Wednesday, March 4, 2009

the patron saint of lost causes and other random things...


Don't ask me why my very Irish Catholic maternal grandmother has been stuck in my frontal lobe this week, but she is right there. She came to live with us when I was 13 and, can I tell you, I was excited. The woman could bake, an expert in all things eclairs and pies. All this AND she could play the piano by ear. You sang the song, she played the song. I digress.

Here's where my mind has been this week. When I had a particular need, something big happening, maybe a difficult final in college, my very Irish Catholic grandmother was on it. ON IT. It was her habit to dismantle her framed picture of a certain saint and put my picture behind his. Reassemble. Then she would pray as in 'shut the door, light a candle, take out a prayer book' pray. Dead serious. My memory tells me it was St. Anthony, that Patron Saint of Lost Things, but I'm not certain. I'm just hoping it wasn't St. Jude, the Patron Saint of Lost Causes. Wait, is one really worse than the other? Think about that.

See here. There's a patron saint for everything.

No segue.

Eight days ago I was on an errand with my dad following our regular Tuesday lunch date. Banking business. We sat down at the desk and my dad had his conversation. That's when the bank employee looked at me and told my dad, "I need your wife's license now." That's twice. It took a full eight days for me to even blog about it. Whatever.

No segue.

Last month (in Buffalo, NY) a man, his wife and their daughter were watching television in their living room. The husband got up, walked to their dining room . . . a plane hit their house. He died. They walked away. Eat dessert. I mean it.

No segue.

My StatCounter is amusing. First, it lets me know people from New England really want to know how to make those Gilchrist macaroons. At Christmas they want to remember how to make a Canadian pork pie. It also tells me that sometimes people come to my blog landing on "Nana's Hot Fudge" because they did a google search for "hot nanas." Dead serious. Twisted. And finally it shows me all those hits from my office. PEOPLE . . . my stuffing is touching my turkey and mashed potatoes. Work Patti and Home Patti mingling? NOT an option. I don't know if that's what bothers me more or the fact that I can't blog about drunk janitor or . . . never mind.

I have trust issues.

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9 comments:

rychelle said...

i had to take my dad to the quick care once. the nurse asked "do you have your husband's insurance card?" i said "i don't have a husband!"

hot nanas! ha! i swear that is NOT how i found your blog. :)

cori said...

i love the visual of your grandma praying....

i am a mix of st. monica amd st. timothy and titus.

you.kill.me.

your whoopie pies are bookmared. we need to talk.

Melissa said...

Your random things are always my favorite! I learn cool things about your childhood. Like I knew that your grandmother came to live with you... but now I know the cool story about the picture frame!

Melissa said...

I wish I could have thought of another adjective instead of using "cool" twice. I'm not so "cool".

Gramps said...

I keep telling you it's because I look so young for my age. And since we are sharing the proceeds it's a natural thought for the bank employee.

Seth, Ash, and Arailia Hendrickson said...

oh thank you! How are you? I miss you so much! I love your blog by the way! Absolutely love it! Do take the pictures of the food yourself1 Amazing! I love looking at all your recipes yummy!

Shae said...

Patti-
You stuff your turkey WITH mashed potatoes, of course they are going to touch! I would seriously die if I couldn't read your blog, it's the one bright spot in my world. And drunk janitor? We have to do a movie soon, you need to spill. I'll light a novena that we can get together soon. I miss you....

Caitlin said...

I love it when you talk about your Grandma. It's fun.

Caitlin said...

Hot nanas? Wrong. So wrong.