Posts Tagged ‘family’

Mother Lovett was a tiny, tiny, tiny woman.


Let’s just say she had a BIG personality.



She only stood at about 4 feet, 11 inches tall, after osteoporosis had severly hunched her over. She tried her best to (literally) keep her head up, but sometimes it was just too tiring. 



The best moments that my cousins and I share involve Mother Lovett. Anyone that knows our family or has crossed paths with us can relate. Unfortunately, but in the MOST lovable way, we often enjoyed a good laugh at  her expense.



And still do.



Such as remembering her 87th brithday last April, the last birthday we would have with her.



She was angry, mad, infuriated – whichever way you want to spin it – she was ticked.



She had a fairly good reason. After almost 50 years, we had finally moved her out of the house her husband built. (I know you are wondering which husband, it was her first.)

That house was her life.



But after many falls, bumps, bruises, and scares, along with those other few tiny problems she had – you know, being BLIND and DEAF, and living alone – it was time to move her out.

We had to drag her. She refused to give up ANY pride and admit it was time to go. We mentally, emotionally, and physically could not take it anymore. The fear of her rolling down the landscaped bank while picking weeds, falling face-first on the pavement while carrying sticks to a dump-pile, or getting stuck in the bathtub (all of which did indeed happen), was just too much to bear.



It was very hard on my mom. But it was time for her to move. And we didn’t really give her choice. She had just spent a few months in a rehab facility recovering from her cake-baking heart attack, and my family arranged for her to go to an exceptional assisted living community where she had her own apartment.



It was a fab apartment. Much better cleaner than what I would be moving into within 6 months, after my nuptials. It was big, too.



She moved in about a week before her birthday. In my family, we always have birthday parties in our homes – always. This makes for lots of food, fun, unlimited alcohol, and just a wonderful, hilarious time spent together.



(We also get together most weekends just to hang. Have I mentioned I have the best family ever? )




Her birthday party was set to be on Saturday evening at her daughter’s (my aunt’s) house. All week, she swore up and down she absolutely, definitely was not coming. She was angry with all of us, pouting the majority of the time she spent with us.



Which was all the time. Someone was there 24/7. I really mean that. She was rarely alone.



Friday night comes and we are spending some time together at my aunt’s, sans Mother Lovett. We realize she really is not going to come celebrate her birthday. We are sad, but at this point also fed up with the stubborness. She is safe and in a very nice expensive place.



We got hungry. And we had a perfectly good cake.



Coconut cake. Delish.




So we had a few slices.




Saturday morning, our wonderful friend Barb spends some time with Mother Lovett. Barb tells her that we never know what tomorrow will bring, and we are all together and healthy TODAY, and she shouldn’t pass up this opportunity to spend time together. At the last minute, Mother Lovett decides to come for the party.



Her party.




There was no time for a new cake. 












Probably the first and only time her height ever came in handy.


She never noticed.

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I’m sure you all remember the scene in A Christmas Story when the LEG LAMP arrived in the box marked ‘Fra-gee-lay?’



If you don’t recall, Ralphie’s mom really wasn’t a fan.




That is how Mr. Hunt felt a few weeks ago when I brought home this gorgeous specimen.















I love this lamp. I am such a girl, so anything pink, sparkly, animal-printed, or feather-like immediately catches my eye.




I also LOVE lamps with tiny, crystal beads hanging down. I think they are so cute.















I want to start a collection.  I already have 2, but I have the feeling if I bring anymore home, I may be sleeping with the turkey.





Maybe he and this guy can have a stare-down?












Oh fuuuuudge. I can’t wait for the holidays! 🙂

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I began blogging for 2 reasons.


1. maternal grandmother.

2. paternal grandmother.


Let’s start with materal grandmother. Many moons ago, my dad lovingly nicknamed his mother-in-law ‘Mother Lovett.’

‘Lovett’ being her last name. And it certainly was her last name, since she was married to brothers.



Yes people, she was married twice – to BROTHERS. How cool is that?


 How 1700’s of her.


Unfortunately, she passed away in late April of this year at the ripe, old age of 87. Her stories live on. And Lordy, let me tell you, THERE ARE STORIES.



We could write a sitcom.



That is an understatement. I wish you could understand.




I will get to the hilarious goods at some point in my blog, but for now I have to give you the excellent background on her so you don’t think I’m hellishly cruel.



She was a baker. A mighty fine one at that. She most likely is the reason I adore baking, and I won’t lie when saying that baking these days occasionally makes me tear up since it is something I used to share with her.



Well, actually when I say ‘share,’ I really mean I took orders from her for a few hours standing in her kitchen.


But that’s a different story.


She suffered 7 miscarriages, and was diagnosed with Menear’s disease in her 20’s, causing her to lose all hearing in one ear. She had macular degeneration, a serious eye disease which cause her to lose almost ALL of her sight. She lost her siblings.  She cared for her cancer-stricken mother in her own home, losing her only 4 months before she lost her first husband, the love of her life. He passed away before I was born, so I never knew my true grandfather.


Luckily for us, she remarried.


His brother. Her brother-in-law.


I know.


I can’t imagine marrying my brother-in-law. Partly because I don’t have one. But if I did, and if he looked like George Clooney, I guess I would.


This truly was a wonderful thing, this marriage of my grandmother and her brother-in-law. He and his wife (don’t worry, she had passed away as well) were never able to have children, which meant by marrying my grandmother, he inherited 2 daughters (or neices….yikes) and 5 grandchilden. Amazing man. Wonderful. Words can’t describe.


However, many times in my life I remember my grandmother telling me about her whirlwind love with her first husband, Gerald. I specifically remember one evening at the beach her eyes welling up with tears when speaking about him.


‘That love was the greatest love I had ever felt. If you ever find that, don’t ever lose it.’ She STILL missed him after more than 30 years. THAT is love.


Perhaps she is where I got my passion from?



The longer she is gone the more I realize what a strong woman she was. Of course, we all knew this as she infuriated us at the age of 86 trimming bushes, climbing ladders, and carrying 40lb pots up the driveway.


I don’t mean strong THAT way.


She lost 2 husbands, and still talked about love. She still wore high heels to church, even though we fought her on it. She still went to church on Sunday, even though she was legally blind, deaf, and hunched over from severe osteoporosis. She walked around with 4 blockages in 3 arteries for 20 years. Suffered a heart attack, multiple broken bones, and bounced back from injuries when the majority of us would believe it was time to give up.


 I better be wearing heels at 87.



Yes we called her stubborn, but now I call her strong.



She was so stubborn strong, she basically refused to die. And we really never thought she would. I mean…REALLY. We were all there to watch her last breath. And she put up a damn good fight.



Again, an understatement.



(Which I find quite odd, since I am extremely dramatic.)



Everyone ALWAYS complimented her on her beauty. She had an excellent sense of style. I never saw the beauty until recently. Of course I loved her, but she was my GRANDMA.


Beauty wasn’t the first thing to come to mind. Seeing how many Reese’s cups I could shove in my mouth at one time without anyone noticing at her house was.


What do you think?
























You will never believe what began her demise.


She had a heart attack while hand-mixing a cake.





She could always do everything better herself, anyways.

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Happy Birthday…

To my wonderful, mounted-turkey-loving husband, Mr. Hunt. 


I am sorry your presents are wrapped in pink.




And that they look like a 5-year old wrapped them.






And that while shopping for your presents, I blew the majority of our money on this.





Hopefully this made up for it.






Or this.






Love you!

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Is something funny?








Posting some of my most favorite recipes this weekend!

Stay tuned…

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How Sweet It ISN’T.

Call me old fashioned.


My hubby and I didn’t live together before we got married. So when it came time for me to move in, he had to drag me kicking, screaming, and punching.




He was a bachelor. Had a MAJOR bachelor pad. I mean, this could rival most bachelor pads. And let’s not forget – he is a decade older than me, so his stuff was just…OLD.

But financially, it made sense to live there for a short time – we had plans to buy a house.





First up: boatloads of dye cast cars:











Don’t think that’s alot? That is about 1/64th of the collection. Strewn about the small townhouse.



Some mini cars, lucky to still be living here:













On the nice bookcase in the family room, sat these:











We have alot of them.




I do like this guy:














Sidney Crosby. What a hottie.





The downstairs wasn’t terrible. It was almost terrible. The whole place probably hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned since 1985.




No offense to my hubs. He was a bachelor, after all.



Let’s just say…How sweet it WASN’T.




Once you ventured up the spooky staircase and made your way into the bedroom, you were greeted by this guy:












Yes, folks. That is a FRAMED (and autographed) picture of a WWF wrestler. OR WCW. Or whatever the heck it is. FRAMED.



IN A FRAME. With glass over it. HANGING ON THE WALL.



Who does this?



There were multiples. Including Chris Benoit, that nice wrestler that murdered his wife, dwarfed son, and then hung himself. Wouldn’t you want him, FRAMED, hanging on your wall?



Alas, I have allowed Mr. Hunt to hang some of his photos in his room:











aka the garage.



I am fine with this. We all need our space.




However, there is one battle I did not win:














He creeps the bejesus out of me.




There is no room for him in the garage. Not that I would move him there.



Do you know why?




Just look at how he stares at me.











He would totally kill me in my sleep.

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Million Dollar Ice Cream.

Does this look like anything special to you?














Nope? Me either.



What about this?











Didn’t think so.



On our honeymoon, my new hubby and I paid FIFTY dollars for this ice cream. 





What were we thinking?



Well, we went to Vegas (which we LOVED), and this ice cream came from Caesar’s.


Have ya’ll been there? 



If not, there are ‘gelato’ (and I use that term loosely, because I have had real gelato) kiosks inside Caesars Palace. When you walk by, they literally GET IN YOUR FACE trying to give you samples. It tastes good, but not AMAZING. What gets you is the presentation of the ice cream. It has all kinds of yummy things on top – fresh fruit, candy bars, coconut, etc.



It looks like this:











After days of samples and harassment, we finally gave in. We knew it would be expensive – we thought maybe a bit more than Cold Stone. 




We ordered a small and a medium.



It was $50.



Yes. This is true.




And we didn’t even eat half. After a few bites, it tasted like colored ice.




But we did have these:











Yes, they are in a white chocolate bowl.




And we did see this out our window:












And that was a beautiful sight to see. 



Especially since we had to stay in that hotel room after spending all our money on colored ice.

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