Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Grandpa Casdorph was always a bit of a tease. We'd often make a yearly pilgrimage to Arizona to visit Grandma and Grandpa Casdorph for Christmas. I had long hair, and my mom would often put it in two braids, then loop each braid back up to its start. We called this "doggie ears." Whenever Grandpa would see my hair like that, he'd say he was going to put to nails in the closet and hang me up by my pigtails. I would just laugh.
He also played this game with all the grandkids where he'd put his hands on your waist, count to three, and on three, help you jump up really high. At least that's the version he'd play with all the other grandkids. On my turn, he'd count, "one... two..." and then on "three..." he'd prevent me from jumping at all.
One summer while my sisters and I were at their house for a week, Grandpa took to calling the whole milk "gorilla milk." He liked to tease us all, and asked Lisa where gorilla milk came from. Well, from gorillas of course.
I'm not even sure I remember the origins of the phrase "too much butter" but I know that I try at all costs to avoid having baked potatoes with Grandpa, because he's always certain to direct that comment, in full West-Virginia-accented glory, straight at me. I think maybe it was a comment I made as a child.
Grandpa keeps a jar of pickled pigs feet in his fridge, and he actually eats them. One of his favorite new antics is to insist that I used to eat those when I was a kid. My mom swears I never did.
I also used to think Grandpa wasn't very good at checkers, because somehow I always managed to beat him. Having recently taught my own 5 year old the basics of this game, I now realize Grandpa always let me win but did so without me realizing it.
He also played this game with all the grandkids where he'd put his hands on your waist, count to three, and on three, help you jump up really high. At least that's the version he'd play with all the other grandkids. On my turn, he'd count, "one... two..." and then on "three..." he'd prevent me from jumping at all.
One summer while my sisters and I were at their house for a week, Grandpa took to calling the whole milk "gorilla milk." He liked to tease us all, and asked Lisa where gorilla milk came from. Well, from gorillas of course.
I'm not even sure I remember the origins of the phrase "too much butter" but I know that I try at all costs to avoid having baked potatoes with Grandpa, because he's always certain to direct that comment, in full West-Virginia-accented glory, straight at me. I think maybe it was a comment I made as a child.
Grandpa keeps a jar of pickled pigs feet in his fridge, and he actually eats them. One of his favorite new antics is to insist that I used to eat those when I was a kid. My mom swears I never did.
I also used to think Grandpa wasn't very good at checkers, because somehow I always managed to beat him. Having recently taught my own 5 year old the basics of this game, I now realize Grandpa always let me win but did so without me realizing it.
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