7 things to shake a stick at

I've found that folks in generations above and beyond mine often use turns of phrase that make me ponder. Or chuckle. Or Google. Or all of the above.

The latter was the case the other night as Jim and I watched the news. A reporter questioned a not-all-that-elderly-but-certainly-older-and-more-folksy-than-me eyewitness to an event, and the guy mentioned there being "more than you could shake a stick at" of something or another.

Now, it's not as if I've never heard that phrase. I've heard it millions of times, as we all have — most often uttered by older folk. But as images of cavemen shaking their sticks at fire or herds of antelope or whatever else they drew on their cave walls swirled about my noggin', I wondered where the phrase came from. So I Googled it.

Turns out the "more than you could shake a stick at" etymology isn't easy to pin down. Nor is exactly what it once meant, only what it now means, which is in official terms, one heck of a lot.

With that phrase stuck in my mind, I began considering a list of the things in my life that are so high in number I could play caveman and shake a stick at them. Some perfectly fit the label as "more than I could shake a stick at" usually refers to a number so high it can't be counted. Others on my list, though, are high in countable number yet still make me want to shake a stick at them because, well, they're so high in number.

7 THINGS OF WHICH I HAVE MORE THAN I COULD SHAKE A STICK AT*

Pine needles. With more pine trees on my property than, well, I could shake a stick at, I have quadruple that number in pine needles that need to be raked up and gotten rid of. Jim and I will be busy this weekend (and will likely shake sticks at one another in our sure state of displeasure).

Boxes. I receive at least one package a day. I save the boxes because you just never know when you might need to ship something or box up something. So the closet in my study contains boxes stacked ceiling high. And not all neat and tidy. No, I simply squish in another box as it arrives at my door and is unpacked. So each time I open that closet to add another box to the batch, I could use a stick — not for shaking but for staking the stack to keep it all from falling upon my head.

Books. I have a lot of books. I love books. I don't read enough books. I don't get rid of enough books. Some of the stacks of books around my house — because there's no more room on my bazillion book shelves — rival my stacks of boxes. Perhaps I need a book closet to go with my box closet. (Or maybe I need to fill my boxes with books thus condensing my stick shaking.)

Music. Jim and I were avid music fans long before we knew one another. We both brought into the marriage lots of music... on records. Since our union 30+ years ago, we added to the records lots of cassettes (some, like the records, we still have) and CDs, plus music on iPods, iPhones and iTunes on computers. Music is all over the place — upstairs, downstairs, outside in the stereo on the patio bar, out in the garage in the stereos in our cars. I shake a stick — more like a fist — each time I want to listen to a particular album. Then I usually give up and turn on the radio.

Stairs. The upstairs/downstairs locations of our music really are a challenge for we really do have a lot of stairs. In fact, I once wrote a post about all our stairs right here.

Traffic. We live near a busy boulevard. One of the busiest in our city. It's loud. It sucks. It makes us shake our fists, our sticks, and wish we could shake the city planners who need to put up a sound barrier. If we didn't love our house so very much, we'd move where there's less traffic.

Miles. We could always move near our grandsons for a little peace and quiet, at least from the traffic sounds. But, as I've mentioned before, that's not gonna happen. So I shake my stick at the miles between my grandsons and me. At last count those miles numbered 812. That's more than enough to shake a stick at. I do inside, often.

There are plenty of other things that I have more than I could shake a stick at. But as time is not something I have more than I could shake a stick at — and patience with my inane list-making is not likely something you have more than you could shake a stick at — I'll put a stick in it and end here.

Thanks for sticking with me til the end. I ♥ you more than I could shake a stick at!

*Now, the title of this post really should be that, but it was far too many words for the space.

Today's fill-in-the-blank:

I have more ___________ than I could shake a stick at.

On Andy Garcia and me

The AARP Life@50+ Expo has come and gone, and I must say it far exceeded my expectations. So much to see and do and learn.

Though the connections made — and the dogs met — were delightful and well worth the trip, my favorite experience there was hands down the Movies for Grownups screening of "At Middleton," which stars Andy Garcia and Vera Farmiga.

You may recall the trailer for the film, included in this post here. (And if you don't recall the trailer or didn't watch it then, go watch it. Seriously.)

You may also recall from that post that I mentioned Andy Garcia would be at the screening. Which he was.

After the lovely movie that I enjoyed from beginning to end, Andy Garcia, along with director Adam Rodgers and Glenn German — co-writer with Rodgers of the sweet story of two parents who meet during their children's college tour — took the stage for an "At Middleton" Q&A session with the audience.

Glenn German, Adam Rodgers and Andy Garcia

Andy Garcia listens to an adoring audience member.Mike wranglers roamed the crowd, giving those in attendance the chance to ask questions. I so wanted to ask who chose the musical selections integral to the story, having seen Arturo Sandoval's name in the beginning credits (whom Andy Garcia played in a 2000 HBO film on Sandoval). But... though I can write for crowds, I sure as heck can't speak in front of crowds. At all.

So I kept my mouth shut, listened to others, and shot frame after frame of the handsome men on stage.

Then the topic of distribution of the independent film and support for it came up. Suddenly there was some mention of the support for the film on a site called Grandma's Briefs, with Andy Garcia saying something about there being a special request and... something else I can't remember at all because I somehow found myself standing and waving my arms and declaring to the men on the stage, That's me, I'm Grandma's Briefs!

And then Andy Garcia asked me to come up front.

Oh, <cuss>! I said in my head.

"Oh, no," I said out loud.

I quickly asked the gentleman behind me to please take my camera and get some photos, someone thrust a microphone into my hand (Here, take this!) and I headed up front.

Right into the arms of Andy Garcia.

Unbelievable.

I wanted to say, "Wow! What a wonderful, touching film!"

I wanted to say, "You are a good, good man, Mr. Garcia!" (I think heis. In part because he and his wife have been married as long as Jim and I, and his family is top priority. Need more? Google him.)

And I wanted to say — once we hugged and I melted into his unbelievably soft jacket that simply felt like home — "Gee whiz! Let's just stay right here and hug all freakin' day!"

I didn't say any of those things.

Instead, I said, "The other grandmas are going to be so jealous!" Yes, at that very special moment, I thought of you all.

Andy Garcia kissed me on the forehead, he thanked me for my support. And I just babbled: "Thank you, thank you, thank YOU...."

(As I mentioned, I can't speak for <cuss> in front of crowds.)

But Mr. Garcia was kind and seemingly genuine as he hugged me again — comfy, cozy hugs that, well, just felt like home. And we posed for pictures.

Then I somehow managed my way back to my seat — after a quick hug to Sue, the PR rep taking photos... whom I also thanked profusely. The gentleman who used my camera gave it back, I thanked him several times, as well, then I sat back down and tried to stop shaking.

A few questions from the audience later — what the Q was or the A that followed, I couldn't tell ya — then the whole thing was over. Just like that.

Poof!

Surreal.

When the lights came up and the crowd began exiting, the first thing I did was dial my husband. It's the normal response when a long-time married woman hugs another man, right? Tell your husband?

I simply had to share with Jim.

And Jim was immediately jealous — jealous that he didn't get to hug Andy Garcia!

But as he always is, my husband was thrilled for me.

"Was it a good hug?" he asked, as he and I put a lot of stock in a person's hug, agree that so much of one's character is revealed in their hugs.

I confirmed that it was.

And it certainly was.

Such a wonderful hug from a good, good man.

One truly unexpected, truly unforgettable moment.

Thank you, Andy Garcia.

Today's question:

Whose hugs feel like home to you?

12 Grand moments in grandparenting

Being a grandmother is one of the most surprisingly delightful adventures I've ever experienced. Some moments are more grand than others, though, moments such as these:

1. Being told you'll soon be a grandparent for the very first time.

2. Holding a newborn grandchild for the very first time.

3. The first smile a grandchild aims directly at you... and every smile they direct your way thereafter.

4. Having a grandchild hold your hand while proudly telling his buddies or teacher, "This is my grandma."

5. Hearing the news you'll soon be a grandparent for a second time.

6. Rocking a grandbaby, with his sweetly scented head nestled into your neck, a tiny blanket-wrapped body relaxed against your chest.

7. Being handed a stack of carefully colored papers, each bearing an equally carefully — albeit imperfectly — scrawled signature, accompanied by the words, "I made these for you, Gramma."

8. Turning the corner in the airport terminal to see beaming faces and wiggly little bodies eagerly awaiting your hugs and kisses.

9. Those same little bodies crawling into bed with Gramma long before the sun rises to share their dreams from the night and their plans for the new day.

10. Listening to tiny voices singing nursery rhymes, lullabies, Sunday school songs. Hearing tiny voices singing along to the car radio from the backseat, too.

11. Shouts of "Watch this, Gramma!" followed by giggles, grins and grunts as a grandchild pedals, jumps, cartwheels, makes a basket or hits a ball over the fence.

12. Being offered a high-five with consolations of "Great game, Gramma!" when the grandchild wins. Especially grand when the game was won fair and square, with no handicap offered for age.

Plus so.many.more... including their birthdays, which today is for Bubby. Happy fifth birthday to my silly-yet-sweet, first-ever grandson!

Today's question:

What are some of your favorite grand moments in grandparenting?

10 signs of aging gracefully

When it comes to aging gracefully, forget the face creams, hair colors and exercises — the physical manifestations others see as we rack up the years. Instead, I prefer to focus on a different kind of trait that others see, one I think trumps the physical when considering how gracefully others are aging and how gracefully I'm aging myself.

That trait? It's attitude. For, as age is just a number, aging gracefully is just an attitude.

So when it comes to having the right attitude as I age, I look to the signs. Signs such as the following ten, which remind me of what’s important, what I need to remember as I attempt to age gracefully... as well as graciously, intentionally, hopefully.

Sign No. 10:

Sign No. 9:

Sign No. 8:

Sign No. 7:

Sign No. 6:

Sign No. 5:

Sign No. 4:

Sign No. 3:

Sign No. 2:

And the No. 1 sign of aging gracefully, the one I do my best to live by, day in and day out:

Today's question:

What does aging gracefully mean to you?

The challenges of grandmothers

Any woman who’s been a grandmother for even a short time knows that the grandma gig comes with a few unexpected pitfalls. For me—a long-distance grandma—it’s the 815 miles between my grandsons and me.

Here, some of the responses from the Grilled Grandmas when asked, “What is the most challenging part of being a grandma?”

Remembering my place—I’m not their mom and need to respect my daughter in her role. —Robin

I can’t fit them all on my lap at one time. —Alice

For me it’s the feeling of competition to “keep up” with the other grandparents. It would be very easy for it to turn uncomfortably competitive. —Vicki

Knowing that when I visit them I will have to say goodbye. —Mary

I am concerned about the future—what kind of world we seem to be living in right now, with the economy and the politics of mean-spiritedness. Heck, I worry about those things TODAY, not just for the future. —Olga

The most challenging part for me is not giving in to their every command. For the “serious” things I stand strong. But for those little that that it really doesn’t matter, GG let’s them do/have it. —Jules

I was not a perfect parent. So when I see my children doing things I know are not perfect but will do no harm, I am quiet. I save my comments for safety issues and answers to their questions. I am older and I have seen too much, so I could be a huge black cloud. I really do not want to do that. It is a challenge, to say the least. —Barbara

Wanting to keep them from all the bad things yet knowing that it is an impossible task. —Janie

Energy! How I wish I had more energy. There are so many things I want to do with my grandchildren, but I must remind myself to be realistic about what I can do. —Kay

The most challenging part of being a grandma is remembering that your wonderful, caring child IS the parent. —Nita

Keeping it “fair” when there’s more than one around! —Joan

Working full time and not being able to go to all of their activities. —Connie

The most challenging part for me is trying to divide my time and attention between my three young children and my grandson. I feel like I’m missing out on some of the “full grandmother” experience because I’m young and have little one of my own to care for. I don’t want my grandbaby to feel cheated out of “grandma time,” too. —Kelli

Dealing with their parents! I don’t mean that in a bad way—it’s just that they all have their own parenting methods, and I have to remember about what that is for each family! —Angel

Balancing just the right amount of love and fun with discipline. —Rita

Balancing everything. I am also caring for elderly parents and there can be a lot of appointments, health needs, etc. at both ends of the age spectrum. —Kaye

For me it is learning how to just let go and have fun and play. I am still learning how to do that. —Marlene

Taking the back seat in how the children are being raised. Opinion is not always welcomed, especially since the mother is my daughter-in-law and not my daughter. —Merci

I haven't met a challenging part yet in being a grandma. —Terri

For more wisdom and wit from these and other grandmothers, check out the Grilled Grandma Archives. (Click on the months in the right sidebar there to peruse the entire archives.)

Today's question:

What do you find most challenging about being a grandmother? What has been most challenging about being a mother?

To give or receive? Which one I prefer and why

News flash: It's far better to give than to receive!

Okay, that's not really a news flash. We've all heard the adage again and again. Many of us even agree with it.

I'm one of those who agree. I thoroughly enjoy giving gifts of any sort—time, service, something tangible of varying dollar amounts—to those I care about. This holiday season, most of the gifts I'll be giving will be handmade by me. Not because I'm uber crafty like so many other grandmas, but because after years and years of telling my family, "Okay, things are tight this year so Christmas is going to be smaller than usual," this year it really will be smaller than usual. The smallest ever, in fact, at least in terms of money spent.

All I want to add about that is Hallelujah for Pinterest! I'm so thankful the latest and greatest in social media has removed the stigma from presenting homemade presents. Or so I'm counting on regarding the gifts I'll be wrapping up and placing under the Christmas tree.

So, I like giving things, making things, presenting presents of varying awesomeness to my loved ones. Without a doubt, I prefer the giving far more than the receiving.

It's not only for the obvious reasons, though. While I love giving gifts, I'm not an incredibly selfless, altruistic person who wants nothing more than to give and give and give without ever getting in return. I like getting stuff. I like when someone has thoughtfully considered what might please me, make me smile, warm my heart.

The part I don't like is the pressure to make sure the one presenting me with a gift knows to their very core that I am indeed happy as a clam with what they've given. I'm not good at that part. I don't whoop nor holler nor scream in delight upon opening a gift. Even if it's something I have yearned for, begged for time and again. Not even when it's something special I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd receive (think DSLR camera from Jim last Christmas, an original The Eloping Angels from him many years before).

I sincerely appreciate every single gift ever given to me and every single gift that just might come my way in the future. I think it's the giving part of me, though, that really throws a wrench in the whole receiving part of the gifting tradition. Primarily because I want to give in return exactly the response the giver hopes to see from me. And, as I mentioned, I suck at that. No matter how much or in how many different ways I try to express that I lovelovelove whatever it may be and how thrilled I am it was given to me, I always feel I fail at being exuberant enough, loud enough in my thanks and hoorays.

And I hatehatehate that kind of pressure because I don't want to let down anyone who gives me anything.

My family—bless them, each and every one—continues to give me gifts, despite my neuroticism. They know me well enough, have seen enough Christmas mornings when I wasn't whooping and hollering, to understand I express my thanks and appreciation differently. Quietly. Sometimes with tears. In fact, it's become a bit of a game in my family to see whose gift will make Mom cry.

Which, alas, only adds more pressure. (See? Neurotic.)

I don't look forward to such pressure come the exchanging of Christmas gifts. I do, though, look forward to giving my homemade gifts to my loved ones. For it is indeed—to neurotics such as myself, as well as to selfless, altruistic folk—far better to give than it is to receive.

Sometimes and for some people, it's just the easier thing to do.

Today's question:

What percentage of your holiday gifts will be homemade this year?