The one year anniversary of my grandmothers death is approaching. I can feel her around me. I am eating sliced Turkey with swiss on Rye Wasa Crackers. I am cooking Irish Steel Oats. I am not exactly craving castor oil. But I am looking for the, "cures of what ales ya." I know she is around me because she is nudging me along. She is giving me a boost of confidence. She also seems to be speaking to my son. A gentle whisper in his ear. He says things like, Your grandmother is furious. Your grandmother loves you. And to that I say. Ask my grandmother for the winning lottery numbers! I am ok with the whole supernatural thing -if we can get those winning numbers. Before she died, I sent her a California lottery ticket and noted to her, "This is what it looks like" We have a pact. Why not?? She's been talking about dieing for as long as I can remember. Meg, used to get upset and take off. I'd play along. She'd ask me what I wanted when she died. I got in a huge fight with my other sisters over a golden love seat and a fish tank. She didn't even own these anymore when she died. I think the hurricanes in Florida took care of most of their furniture. One ThanksGiving she asked each one of us what glass we wanted to drink out milk out of for dinner. She had Waterford Crystal, some brought by herself from Ireland. I went for a cup that was part of a cider set. It was an abolone shell pitcher and six small cups that a late relative had decorated with gold leaf. It was so beautiful and sacred to me. She made sure I had that set before she got ill. I am going to drink milk out of it this Thanks Giving in her memory. AND I am going to play the lotto. She thinks of me as a winner and feeling her near me helps me feel that way too. Thanks Nan.