When we would go back to visit my maternal grandparents it meant a few things. One, my diabetic grandmother would slip us money to go buy her doughnuts and we could “keep the change”(my cousin Chad and I were always to young and foolish not to know that you don't go and buy a diabetic doughnuts). It meant picking raspberries while trying not to be stung by bees(Summer only). It meant breathing in the fumes of Vlassic pickles the couple nights I would stay at my cousins(the factory has since moved and sadly I miss that smell). It meant getting to swim in the mayor's swimming pool(Summer only). And it meant the torture that was Sunday drives with my grandfather. Oh how that man loved to get in a car and drive absolutely nowhere...for hours. Hours and hours. My uncle has this same trait but he is smart enough to sucker you in to a 5 hour trip to Duluth, Minnesota  by saying we were going for the “best pie you ever tasted” and I am stupid enough to be lured … [Read more...]