The end of an era

My grandmother passed away a week ago today. Her death is the first loss I've suffered as an adult and I'm still trying to cope with it.

None of this was entirely unexpected. She was 93, after all. About a month ago, her doctor diagnosed her with late-stage Alzheimer's Disease. She'd quickly gone from just being forgetful, to someone who we couldn't care for at home. We decided to move her from the hospital to a nursing home and that's where she remained until her death.

The funeral was Monday and at my grandfather's request, I gave one of the eulogies. I was glad to be able to talk about a few of the things that made my grandmother so special.

Below, I've posted the text of what I said at the service. For those of you who didn't know my grandmother, I hope it gives you a little insight into the amazing woman that she was.


There was nothing in life more important to my grandmother than her family. She was so poroud of all of us and so glad all of her children and grandchildren lived so close to her.

Grandma wanted to make sure we all got a good education so she could brag about how smart we were. She wanted to make sure we all had our own houses so she didn’t have to worry about where we would live. And she wanted to make sure we all found the right person to marry so we would always have someone to take care of us like she had Grandpa to take care of her.

Grandma did everything in her power to make all of this a reality. She wound up driving each of us back and forth to school countless times. And whenever one of the grandkids was ready to buy a house, she gave us the money for a down payment.

And even in her last weeks, she was intent on making sure all of her grandchildren had their perfect match. I was visiting her at the hospital and she asked where my brother Danny was. I explained that he was home and would be visiting later. She said she just wanted to introduce him to the nurse because that’s the kind of girl he should meet. Nevermind the fact that the nurse was married.

Seeing her family was always the most important thing to her. Whenever something good happened, we couldn’t wait to run and tell Grandma because we knew how happy she would be. Forget world peace or winning the lottery. Grandma just wanted me to find a husband.

One of my favorite memories is how when we were little, my brothers and I would spend New Year’s Eve at my grandparents’ house so my parents could go out with their friends. Grandma would always stock up on cake and ice cream and say “We can have our own little party.” The best part was that Grandma would always let me stay up until midnight to watch the ball drop but she’d make my brothers go to bed early.

Every Jewish grandmother tends to worry but Grandma turned it into an art form. When there wasn’t anything to worry about, she created something. Thank goodness she never discovered the Weather Channel. She taught us that a car is a weapon, never to pick up hitchhikers, and beware of the undertow. We knew to always wear our seatbelts, to lock the doors, and never touch a cigarette.

But most of all, Grandma taught us about love. My grandparents have been married for 70 years. Their marriage has been an inspiration to all of us. It meant so much to me get married with her wedding band and I wear it everyday.

I can’t even begin to explain how much I’m going to miss my Grandma. I know she loved every moment she had with us and I’m just so very lucky to have had 30 years with her.

Caught

This year marked a new development in our Black Friday snowglobe hunt.

I got caught.

I was on my fourth time around when it happened. I'd left the store through a side exit and waited for a crowd of people before walking in again. I tried to blend in with them but it didn't work.

There was a bottleneck. I stood there two seconds too long. I was spotted.

The overly-cheerful JCPenney employee turned to me and slowly handed me a snowglobe.

"Second one?" he said, looking at me with a sly but knowing grin. I sheepishly accepted the snowglobe.

"I'm observant," he added.

Oh, I can't tell you how badly I wanted to say "Well, apparently not that observant, because this is actually my fourth one." But I kept my mouth shut.

Still, the family finished out the day with 11 snowglobes. I have no complaints.

I wasn't sure how well this year would go. The family has had a rough time lately and I was afraid the stress and need for sleep would keep my fellow snowglobe hunters in bed this year. We moved my grandmother to a nursing home this week after she spent a week in the hospital with what her doctor is calling late-stage Alzheimer's Disease. It's been a really hard time.

The family immediately balked last night when I reminded them that JCPenney opened at 4 a.m. They were tired. They wanted to sleep in. I said I'd be leaving the house at 3:45 and whoever wanted to join me was welcome.

My brother, Matt, was outside of my house when I opened the door at that ungodly hour. He and I drove to JCPenney where, to our amazement, a line was already forming outside.

I then had a call from my husband who was shocked that I left the house without him and said he'd be right there.

In all, I got four snowglobes and Matt and Rich each got two. I was happy with the eight, but later got a call from my dad who said he and Matt went back later on and they got another three.

I know it's a stupid tradition but for some reason, it means a lot to me. And I think it means even more to me this year when we're so worried about Grandma. It's nice to have some continuity in life.

Mmmm... cake!

I love cake.

Wait, let me repeat that. I love love love love love cake. If allowed, I would gladly subsist on cake and nothing else. But Rich, with his silly theory on balanced diets, has overruled me on that.

But, for our anniversary this year, I got in a little cake love. I signed us up for a cake decorating class.

Let me tell you -- the folks on Ace of Cakes make this cake decorating thing look way too easy. I mean I knew it would be a challenge, considering I have no creativity, skill, or coordination, but I didn't think I'd fret over it as much as I did.

For the last class, we were told to bake our own cake, ice it, and bring it so we could decorate our masterpiece.

So on Sunday Rich and I baked our cake and started the icing process. This did not go well. I'm not sure if the cake was just too moist or if we just didn't give it enough time to cool, but when we starting icing it, chunks starting falling off. I had a cake avalanche on my hands.

I became quite distraught and was ready to trash the whole thing but I just don't have it in me to throw away a cake. Rich suggested that we stick the cake in the fridge and give it a try the next day with a new batch of thinner icing.

The idea worked and I caulks the cake with the new icing, filling in the cracks. By the time I was done, you could hardly tell how bad it looked the day before. Yes, the cake and all its spackle now weighed about 10 lbs., but it looked good.

Our last class happened to be on the eve of my parents' 36th anniversary so we decided to make the cake for them as a gift. I toyed with a few different sayings such "Celebrating 12 years of happiness" or "36 years of wedded adequecy." But, due to my lack of skill in writing on cakes, we opted for a shorter and simpler design.

I have to say that I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. How it tastes, however, is an entirely different issues. I may love cake, but I'm not fighting to try this one.

So, um, enjoy it Mom & Dad. Hope you've stocked up on toilet paper.

Happy 70th Anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa!

I have the cutest grandparents in the world and today marks their 70th wedding anniversary.

I've previously detailed how they met and the other highlights of their lives so I won't repeat myself on that end.

What I will say is that I consider myself so lucky to still have my grandparents around and get to learn from their wisdom and the great example they set.

I wore my grandmother's wedding band today in honor of their anniversary. It's the first piece of jewelry my grandfather designed and the same ring I wore on my wedding day. I consider it a good-luck charm.

It gives me chills to look at their initials engraved on the inside along with 5/1/38 and 12:50 p.m. Rich and I had our initials engraved alongside theirs.

If there's any marriage to emulate, this is the one.

Mmmmm... cake!

My nephew, Aidan, celebrated his first birthday this week.

Clearly we're related. This is evidenced by how quickly he dug into his Cookie Monster cake. Like me, Aidan utilizes the inhale-rather-than-chew method of cake consumption.

Oh, just wait till I introduce him to the rest of the finer things in life like chocolate and Diet Coke! So much to learn yet so little time. Happy birthday, kiddo!

Much too young to feel this damn old

Oh, Garth Brooks, you know me so well. I really am much too young to feel this damn old.

Here I am staring down 30 and I already have a medical resume to rival any senior citizen. I've grown tired of being a medical marvel and I'm none too pleased with my present affliction which, thus far, has garnered no diagnosis beyond malaise. (Stay tuned for test results which could show anything from underactive thyroid to Lyme disease to bubonic plague.)

I'm not sure what my parents were trying to pull when they got together but I'm pretty sure their genetic matter is some perfect storm of DNA. Neither family is much help. You name the disease and we can likely track it within a short distance of consanguinity. (Wow, I just proved myself wrong. I really didn't think I would ever use the word consanguinity after law school.)

I feel bad about complaining because I know I'm still better off health-wise than a lot of people. I may have had cancer twice, but I was insanely lucky to catch it as early as I did. And as crappy as it was, at least I just had to have surgery and not go through chemo or radiation like so many others.

Still, it would be nice if I could make it through a day without having to think about how badly I'm feeling. I can no longer remember a time when I didn't have to stress over every little ache and pain. Seriously, the herniated disc really just adds insult to injury.

Oh, how I long for the day that the only things that I share in common with the seniors I work with are my frequent trips to Atlantic City, interest in knitting, and propensity to cut coupons.

Tap water, now new and improved!

Once again my dad is way ahead of his time. First it was free refills on soda and now it's Prozac in the water supply.

According to several news outlets, an AP investigation has uncovered prescription drugs in the drinking water of at least 41 million Americans. Apparently we've got everything from antibiotics to sex hormones coming out of our faucets.

Please -- my father came up with this idea years ago. He's advocated this for as long as I can remember. And, whether it's Prozac in the water supply or giving Valium to trick-or-treaters, who wouldn't benefit from a little mood enhancement?

I'm not sure I even understand what all the fuss is about in the first place. Prescription drugs have gotten ridiculously expensive. My water bill, on the other hand, remains surprisingly affordable. It sounds like the solution to the prescription drug crisis if you ask me.

But no. All of a sudden, the same Americans who waste their money on those fancy enhanced bottled waters are now worried about tainted H20.

Well gosh, thank goodness my daily liquid intake is 95 percent Diet Coke. I am a health nut, after all.

BS scores 14 in rout over JCP*

With a powerful offense, the BS team managed a successful 14-snowglobe haul in its 2007 Black Friday Classic, besting last year's total by one.

The trio came late to the game this year, not starting until 4:30, despite JCPenney's unprecedented 4 a.m. start time. The calculated risk paid off, however, with the team utilizing the crowd to its advantage.

Averaging 4.6 carries each, the team started off slowly with a one-by-one approach, coming up with three on the first drive. They returned for an additional two each, with Matt and Alisa each going hard for the fourth.

JCPenney put up a good defense, again limiting distribution to just one entrance. This year they strengthened the line, using an untested three-man block pattern.

The new strategy proved tough, forcing the BS team into a huddle just before halftime and ultimately resulting in a detour to Boscov's.

Rested again after the half, BS came on strong as it shed hats and glasses in a last-ditch strike. Alisa went back for the extra point and Matt "the vacuum sleever" followed up with a two-fisted grab at a temporarily unguarded table, bringing to total score to 14.

"It was a total team effort," Matt said at the post-game wrap-up at Staples. "We didn't want to run up the score, but I'm really proud of the way our guys hung in there."


*With apologies to my husband, who will undoubtedly criticize my sports analogy. I promise to leave the sports coverage to you in the future.

I'm just a girl who can't say no

If life really is what happens while you're making other plans, I must have one heck of a life. Because let me just tell you -- all I've been doing lately is scheduling more and more things.

My newest toy, my Palm Z22, is partly to blame. In the two months that I've had it, I've managed to over schedule my life beyond belief.

Of course this whole jam-packed life is hardly a new thing. It wasn't any better when I was a low-tech Day-Timer devotee.

There are two ways to look at this. You could say there's just so much I want to do in life. More accurately, though, I'd have to admit that I'm an obsessive person who has some sort of irrational need to be in on everything.

I blame my parents for doing this to me. My mom always had to be the class parent on president of the PTA. My dad always had to coach every softball and soccer team or be the president of the community association. I guess I was pretty much destined to be like this.

They're the reason I volunteered to co-chair the 2008 Relay For Life of Northwest Baltimore County, why I'm on the board of my homeowners association, and why I decided to serve as an election judge again. Likewise, they're why I intend to help out with the new neighborhood citizens on patrol and why I'm also obsessed with doing a good job at work.

I always have to have a trip or vacation scheduled. I always need to plan out the perfect birthday present for my husband. I'm not capable of just sitting back and enjoying life.

Genetics have forced me to do all of this, even though it means stressing myself out in the process. I'm simply incapable of saying no to things and I still want to do more.

So thanks, Mom and Dad. I'll remember to think about you two at some point while I lay awake all night worrying about all of the things I have to get done.

"Eli's coming, hide your heart"

I know I say all dogs are special but Eli, my newest dog-in-law, really is exceptional. He's a service dog, trained to assist my step mother-in-law who has Multiple Sclerosis.

And, as an added bonus, he's completely adorable. But what black lab isn't?

Eli joins Kay and the family thanks to the great people (and dogs) of Fidos For Freedom -- a non-profit group in Laurel that trains assistance dogs and the people who need them.

Rich and I met Eli for the first time a few weeks ago when we ran into him (with Kay, of course) at the mall. FFF takes a lot of outings so the dogs and people in training can get used to all kinds of situations. Eli already deals much better with crowds than I do.

With all the education and training Eli has, we feel seriously inferior in comparison. Rich jokes that he feels like he should wear a tie when we visit Eli. Heck, the dog is only two-years-old and he already knows sign language. Of course his primary duties include fetching things for Kay, supporting her as she walks, and "bracing" himself to help her in getting up and down.

Kay and Eli are now a little over a week into their 30-day bonding period. During this time, Kay is the only one allowed to care for Eli. No one else can feed him, let him out, or play with him. They're also not allowed to take him out in public yet. The idea is that Eli and Kay will use this time to really get to know one another.

We stopped by to visit yesterday and basically had to pretend that Eli wasn't there. For a dog lover, this is torture. Usually when I see a dog laying on the floor, my immediate instinct is to lay down right next to him. With Eli, I can't do this. He has a job to do and I can't interfere -- no matter how cute he may be. He's a working dog, not a pet, and that means no petting or fawning over him.

Kay starting going to FFF twice a week back in January to learn the commands she would need to know for working with a service dog. There are so many rules but she passed every test with flying colors.

When you first start at FFF, they tell you not to become attached to any one dog because you don't get any say in the dog selected for you. Just looking at Eli's little lab face, I don't know how someone can't fall in love with him.

Kay and Eli end their official bonding period on September 4, which also happens to be Kay and Harvey's 30th wedding anniversary. Seems like a pretty good way to kick off their next 30 years, if you ask me.

No antiques at this roadshow

There's nothing like public television to tell you you're worthless. As if the pledge drives don't make you feel bad enough.

"Today's great programming has been made possible by viewers like you," they tell us. Yes, I know I'm a freeloader. I like it that way. Don't try to make me feel guilty. Now go back to the 10th anniversary of Les Miserables please.

But I digress.

Today I'm talking about Antiques Roadshow, the quirky little show-that-could that took up residence at the Baltimore Convention Center this past weekend. I was one of the few lucky enough to win tickets.

Let me rephrase that. I was one of the 3,400 given the opportunity to spend four hours standing on a hard concrete floor while lugging around items that may or may not be worth something. But even though all of our items fell into the latter category, it was kinda neat.

As soon as I found out we had the chance to go, I knew I would have to check out the treasure trove that is my grandparents' house. They have dust older than I am. So just as expected, trustworthy Grandma and Grandpa came up with a handful of interesting pieces for us to take.

The first two things we selected came from my great-grandfather's jewelry store. My grandmother's father, Anton Horvat, came to the U.S. from Hungary in the early 1900's. A professional jeweler, he set up shop on Charles Street in Baltimore. When the Great Depression hit, people brought in anything and everything made of metal to pawn for enough money to make it through the week.

A tea caddy, made by J.E. Caldwell & Co. of Philadelphia and engraved with the year 1906 on the bottom, is one of those items. According to my grandmother, the piece is a repoussé which I've since learned is a fancy way for describing an old technique of forming metal. The silver expert said the tea caddy should be worth about $100. It's a neat little thing and I wish I had an actual use for it. In the meantime, it's perfect for sitting on a shelf somewhere.

The other piece of metal work we took in is one that I've always liked -- a card case, like women used to carry back in the 1800s. The appraiser said it's in really good condition and indicative of the interest in the culture of the Far East. The piece, engraved with initials and May '88 (presumably 1888) is said to be worth in the neighborhood of $400. I'm actually tempted to use it as a business card case but chances are I'd set off too many metal detectors.

My great-grandmother's purse turned out to be the big disappointment of the day when we learned that it's actually worth less than any bag you could buy at Coach. The intricate hand-stitching is beautiful but apparently a lot of people thought so too and they made tons of them. Because of that, they're a dime a dozen. Well, technically they're not a dime a dozen. Specifically, it would go for somewhere between $60 and $80.

The last thing from my grandparents that we took along was a set of African mask bookends. Unfortunately, the story surrounding the bookends is worth much than the bookends themselves. My grandfather's parents ran a tavern in Baltimore back in the 1930s and 1940s. Apparently some sailors came into port and spent the day flirting with my great-grandmother and running up a bar tab. They used these bookends, said to be from their world travels, to pay off the bill.

According to the appraiser at the tribal art section, the bookends are nothing more than reproductions made for tourist purposes. He said that between 1920 and 1960, you could find these in most places up and down the coast of Africa. Still, they're worth about $150. Plus, they've graced my grandparents' end tables for the past 50 years so that counts for something.

Finally, the one piece I thought was worth the least -- a small pin/pendant Rich's step-dad found years ago on a parking lot -- turned out to be worth the most. What I thought had to be fake actually turned out to be diamonds worth $400. I tried my hardest to take a picture of the pin but the sparkly diamonds defeated my best efforts.

So while we didn't exactly fare well at Roadshow and never made it on camera, I definitely look forward to tuning in come January for the highlights of the Baltimore stop.

And remember PBS: Maybe if my stuff was actually worth something, I could afford to donate a few bucks and snag myself one of those cool tote bags.

Aunt Alisa and Uncle Rich

Well, I've finally become an aunt... no thanks to my brothers.

Aidan is the son of Rich's brother, Matt. (Not to be confused with my brother Matt. Rich's Matt is 6 foot something and ginormous. My Matt is scrawny.)

Aidan was born Tuesday, April 17 at 6:32 p.m., weighing in at 8 lbs. 3 1/2 oz. and measuring 21 inches long.

Here are some pictures from our first visit with Aidan at the hospital. Yep, he's a baby.

Little brothers, big news

We finally have good news to report for both brothers. Matt is finally a CPA and Danny has a good job offer!

Last week Danny got an offer with an insurance company. He'll start as a claims adjuster and hopefully be able to transition into doing insurance fraud investigations, which is his real interest. They're starting him at a salary more than 30 percent higher than his current salary so that's a nice added bonus. Plus, the match on his 401K is pretty nice.

Then on Friday we got the news that Matt had passed his fourth and final exam to become a CPA (or CPASS as Danny prefers to call it) just in time for tax season. The family breathed a collective sigh of relief and we hope this will translate into more money for Matt as well.

So congrats to both of the brothers. And don't screw it up.

I miss my Alex

I was so happy to see that an English Springer Spaniel won Best In Show at this year's Westminster Kennel Club. Springers will always have a special place in my heart.

Four years ago this week we lost Alex, just days shy of his 15th birthday. But Alex wasn't just a dog to me -- he was my best friend.

I still think about my darling Alex all the time. I was lucky enough to have him in my life from elementary school all the way through my last year of law school. He's the best study buddy a girl could ever ask for.

I clearly remember the day we drove up to Pennsylvania to pick him up. Alex was the last pup left in the litter. We saw his mother in the backyard of the house and then saw Alex, still not entirely steady on his rapidly growing legs, wobble out next to her.

At first my brothers and I weren't convinced this huge liver and white thing would be our new family member. We were still mourning the loss of Chad, the Cocker Spaniel, who even at full size was a little smaller than Alex at just 12 weeks.

My parents, smart enough to realize that the three of us kids were still growing ourselves, knew Alex would make the perfect-sized companion for us.

Puppyhood was quite the challenge. Alex soon took over half of the kitchen as we erected wooden barriers to keep him from wandering the house. Not happy to be confined, he registered his discontent by removing the moulding from along the wall, chewing up the kitchen table and chairs, and knocking over the television set.

As he grew, so did his curiosity. Alex loved the backyard, especially climbing atop the green turtle-shaped sandbox, where he could survey his territory. We also soon learned how springers came to be known as springers as Alex somehow managed to get himself perched inside the fence we put up to block him from chewing on the air conditioning cords. Silly boy got in easily enough but couldn't figure out how to extricate himself.

Always the charmer, when Alex was 3-years-old he fell in love with a stunning 2-year-old Springer Spaniel up the street. Alex and Roxy were a pair made in heaven. Whenever he let himself out of the house (he was particularly adept at opening the screen door) he would make a bee-line for Roxy's house. Roxy's family moved away a few years later and you could tell Alex still thought about her and their romps in the yard.

I think the one thing that made Alex so special was that he had the innate ability to make each member of the family feel we were the only one who really mattered. Alex was fiercely noble to my father, obeying his every command as long as he felt like it. Alex slept in bed with my parents, always cautious to make sure he afforded my dad enough space, all the while shoving my mom off the side.

But Alex loved mom too. He knew she was a sucker for his cute face and enormous ears. While he wasn't one for toys, Alex never turned down a treat. Alex plied many a treat from my mom.

Alex also had a special relationship with my twin brothers. One of only a few who could actually tell them apart from one another, he knew exactly how much he could manipulate each of them. He knew subtlety was lost on Danny and that he'd have to bark right in his face if he wanted something. Matt was generally a little quicker to respond to Alex's whims but unfortunately Alex only repaid him by leaving 'presents' on the floor of his bedroom. (The carpet has never been the same.)

Finally there was Alex and me. Always protective of me, as I got older and started spending more time away from home, Alex positioned himself between the front door and my bedroom so he knew when I came home. He wouldn't come upstairs and climb into bed until he knew I was home safe and sound.

The years passed and we all grew up and Alex outgrew his puppy exuberance. I went away to college and my parents brought Alex down to visit me at St. Mary's. Leave it to Alex to wander out of my dorm room into the hallway just as the assistant director of residence life came through. A new rule prohibiting "visiting pets" in the dorms appeared in the following year's student handbook.

When I returned home for law school, Alex was ready and waiting to help me study. With my brothers away at college, I had Alex all to myself.

But as Alex aged, we often wondered how much longer he would be around. His arthritis could usually be kept under control with the wonder drug Rimadyl, but his hearing and eyesight were not what they used to be.

As senile as he was, Alex still managed to put a scare into the mailman. One day I heard some barking coming from the front porch. The mail truck was already up the block but my poor old dog was covered in pepper spray. We tracked down the mailman who swore than Alex lunged at him but considering Alex's condition, I find that hard to believe.

The subsequent visit to the vet revealed the need for surgery, as Alex needed to have a fatty tumor and a toe removed. The weeks that followed were touch-and-go and we really didn't think Alex would last much longer. Somehow he recovered and made it another two years.

Like his life, Alex's death became a legendary story in itself. Alex chose to die right in the middle of the President's Day Blizzard of 2003. We had no way of getting out of the house so we had a few extra days to spend with him. The vet advised us to put him outside in the snow until we could dig our way out.

The local pet cemetery said that because the ground was frozen, they wouldn't be able to bury him until spring. We didn't want to let our best friend sit around in a freezer somewhere all that time so we ultimately decided on cremation.

This turned out to be a very good choice. David Mason of Beloved Pet Cremation and Burial Service was an amazing help. He came to our house with his doggy hearse to pick up Alex's body. He sat down and talked with us for a while about Alex's life and what he meant to us.

It's such a comfort to have Alex in the living room at my parents' house. We still talk to him all the time. It's such a fitting final resting place considering he spent so much of his time trying to convince us that he should be allowed in the living room anyway.

It's never easy to know when it's the right time to put a pet down. Alex was kind enough to take that decision out of our hands. It's just one more reason that we love him so much and will never forget him.

Hey Baltimore County: Don't mess with my grandparents

See that cute elderly couple to the left? Those are my grandparents. And Baltimore County is trying to make them miserable.

Earlier this week, my 91-year-old grandparents were very upset to receive a citation from the county stating that they must move their car from their driveway by Dec. 26, 2006 because it is not currently licensed. The vehicle is, however, fully operable and on their own property.

Failure to move the car by the specified date will result in a $200 per day fine.

The primary reason my grandparents keep their car, even though they don't drive it, is for safety. They believe that having a car outside is a signal that someone is home and will deter criminals from breaking in. I can't say whether this is actually a true crime deterrentt but if it makes my grandparents happy, then I'm all for it.

In addition, we use the trunk of the vehicle for storage of a wheelchair and walker. Because we no longer permit my grandparents to drive, it is incumbent upon the children and grandchildren to transport them to doctor's appointments. Keeping their medical aids in the car eases the process significantly.

None of this seems to matter to the people at Baltimore County code enforcement who received a complaint and found my grandparents in violation of Section 428:

Section 428, Outside Storage of Unlicensed or Inoperative Motor Vehicles on Residential Property [Bill No. 135-1986]

A. An inoperative motor vehicle may not be stored outside on a residential lot.

B. An unlicensed motor vehicle may not be stored outside on a residential lot except under the following conditions:

1. Outside storage (i.e., not within a fully enclosed structure) for a period not exceeding 15 days, unless extended by the Zoning Commissioner, in any calendar year is permitted for no more than one such vehicle per dwelling unit per year.

2. The vehicle may not be stored in a front or side yard unless placed in a driveway or other off-street parking area, and the vehicle may not be stored in a rear yard unless placed at least 8 feet from any property line.

3. The owner of the vehicle must reside on the lot upon which the vehicle is stored.

4. The vehicle may not be used or dismantled for parts.

C. Nothing contained in Subsection B shall be construed to prohibit the outside storage of unlicensed but operative farm tractors or farm equipment actually and regularly used on a farm, farmette or satellite farm.

I'm not entirely sure where to channel my anger. I know I'm annoyed with the County Council which, 20 years ago, passed the legislation telling people what they can and can't do on their own private property. I know I'm mad at whoever it was that reported my grandparents to the county. I suppose I really can't blame the inspector who issued the citation because he was just doing his job.

The good news is that I convinced the aforementioned inspector to grant a 30-day extension so at least my grandparents don't have to rush to do something in the next few days. I asked him about what it takes for the zoning commission to issue a special exception and he said no exception has ever been granted.

I just can't forgive anyone who gives my grandparents a hard time. It's their car and their property. Why does the county get to tell them they can't keep something there that gives them a sense of security?

Perhaps in the alternative, Baltimore County would be willing to put a marked police car on the driveway 24/7. Too expensive? Then let my grandparents keep their car. They're 91 and never done a thing wrong in their lives. They've earned it.

One entrance, 13 snowglobes: Black Friday 2006

It's almost as if JCPenney doesn't trust us.

Every year the store gives out free snowglobes (formerly ornaments) to the shoppers willing to brave Black Friday. And every year, we're right there front and center, ready to stake our claim.

(If you're new to this blog or the AlisaBS family, please see my Black Friday 2005 entry to better understand the significance of this annual event.)

But rather than distribute the snowglobes at each of the store's four entrances, this year the Owings Mills Mall location only gave them out at one. It's almost like they were afraid people would try to get more than one by going in another entrance. Silly retailer. It takes a lot more than limiting the point of distribution to stop my family.

Or at least it takes more than that for most of my family. My husband shirked his duties this year, managing only one snowglobe for the greater good. He whined about there only being one entrance and tried to rest on his previous year's success. Not good enough. I expect a better showing next year, mister.

Thankfully my father and one brother (Matt, the good twin) stepped up this year, nabbing four each. I yoinked four as well. So 13 in total isn't bad, especially considering the roadblock thrown up at us.

I was also pleased with our shopping haul on the holiest of shopping days, despite the lackluster bargains across-the-board. As we poured over the ads, nothing really jumped out at us as a must-have. I have no need or desire for a PlayStation 3 (not that there are any to be had anyway) and I wouldn't know what to do with a TMX Elmo if I tripped over it and squeezed out its very last annoying giggle.

I did, however, get some $8 iPod speakers (quality, I'm sure) as well as a good deal on Apples to Apples and the Scene It TV edition at Boscov's. I also bought an all-in-one printer and Rich got a bargain on some new luggage. I get all tingly thinking about the dollars whose lives were spared by extra percentage-off coupons!

Here's wishing you a season of price cuts, clearance merchandise, and closeouts!

The best five dollars he ever spent

Today my grandparents celebrate 68 years of wedded bliss.

For those of you keeping track, that translates into four children, nine grandchildren, three great grandchildren, a jewelry store, a hardware store, and an optical lab.
And they're still just as much in love today as they were back on their wedding day... probably even moreso.

"There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for him, and nothing he wouldn't do for me," my grandmother says.

I can listen to the story of how my grandparents met over and over again. My grandmother, on the advice of her sisters, got all dolled up and went to a practice for a local musical arts group where my grandfather, a saxophone player, performed with the orchestra. Despite the warnings of her father to stay away from those musician types, my grandmother thought my grandfather was cute and kept going back to see him.

As the only one of the group with a car, my grandfather got stuck driving everybody else home. At the beginning he would drop off my grandmother first because she lived the farthest from him. But after a few nights, he dropped everyone else off and would take her home last so he could have some time alone with her.

Grandpa jokes that he knew they were getting married when his father bought them a bedroom set. Adorably enough, it's the same bedroom set that they still use, complete with the double bed they've shared for all of these years. (How they managed to sleep in a double bed together all these years is beyond me. My husband and I have a king size bed and if I can even see him over on the other side, he's too close.)

My grandfather often jokes that he got off really easy when it came to paying for the wedding because his only expense was the marriage license. "It was the best five dollars I ever spent," he said.

My grandmother's wedding band, the same one I wore for my wedding, is the very first piece of jewelry my grandfather designed and crafted. (In addition to his talents as a musician, my grandfather is also an amazing artist and jewelry designer.)

So what's the secret to such a long and happy marriage? Grandma says the key is to always be willing to go more than halfway. She claims they've never had a fight in all of these years but Grandpa says she just has bad hearing and a short memory.

While I'm hardly the sentimental type, I can't help but share a few comments that my grandmother made during a visit a few months back. (My brother was smart enough to take notes.) Seriously, how can this not be the cutest thing ever?

"Marriage is forever. When you say I do, you are making that promise for life."

"Everything in a relationship is give and take. Sometimes you give more, and sometimes you get more. In the end it all balances out."

"Love your children equally, but all for different reasons. That way when another child comes into your life, you can love them just as much without taking anything from the others."

"The key to a great marriage is happiness. Strive to make your partner happy, and you will be happy."

Happy Anniversary, Grandma & Grandpa!

This is probably only interesting to me

Recently I dined at The Waterfront Hotel, a Fells Point restaurant best known for its role as the bar on Homicide. While the good food and great view of the water are enough to attract most people to the year-old establishment, this restaurant has special significance to me as it was where my great-grandmother grew up. While there, I couldn't help but look around and try to imagine what life must have been life for her in late 19th and early 20th century Baltimore.

The Waterfront's website provides a little information about the building's history (like the fact that it built as a private residence in 1771 or that it's the second oldest brick building in Baltimore) but I still wanted to know more. The only thing I could remember was that my great-grandmother, Mom-mom, lived in the house during the Baltimore fire of 1904. When I was young, she told me about how they waited for the fire to move from east to west across the city and wondered whether it would make it to them.

For more information, I checked with my father who said he didn't really know much about the time my great-grandmother lived there but reminded me of a family history written by my great-grandmother before her death. Sure enough, in checking this family history, I found out a few interesting details that I will now share with you.

One of eight children, Mom-mom estimates that her family moved to the house at 1710 Thames Street around 1900. (She would have been around 8 years old at the time.) Her father had been running a men's clothing store around the corner on Bond Street and the family lived above it. The landlord, though, who also happened to be a cousin, was upset because the location did so well. The cousin decided he wanted to set up his own shop there and my great-grandmother's family had to move. "As soon as they moved, the cousins moved into the corner store, and that was the beginning of a feud that was worse than the Hatfields and the McCoys," my great-grandmother recalled.

So back to the Thames Street house. Mom-mom said that in its day, the place must have been a mansion because it was so big. "The rooms were enormous, with plaster cornices," she said. "There was a wide hallway with a magnificent stairway and balustrade running to the third floor." (By the way, if anyone knows what a balustrade is, let me know. I was too lazy to Google it.)

The store was on the ground level of the house. Mom-mom went on to say that the first floor had a dining room and kitchen, the second floor was the living room and her parents' bedroom, and then the other bedrooms were on the third floor. Her father built a three-story extension on to the house that they rented out, mostly to other Polish immigrants. The house itself had no heat and relied on three stoves. Her brothers brought coal up from the cellar every morning so her mother could make the fires. Then there was the bathroom: "We had an outhouse with three holes and you had to be careful where you stepped," she said.

Incidentally, as a side note, I should mention that Mom-mom's brothers are a story all their own. Two of them, Ben and Herman, started Channel 13 (now known as WJZ) in Baltimore in 1948 and went on to buy Pimlico Race Track in 1952. It's nice to know that my ancestors had a part in Baltimore's history.

Mom-mom said that during the Baltimore fire in 1904, people from other neighborhoods sought refuge at their house because they were so close to the water. In preparation for the fire, her father hired a wagon and loaded the store's merchandise on it to save it. "The only problem was that he neglected to get horses to pull the wagon," Mom-mom noted.

It isn't entirely clear how long the family stayed on Thames Street. Looking through the family history, it appears that Mom-mom's father closed the store and the family moved to Clarksburg at some point. But after another business venture went bad in 1915, the family moved to 1207 North Broadway and her father opened the store again back at 1710 Thames. He sold men's clothing and items catering to sailors. In 1920, the family moved to Reisterstown Road.

I plan to return to the Waterfront in the near future. This time I want to explore a little more though. Now that I have a little more knowledge, I want to try to imagine what went where back in the early 1900s. Oh yeah, and the food is really good, too.

Obligatory Valentine's Day tribute to the man I love

For the first 23 years of my life I was always alone on Valentine's Day. Because of this, I determined that the so-called holiday was nothing more than a stupid Hallmark invention. After all, if people are in love, they should tell one another all the time and not allow the greeting card industry to dictate when and how they share those feelings of love. Sounds plausible enough, right?

Ah, but therein lies the rub. While this functions quite well as a theory, I haven't done so well with it in practice. Saying that Rich is the most amazing person to come into my life is a vast understatement. So understated in fact, that I usually don't say it at all.

I've never been the lovey-dovey, touchy-feeling type. I don't cry at sappy movies (unless there is a cute animal that somehow meets harm) and I don't get misty-eyed at weddings. In other words, it doesn't hurt that once a year society forces me to tell my husband how much I love him.

I don't think it makes me a bad person to need something every once in a while to remind me how much I love my husband. Sometimes it's a story about those who have loved and lost and other times it's a silly holiday filled with heart-shaped chocolates.

So anyway, here goes:

I love you, Rich. I love how you laugh at all my silly little quirks (or at least don't make me feel like I'm that strange for having so many.) I love how you're always there for me and you treat me like a royalty. You know the stupid little things that make me happy and avoid the ridiculous things that annoy me. Simply put, I love you. Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy Birthday, Dorks

Today my twin brothers achieve a birthday milestone. They're hitting the quarter century mark. The big 2-5.

It's actually pretty hard for me to believe that my baby brothers have gotten so old. It seems like just yesterday they were skinny little punks who made mommy and daddy do everything for them. (Okay, so maybe it was just yesterday.)

At any rate, I really struggle with the fact that my brothers are, technically, adults. I often forget that when I was 25, I got married and bought a house... both adult things to do. And I do realize that my brothers both hold down full-time jobs and make car payments and do other mature things. They're even house-hunting. But they're still my little brothers.

The guys were born two months premature and my parents didn't know they were even having twins until maybe two weeks before the little alien babies were born. They had to stay in the hospital for a whole month because they were so tiny... only 5 lbs. together.

Danny came first. He's always been the impatient one. Matt came along about 12 minutes later, but only after the doctors went in after him. He's never liked being rushed.

I had just turned two and I remember the first time my grandparents took me to the hospital to visit the boys. My dad held one of them, my mom held the other, and the doctors said I had to stand just beyond the doorframe if I wanted to see them. I moved a little closer to see them (they were so little, afterall) but the doctor shut the door in my face.

Over the years, I've been a so-so big sister. When they were little I was actually pretty mean to them, probably out of jealousy. I'd like to think that I've gotten nicer over the years. Apparently my favorite game early-on was watching my mom give each of the boys a bottle. When she would put the bottle down next to her, I would pick it up and take it over to the other side of the room. Then when she put the baby down and got up to go get it, I would say "Well as long as you're up, can you get me..." What a darling child I must have been.

Lucky for me, it took my brothers quite a while to realize that if they only joined forces, they could overtake me. And now that they're bigger than I am, we actually get along for the most part.

So anyway, happy birthday guys. Enjoy your birthday season!