from the porches

twins . . . freaky but true

I found the latest National Geographic Magazine to be of interest.  The feature story is about twins.

Even though Sherry and I are fraternal twins, we are twins "to the bone".  We may as well be identical because in so many photographs, neither of us can tell each other apart.

Every summer there is a three-day Twins Day Festival in Twinsville, Ohio, a small town southeast of Cleveland. This festival was started by identical twin brothers and includes picnics, talent shows, and lots of research possibilities for research doctors.  I've always wanted to attend this festival, but never have.

I must tell you that I am glad that Sherry and I are fraternal twins and not identical, because the risks of reading disabilities, autism, schizophrenia, alzheimer's, and many other diseases are prevalent in identical twins, and less so in fraternal twins. 

Whew!  By looking at these photographs, I would have sworn Sherry and I were identical.

We looked identical when we were young.  And we look more identical as we have matured.  But, Sherry and I are fraternal. (I once had a student refer to us as "nocturnal", so I had to set him straight.)

Sherry and I have the twin's psychic sense. We do!  I've been know to pick up the phone receiver to call Sherry, and before I could hear a dial tone ringing to her house, Sherry said, "Merry.  Is that you?"

Twins are freaky . . . but true.

And I wouldn't have it any other way!

archaeologists

Happy New Year 2012!  My new year began with my grandchildren, Madeline and Oliver spending the night with us.

Thanks to my twin, Sherry, who convinced me to purchase a Smithsonian Archaeologist Kit from The Dollar Store. 

Of course, I had to explain what an Archaeologist does . . . and then they hacked away at a clay block, unveiling eight pieces of "Fools Gold".  It didn't look like gold, but then, my grandchildren didn't wash off the clay to discover the twinkle of gold.  But, the exciting part was using the tools and wearing the goggles.  I even wanted to be down there on my sidewalk smashing that block; but, I gave the grandchildren their experience, not mine.

Every New Year's Day Truett and I attend a New Year's Day Brunch hosted by nearby friends.  Truett and I had decided we would drop off the fruit salad this morning and then say our good-byes because we didn't want to impose our grandchildren into an adult celebration. However, our dear "river" friends thought otherwise.  "Oh, no you don't!  You're getting your ass out of that car and celebrating the new year with us!"  Madeline and Oliver were so well behaved and eventually became the center of attraction. Thanks to Barbara for providing a 3-D  book with miniature toys to preoccupy our grandchildren.

Not only that, but Maddie got to hold a five day old racing pigeon in her hands.  Many questions were asked about why the pigeons were not free.  I tried to explain that racing pigeons is a hobby.  What's a hobby?"  Maddie asked.  And then the conversation detoured to stained glass being a hobby for Granddaddy in the beginning.

After the brunch and many compliments about how well-behaved our grandchildren were, Truett and I came home.  The children watched cartoons for about an hour until I heard,  "Quit it!"    Well, I'm not stupid!  "Okay, kids!  Let's go!"  So we drove to Rum Island.  Maddie, of course, said "Is land?"  What does that mean?"  So I had to give a short English lesson on silent consonants.  (I think.)

And the grandchildren explored.

And explored.

And Truett watched from afar.

Since the Archaeologist Kit worked so well, I bought the "Giant Volcano" Kit from Dollar General.  Once we came home from Rum Island, I tried to assemble this kit; but guess what.  I am NOT a math person.  So I packed it up and said,  "Get your Mommy and Daddy to assemble this!"    And I packed it in their suitcase and felt great about doing so!  That's a good way to begin a new year, I think.
Eventually, as this new year 2012 winded down, I sent my grandchildren to the sandpile.  They were happy and so was I, except . . . they have buried the archaeologists tools somewhere in the sand in my driveway.

"You have to find them!" I stated.  "You might puncture my tire!"

And a new vocabulary lesson began.

"What does puncture mean, Nana?"

Sigh.

HELLO 2012!  I LOVE YOU ALREADY!