Steno Doodler

Okay, try to follow. I just took my Tylenol PM, so this could get dicey.
I talked to Grandma Susie today. (I tried to call you back!! Will call tomorrow!) I was telling her about Mucinex, of all things, and she did one of the things I love most. She said, "oh! Let me write this down!" She always says that when I tell her about something new and novel. And she does. She really writes these things down. It makes me feel so...new and novel. Like the things I discover have real worth sitting on her little kitchen desk. Love that.
So she has this little kitchen desk. It's built-in and the drawers smell like ink, stickers and paperclips. I love the way those drawers smell. They smell like real, authentic communication.
Grandma's desk is always covered with her notes, mail and assorted "things" with cookbooks on a shelf above. I used to sit there and take up precious pages in her doodle pad. I think she has long since abandoned the doodle pads, but when I was little, she'd sit at her desk and chat on the phone, right arm on the desk, doodling away as she spoke. Grandma's handwriting has always been perfect, and her little notes would work their way into her doodles. Lines of flowers, raindrops, leaves and other various simple items. Pages upon pages of doodles, each page (or 2) representing a chat with a friend or advice given over the phone.
I wish I had one of those steno pads to keep forever. Aren't our childhood memories so funny? I always thought those doodles were just so beautiful. I tried for years to make my flowers look like hers, but my left-handedness forced me to give it up. I may never get those little flowers right, but I doubt I'll ever forget the smell of those little desk drawers.