Fans, Friends, and Family:
It is without further ado I introduce our very first Guest Blogger! Yes, its true, Marj's very own sister has a granddaughter (two actually) - lots of women in our family :-) She has graciously shared one of her stories with us:
“I just love seeing you be so domestic”
Hi there, readers and loyal followers of MeandMarj! Alison has agreed to let me, her cousin, Tory, have the pleasure of being a guest blogger on MeandMarj today. I am thrilled to have the honor!
My sister, Alex, and I were delighted to have a cousin reunion with Alison and her sister, Louise, this weekend. Alex and I stayed at Marj and Alison’s Alexandria pad on Friday evening on our way back from Thanksgiving at my grandparents’ house in Williamsburg, VA.
Before I dive right in, I should put this blog post in context: my grandmother, Priscilla, is Marj’s younger sister. And, as you might expect, my grandmother also has the “feisty gene” that Marj has, which is exemplified by the startling, one-line zingers and hilarious stories that Alison features on her blog.
My grandmother’s feisty gene emerged at a very young age. When Priscilla was very young—she guessed about five years old—her father’s mother came to visit for awhile. Apparently Priscilla’s grandmother was not a very pleasant woman, and on one particular day, Priscilla’s mother was sitting in the kitchen with her mother-in-law (Priscilla’s grandmother). As my grandmother remembers, her grandmother was critiquing Priscilla’s mother very harshly, telling her that she didn’t know how to keep a house and so on. Well, Priscilla got so angry that she marched into her room, grabbed her toy broom, returned to the kitchen, scolded her grandmother, saying “Don’t talk to my nice mommy like that!” and walloped her grandmother across the shoulder with her broom!
Priscilla (or “Grandmommy”), like Marj, is an old-fashioned lady. She only likes my hair down, scoffs whenever I wear pants (jeans are simply out of the question!) and has on several occasions inquired how my hope chest is coming along. (Apparently a hope chest is a box in which women used to collect their best crocheting and sewing samples to show a potential husband.) Grandmommy has, over the years, gradually accepted that I am no Renaissance woman, and I’m happy to report that she still loves me for me. However, Priscilla definitely still clings to her hope that I will one day become a proper lady like herself.
This weekend, Grandmommy helped me sew elbow patches onto one of my sweaters that had actually developed holes in the elbows. While she was heating up soup on the stove, Grandmommy turned to where I sat sewing in the kitchen, got a little choked up and, in a serious tone, said, “I just love seeing you be so domestic.”
I’ll admit, it was a pretty touching moment. But that is one compliment I would be happy not to receive again!
