What's new at our zoo

On Christmas Eve, my sister-in-law pulled me aside to tell me that Santa was bringing a hamster for one of my twin nephews, Jack. She asked if we could hamster sit for the two weeks that they'll all be in Florida. I said, sure, why not? We've got two fish, two cats and a dog ... we've got more than enough room at our zoo.

Well, last week I asked Jack how his hamster, whom he named Clarice, is. I guess Santa had a trick up his sleeve when he brought Clarice down the chimney at their home on Christmas. Clarice was pregnant, they soon learned, and delivered four babies! Yikes! My sister-in-law was livid and called the pet store, which graciously said they would take back any hamster babies they didn't want. Erika was there when we were talking about the hamster babies and she instantly wanted one...and I'm a softie so I told her it was OK.

Well, I got a call from Jack's twin brother, Luke, today at work and he told me that his mom said it was OK if he adopted one of Clarice's babies and asked if we could hamster sit for two weeks for him, too. I said, sure, why not? The more the merrier.

My sister-in-law told me that she would be going back to the pet store to sex the furry babies and they would be taking a female one for Luke. No more reproduction lessons for her third-graders. Then they'd leave one of the babies there and bring the three hamsters, including Erika's baby hamster, to our house for 2 weeks. (The fourth hamster baby, the runt of the litter, apparently died. Or was eaten by its mother, my sister-in-law said. Ewwww. Such is life, I guess, for furry rodents.)

I'm hosting our annual Christmas gathering for my high school friends at my house a week later so it'll be pretty interesting to have 3 hamster cages lined up in a row in our guest bedroom.

Maybe we could charge admission for our little zoo.

Grandpa's sign

As you may have guessed, my grandpa Les died last Monday, Jan. 7.


I was holding his hand when he took his last breath. It was sad, yes, and very surreal. He died surrounded by those who loved him, my grandma (his wife of 61 years), two of my aunts, my uncle, my mom and our pastor. I was so glad I was there, to not only say goodbye but those of us who were in that room with him witnessed a miracle as his soul went to Heaven. Believe what you may, but when our pastor led us in The Lord's Prayer, my grandpa's ragged breathing slowed to a peaceful end and his coloring changed ... As we all talked about that moment the next day, every one of us had known that was the moment he left us. I've had a dull ache in my heart ever since, knowing that when I walked out of his room at his nursing home room, that it would be the last time I would see him. My grandma's last words to him were something like, "Now you get some rest, Dad."


I took the week off from work, finished writing his obituary and took many hours finishing the DVD photo slideshow about his life that I started before Christmas ... I stayed up most nights until 4 a.m. finishing it, but the 30-minute show was beautiful, fitting and sentimental. It played on a large 7-foot screen at the visitation and on a TV before the funeral at the church. The funeral director said he's seen a lot of slideshows - they're becoming popular at funerals - but he'd never seen one so well done before. Nice compliment for me. Poor Nels had to spend hours last week making dozens of copies of the show for all my relatives. If I can figure out how to get it on YouTube, I'll post a link to it on my blog.

Nels told me I shouldn't tell the following story to anyone since they'll think I'm strange...but like my BFF said to me when I told her that she said "Yeah, well, we already know you're strange so it's OK." :) A BFF's opinion trumps a hubby's opinion anytime, right?

The night my grandpa died, I was driving home alone and asked outloud for my grandpa to please give me a sign that he's OK. You see, the last couple of years because of his progressive disease, he couldn't really talk, just mumble yes or no, really. His mind remained sharp but his body betrayed him. I felt that if he could just send me a sign that he was OK, it would make me feel better.

I went home, told Nels that he died, then knocked on Erika's door. I hugged and rocked her as she cried in my arms in her doorway after telling her the news. She and grandpa were very close as I've mentioned earlier. The photo posted above is Erika and grandpa at a cousin's wedding, one of my favorites.

Throughout the week, as I scanned photos of my grandpa into my computer and worked on the DVD slideshow I would ask him again outloud if he could just send me a sign that he was OK. That's all I wanted.

We created a table of memorabilia at the funeral home Friday and at the church Saturday, a display of all the wooden sleds, stilts and other wooden items my grandpa had made for all of us over the years (my idea, which seemed crazy at first but was an awesome display). The wooden stilts were lined up in a row - five pairs that me and my cousins could find - with our names painted on them. I also displayed photos that Nels had taken of my grandparents and all their grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It was nice.

Anyway, after the funeral we headed home to change clothes and planned to go over to my aunt's house. I went into my bathroom to get freshened up and was thinking about how maybe our town's noon horn (which blows at noon and 6 p.m. every day) was a sign from my grandpa. It certainly was a fitting tribute, it blew while my immediate family was standing around his grave. He didn't want Taps to be played but the Color Guard stood at attention nearby. When the short graveside service ended, the horn blew at just the right moment. It was cool ...

Well, I then walked into the kitchen and Erika was sitting on a stool, having poured a large glass of A&W Root Beer, which I was annoyed at because we were just about to leave to go to my aunt's house. I told her to sit right there and chug it ... we had to go.

That's when Erika picked up the piece of flat wood that had her name carved into it from the counter. It had been one of the last things grandpa made for all of us a few years ago, individual wooden signs with all of our names carved and painted on them. I had taken them up to the church for the display.

Erika told me that she knew I had found that sign in her room, which I did. Nels's and my signs were in the garage while hers she had on the second shelf above her bed. She then told me that the sign fell on her the night grandpa died, striking her in the head.

I did a double take as she took a big gulp of her root beer. I asked Erika when exactly had the sign fallen on her and she said about a half-hour after I told her that grandpa had died. I asked if she had moved or touched the shelf and she said she hadn't, that the sign just fell on her.

That's when I realized that grandpa had sent me a sign - an actual sign - but Erika hadn't told me about it. If you knew my grandpa, you'd know that if he could play a prank on Erika, even if he was, um, dead, he would. They had that type of relationship. They loved to tease each other.

I know he's out there somewhere with that familiar twinkle in his eye and smirk on his face, knowing that he had found the very best way to send me the sign I longed for, by bonking his "Putt-Putt" on the head with an actual sign made by his very own hands just for her.

Maybe it was his way of telling Erika, who was grieving, that it was Ok, that he was still here for her.

And I had received the sign I was waiting for.

Lester Milford Tweed 1924-2008

Saying Goodbye

Does 2008 suck or what? For me and Britney Spears, both.

I spent eight hours yesterday at my grandpa's bedside at the nursing home, along with many other family members, watching him take ragged breaths throughout the day. It was almost easier to just stay and sit beside him, holding his hand, than to leave. Saying goodbye, when you really do mean goodbye, is one of the hardest things to do.

We didn't think he'd make it through the night but my grandpa is stubborn. He's going to go in his own time, not ours. I took the day off and plan to go back out there today and be with him and my grandma. My aunt Sal stayed the night with him and we're trying to make sure someone is with him at all times. No one, especially grandpa, should have to die alone.

It's difficult to explain the type of relationship my grandpa Les has had with his grandchildren and great-grandchildren to most people. He truly loved his grandkids, and in fact, the only people he'll open his eyes for now, in his weakened state, are his grandchildren. Nels tried to console me yesterday, telling me that we should feel grateful we had the type of relationship we had with him, that many people never have that opportunity. I told him I don't care about those people ... Maybe it makes dying a whole lot easier when you don't know them as well. I don't know.

Erika cried inconsolably in our bed last night. My grandparents lived with us for five months about five years ago when they were building their home. They helped raise her. When they moved into their new house, just a couple blocks away, she would get off the bus there and stay after school. She and grandpa would fight over the remote control, grandma's cookies and just about everything else. He called her "Putt-Putt." She tousled his hair whenever she got the chance. She and grandma would make snow angels together and get into snowball fights. They both looked forward to her getting off the bus around 3:30 p.m. everyday. Even their dachshund, Greta, watched for her school bus.

Erika was so sweet with grandpa last night. Erika and I stroked his arm while my aunt Shari held his hand and Erika shared stories about her and her great-grandpa. I'm so thankful that she has gotten to know her great-grandparents as I and my cousins have. And I'm grateful that my daughter is as sweet and caring as she is.

I was thinking last night about how sad it is that, if and when Nels and I have a child together, this child would not know his/her great-grandpa like Erika. I'm not the only one who feels that way. My cousin Shannon told grandpa yesterday through her tears that she would tell her 3-month-old son, Mason, what a special great-grandpa he had.

But as I look through the many photographs I'm compiling for a photo slideshow at my grandpa's memorial service right now, I realize that even though he won't be here any longer , thanks to an insidious disease called PSP, he'll always still be here because we are here. My cousin Heidi called him "the anchor" in our family, and she was right...and he'd appreciate the Navy reference.

And as my aunt Shari kept telling my cousins when they called, "Grandpa knows you love him. He knows."

Happy New Year?

So after a couple of months of covering layoffs and budget reductions at the local school district, the crappy economy hit home for us. On Jan. 2, my husband was laid off from the newspaper, along with three others. Fabulous. Happy 2008!! In a nutshell, the newspaper business sucks right now.

Actually, he's totally fine with it. He's almost giddy, in a way. I should be relieved that I still have a job (although I've become a little skittish at the end of the workday, because that's when they like to pull you into the HR director's office and ask you to give back your key.)

He was only working part-time and actually was going to quit in April anyhow. His wedding photography business is doing very well. He was given seven weeks of severance pay so it worked out pretty well for him. He's getting paid to go spear fishing for the next couple of months. We'll be up to our ears in smoked whitefish but hey, who doesn't love smoked fish...and maybe we can sell it on the streets in dime bags if we have to ...

But the whole situation has stunned me..I've found myself tearing up on and off throughout the past couple of days. I think I'm in mourning. We started our clandestine love affair at work more than five years ago so it's hard for me to imagine that we don't work together anymore. For the past six years we've gone out on stories as a team and frankly, in my highly biased opinion, he's the best photographer the paper has had.

When your hubby is laid off from the same workplace, it's interesting to see how people react to the news...some are very sweet, come up to you and tell you they're sorry, ask you how he's doing and how you're doing as well. Others seem to be happy that it's not them then continue to bitch about their jobs. And others avoid eye contact with you or simply stare, trying to read your facial expressions.

That's life, I guess.

The night he was laid off, my husband was flossing his teeth as he got ready for bed and his temporary filling popped out. Since he already had a root canal his dentist told him Thursday that as long as it's not bothering him he could just wait until his appointment to get it fixed.

I couldn't help but picture us living in a trailer, me and my unemployed toothless hubby.

I couldn't stop laughing.