Day 3

(I'm behind in copying these on here because Grandpa Sefcik has no internet...)


9:49pm – it has been a rockin day. We actually got to sleep this morning—quite a surprise. Did some last minute shopping, etc. Highlights of the day below.

The Amazing Italian Food Experience
Walked into a corner market (“Gary’s Italian Market”) to buy lotto tickets. We had to go to this particular market, which comes complete with old-timey Pepsi sign out front, because my mom was friends with the owner back in high school. Of course. Everyone knows everyone in Dover or shares some DNA. It’s impossible to go anywhere there without some kind of connection. We take one step inside the door, and Stacey’s and my noses go into hyper-sniffing overdrive. It smells like Heaven met Nirvana and they decided to have a baby, and my stomach told me that baby was born a meatball. We followed our noses over to the deli counter and pretty much drooled all over everything until the woman (Gary’s wife) came out and started talking to Mom. We must have looked desperate and underfed (it’s true we hadn’t had breakfast) because she gave us each a meatball in the most delicious sauce. After some chit-chat with Gary and Gary’s wife, we got down to brass tacks:

Gary’s Wife: Would you like some meatballs?
Me: Yes, please.
Gary’s Wife: How many would you like?
Me: (eyeing the pan on the stove) How many do you have?
Gary’s Wife: We have 18 that just came out of the oven.
Me: (big smile) Yep. That’ll do.

Let me tell you—those were some beyond delicious meatballs. I wish I could say that I ate all 18. Sadly, I cannot. I did eat five, though, and I have big plans for the rest of them.

Kyleigh and Poopy Pants
My cousin, Mark, and his wife, Shelley, have a more-than-adorable two-year-old daughter named Kyleigh. We only get to see Kyleigh once or twice a year, but she’s the kind of kid who can charm you into giving her total adoration in about two seconds. Kyleigh loves Minnie Mouse and Thomas the Train. I’ve heard, on good authority, that she can name all 300 Thomas the Train characters.

Mom’s been crazy excited about seeing Kyleigh for months now, because she bought Ky a giant stuffed bear that’s 5 feet tall and so squishy you can almost hide inside it. Kyleigh was really enthusiastic about the bear, running from across the room and jumping on him, hugging him, and squealing with laughter when we would move his arms and legs, but she was also excited about another present—a train made out of plastic-structured needlework (it’s hard to describe) and yarn.

A really cool feature of playing with an almost-three-year-old is that she repeats everything she hears. We discovered this when I jokingly said, “Hey Kyleigh, look! It’s an air train!” as I ran the train through the air instead of on the ground. She immediately picked up on it and began running with the train above her head, “air train! air train!” or my favorite, “air choo choo.”

Later on in the night, Stacey decided to get creative and play some games with Kyleigh’s vocabulary. First, she taught Kyleigh to answer “whiskey” when asked what she was drinking in her train-topped sippee cup.

I really should have known that all of this would come around eventually to a horrible nickname for me. Over the years, I have battled against several terrible nicknames, including (for no reasons in particular) “trash can” and “street rat.” Yes, my sister is a bad, bad person. I had the misfortune tonight to choose a seat on the couch where one of the dogs had been licking his foot and had left a wet mark on the material. Knowing this spot was merely saliva, it didn’t faze me—I simply laid down a towel and sat over it. No one else was willing to let the issue rest, however, and came up with the usual teasing that would arise in such a situation (oh, Steph peed her pants, why the towel, etc.). The fly in the ointment was this little talent for repetition that Kyleigh has. Stacey, thinking she was hilarious, I’m sure, pointed at me and said “Stephie poopy pants!” What do you think Kyleigh did? Yes. She pointed at me and said, “Poopy Pants!” Well, I was sunk after that. Everyone was laughing so hard that there’s no way I’ll ever be known as anything other than Cousin Poopy Pants for years.

The (Not So) Memorial Candles
So, this year has been a tough one for my mom’s family. My grandma died in April and my aunt just died in November. This being our first Christmas without them, we decided to light these two candles in remembrance. Now, I was led to believe that there would be some kind of commemoration or something. In other words, it seemed like one of those things that we should all sit up and take notice.

I was surprised but not upset to walk into the kitchen a few hours into the party to find that the candles had already been lit and burning. Actually, I was a little relieved, since I’m not super awesome with pomp and circumstance anyway. They’re both red with some white Christmas-y type decorations on the sides and are identical.

I didn’t feel too much seeing them at the time, and it wasn’t until much later when Mom began discussing the candles that their true meaning shone through.

Mom: (pointing at one candle, then the other) That one is Grandma, and that one is Bobbi.
Uncle Robert: Oh. They don’t look anything like them.
Me: They definitely look related, though, you can tell.

It will surely take years of philosophizing to break down the emotional implications and layers of meaning in this conversation. For now, though, we must be patient.