Pumpkin Pie

Granny is famous in our family for her pies, especially beloved is her pumpkin pie, which she has made literally hundreds of over the years.   Sad to say, she doesn't bake much anymore.  Now she is into ordering books on every medical miracle known to man.  Food remedies to cure diabetes (she doesn't even have diabetes), handy household remedies for everything from foot fungus to hair growing disorders!  She is spending a fortune on these books even though she doesn't have 3/4ths of the disorders that she is reading about.  She is on the mail marketing list of one of these cures-from-nature publishing houses, so she receives a new brochure almost everyday, urging her to buy another book.  The other day she was reading to me about a famous cardiologist, who after 35 years of practicing medicine gave up a lucrative practice to tell people that all they had to do was eat a certain common food to cure any and all heart diseases.  What, I asked, is the food, Gran?  She tells me that the brochure says you will need to turn to Page 9 to find out.  Well? I ask, what did it say on Page 9?  She tells me in an exasperated tone:  Page 9 of the BOOK, you have to buy the book to find out.  She tells me this as she is reaching for her checkbook.   Today she received another advertisement to buy another food cure book.  This one actually told you what the food was for a certain cure.  Need to get your man more interested in sex?  No need to buy a pill, says the marketing material.  Bake a pumpkin pie.  She looked at me with a sly grin and said:  I always did wonder why your granddad always asked for pumpkin pies!

GREAT SCOTT!

I know there is a such thing as elder abuse, but what about middle aged adult abuse at the hands of the elders. Is anyone out there campaigning for that?!  Because I can see its becoming a serious thing around here nothing physical but this mental anguish is really taking its toll.

Orchids For Baby

It was a crazy day.  There was my mother, being tended to by paramedics who had been called to the house by me.  It looked like it might be something serious.  They wheeled in a gurney, and while they checked her over, firemen and paramedics seemed to be swarming in and out of the house.  There stood Gran, in her robe, hair standing on end, with her walker (she had been in bed for the night) looking dazed and frazzled.  Why you might ask?  Because her only daughter was being taken away in an ambulance for who knew what reason?  No!  As the paramedics were coming in and out with vital equipment, she was scolding them  at a very high volume:" Close the door! You're letting all the bugs and cold air in!!"  That's my Granny! 

They of course paid no attention to her, being occupied at the moment.  So she turns to me, a puzzled look on her face.  Gran put her hands to her temples, and asked ...,"is this how I check my heart beat?"  (I mean who at ninety-three has no clue where to check their own heart beat....!) I guessed this was just her way of trying to grab some of the attention.
 But I told her, "no Gran, it's not how you check your pulse and your fine." One of the fire fighters noticed what she was doing and had her sit down.  She was smiling up at him.  I think he needed to move her out of the way.  She was loving the attention anyway, and me, well, I was rolling my eyes.  I guess it's just Gran's number problem again: 9 - 3.

All she really ever worries about is her orchids. No one is allowed to touch them, she even smacked my sister's hand the other day when she was about to touch one of the blooms on her newest orchid. 

My mom had started a tradition when Gran turned 90.  Gran is an orchid lover and had a small greenhouse at her house, where she raised orchids.  So to commemorate her great milestone of reaching her 90's, mom started buying her orchids to add to her collection.  Well, this year, when Gran turned 93, she was waiting for her orchid.  Mom had been busy and it seemed she was going to forget.  All day I watched her push her walker around the house, talking under her breath. I heard phrases like “I'm not wanted here," “unconcerned about me”, “thinks only about themselves.”  I knew what was going on, she was sulking that no one had acknowledged her birthday.

  So I e-mailed my mother at work and told her that Gran was acting like a child because she turned 93 and no one had noticed. I was so relieved when mom brought an orchid home and a bouquet of  flowers for her, too. The change in Granny was almost comical.   She loves the center stage!  Well, at least Granny was happy now, and we all got  some peace. . . . for a while.

She is the most spoiled ninety-three year old I know....! Not to mention, the only one.

Queen B.

Sometimes... or I should say the majority of the time, I just don't know where Granny comes up with her wild ideas. Today while twirling her diamond pendant hanging from a delicate gold chain round her neck that my brother gifted to her, she stops and says to me,  "you know, I better talk to your brother about this chain that the jeweler gave him. I do believe he switched the original with this one because it should be much thicker!" I could only laugh to myself and think.... she wishes!

Gran owns a Persian cat, who by the way is spoiled to the core. You know they say like owner like pet. The cats name is Tasha and is an inside cat which of course means she has a litter box. It gets Gran a little upset that we are always ragging on the cat.... litter box's don't exactly give off a pleasant odor. If anyone says anything to her about it she acts as if we are ALL loony because she can't smell a thing...whatever Gran. Some days back, she moved the litter box to the enclosed patio more or less out of the house. This patio being where my son plays.... well he found himself a new sand box to play in. So she called up the "I-HAUL"....and had me move the litter back into her room. Later..., we took a trip to the store and Gran had mysteriously thrown a tall can of Lysol into the shopping cart....coincidence....I don't think so! Now every morning when Gran opens her bedroom door you can hear the exaggerated constant spray of an aerosol can. I have to be careful not to walk past at that time as she might give it to me in the eye. It seems apparent she does it in an overkill manner because of the comments we've made to her about the smell. Well my dork of a brother was just in her room taking in deep breaths of what he told her was a delicious memorable granny smell that he loved....,thanks a lot Bro! She later emerges from her room with a s--t eating grin on her face. UGH!                                                                                                                                                                                                  P.S. I know I've been harsh, but today was a real bad day!                                                                        

Whizzer

Today while walking passed the bathroom door, I heard a trickling of liquid which I figured was water leaking. I turned to look into the small area and no one was there....., then there was a slight shifting noise made by the shower curtain and I noticed a small short lump behind it. That's when I quickly slung open the curtain and discovered the source of the trickily noise, which stopped as the trajectory of the liquid was now aiming at me. I began to shout...., "NO......!" My four year old son had just finished whizzing all over my foot. Poor little guy I must of scared the poop out of him. I just couldn't get mad at him though, as Gran's new potty chair now dominates the entire toilet, which makes the tub an easy target for a short guy.

Sunsets Aren't Always Pretty

Today around lunch time. Gran was in the kitchen mumbling under her breath. While frustratedly opening and closing the refrigerator doors saying, " that girl, what was she thinking, what did she buy, there's nothing in here!" I walked up behind her and asked her what was the matter (though I already knew).  My mom and I had just gotten back from grocery shopping.  She was looking for the usual stuff my mom buys for her lunches. I explained to her how my mom and I had only shopped for dinner meals and that everything was in the freezer. Gran is always asking,"whats for dinner?" So, while at the store my mom and I were both focusing on dinner, dinner, dinner.... Dinner is a subject that seems to create a bit of turmoil between us all. Gran feels that my moms cooking is unsurpassed. Making it an almost unbearable experience when I start dinner and Gran stands by watching my every move saying,"you know two women in the kitchen spoils the pot!" She likes her dinner early, but mom gets home from work late.  So to make it easier on us, we stocked up on quick fix meals for dinner. I told this to Gran and she paused a moment and said,"well now I'm asking, whats for lunch?" 

I returned to the kitchen a few minutes later.  Gran had two dozen eggs sitting on the counter and a big pot of water boiling on the stove.  "What are you doing, Gran? Thought you were making some lunch," I asked her. She answered, "I am putting these eggs on to boil since there is nothing to eat. I got a craving for pickled eggs, so thought I'd make a couple dozen."  I thought for just a moment, then smiled and thought this was her way of getting the rest of us to ask, "What's for breakfast?" Cause there are no more eggs!

The gardeners are here and Gran gets excited when she hears the leaf blower. She hates it, thinks they should sweep with the broom.  Every week when this happens she hollers at them from the front stoop. While Gran, again frustrated, shakes a finger at them yelling,"get away from my plants with that crazy thing!" She then becomes offended, thinking that everyone only thinks of her as a crazy old lady, shouting for no good reason.  They never stop blowing as she asks, only smile and wave their salutations back at her. And every week I tell her," I told you before Granny, they don't speak English!"

It's now the end of the day and the sun has finally set.  Gran is sitting in her rocker in the living room, warming herself by the fire.  She begins recalling her younger days,  it must have been the pickled eggs that brought this memory on. She enjoyed sharing an experience with us as she slowly rocked, about how she used to frequent a nightclub called Ziggy's,  a hip hangout for a close group of her friends in the late '30's, early '40's. As she recounts; it was a place you could get a glass of wine and have a nice dance or two.  Her friends were a bit hungry, so she walks up to the bar to buy some . . . pickled eggs! A nice looking man nicknamed Swede was sitting at the bar with a lady named Rita, "hanging all over him" as Gran put it. She overhears him say to the woman, "Here comes that beautiful redhead," and his "date" Rita, reacted by saying, "Hey, Red, come over here and give the Swede a big kiss."   As she passed them, she faked a gag reflex and said, "Over my dead body.  I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole!"  I knew this man as Grandpap!                  

Senior Critizen

It really is amazing the things that a ninety-three year old women will say and do. Especially if she's your grandmother. I'm beginning to wonder if she thinks I work for the U-HAUL company, always needing another "yard-sale" box to be moved to and fro. More like I-Haul, any time, anyplace. Have the darn yard-sale already! She says,"did you ever make fondue? I've got this brand new pot... ah, I'll just put it in the yard-sale, somebody's gotta like to make fondue!" OK Gran.... and that's going to happen when....if I suggest to her,  "how about tomorrow!" She'll say,"ah.. I haven't thought of a place to have it at yet," well hello.... in your yard right! I mean..."yard-sale!" Any how, Gran is irrationally quirky, so when she does something, you think about it and laugh later. We go out to eat a lot, which is just not a good idea with Gran because she has the uncanny knack to embarrass you to no end. She might even do it purposely at times, then again.... it just comes naturally. Its like she has the worst luck at restaurants or complaining is just deeply rooted in her soul of souls. (don't tell her I said that) So she orders her food, trying her hardest to impress on the waitress, how she cannot have any spicy foods whatsoever. Then each time, each waitress, assures her, for certain, there will be nothing spicy in her meal. Then sure enough, this one time Gran starts acting like her throat is on fire and begins to yell, "water... water, I need water!" The waitress then ran over and asked,"Whats the matter, whats wrong?" By this time the manager is moseying over and half the restaurant is staring. Gran keeps saying,"water", in a haphazard motion. Finally we all shout,"water, she needs water!" The waitress then understands and Grans fire slowly ceased. She had never thought a thing about the chunks of green vegetables in her corn garnish as she shoveled it in. Bell pepper I can see but who chips jalapeno chunks into a side dish of corn, served with  barbecue chicken breast.....! Que sera, sera......!