"Grandma Chic"

Browsing Architectural Digest website recently, I came across 30-year-old Kendall Jenner's newest house; created with help from designer Heidi Callier Design. My jaw dropped as I browsed and soaked in every little detail. Jenner quipped "I was going for 'Grandma Chic' "; and I'm not sure if anything in the whole realm of decor and design has ever resonated with me more. Is it because I'm chic? LOL. Is is because I'm a grandma? Possibly. There are plenty of grandma's houses that I've been in in my lifetime; some that have no design sense whatsoever, others that shout that Grandma might have lots of funds and others that might be on a fixed income.

The one common thread of a Grandma house that I'm particularly drawn to is not in the design/decor but more in the feeling. That fresh-baked bread/cookie scent that seems perpetually wafting in the air, the furniture that you just know you can curl your legs up underneath you and browse a book and even doze off for a mid-day nap. A candy or cookie jar that the grandies know they can raid even before dinner. A kitchen that isn't necessarily stocked with the latest greatest cookware, but most certainly has that one beloved pot or pan that she has made that one dish that has been handed down mother to daughter for generations, and every child secretly hopes that one day they will be the caretaker of that same pot.

My own maternal grandmother's home was a mix of all of these things. Her sense of design was incredible. An unheralded Martha Stewart of her day, her artistic and homemaking skills ranged the gamut of seamstress, needlework, pencil drawings, baking, gardening indoor and outdoor; her overall style was I believe influenced by trips she and my grandfather took and places they lived.

She had the most magical way of making everything look classic and timeless. This photo of my toddler mother with that single stocking hanging from the mantel is so minimal and yet speaks volumes.

I came down with the flu right after Thanksgiving. It's one of my personal Christmas-time traditions. The days and nights all blended together in the fog of hot tea and doses of NyQuil.

Settling in on the couch for days on end, I gazed out the window to check on the birds, the little twin fawns that have been hanging around since we smashed our Halloween pumpkins and left them for the wildlife. I started a new book about the Donner Party; "party" being used to describe a wagon train of course, not the kind that one would feel like busting a move or live/laugh/love out loud.

Waiting for my fever to break, I listen to the narrator describe the mountain pass; I look out my window and try to imagine being not only so sick but also so cold. And hungry. "Hey Dave, can you bring in some more firewood?"

He tells me the fawn is back eating the last bit of smashed pumpkin. I know we can't keep feeding them....they'll need to learn to forage in order to survive winter.

I take a break from my couch napping and get out an old piano music book of Christmas carols. Oddly enough, the keys feel quite familiar to me and I'm able to find the notes pretty easily. Even more odd is the fact that this is the first time since Mama's passing, that doing this doesn't make me dissolve into a puddle of tears. It could also be that I'd gained a bit of perspective from my earlier readings about the party that wasn't so much a party.

Exhausted from merely sitting and piano playing I get ready for bed and see if I might enjoy watching T.V. from bed which I've never been one to do but maybe this flu bug might be the time. "Wuthering Heights" not the new 2025 version. The old black and white 1939 version. The dark, moody, quasi scary one.

I fell asleep about five minutes in. I blame it on the flu. I love that book and the movie equally; but the bed was cozy and warm and won me over.

Finally feeling better I asked Dave to take us for a drive so I could get some fresh air and sun.

The sun goes down before 5 PM now and it was dark by the time we got home. I hung my new-to-me thrifted wreath on the door and stood back to admire it. I like the old-fashioned bright colored balls. It reminds me of my mother-in-law Pearl. She always said how much she liked the big multi-colored lights on houses at Christmas-time. Somehow this wreath makes me think of her, and of course her pecan/date/chocolate candies she'd make every year. Her house always smelled like whole-wheat bread fresh out of the oven and a pot of pinto beans on the stove. Her house was always immaculately clean and minimally decorated, but the few things she did display held meaning.

I'm feeling better now and just might tackle making Pearl's date candy. I'll have to wait to eat it though until I'm done with this latest book. It's an appetite killer for certain.

Until I make the official Pearl candy this is a good substitute; a Medjool date pitted, filled with nut butter and topped with mini-chocolate chips and flaky salt.

And for a good read especially if you want to have a feeling of gratitude for your blessed life this I recommend this book.

I also highly recommend taking a Youtube tour of Kendall Jenner's home. It's truly stunning. Meanwhile, you can find me finding my own patch of sun to bask in until the sun goes down. Slightly less glamorous but ever working on my own grandma chic.