them.
I thought I should talk about this subject tonight, now that I bullied most of my friends to like me on Facebook and will hopefully be reading my blog with their morning brew.
Yesterday I read this post from Mrs.GrayMatter. Please CLICK HERE so we are all on the same page. As you can see she is talking about people like me. Because all of you at some point or the other have been ignored by me. Even you mad spammer reading this just so you can comment something random to promote your website about vitamin B benefits.
I much like Mrs. GrayMatter detest phone conversation. When I was a teenager I spend hours on the phone and was therefor deprived of sunshine and oxygen. Think I have been in recovery ever since. You want to talk to me, show up. And not to be rude announce yourself via text or email so I can brush my teeth. This is modern age so lets get on with the times. Unless you are my grandma off course, her I am scared of and don’t ignore. I just seem to have my phone switched off when she calls.
To top it all I have a needy child. Not most of the time but if I ever pick up the phone he starts running around like a tornado, climbing on me and demanding to do something that requires both of my hands and the left side of my brain. And no, I did not train him to be that way, guess it’s genetic, he dislikes phone talk too.
So love me for who I am and don’t give up on me. Find me out there in cyberspace, it all gets delivered to my smartphone instantaneously. And if you really want to talk come around. I have 700 free minutes a month on my mobile I never use. You can call my grandma.