My Grandma

I've been doing a lot of personal reflection lately, wondering how I came to be who and where I am today. I expect I am experiencing a mid life crisis, but in all my self analysis it occurred to me to consider the cloth I am cut from. I have said many times, I am not like other women/people though most smile and nod and think uhuh that's what everyone says. With that I thought I would like to share with you some stories involving the fabric from which I am cut.

 My Grandma is a truly unusual woman. I can honestly say that I have never met anyone in all my life even remotely like her. That probably accounts for why the majority of my family are unique individuals as well. Grandma has been playfully described as 4' tall x 4' wide. While that may sound unattractive, believe you me she carried it very well. She has always been a beautiful woman, perfect baby soft skin, gorgeous hair, and so full of personality that we think she literally had schizophrenia. I lost count as to how many times she's been married but last tally was either 5 or 6 and to date even in the nursing home she had a boyfriend… or two.

While she was undeniably beautiful, and charming enough to be promiscuous well into her 80's she is also mind numbingly insane. She used to do the damnedest things. For instance she was a kleptomaniac and a religious fanatic. She always had a small blue paperback prayer book a scapular and a dozen or so of what I would describe as little scapulars completely unsure what they are.

She loved to visit everyone unexpectedly. She would show up out of nowhere in the afternoon, and steal things. Sometimes a fork sometimes a small knickknack or photo, but she would always leave in its place some religious symbol, be it a mini-scapular or card. She would take nonsensical and completely random things she had no use for, well that any of us knew of.

When you went to her house you would inevitably come across one of your things. If you asked her about it she would blush and giggle and say God worked in mysterious ways. Well yes he is .. God HE can get away with that, however it wasn't very explanatory for her.

There is also no food on this earth she did not like. The family took turns taking her out for meals. She would take out her dentures and set them in a glass of water beside her plate. When she cleared her plate she would then pick it up and lick it clean. Yep, right there middle of the restaurant despite the guffaws and gasps from mortified onlookers.

She once explained that as a child she was told never to waste a thing and that she had best lick that plate clean which apparently she took quite literally. She would go to salad bars and request doggy bags. I think the most unusual of her habits was where she kept her belongings. Everything, scapular, prayer books, money, random forks, was wrapped up in either plastic bag or napkin and tucked into her bra.

She did that right up til the day she died. How she fits it all without ever looking misshapen is a mystery alas she managed it.

One afternoon my uncle Robert had taken her to Pondersa's breakfast buffet. Where she asked for a doggy bag and was refused. Not only refused but I think between the dentures in the glass, the plate licking and then the doggy bag request the concierge was about fed up and got a bit sarcastic with her. She was pretty well upset and made her last trip up to the bar.

Afterwards my uncle Robert who was about as embarrassed as a person could be from her adventures decided to take her for a ride to his brother Fran's house. They arrived where he had at the time a full house but welcomed them just the same. My uncle Fran had a dog named Sasha who was running circles around her, jumping on her and even peeing a little.

Everyone watched surprised that the normally quiet dog made such a big fuss over her assuming she must have some knack for animals. Sitting on the living room couch in front of all the guests she suddenly looked as though she had epiphany. "I know what she wants!" She proclaimed grinning like a madwoman.

She reached into her bra and produced, her typical prayer book, scapulars, a bag of rolled quarters, two spoons, a butter knife, prayer beads, bottled water, a happy meal toy for her grandbaby, moist towelettes, ziplock baggies, a stack of napkins and finally wrapped in one of those napkins a pair of Ponderosa's finest breakfast sausage. She held them up triumphantly and promptly fed them to the dog.

 It has on occasion been pondered if she carried her children when she was pregnant in her bra as opposed to the normal way.

Is it really any wonder that I have always been a bit different from most? While I don't carry around everything but the kitchen sink between my titties I am fairly certain I stand out just the same. I guess it could always be worse after all, but I think now that I really must be losing it because when thinking back I seem to understand what may have driven her at least to swipe the silverware. I would think to make sure she was never without something to stop and have a bite to eat with, after all her bra (of DOOM) could accommodate a breakfast in napkins. Heh she had no need for restaurant devices to bring home leftovers she had her very own boobie bags.

Marekting... My Way.

How's that for you're eyegasmic enjoyment? Look at those neatly stocked shelves that make you feel insecure about the orderliness of your own food cupboards. The glaring light over the refrigerated section sometimes even with the one faulty bulb that just flicks on and off with that gentle humming that makes me want to roll around on the floor spastic with seizures. Don't you just want to inhale the sweet smell of paper bags and pet extermination chemicals? Listen to the rhapsody of a squeaking shopping cart wheel as it plays gently on your eardrum? Doesn't this make you want to leap out of your chair, throw on your shoes and run to your nearest grocery store??  If so I suggest rigorous therapy for a very long period of time.  

Running packages to the post office, paying bills, grocery shopping, checking the mail, and walking the dog are errands. That's right… work, things we do because we have to, not because we are simply dying to. The most exciting part of town runs are getting crispy chicken wrap at Wendy's. Some highlight that is considering that the entirety of my going out to eat budget is $1 plus tax and no fries or drinks either. This does not in my mind constitute going out. There is nothing memorable and lasting even more seldom is the random 'lesson learned' while out on these trips in which we writers so relish blogging about.

This is exactly the sort of thing that has me carving twisted sculptures in the snow. After so long when the only out of the house activity is errand running you start to look for other ways to amuse yourself. I find myself eyeing the shopping cart of the victim sharing the aisle with me.

I stand there studying a box of cereal looking completely enthralled in its dietary information all the while watching her pick something up off the shelf and mindlessly drop it into the basket of the carriage positioned 'just so' beside her. She leans down to inspect the size difference between this week's sale beef stew and the name brand. I take a stealthy step to the left and quietly push her cart gently forward just out of hands reach and jump back to my original position swapping out my Raisin Bran for a sexy looking box of Fruit loops. She reaches mindlessly and drops her carefully selected can of beef stew directly onto the floor.

I honestly couldn't tell you how much fat or carbs are in any of the cereals but I can tell you it is possible to get away with this up to four times before your fellow shopper begins to wonder how his/her cart seems to roll away with a life of its own.

I do so enjoy the shelving units that are simply stocked on either side and with minimal rearranging you can reach the hind side of the shopper in the next aisle's selections. I've held the boxes and made them tug to get it from their end, staring at it flipping it upside-down trying to work out why it wouldn't come off the shelf. I've also gently pushed things just far enough to teeter on the edge of the shelf so a passing shopper 'accidently' knocks it off. That never gets old, especially after an aisle or two they start to walk directly down an imaginary line in the dead center of the aisle.

Then of course there are always the *SBD  farts you can muster in the meat aisle and skip around the corner as an unsuspecting onsmeller happens upon the aisle. "Oh My God Martha can you smell that???!!!"  "Yes Beatrice I think something must have gone bad… maybe we better get the roast at Shaw's instead." All the while I am in the next aisle making funny half snort half unfing noises in my attempt to not laugh maniacally. This generally amuses me even more making it harder to look innocent enough to terrorize more shoppers. So I gather the remaining items on my list and mosey on over to the check out aisle.

Normally I am somewhat preoccupied in the checkout lane because they have magazines and recipe books and other things to rest my attention on. Now and again I've had a really boring week or already read all the latest gossip and headlines. In these moments I usually like to antagonize the stock people and put every little book upside down completely ordered mind you neat and in line as if untouched. I don't know if it amuses me more that it takes several days for stock people to notice this at times, or that I do it in plain sight and nobody ever seems to catch on to what I'm doing.

These are but small examples of the havoc I wreak on the public at large when I am insufferably bored. Thusly I plead with my significant other to take me out, not on errands for  fucks sake, OUT to a restaurant or social event where I may interact normally with other bipeds. A little mental stimulation would allow me other things to think on aside from terrorizing the denizens of this demesne.

The moral to this story is never tell your wife, lover, or any manner of significant other that going to run the weekly errands is considered a valid day/evening out or an activity that is enjoyable. Learn the difference or risk shopping alongside people like me, or subjecting your beloved to the boredom that inspires these events.

P.S. Thank you Martha and Beatrice that roast was lovely!

*Silent But Deadly

Expectations of Grandeur

I believe whole heartedly that happiness is something you find and/or make for yourself. It isn't something anyone else can just give to you. No one else should be held responsible for maintaining your inner smile but you. A lover or friend may be able help you maintain it from time to time but ultimately that is an insanely large demand to place on someone. Only you can determine how you feel about yourself and that feeling is a large part of how happy you are in life.

However, this is not a piece about happiness. It's a piece about expectations. More specifically; what we expect from our friends and lovers in the pursuit of happiness. We all want terminal relationships. We never go into it considering an end. We have this til death do us part ideal, hence the term terminal. We expect one person to go the distance with nary a rest stop in sight.

Ask yourself how much you've changed as a person since just last year. Imagine the transition if you will from a perky teenager to a married adult. Big difference huh? We learn something new each day, and grow just a bit more. We have epiphanies and revelations and astonishing moments of clarity that redefine us constantly. We may retain the same mannerisms or style for great lengths of time but still other facets of ourselves change and evolve every day that we are upright atop the ball that revolves.

Is it fair to expect someone to understand this process while they too are undergoing it? Two people who are the sums of their thoughts and experiences which are completely different events and perceptions can compliment each other and have astounding similarities. At some point there will always be a difference of opinion, or opposing goals and ambitions.

We seldom realize that what we need comes from a network of people not just one. We need a confidante and a best friend. We need people to go places and do things with. We need to have someone who always makes us laugh and another who wipes our tears. Kind of like the saying it takes a community to raise a child, it takes a network to balance the many needs of emotional/mental health and happiness.

I made the mistake once, of thinking that one person was all I needed. I had such a hard time understanding why that one person couldn't be my lover, best friend, confidante, ego booster, partner, support system, and dinner date at the same time, all the time. Because I honestly believed I had been all of those things to him all along.

One day I saw a commercial where this little elderly couple was sitting on a porch with drinks before them. The old man looks at the woman and shoots his straw paper at her. My husband said to me "That will be us in 20 years." That was the most frightening idea I had ever heard. I thought dear god will I really have to keep doing this job for decades? I wondered if I would have to continue sacrificing my soul until death really did us part.

As much as I loved that person and as much time as I had invested in him, I understood how linear relationships are and just how much is also expected of us from just one person. I too expected everything from him and realized he wasn't holding up his end. The thing is that isn't necessarily his fault-- he was making the same mistake as me right along. We expected too much. We also held one relationship to high above all the others that were equally important. Friends, family and even those who oppose us tend to motivate us to rise to the challenge if only to shove it in someone's face. We need interaction with a variety of people to meet our individual needs.

This realization was a major step in my understanding that happiness doesn't come easy it must be worked for and isn't something anyone else can give us… let alone just one person. Somehow I doubt that revelation made me any less demanding, but I think I finally found the road leading to my path of happiness. Only I can walk this road but there are many stops along the way with a variety of people who affect me in a variety of ways and make me one whole multi-faceted person. Along that road some relationships will end not all of them can last a life time and we aren't always allowed to choose which and/or how long.