Some women come with a built in g-maw gene and some don’t.
My mother did. I didn’t. Which is to say that neither of us let our g-kids cheat at card games, but she admonished them kindly when she caught them at it. I, not so much.
For a long time I hoped a recessive g-maw gene might one day work its way to the top. When it didn’t, I would have been willing to settle for my mother’s super-talented hands, but that too was not meant to be. If she’d known that any one of her six g-daughters was coming for a fall break visit, her hands would have been busy long before last week concocting wholesome, delicious casseroles for the freezer, baking up a flurry of crescent rolls, apple dumplings, and her famous 13-egg Angel Food cake.
Alas, that would not be me. I knew my youngest g-daughter would be with me throughout fall break, and that we would celebrate her 18th birthday at that time, but what were my hands doing the week before? Well now, let’s see. Pecking away at the computer, for one thing; punching my Kindle’s page-turning button maybe a jillion times; shuffling numerous decks of cards; playing hand after hand of bridge, and petting Su-the-dog in-between. Not a smidgen of g-maw handiwork in the lot, and still, she came.
The g-daughter who spent her fall break with me is gluten intolerant (whatever that is), so my plan was to pop her into my car the minute she touched down and we’d go shopping for whatever it was she could eat. Which is what we did. But not right away. Not until after I’d backed us out of the garage and into the driver’s side of her car, which she had taken great pains to park as close to the lawn as possible. Any woman worth her g-maw genes (which I lack) would never have stepped on the gas so hard or steered her car in such an irresponsible way! I might add that the collision didn’t do the back end of my own car any good either, but enough about me.
Women with built in g-maw genes and super-talented hands spend hours alone at the sewing machine whipping out garment after garment, leaving them spread out on the bed waiting for g-daughters to show up for final fittings. And, oh my, what a day of rejoicing that is! My bed had no such an array of garments awaiting a fitting, but my g-daughter and I experienced something akin to that at Stein Mart a couple of days into our allotted time.
In fact, except for the fender bender (or maybe because of it), I have it on good authority that — albeit unlike your ordinary generic g-maw/g-kid bonding experience — we both enjoyed a fantastic fall break.
MARJORIE ANDERSON is an Edmond resident.