I tried to wander around the house finding all the stuff I’d want to show you if you were wandering around the house with me.
My Great Grandma Teckla was a writer and painter. Here’s a portrait of my mom she did. I have no idea what the characters in the upper right hand corner are, but I’ve noticed them on other things she’s done. Makes me wonder. Also, this is by far one of her worse works, but I love it because it’s my mom painted by her grandma. Or “Grandmother” as Mom calls her.
My mom is a cross-sticher in her spare time. She bought this book full of cat counted-cross-stitch and so the room I’m sleeping in is full of cats. This is my favorite.
Speaking of cats, my dad’s cat (because, let’s be honest, the cat and my dad are inseparable) has a hook so you can hang him for easy storage.
My mom also designed and made this piece for my dad’s mom, my Grandma A. It’s the chorus of a song Grandma A used to sing us to put us to bed and surrounding it are all the things that, in the song, the old woman asked to help her move her pig. Mom matted it in purple, because that was my grandma’s favorite color, and the thread is old thread from my Grandma’s mom.
Just for Exador and Christian, here’s a photo of a vicious pit bull mauling, where Mrs. Wigglebottom, as a puppy, got a hold of my mom’s rocking chair and tried to eat one of the runners.
And last, here is the wheel of the cradle we’ve all been kept in as newborns, for four generations (my grandma D, her sister, my mom, her sisters, all of us cousins on that side, and my nephews).
And here’s the cradle. My Grandma D. was born in 1921, just to let you know how old it is. It’s surprisingly sturdy, but babies tend to outgrow it quickly, as you can imagine. It really is just for tiny babies, before they start to be able to even roll over.