Memory Lane

My dad is in town this weekend from California helping Aunt Kathi move my 88 year old Grandpa into an assisted living center. Until now, he has been living on his farm in Missouri. Yesterday I went down to Grandpa's with them so Brax could visit the home I spent so many weekends at as a child.

Both my grandparents' houses are the "homes of my dreams," literally. I'm sure there's some psychological explanation for this, but I think it's very bizarre that probably 9 out of 10 of my dreams are set at one of the two locations (either my maternal or paternal grandparents' homes.) I remember my dreams just about every nite, and almost every nite I find myself at Grandma's house. What's even more odd is that the dreams typically have nothing to do with my family. For example, the other nite it had something to do with Mike and I meeting some of my sorority sisters at Grandma's house and we were all going to the lake. Someone had brought their boat and jet skis, and we were all in our swim suits getting ready for some fun in the sun. Random, huh?

Anyway, here are some pics from our visit to the farm.

Brax and I on Great Grandpa Bob's golf cart.

As long as I can remember, my grandparents had a golf cart to get them around the acreage. I learned to drive on this thing... I was lucky Grandma didn't hand out tickets for reckless driving. I ran over numerous young trees, almost took the swingset out, and once threw a friend out of the passenger seat because I was going around a tree in circles too fast.

And Mike says I haven't improved much.

On the lawnmower with Grandpa Russ (my dad)

Driving the tractor!

"Look what I found!!!"

This gravel path leads from the road to the house.

As a child, it seemed a mile long, but now I realize it's only about 400 feet.

It's funny how your perception of the vastness of space changes as you get older.

I used to love helping Grandpa crack walnuts in the barn.

I wrote a post about lasts (click on "lasts" to read) back in July. It made me sad to think that this may be the last time I stand with Grandpa in the shed eating walnuts... My Grandma passed away when I was 13. I wondered when the last time was that I spent a weekend at their house riding around in the golfcart... sliding down the ramp to the basement on an innertube slicked with Pledge... eating radishes and tomatoes from Grandpa's garden... eating frozen hot dogs that were meant to be bait for the catfish out at the pond... digging out the eyeballs of said catfish with a screwdriver after Grandpa caught them... looking for kittens in the barn (no, I didn't mangle them)... having picnics in the gazebo... learning to sew (never did really catch on to that)... making "soup" (standing at the sink on a kitchen chair dumping Grandma's spices into a bowl of water)... eating ham sandwiches, and apples with salt on them... falling asleep on the couch while they watched 20/20 on Friday nites... going to Osco Drugstore and Grandma would buy me "anything I wanted" (Lee press-on nails, lipgloss, new crayons, coloring books, stickers)... eating Cream of Wheat for breakfast... making an arts and crafts mess on the kitchen table with glitter, pom-poms, felt... looking at old pictures and asking Grandma over and over to explain our family tree to me... Grandma tucking me into the softest bed ever, then turning the radio in the hall to 98.1 KUDL and falling asleep to "Delila." So many memories...

What do you remember about visiting your grandparent's houses?