Grandma Hits the Slush Pile

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creative, grandma, Guideposts magazine, inspirational writing, publishing, short story, stories, writing

Early last year, I sent a short story to Guideposts magazine. It was a pared-down, cleaned-up version of a story about my grandma that I submitted sometime back in 2012 or so that they rejected. It was such a nice rejection letter that I couldn’t get too mopey about it – at least for long, anyhow.

Not me. Really.

But that letter made me rethink the story. Ever pick up an earlier version of something you wrote and think Good grief! What was I thinking?? It’s kind of like that shudder you get when you find an old picture of yourself from the Age of Big Hair. Yeah, you know what I mean.

That first story didn’t have the oomph it needed.

So early last year, I dug grandma out of the slush pile, dusted her off and started rewriting. I tightened everything up and tweaked until the cows came home. Then I sent the story in again.

And didn’t hear anything. For weeks…and months…

Hello? Hello?

I just about shrugged it off for good when I got a call from a story editor at Guideposts. They liked the story and wanted to work with me to make it fit the magazine’s style.

It took a few days of back-and-forth emails and phone calls, but we ironed things out, and throughout, the Guideposts team was upbeat, professional and helpful. It made me recall a few stories I’ve submitted to other publications that have been hacked up and changed so completely that I hardly recognized them as my own work. Guideposts modifications stayed true to my story while it loosened the feel to fit their magazine. It was a good experience, one I hope to repeat soon.

Here’s a link to the story on their website. As an added bonus, you even get a huge view of my head right at the top of the page! Thankfully with no big hair…

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Weird Word Wednesday!

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eating, food, grandma, humor, marshmallows, Thanksgiving, weird word, writing

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, so I thought it would be fun to share a holiday-related word. Get ready, because it’s a doozy! Today’s Weird Word is:

Don’t choke on your turkey – it’s just the botanical term for marshmallow. Before I get off track, Althea officinalis comes from the Greek word althein, “to heal.”

Way back when, juice from the roots of the actual Marsh Mallow plant were cooked with egg whites and sugar. The resulting gelatinous mixture was then whipped and set to harden, making a candy that eased the pain of sore throats.

The marshmallows we eat now don’t contain any Marsh Mallow at all. They’re basically sugar, syrup and chemicals. But don’t tell my grandma that!

Sweet Potato Casserole

When Thanksgiving rolled around, she went all out – turkey, stuffing, cranberries, brown-and-serve buns with butter, apple pie, pumpkin pie, mincemeat pie, and my all-time unfavorite, canned yams with browned marshmallows on top.

Can you say ack? Ack, ack, ack! 

Every time that dish rolled around, I fought the gag reflex. Something about the squishiness of the yams combined with the fake puffy sweetness of the toasted marshmallows just set me off.

And sure enough, one of my uncles would “conveniently” pass the dish around one last time and make sure he set it right in front of my plate, where it would torment me the entire meal. Was that a marshmallow winking maliciously at me??

Even now, I’m not a fan of Althea officinalis. When summertime rolls around and we make s’mores, I omit the marshmallows, virtuously calling them “Diet S’mores” and eating myself silly on chocolate. And when people toast their marshmallows long enough for them to turn black, it’s the Thanksgiving Gag Reflex all over again for me.

I wish all of you a Happy Thanksgiving – may your day be filled with family and food, and an abundance of health and good cheer. Just skip the marshmallows, please.

For those of you who thrive on Althea officinalis’s squishy softness, here’s the recipe for Sweet Potato Casserole.

 

 

The Sartorial Splendor of WWW

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Coco Chanel, creative writing, dressing, fashion, grandma, humor, Paris France, snogly geared, weird word, well-dressed people

My grandma used to say that the older she got, the faster time went. I’m not ready for a rocking chair yet, but I’m starting to know what she means. Every two weeks, I stop at the credit union to get money for grocery shopping. The days between paydays seem to buzz by at lightning speed, two weeks passing by like two hours.

There I was again, waiting my turn in line. This time, people watching kept me occupied, particularly a couple ahead of me. What surprised me was the woman’s feet – she wore pink bedroom slippers, the kind with fuzzy fringe around the top. Really? Really? 

Yes, there they were – an article of clothing that shouldn’t have left the house. (I admit – I have issues with this, which you can read more about here.) It made me think of a word that perfectly describes how one should be attired when leaving the house, an 18th-century doozy:

Snogly geared

Courtesy Google books

Remember this stuff?

My grandma usually wore a dress, sensible shoes with square heels, and carried a purse with those bitsy metal nibs on the bottom. Her “unmentionables” consisted of a girdle, complete with stockings that clipped to its legs. If it rained, she donned a plastic bonnet to protect her hair, set with rollers and Dippety-do.

Grandma was snogly geared.

It’s easy to find people who are snogly geared, because they stand out. Today I saw a man wearing a handsome plaid coat, cuffed wool slacks and polished black leather dress shoes. He caught my eye, and I appreciated the time and effort he put into his appearance.

Last year, we went to Paris, France, where I saw snogly geared taken to an extreme. We were the last in line to buy subway tickets, and I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a transvestite, waving a champagne bottle in one hand, a glass in the other.

Her long black hair swished across her red satin dress, and a feather boa wound itself flimsily across her shoulders. I noticed strappy sandals on some rather large feet, but had to give her credit – her toenails were lacquered the exact shade of her dress.

She asked me something in French, and when I shrugged, she smiled and tottered away, ankles wobbling as she headed up the steps.

Indeed, she was snogly geared, dressed for whatever her day had in store. No slippers here!

I leave you with a thought from fashion designer Coco Chanel, who said “Dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman.”

Coco Chanel, from biography.com

Frankenhugs

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Frankenstein, grandma, humor, nursing home, raising children, teenager, writing

clipart.com

When our kids were little, they’d jump on my lap without being asked. They stretched their little arms up for a hug, turning their sweet, flowery faces up for a kiss. Their arms wrapped tightly around my neck, and we’d stay that way until I couldn’t breathe anymore, squishing each other and laughing.

Fast forward a decade or so, and things are quite different. For one, my son is taller than I am, and he has this annoying habit of trying to sneak out of the house without giving me a hug.

“Get back here,” I’ll say, false menace filling my voice. “Hugs give you vitamins and minerals.”

The first time I tried that line, he hoisted an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of this time-honored truism.

The second time I rolled it out, he rolled his eyes, but he gave me a hug anyhow…sort of.

Hugs, anyone?

In their mid and late teens, the kids are giving me what I call Frankenhugs. Imagine getting a hug from Frankenstein – stiff and lurchy, arms rigidly extended in an elbow-locked hug devoid of enthusiasm.

I exaggerate…but not by much.

I don’t know when Frankenhugs arrived on the scene – I just remember the joyful, exuberant hugs of old drying up, blowing away like dusty, distant memories. As the kids grew, they’d throw one arm around my neck, followed by a kiss on the cheek.

Then the hugs became side-only affairs, hips touching, followed by a peck planted somewhere on the wall behind me.

I guess Frankenhugs were a natural extension of this, representing the kids’ emerging independence. They’ll give their grandma real hugs, pausing so she can rub them on the cheek and say something sweet before they leave. A real misty moment. But mom? Nah – I’ve been demoted to Frankenhugs, left feeling like a victim of some strange, near-miss kiss.

Back up to when our kids were little – we’d often visit my grandma, who lived in a nursing home. As we were leaving one day, grandma said “you know, everybody thinks I’m living my golden years now.”

Puzzled, I asked her what she meant, because, really, I was one of those people who equated retirement and advanced age with a “golden” time. No worries, plenty of time and money – what’s not to like? Go, grandma, go!

“When I look back on my life, my golden years were the years I spent raising my kids, not my life now,” my grandma said.

Hmmm…Maybe the Frankenhugs aren’t so bad after all.

Weird Word Wednesday!

Tags

bowling, fun words, grammar, grandma, grandparents, Wednesday, weird word

We’re here again, at that exciting midpoint of the week when the weekend is in sight and all is well with the world. Let’s brighten it up even further with a weird word!

Today’s weird word is nighwhat. It’s an obsolete word meaning “nearly, almost.” If we take a gander at the first part of the word, “nigh,” we see it can either mean “near in space or time,” or “almost.”

Because it’s rather obsolete, nighwhat sounds downright odd when spoken. There might be pockets of culture where this word is used, and if you know of such a place, let me know. Using nighwhat in a sentence becomes tricky, but it can be done! Just think of an instance when something almost happened, and you’ve got a start.

As a novice bowler, Edna had no idea she was facing the wrong way when it came time for her turn. Otto was nighwhat flattened after she threw her ball into the crowd.

Nighwhat also reminds me of an interview I did a few years ago with a couple who had been married for 70 years. Their daughter called with background information, giving me a heads-up that her parents used words like “pritnear.” I laughed, because my grandparents used “pritnear” very often. It’s similar in meaning to “nighwhat,” and my grandma would say something like, “It’s pritnear time to get ready for dinner.”

So…today’s challenge is to use “nighwhat” (or pritnear!) in a sentence. Tell me about how you worked this quirky word into your everyday speech.

Before you know it, it’ll be nighwhat time for our next Weird Word Wednesday!