The Kohlmans

Once upon a time, my Grandma Donna made each of her grandchildren a Raggedy Ann and Andy set, even two for some of us (the granddaughters, maybe?). I don't know when she started or why, but they are precious. I don't have strong memories of Grandma Donna sewing, not like my Grandma Lu does, anyway. But I can picture her, leaning over the Bernina (that I now have the privilege of using) in the back room, piecing together dresses and aprons and sailor's hats. I brought mine home from mom and dad's sometime this spring, when Grandma was really sick and I was feeling the need for some childhood comfort. A couple weeks ago I decided they could use a trip through the washing machine, on the gentle cycle. As I separated them from their clothes in preparation, I found a long-forgotten message: Stitched on each doll's chest is a heart, full of love. It was a beautiful reminder of how much she loved us each. Love you too, Grandma.

Almost two weeks ago we said goodbye to our precious grandma (mother, mother-in-law, grandmother-in-law, great-grandma). It was hard. I miss her in a way that's hard to describe. It's not as if, today, I would be having kool-aid tea and store-bought cookies in her apartment. But just knowing that it's not an option anymore is overwhelmingly emotional at times. Grandma was a part of my life kind of like air-conditioning in May, always there, patiently waiting for the moment needed. In a way, she still is. All four of my grandparents are inextricably intertwined in the day-to-day of who I am. When I bake, I am the part of me from Grandma Donna. When I sew, it's Grandma Lu. When I fix something, it's Grandpa Melvin. When I'm particular or a perfectionist, Grandpa Varden's part comes out. From all of them, I'm frugal, but I know some things are worth spending money on. I am strongly tied to my faith and faith heritage. I am loyal. I treasure my family...

I've never liked geraniums. After all, flowers are supposed to smell good. But these don't. They kind of stink, to tell you the truth. I may have even given my mother strict instructions not to plant geraniums in pots to decorate at our wedding. So it was completely confusing when, a couple of weeks ago, I started to feel an intense desire to plant geraniums - but not just anywhere. In the milk can and the pot on my front porch. Every time I glanced at one, on the way into Dillon's or driving past a neighbor's house, I wanted to reach out and grab one. Um... but... I don't even like geraniums. Why would I want to plant them? Then it hit me. Both of my grandmas have always had geraniums... Grandma Lu in pots on her patio, Grandma Donna in planters and pots on her front porch. And when things change, in big ways, I tend to long for the comfort I find in what's familiar, in the traditions and habits entrenched in who we are. Nostalgia always wins.

The obituary will tell when she was born, how she married my grandpa, who has survived her. It will say when services will be held and where memorial donations should go. But it won't tell you who my grandma was (it is so difficult to write this in the past-tense). It will leave out the stories of her childhood, how she and her four sisters would play house under the porch - with candles - and hang out on campus, both at KU and at Bethel. It won't have room for the stories of tea parties with her granddaughters, detailing how she would paint my nails pink then serve kool-aid in china tea cups and store-bought cookies (ironic, I know, since she's the best baker!) on saucers. Then there are the times she would help us set up a water park in her front yard, dragging hoses all the way around the house so that we could set up the banana slide and all the sprinklers - even finding poster board for us to make a sign. It isn't going to add up the number of her childre...

Kipfel This is a recipe that both my grandmas make. Instead of rolling them into sticks, I made balls like my Grandma Lu. When shaping the cookies, smaller is better... you have to be careful not to burn the bottom of them.

Peanut Butter Bon Bons I remembered after I finished that Grandma sometimes used crunchy peanut butter. Darn. You can see in the picture of the recipe that I've started making some notes...

These are amazing. I'm usually a dig-a-piece-out-of-the-middle kind of girl, but the edges are the best - they're crunchy and taste a lot like real toffee. It doesn't say to grease the pan, but I trusted my instincts - thankfully, because it needs a good layer. These didn't grow as much as I thought they would, so next time I'll spread them a little thicker around the edges so the middle can get crisp. That's my only complaint, though. They're delicious!

Another of Grandma Donna's cookie recipes... I have to admit that Sarah and Brad really made these. I just scooped the dough onto the cookie sheets. These are really yummy if you like the extras, like coconut and cranberries and nuts. I do. Brad doesn't.

One of the goals on my new list (by the way, I've kind of abandoned my 25 list and just made a life list without a deadline ... did I forget to mention that?!) is to bake all my Grandma Donna's cookie recipes found in our family cookbook. Here's number one... Dump Bars (the name is unattractive, but the result is great!) super easy + super chocolate-y = super good

I've always loved decorating for Christmas. When we were kids, we would each pull our box of ornaments out, unwrap them carefully, and hang them on the tree. I remember, as we grew up, trying to force my siblings to join in the tree decorating; they would do so reluctantly, long enough for mom to snap the obligatory picture. (I'm sure I was not nearly as good about putting the decorations away.) For many years, we were also included in (and in the last few years at the house, took over) the decorating at Grandma Donna's house, hooking the ornaments onto the tree branches, exchanging everyday wall hangings for the jewelry Christmas tree and the embroidered holly branches. When Grandma and Grandpa moved, she chose one special thing for each of her granddaughters, gifting it to us with a handwritten letter. Mine was a ceramic nativity that she made 40-50 years ago with her sisters. She handed it to me last Easter as we were leaving dinner. On top of the characters wrapped ...

It was tough to hear today that Grandma's cancer numbers (for lack of a better simple explanation) have gone back up - the cancer is active. I can't describe how I feel right now. So instead of dwelling or even processing... another: IV. "Meggie" Meet Meggie. She spent years in front of Grandma's porch, in the midst of mums and pansies and begonias. I still remember when they first bought her and put her out. She was unmistakably new. I immediately picked a few flowers and placed them in her basket, with the puppies. From then on, my daydreamed stories at Grandma's revolved around this girl and her puppies. Her "life" was at the mercy of my imagination. Her life stretched my imagination. I do not remember if it was that same day or one day later that week or even months later. But one day, Grandma told me, "I named the statue 'Meggie.' It's after you, but I couldn't use 'Megan' because the other grandkids would ...

III. Santa mugs These were the items in my box of gifts from Grandma that met with the most skepticism from my husband: They're so jolly. Brad must just be a grinch. But really, like I wrote in an earlier post, it's the memories, not the objects. Grandma and Grandpa have always (and always = to my memory, of course) had tons of mugs, collected from different celebrations and events and gifts. The Santa mugs were always ours. Ironically, I actually only remember drinking orange juice from it, never hot chocolate, even though I'm sure we did. The two Santa mugs are special because they're from Grandma's house, and there just doesn't need to be another reason.

II. Books! Grandma majored in English at Bethel. Though she never actually taught, her love of reading was always obvious to us. As a little girl, I remember going to the Newton library and seeing her working there. To me, that was one of the greatest things about my Grandma (right up on the list with baking) - that she worked in a library. When I was in fifth grade, I started reading John Grisham and Mary Higgins Clark books. Grandma read them right along with me, never questioning my parents for allowing me to read books that were likely not written for 11-year-olds. We talked about whether we liked each one, and exchanged our copies. Of course, my memories of reading at Grandma's and with Grandma go back much further than fifth grade. These books were at Grandma's house. I spent hours with this little series, Sweet Pickles. I have to admit that they are a little cheesy; each one has a moral, like "vanity is bad" from Kiss Me, I'm Vulture . This collection...

Grandma Donna and Grandpa Melvin have been married for 62 years (right, family?). In that time, they raised four children, spoiled many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. They also accumulated a lot of stuff. Here they are (yep, it's a picture of a picture - my favorite of them)... My grandparents are moving. (Have moved?! Not quite sure where they are in this process.) They've lived in this little spot for longer than my lifetime. It's still a little unreal that we won't be gathering there for chicken cordon bleu every Christmas, or for Grandma's favorite meal of hamburgers and potato salad. I'll miss it. Since they're moving - to town, meaning Kidron Bethel - they are downsizing their stuff. Sure, there's a lot that went to the new apartment, but there's a lot there: think 62 years. Somehow (maybe because I'm one of the closest grandchildren, and one who most recently moved to my own place) I've ended up with a number of treasur...