Grandma...

is very sick. I just got word today that they have moved her to a full out nursing home (she had been in an assisted living apartment). My mom is very upset, which means I'm not doing too well either. I don't like seeing my mom or dad confused or distressed, and she is both (but trying to hide it, making it all the worse).

My grandma is nearly 90 years old. She has lived through much trial and tribulation. She was born during the First Great War. She was 12 (almost 13) on Black Monday in 1929. She rolled cigars for $0.05/day during the Great Depression when she was 16 years old. She met and married my grandfather after he had finished his stint in the CCC (I can't tell you what year, because I don't remember how many year's ago we held their 65th anniversary party). They had what was considered a "good Catholic" family. My grandma bore and raised 14 children, my mother is the oldest. My grandfather used to joke that all he had to do was look at her and she was pregnant again. After most of my aunts and uncles were out of the house, my grandma felt lonely and that she needed to help more in the community. So my grandparents became foster parents for babies. They had something like 158 foster children come through their home, usually only for a few weeks or months until they were adopted or their biological parent's were seen as fit to raise them again.

She is my last surviving grandparent (her husband died a few years back from Alzheimer's and my dad's parents died in the 60's before I was born). She has osteo. For some reason, this sticks in my memory so much because I haven't been able to hug her like when I was little for a long time (I love to give and get bear hugs -- they are the best thing ever invented).

Oh, yeah, the baby breads!!! My grandma used to make the best homemade white bread ever, and she used to make these little loaves for the grandkids (yes, all 30+ of us). I've always been a math/arithmetic geek, some would say good at numbers. And I would count the loaves and the grandkids when I got there. And there was always one for each of us. Well, we were all greedy little sh*ts, and we'd go in and "steal" more than one (my cousin Tony and I about 5 or 6 each :)). Magically, more little loaves would appear so that no one got cheated. We all got at least one, no matter what. I remember trying to figure that puzzle out every time. :)