Are you old?

ARE YOU OLD?
Today at "book"club, we landed on something quite astute:

You're not old when you have a funeral to attend every other week. You're old when even your funeral calendar dries up. That's old. That's Grandma Martha level old.

Speaking of G-ma, she says you don't truly feel old until your children are senior citizens. Seems fair enough. But something else that is true of old age is that you can't distinguish between generations anymore. A 60-year-old vs. a 25-year-old? You don't see any difference. Everyone below 80 qualifies as "kids these days".

So, to wrap things up, if your funeral bell curve isn't making its descent, if your children aren't senior citizens and if you haven't pegged T-Swift and Oprah as around the same age, you're not old.

Thank you, Google Image search. Now, how quickly can I get this on my wall?

Image by Quinten Matsys via Wikimedia Commons

ONE LIFE = TWO ADJECTIVES

As I was walking along the beach with Andy the other day, I had a realization: a life is worth about two adjectives. That's all most people get. When you die, you'll be remembered fondly, in detail, for one generation. The following generation you'll be condensed into a handful of stories. After that, you're reduced to two adjectives. Maybe "Bubbly" and "Adventurous" or "Intelligent" and "Misunderstood" or "Pretty" and "Annoying" --- you get the idea. 

Take, for example, my Great Grandfather Horace Merkel. All that I really know about him is that he was a "self-made man" and had a "temper". It wasn't long ago that he was roaming the earth. I'm not that far removed from the guy. But still, that's it. 

Makes you think, what two adjectives do you want to mark your legacy? I'm gunning for 'beautiful genius'.

Sweet dreams, 

Margaret

Martha the matriarch

To say my grandma is a great conversationalist would be the understatement of the century. She is to words what the ocean is to plankton, the sky is to stars, a competitive eater is to hotdogs—filled to the brim.

Today's anecdotes included:

• How her mother used to send her food in the mail. She once sent an entire pork roast by USPS.

• How she was BFFs with a married Democrat atheist man. They would go clothes shopping together for his wife. He was also an avid weaver. "I think he was probably part gay," she says. 'Part gay' is my new fave phrase. Like being 'part Japanese' or something. 

• How taking hot baths was her only escape from her kids, and even then, they would pass her notes through the crack between the floor and the door. 

A photograph of a photograph, taken with my web cam.
Look closely and you can see my laptop reflected in the glass!

She also says that the keys to a happy marriage are kindness and forgiveness.

I feel like Andy and I are in a constant state of silent, preemptive forgiveness—it's the only way two people this annoying can live happily together. 

But kindness? Are we kind? We're somewhat kind. But he could definitely give me more back massages and I could stop making fun of his far apart eyes. There's room for improvement. 

I'm TIRED. Up at 5:30am this morning. Took the first water taxi across to Seattle this morning. Sat on the top deck with a view of the skyline, all lit-up in the still-dark sky. Truly brilliant. Then a bunch of doofus seals had to ruin it by arfing loudly from their perch on a nearby buoy. But what can ya do? Seals gonna arf. 

LOVE, 

Margaret

From the Archives, Edition 11

An entry in the Seaside guestbook, written by my mom in 1985. That's before the Margaret years, if you can even imagine such a time. 

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4-15-85

Arrived this afternoon with my four munchkins! Wonderful travelers! (translation: they all slept) We celebrated with a chocolate/vanilla swirl soft ice cream cone at Astoria. 

Max Kay said, over and over again, from the moment we got here, "It's so strange without Grandma Martha here. It's so strange." 

It peaked right at bedtime, when he burst out crying. "It's just that it's my first time here without her. It's so strange."

He's homesick for Martha, his Seaside mama. They all love you so. Anna commented at every Pig 'n Pancake billboard along the route, "Now Grandma Martha just loves the Pig. She even might walk up there with me and we could have pancakes. I bet she has orange marmalade on hers."

Char and Francie are two years old now, the absolute sweetest gals in the town. They lay fast asleep now, together in the bottom bunk, all curled up, holding onto each other's pacifier. The very best of friends. 

It's great to be back. First time in years that I've been here without a crowd. The kids are great—I am enjoying them immensely. (They're all sleeeping! Aha!)

Nan

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Yours,
Margaret

Full hearts, sore calves, can't lose

I'm sick of 'beat the heat'. It's ubiquitous. Every radio ad, 7-11 marquee and kayak rental Groupon is leading with 'beat the heat' these days. I'm tired of it!

The whole train ride back from Vancouver, I tried to think of an alternative. The best I could come up with was, 'Don't let the temp make you a wimp'. Clearly, that won't do. 'Beat the heat' stays until further notice.

What in heaven's name?

Image via Wikimedia Commons

Hanging out with my Grandma—God love her—took it out of me. That woman can talk the hind legs off a mule. Speaking of hind legs, my (extra large) calves are aching. I did the thing where I decided to walk from the water taxi instead of wait and take the shuttle. I chose to walk for 25 minutes instead of wait 5 minutes and get a ride. That, my friends, is what being impatient looks like. I am clinically impatient. It's a condition. I have it.

All of this is to say, I ain't proper bloggin' tonight. Get that through your thick skull. It ain't happening! Nothing to see here. Move along.

Hasta,
Margaret

The Merry Widow

I'm down in Vancouver (not BC) Washington (not DC) hanging out with Grandma Martha. We had a lovely afternoon sitting on the back deck, eating melted cheese on crackers and chatting about everything from Donald Trump to Italian-style meatloaf.

I've learned a lot. For example:

• Her parents almost named her Meta. 

• In Pittsburgh, a friend of her friend walked downstairs with a gun in a towel (so the kids wouldn't see) and shot her husband dead (her own husband, not my grandma's or my grandma's friend's). 

• She thought about being a nun but backed out for two reasons. 1) They wanted to know her dad's annual salary, which bugged her and 2) she heard the food wasn't very good. 

She talked to me for a long time about this particular track on a CD my mom made for her—'The Merry Widow'. She wanted me to hunt through the CDs and find it. I was worried I might not be able to. There was so much build up! 

"There's a song called 'The Merry Widow'. See if you can find it, will you? Yeah, look over there. Is it there? The song is called The Merry Widow. The Merry Widow!!!!"

"OK, I'm looking..."

"Try to find the one with The Merry Widow."

I went over to the CDs. I picked up one and read through the tracks. No luck. I picked up another. It had a big yellow Post-it on the case with large black lettering: 'THE ONE WITH THE MERRY WIDOW' Crisis averted.

Now it's almost bedtime. She's in her room watching Bachelor in Paradise (close captioned) and I'm going to take a bath. I'm looking forward to tomorrow. We're going towel shopping, either at PJ Maxx or Bed Blankets and Beyond.

I'll leave you with a snap of Martha Alice when she was just 26! I'm loving the dark nails.

Sweet dreams,
Margaret

Furniture talk

As you know, each week we choose a theme and bring you different kinds of stories on that theme. Today's post: home furnishings. News, anecdotes and opinions on various topics relating to home furnishings—when home decor goes right, when it goes wrong and what happens when the owner of a Persian rug shop asks you to be his butler.

I'm Margaret Kay. Stay with us. 

• Bethenny Frankel has a new house completely furnished by T.J. Maxx. Grandma Martha would be proud.

• Will futons make a comeback? It's fair to say they are HIGHLY uncomfortable. 

• Andy and I once bought a lampshade (actually, you know about it already) from a company called Smarty Lamps. Years later they followed me on Twitter. How did they know? 

• My advice for all the young 20-somethings out there starting out on their own: invest in an air mattress. You'll feel so prepared and hospitable when you have guests. 

• Back in 2010, Andy got a job as a butler in a Persian rug shop. What business does a butler have in a rug shop, you ask? Why, to fetch the owner a cup of tea whenever he rings his desk bell. Andy reconsidered and quit before his first day. 

• One time Barbie and I bought a faux bearskin rug at Costco. We were poor college students and it was like $70, but we just had to have it. Turned out to be a wonderful investment. We loved that thing like a child. 

• There used to be a furniture store in Seattle just off the Mercer exist called 'Far Fetched'. But on the sign, the "c" was a moon, so I always thought it was called 'Far Fet Hed'.

This blog post was produced today by Margaret Kay, with Grandma Martha, Andy Williamson and Barbie Solbakken. Our senior producer is Fart Fet Hed. Booter Fitzpatrick is our production manager. Bethenny is our office manager. Production help from Smarty Lamps. 

Madgespace is distributed by Blogger. Management oversight by our boss, Persian rug shop owner in Edinburgh.

I don't know about you guys, but I'm glad that's over. ROUGH blog post tonight. Sehr rough.

But alas, tomorrow's a new day.

Sleep well!

Goodnight,
Margaret

Running down a hill in a jacket I borrowed from my 95-year-old grandma

#OnVacay

The Internet situation is limited here. Using our phones as hotspots, but we're low on data.

I'll be back to "normal" blogging next week.

Yolo,
Margaret