The word grandmother often makes people think of home cooking and fresh baked pie. For me, when I think of my Gramma (or Nanna to Drama Kid) I think not of pie, but of pie dough.When I was young, we could take the train from Chicago to St. Louis and we visited our family often. There weren't too many little kids in her neighborhood so Gramma came up with a way to keep me occupied. She would have a ball of pie dough wrapped in plastic waiting for me in the fridge. I'd play with that dough for hours then put it back in the fridge until later.
By the time our visit was over, that dough would be gray-black with dirt, specks and carpet fiber and I'm sure it looked horrible in her fridge next to the leftovers. But it made me happy. Which is all my Gramma has ever wanted to do.
Thanks, Gramma for the pie dough and putting up with my whining over the Hydrox versus Oreos and Vienna Beef over Ball Park Franks. Thanks for making all my friends jealous with my birthday/back to school wardrobe. Thank you for making my favorite breakfast every time I ask. Thank you for doing all the laundry when you visit and letting Drama Kid walk on your back.
Thanks for all the belly laughs we've had over the years and for being such a great Nanna. I love you Gram. Happy Birthday!(dough photo from here)
