I did my grandmother's shopping today, which was totally fine, but I noticed, while in Stop & Shop, they were playing that song that Buffalo Bill dances to in Silence of the Lambs. This doesn't have anything to do with Granny, it was just weird. That song just doesn't fit in a grocery store.
-Kat
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
The Asshole Award
My sister and I were planning on doing our grandmother's shopping today. Of course, when we called Alice to tell her we were coming over, she said that she hadn't even thought about her grocery list yet. Joanna and I got very irritated over this fact..."What ELSE is she doing?" we both said, huffing and puffing in the car. We decided to still go over and visit with our grandmother, who used pretty much the entire visit hemming and hawing over if maybe she ACTUALLY DID want us to pick some things up for her. We all decided against it, instead choosing to watch "The Real Housewives of Atlanta." The thing was, when we were leaving, my grandmother says:
"Wait...do you need money?"
I felt like an asshole because now I am painfully aware that our grandmother probably thinks the only reason we ever go to see her is to get money. This simply is not true. I visit my grandmother a lot with my mother, and Joanna visits her a lot on her own time. It just so happens that usuall,y when Joanna and I are together visitng our grandmother, it is to take her to an appointment or do her shopping, and our grandmother will usually pay us for gas or what have you. Her offering up money today, however, for a visit? It made me feel awful, I instantly felt bad about talking shit in the car, even though it was out of aggrevation. I guess it kinda makes Joanna and I look like granny hookers. "$50 bucks for your laundry, $100 to sit and chat, and 60% goes to T-Dog."
-Kat
"Wait...do you need money?"
I felt like an asshole because now I am painfully aware that our grandmother probably thinks the only reason we ever go to see her is to get money. This simply is not true. I visit my grandmother a lot with my mother, and Joanna visits her a lot on her own time. It just so happens that usuall,y when Joanna and I are together visitng our grandmother, it is to take her to an appointment or do her shopping, and our grandmother will usually pay us for gas or what have you. Her offering up money today, however, for a visit? It made me feel awful, I instantly felt bad about talking shit in the car, even though it was out of aggrevation. I guess it kinda makes Joanna and I look like granny hookers. "$50 bucks for your laundry, $100 to sit and chat, and 60% goes to T-Dog."
-Kat
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Grandma Equation
My sister yells at me sometimes because she says I get too impatient with our grandmother. I yell at her about the same thing. I lecture her about the importance of just saying “no” when it comes to some of our grandmother’s more ridiculous demands. Joanna handles my grandmother a little differently than I do though. Like, right now, Joanna is currently going to school for graphic design, and interning at a graphic design firm. My grandmother will call asking for a favor of some kind, and Joanna will behave the exact same way each and every time. Basically, she will huff and puff, and look extremely put out, but eventually, and very begrudgingly do whatever it was she was asked to do. I tell her this will just end up building resentment and she should just say no when she can’t do something. She tells me to go fuck myself.
The reason for our differences, I am told, is because Joanna had a much different “grandma” experience than I did. Her memories are of staying up late on Saturday nights, watching 227 and Saturday Night Live. I don’t think my grandmother ever let me stay up late to watch SNL. I vividly remember once, when both me and my sister were sleeping over, she let Joanna watch it, and not me. I was in the bedroom across the hall, listening longingly to Jennifer Aniston’s monologue.
I’m not trying to paint myself as a little Cinderella here. I realize that by the time I came around, my grandmother was a little older, and probably just didn’t feel like trying to please a bratty little kid. I guess in a really odd way, this frees me from the pull of feeling guilty if I am simply unable to do something for my grandmother. Of course, if I can do something for her, I will. Basically, it frees me from all the huffing and puffing that Joanna does.
My grandmother and I actually have an all right relationship when it comes down to it. The formulas go like this:
ME + GRANNY=GOOD
JOANNA + GRANNY=GOOD
MY MOTHER + ME + GRANNY=GOOD +/- TENSION
JOANNA + ME + GRANNY=RAGE+ANNOYANCE+HURT FEELINGS(^2)
It occurs to me that, a lot of the times, it is almost completely dependent on who you are with that will equal a good or bad time. If you are with somebody who will react to any aggravation you have with annoyance, then you are fucked. Joanna has a pretty short temper, and she will tell you that I have an anger problem, but when we aren’t together, visiting granny can be a pretty nice experience. For the record, I don’t have an anger problem. I am just one of those people out there who says things like “I’m gonna kill him” or “I’m gonna rip her head off in front of her children.” Good old facetious fun.
I don’t know why, but whenever Joanna and I go into my grandmother’s house together, I am reminded of an acting class I took. I remember the teacher; an impish, overzealous voice-over actor telling us the rules of blocking. He spent one class explaining how the way a person is positioned on stage can set the tone for the whole scene, and moreover, tells the audience which character has the power. According to him, if there are only two people in a scene, one of them always has to be more powerful than the other. I’m not sure of how this tactic would work in say, a production of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, but I never did take anything this man said seriously. What I do remember him saying that really stuck with me though, was that if a person in seated, and another one is standing, then the seated person is the one with the power. It didn’t make much sense to me then, but nowadays I am beginning to understand it. Whenever Joanna and I walk into our grandmother’s house, she is always seated. We are always standing there, waiting for her next command. I also notice that when you sit down with her to have an actual conversation, the tension eases, and you start to see how silly it looks when a grown woman is standing in front of a little old one, screaming. I think this means that the power of mind over frustration lies with the person who is willing to take a seat.
-Kat
The reason for our differences, I am told, is because Joanna had a much different “grandma” experience than I did. Her memories are of staying up late on Saturday nights, watching 227 and Saturday Night Live. I don’t think my grandmother ever let me stay up late to watch SNL. I vividly remember once, when both me and my sister were sleeping over, she let Joanna watch it, and not me. I was in the bedroom across the hall, listening longingly to Jennifer Aniston’s monologue.
I’m not trying to paint myself as a little Cinderella here. I realize that by the time I came around, my grandmother was a little older, and probably just didn’t feel like trying to please a bratty little kid. I guess in a really odd way, this frees me from the pull of feeling guilty if I am simply unable to do something for my grandmother. Of course, if I can do something for her, I will. Basically, it frees me from all the huffing and puffing that Joanna does.
My grandmother and I actually have an all right relationship when it comes down to it. The formulas go like this:
ME + GRANNY=GOOD
JOANNA + GRANNY=GOOD
MY MOTHER + ME + GRANNY=GOOD +/- TENSION
JOANNA + ME + GRANNY=RAGE+ANNOYANCE+HURT FEELINGS(^2)
It occurs to me that, a lot of the times, it is almost completely dependent on who you are with that will equal a good or bad time. If you are with somebody who will react to any aggravation you have with annoyance, then you are fucked. Joanna has a pretty short temper, and she will tell you that I have an anger problem, but when we aren’t together, visiting granny can be a pretty nice experience. For the record, I don’t have an anger problem. I am just one of those people out there who says things like “I’m gonna kill him” or “I’m gonna rip her head off in front of her children.” Good old facetious fun.
I don’t know why, but whenever Joanna and I go into my grandmother’s house together, I am reminded of an acting class I took. I remember the teacher; an impish, overzealous voice-over actor telling us the rules of blocking. He spent one class explaining how the way a person is positioned on stage can set the tone for the whole scene, and moreover, tells the audience which character has the power. According to him, if there are only two people in a scene, one of them always has to be more powerful than the other. I’m not sure of how this tactic would work in say, a production of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, but I never did take anything this man said seriously. What I do remember him saying that really stuck with me though, was that if a person in seated, and another one is standing, then the seated person is the one with the power. It didn’t make much sense to me then, but nowadays I am beginning to understand it. Whenever Joanna and I walk into our grandmother’s house, she is always seated. We are always standing there, waiting for her next command. I also notice that when you sit down with her to have an actual conversation, the tension eases, and you start to see how silly it looks when a grown woman is standing in front of a little old one, screaming. I think this means that the power of mind over frustration lies with the person who is willing to take a seat.
-Kat
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
"And How Does That Make You Feel?"
Joanna and I took Alice to the foot doctor on Monday. I never thought that this would be a standing date for me in my twenties, but-there you have it. Every two months, Joanna and I find ourselves in the waiting room of our grandmother's foot doctor's tiny office. His receptionist is a tiny little lunatic who hums, talks, and cackles to herself at an alarming volume. We are subject to her conversation with the voice in her head for a good 20 minutes each time. I suppose that on Monday, it was slightly more annoying than usual, as Joanna and I got into a fight right there in the waiting room. Basically, I said I thought one of our distant ex-relatives looked old, and she told me that I sound like I am trying out for a Tennessee Williams play. It doesn't make much sense, but I guess you could blame it all on PMS and that crazy receptionist-something just snapped in both of us.
Driving Alice home, there was still a lot of tension in the car, and it lingered there up until walking Alice to her apartment. While sitting there, the tension exploded into a shouting match, and this made my grandmother upset.
"I don't want to hear it! Just don't respond to her, Joanna!"
The shouting continued, and so did Alice.
"I don't want you here if you are just going to be shouting!"
"FINE!" Joanna said, "THEN WE ARE LEAVING!"
And off we went. Joanna and I settled things in the car, and we then had a lovely day at the craft store. What occured to me, however was this: Joanna and I were just doing what sisters DO-we fight, yell, swear, and destroy somebody completely, then go to Starbucks. All in a day. Having sisters enables you to say hurtful things without the fear that you burned a bridge. All is forgotten in the time it takes to brew a latte. The sad thing was that our grandmother, who herself had four sisters, couldn't deal with the stupid bickering that comes with the territory-forgoing a nice visit because she couldn't just be a tiny bit empathetic. I have noticed that this is just the way she is-the opposite of my mother, who NEVER passes up the opportunity for a good verbal battle, (ask my fifth grade teacher). If one of her sisters said something nasty about my mother, my grandmother wouldn't stand up for her daughter, it was as though she was always afraid to counter them. Today, while at her house, my mother asked her why she doesn't change something about her life if she wants to-for example, moving around more to get more mobile, and my grandmother changed the subject; something she always does when she just doesn't want to answer an honest question. This makes me think, do I know Alice's true personality? IS this her personality? I feel like there must be something else there, but that it is never shown. I know little things; she likes Ashton Kutcher, for example, but I wonder what pent up opinions or answers are there that she has been sitting on for 90 years? I'll probably never know, so Ashton Kutcher will do for now.
-Kat
Driving Alice home, there was still a lot of tension in the car, and it lingered there up until walking Alice to her apartment. While sitting there, the tension exploded into a shouting match, and this made my grandmother upset.
"I don't want to hear it! Just don't respond to her, Joanna!"
The shouting continued, and so did Alice.
"I don't want you here if you are just going to be shouting!"
"FINE!" Joanna said, "THEN WE ARE LEAVING!"
And off we went. Joanna and I settled things in the car, and we then had a lovely day at the craft store. What occured to me, however was this: Joanna and I were just doing what sisters DO-we fight, yell, swear, and destroy somebody completely, then go to Starbucks. All in a day. Having sisters enables you to say hurtful things without the fear that you burned a bridge. All is forgotten in the time it takes to brew a latte. The sad thing was that our grandmother, who herself had four sisters, couldn't deal with the stupid bickering that comes with the territory-forgoing a nice visit because she couldn't just be a tiny bit empathetic. I have noticed that this is just the way she is-the opposite of my mother, who NEVER passes up the opportunity for a good verbal battle, (ask my fifth grade teacher). If one of her sisters said something nasty about my mother, my grandmother wouldn't stand up for her daughter, it was as though she was always afraid to counter them. Today, while at her house, my mother asked her why she doesn't change something about her life if she wants to-for example, moving around more to get more mobile, and my grandmother changed the subject; something she always does when she just doesn't want to answer an honest question. This makes me think, do I know Alice's true personality? IS this her personality? I feel like there must be something else there, but that it is never shown. I know little things; she likes Ashton Kutcher, for example, but I wonder what pent up opinions or answers are there that she has been sitting on for 90 years? I'll probably never know, so Ashton Kutcher will do for now.
-Kat
Monday, October 31, 2011
No Place like (Grandma's) Home
Last Saturday, it snowed a lot. I was trapped in my house because I didn't want to go out in the snow, so I flicked around the television a little. I came across some channels I didn't even know I had, and on one of these channels "227" was playing. "227" is a sitcom about a group of people who happen to be black (nothing to do with the plot, just makes the banter flow) who live in an apartment building in Washington, D.C. It aired in the late 80s-early 90s, and it was one of my favorite shows growing up. I loved Jackee, how she would waddle around flirting. She was the ideal. I used to watch this program every Saturday I would sleep over Grandma's. It was such a magical time then. I loved staying over Granmda's on Saturdays. All the great shows were on the NBC lineup: After "227" came "Golden Girls" then "Empty Nest" followed by "Nurses" (I wasn't crazy about "Nurses") and then "Sisters." During the News, I would adjust the makeup I had put on in Grandma's room during the commercial breaks, and then settle in on the couch for "Saturday Night Live." It may seem like I was just watching tv the whole time, which I was, in addition to eating copious amounts of sweets, and dressing up like a prostitute, but it was fun, and I pretended I was part of the shows. Grandma would play games with me, play acting or checkers. She would wait on me, cook for me. It was great. I loved going to Grandma's house. It was a little red Cape Cod, like many others, but there was something so magical about it, something in the atmosphere there that just felt great. Maybe it did have something to do with all the old movies and fun tv that I watched there, but a lot of it has to do with Grandma. It's a far cry from the way I usually feel about visiting Grandma now. Sometimes it is a fine visit, cut and dry, good visit. Other times, it involves a laundry list of things to do while I am there. I don't mind helping Grandma, I sometimes like it, but other times it just kind of catches me off guard. Like a few weeks ago, I went to visit Grandma after my class. I thought I would just stay for a little bit, watch "The Price is Right" with her, and go to my internship. "What are you doing now?" She asked me when I start to leave.
"Oh nothing," I answer, "I have to go to my internship, but I have to stop at Stop and Shop first."
"Oh what do I need at Stop and Shop?" she asks.
"I don't know," I say through my clenched teeth. I know this will not be a clean visit. A return will be necessary.
"I need tea," she says. "And bread. But you don't have to bring it back now, you can bring it back whenever." This makes me almost angrier, the notion of driving around with Grandma's tea and bread in my backseat hanging over my head that I need to bring them to her.
"No, no, no," I say aggravated, "I'll just do it now. I'll just go to the store up the street."
"And a jelly donut." Grandma adds. I lose it. The store with the Dunkin Donuts in it is on the other side of town, the one up the street doesn't have a Dunkin Donuts, where am I going to get a jelly donut there?"
"What?! Why do you need a jelly donut right now?"
"Forget the jelly donut," she says, "I really don't need it. I don't want to be an inconvenience."
In my rage over the grocery requests, I seem to forget that most grocery stores do have bakeries where you can get jelly donuts, even if they don't have Dunkin Donuts. I remember this in the car on the way over to the store, and feel bad at how annoyed I get with Grandma. When I would sleep over her house when I was little she would take me to the A&P and let me get whatever I wanted. I'm giving her grief over a jelly donut--there goes the guilt again. I always visit Grandma with the sunniest intentions of being a good granddaughter, like Little Red Riding Hood, but often times leave feeling like the Big Bad Wolf.
I know Grandma misses her old house too. She won't let me drive her by it, even though it is only a few miles from where she lives now. She lived there for almost 60 years, she raised her family there, her grandkids played and grew up in that house. I have lived in my house for a litte over a year and I miss it when we go away for the weekend, I can't imagine how Grandma must feel. I know that it is better for her to be in her apartment building right now, where there are people right across the hall at all times, but sometimes what is better doesn't always feel better. I feel sad thinking about the last time I was in Grandma's house. All the furniture was out, and my parents and I were just doing a final cleaning. At that moment, I didn't feel sad about Grandma selling it and not living there anymore, I felt relief that the whole moving process was over, because it was such a pain. Living in a house for sixty years, one accumulates a lot, and you don't really know what is and isn't an antique, and if you kept everything that had sentimental value, you'd have a couple of moving trucks filled with knick knacks. After a while, I just became desensitized to it. Champagne glasses that I had filled with Schweppes Raspeberry Giner Ale while watching "Golden Girls" were tossed into the Goodwill boxes because they were from the Church tag sale, and weren't valuable enough to move. A part of me and Grandma will always be in her old house, watching tv on Saturday nights, having tacos after my dance class on Wednesdays, eating Sunday dinner with our family, visiting on Christmas Eve. I find change very hard. Does part of me still want to stay at Grandma's on Saturday nights, eating candy and watching "227"? Yes. Would that be weird? Also a yes. Sometimes change is necessary I guess, to put us in roles that are more age appropriate. It is hard when the roles are reversed from what you once knew them to be, like taking care of a parent or grandparent, but like Frank Sinatra says, "That's Life."
JoJo
"Oh nothing," I answer, "I have to go to my internship, but I have to stop at Stop and Shop first."
"Oh what do I need at Stop and Shop?" she asks.
"I don't know," I say through my clenched teeth. I know this will not be a clean visit. A return will be necessary.
"I need tea," she says. "And bread. But you don't have to bring it back now, you can bring it back whenever." This makes me almost angrier, the notion of driving around with Grandma's tea and bread in my backseat hanging over my head that I need to bring them to her.
"No, no, no," I say aggravated, "I'll just do it now. I'll just go to the store up the street."
"And a jelly donut." Grandma adds. I lose it. The store with the Dunkin Donuts in it is on the other side of town, the one up the street doesn't have a Dunkin Donuts, where am I going to get a jelly donut there?"
"What?! Why do you need a jelly donut right now?"
"Forget the jelly donut," she says, "I really don't need it. I don't want to be an inconvenience."
In my rage over the grocery requests, I seem to forget that most grocery stores do have bakeries where you can get jelly donuts, even if they don't have Dunkin Donuts. I remember this in the car on the way over to the store, and feel bad at how annoyed I get with Grandma. When I would sleep over her house when I was little she would take me to the A&P and let me get whatever I wanted. I'm giving her grief over a jelly donut--there goes the guilt again. I always visit Grandma with the sunniest intentions of being a good granddaughter, like Little Red Riding Hood, but often times leave feeling like the Big Bad Wolf.
I know Grandma misses her old house too. She won't let me drive her by it, even though it is only a few miles from where she lives now. She lived there for almost 60 years, she raised her family there, her grandkids played and grew up in that house. I have lived in my house for a litte over a year and I miss it when we go away for the weekend, I can't imagine how Grandma must feel. I know that it is better for her to be in her apartment building right now, where there are people right across the hall at all times, but sometimes what is better doesn't always feel better. I feel sad thinking about the last time I was in Grandma's house. All the furniture was out, and my parents and I were just doing a final cleaning. At that moment, I didn't feel sad about Grandma selling it and not living there anymore, I felt relief that the whole moving process was over, because it was such a pain. Living in a house for sixty years, one accumulates a lot, and you don't really know what is and isn't an antique, and if you kept everything that had sentimental value, you'd have a couple of moving trucks filled with knick knacks. After a while, I just became desensitized to it. Champagne glasses that I had filled with Schweppes Raspeberry Giner Ale while watching "Golden Girls" were tossed into the Goodwill boxes because they were from the Church tag sale, and weren't valuable enough to move. A part of me and Grandma will always be in her old house, watching tv on Saturday nights, having tacos after my dance class on Wednesdays, eating Sunday dinner with our family, visiting on Christmas Eve. I find change very hard. Does part of me still want to stay at Grandma's on Saturday nights, eating candy and watching "227"? Yes. Would that be weird? Also a yes. Sometimes change is necessary I guess, to put us in roles that are more age appropriate. It is hard when the roles are reversed from what you once knew them to be, like taking care of a parent or grandparent, but like Frank Sinatra says, "That's Life."
JoJo
Sunday, October 30, 2011
The Diner
My grandmother’s social life these days consists entirely of doctors and dentists. By proxy, this also means that Joanna and my social life consist entirely of doctors and dentists. If a doctor even slightly hints to our grandmother that she may have to come back again for one reason or another (discomfort, pain, etc.) my grandmother will go back, even if she doesn’t feel any discomfort. I have a feeling she is lying when she actually says she does feel a little bit of pain or says she needs to go back. For her, these visits are the equivalent to a night out.
She of course does not take into account how much gas costs, Joanna’s blood pressure, my rage, or anything else a normal person would take into account. For her, we are nothing more than a chauffeur service to her dates with Drs. X, Y, and Z.
This is a woman who used to dress to the nines to travel the world, and now, her big plans include a day in the dentist chair. Is this what happens when you get old? All the things you once feared in life become hobbies? I am pretty certain this isn’t a trait found everywhere, as our dad’s mother used to actually want to do fun things whenever her grandchildren visited her. Alice just doesn’t have that particular gene that would make her go out of her way to please others. If she did, I wouldn’t be spending every single Monday in the goddam dentist’s office.
The one doctor my grandmother should be going to more is the ear doctor. She has a hearing aid, but still can’t hear for shit. My sister and I were driving her home from her dentist today, and while we passed my house, I noticed there was a package on the front stoop, and, being the anal sonofabitch I am, asked Joanna to turn around so that I could put it in the house. For some reason, any change of direction startles the elderly, and my grandmother wanted to know what was going on:
ALICE: Where are we going?
JOANNA: Back to Kathy’s house to pick up a package.
ALICE: What are we doing?
JOANNA: Going to Kathy’s house. There’s a package by the door and we want to put it in the house.
ALICE: What’s wrong with the door?
JOANNA: NOTHING. We are putting the package in the house that’s BY THE DOOR.
ALICE: We’re going to Kathy’s house? Why?
JOANNA: BECAUSE THERE’S A BUNCH OF GUYS MASTURBATING ON THE FRONT LAWN AND WE ARE GOING TO CHECK IT OUT!!!
Grandma stopped asking after that.
After this, we went to the local diner in our town for lunch. It’s obvious that once upon a time, this diner catered to young Pleasantville like couples, but now, the clientele is strictly made up of people who collect social security. Maybe these are the Pleasantville couples left over from the 1950’s, but I think not, as these people don’t look like they were ever young or in love.
The waitresses here are all a little past middle age. They are the type of waitress who call you “honey” or “sweetie” but you would never want to be on their bad side. Our waitress today was Pam. Pam is the name I appointed her because she looks like a Pam. She’s usually the waitress we get when we take our grandmother here for lunch, and I don’t think she has ever actually told us her real name. She was perfunctory as usual, and my grandmother noticed that she was perspiring. I could understand why, as she was running all over her section as fast as her orthopedics could carry her. When it came time to deal with the tip, my sister confused my grandmother by leaving it on my grandmother’s credit card. This was confusing because usually, when one pays with a credit card at this establishment, the person you pay will give you the cash for the waitress out of the drawer. It was a new girl at the register, so she just put the tip on my grandmother’s credit card. This confounded my grandmother for the entire ride home. It seems like a simple concept, as it is how most restaurants work. For the life of her, my grandmother just did not understand that the tip could be taken out of the card. Even though Joanna wrote in the tip amount on her copy of the receipt, my grandmother was under, for some reason or another, the impression that she had douped the waitress out of a tip. Joanna even told the waitress that her tip was on the credit card, (Pam even winked and gave m sister finger pistols to signal her understanding) and my grandmother was still unconvinced.
I like to think that we got through to her somewhere between our stop at the bank and her home, but probably not.
-Kat
She of course does not take into account how much gas costs, Joanna’s blood pressure, my rage, or anything else a normal person would take into account. For her, we are nothing more than a chauffeur service to her dates with Drs. X, Y, and Z.
This is a woman who used to dress to the nines to travel the world, and now, her big plans include a day in the dentist chair. Is this what happens when you get old? All the things you once feared in life become hobbies? I am pretty certain this isn’t a trait found everywhere, as our dad’s mother used to actually want to do fun things whenever her grandchildren visited her. Alice just doesn’t have that particular gene that would make her go out of her way to please others. If she did, I wouldn’t be spending every single Monday in the goddam dentist’s office.
The one doctor my grandmother should be going to more is the ear doctor. She has a hearing aid, but still can’t hear for shit. My sister and I were driving her home from her dentist today, and while we passed my house, I noticed there was a package on the front stoop, and, being the anal sonofabitch I am, asked Joanna to turn around so that I could put it in the house. For some reason, any change of direction startles the elderly, and my grandmother wanted to know what was going on:
ALICE: Where are we going?
JOANNA: Back to Kathy’s house to pick up a package.
ALICE: What are we doing?
JOANNA: Going to Kathy’s house. There’s a package by the door and we want to put it in the house.
ALICE: What’s wrong with the door?
JOANNA: NOTHING. We are putting the package in the house that’s BY THE DOOR.
ALICE: We’re going to Kathy’s house? Why?
JOANNA: BECAUSE THERE’S A BUNCH OF GUYS MASTURBATING ON THE FRONT LAWN AND WE ARE GOING TO CHECK IT OUT!!!
Grandma stopped asking after that.
After this, we went to the local diner in our town for lunch. It’s obvious that once upon a time, this diner catered to young Pleasantville like couples, but now, the clientele is strictly made up of people who collect social security. Maybe these are the Pleasantville couples left over from the 1950’s, but I think not, as these people don’t look like they were ever young or in love.
The waitresses here are all a little past middle age. They are the type of waitress who call you “honey” or “sweetie” but you would never want to be on their bad side. Our waitress today was Pam. Pam is the name I appointed her because she looks like a Pam. She’s usually the waitress we get when we take our grandmother here for lunch, and I don’t think she has ever actually told us her real name. She was perfunctory as usual, and my grandmother noticed that she was perspiring. I could understand why, as she was running all over her section as fast as her orthopedics could carry her. When it came time to deal with the tip, my sister confused my grandmother by leaving it on my grandmother’s credit card. This was confusing because usually, when one pays with a credit card at this establishment, the person you pay will give you the cash for the waitress out of the drawer. It was a new girl at the register, so she just put the tip on my grandmother’s credit card. This confounded my grandmother for the entire ride home. It seems like a simple concept, as it is how most restaurants work. For the life of her, my grandmother just did not understand that the tip could be taken out of the card. Even though Joanna wrote in the tip amount on her copy of the receipt, my grandmother was under, for some reason or another, the impression that she had douped the waitress out of a tip. Joanna even told the waitress that her tip was on the credit card, (Pam even winked and gave m sister finger pistols to signal her understanding) and my grandmother was still unconvinced.
I like to think that we got through to her somewhere between our stop at the bank and her home, but probably not.
-Kat
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Monday
Last Monday, we took Grandma to what I am hoping and praying is her last dentist appointment for a very long time. Once we were there, I found a handicap parking space very close to the building, since there was a bus blocking the driveway, as usual. I was very happy with my spot, but my smile quickly turned into a frown when I saw the handicap ramp closes to us was blocked off by construction tape. The other ramp was on the other side of the bus that was blocking the damn drop off. Oh gosh, I really sound crazy. "We will have to walk a little to the other ramp," I say.
"No," Granmda insists, "I can get up on the curb here." The curb was not blocked off by tape, mind you, just the ramp.
"Okay," I say. So, Kathy holds Grandma's walker steady on the curb while I lift her up.
"Oh, no, no! You can't do that over there! There is construction going on!" A female security guard yells over to us. At this point I am holding Grandma in the air.
"Can we please just finish what we started over here?" I ask.
"Well. . . okay," she says, "but there is another ramp over here, you coulda just dropped her off at."
I don't have the energy to argue with her, that there was a bus blocking the drop off. As we walk up a second ramp to the building, some really douchy guys, probably in their forties who happen to be standing around, offer, "Yeah, you know there is a ramp on the other side."
Oh really, I want to say, that's great, but I don't give a shit about the ramp on the other side right now. I am using THIS handicap ramp! I would like to shove my grandmother's walker up your ass though.
Once we get up to the dentist's office, I see Dr. L talking to his receptionist behind the desk. "You are the devil!" I say to him, but probably not loud enough for him to hear me. Grandma is called in and he says with a big smile, "I told you you'd be back." At this I almost melt with disgust.
"Well, don't tell here she'll be back this time," I suggest as Grandma is taken to the back. The appointment doesn't take very long, which I am very happy about. We exit the building through the non-construction side, and decide to go to lunch. Grandma usually likes to take us to lunch after her appointments which is very nice of her. I used to find it very aggravating taking her in and out of the car, and the restaurant, but I have calmed down a lot, and am actually quite patient now. I think it is good for Grandma to get out, otherwise she would be like one of those shut-ins who just stare at the wall and lick their blankets. Actually, for her apparent lack of mobility, Grandma does get out a lot and is very savvy. My husband and I drove into Pittsburgh recently, and on Fith Avenue, a main road, there was this rehabilitation/nursing home. It was later at night and the windows were open in the front. All we could see were these old people just kind of slumped over in their wheel chairs staring into space. It was really sad, but I felt a kind of relief that Grandma is not like that. Sometimes a lot of times she can be aggravating and demanding and self centered and needy, but she is with it, and she does like to get out, which can be a blessing and a curse. I mean when she doesn't want to go out, we all get aggravated and say, "See this is why you have trouble walking, if you don't use it, you're going to lose it!" But then when she does want to get out, it's like "Oh why are you so slow? Wouldn't it be easier if we just bring you lunch to your apartment?" It's hard to have your mind going in so many different directions, so I have decided to take the stance, sometimes reluctantly that it is better to have Grandma get out than stay in, with the exception of grocery shopping, because that is just ridiculous, like beyond. Anyway, for lunch we decide to go to the diner in our town, which is a place we go to a lot. They have mostly older patrons, so they know how to treat the elderly. Grandma seems to be preoccupied from the get-go by the limited amount of wait staff.
"Our waitress is the only one here," she says.
"She's the only one in our section," I answer, "they all have different sections."
"She's not taking her time." Grandma comments.
"Well it's fast paced here," I answer, "she has to move quickly."
"What I mean to say is, she's perspiring." Grandma whispers. And then surveying the crowd, she whispers, "It's all old people here."
JoJo
"No," Granmda insists, "I can get up on the curb here." The curb was not blocked off by tape, mind you, just the ramp.
"Okay," I say. So, Kathy holds Grandma's walker steady on the curb while I lift her up.
"Oh, no, no! You can't do that over there! There is construction going on!" A female security guard yells over to us. At this point I am holding Grandma in the air.
"Can we please just finish what we started over here?" I ask.
"Well. . . okay," she says, "but there is another ramp over here, you coulda just dropped her off at."
I don't have the energy to argue with her, that there was a bus blocking the drop off. As we walk up a second ramp to the building, some really douchy guys, probably in their forties who happen to be standing around, offer, "Yeah, you know there is a ramp on the other side."
Oh really, I want to say, that's great, but I don't give a shit about the ramp on the other side right now. I am using THIS handicap ramp! I would like to shove my grandmother's walker up your ass though.
Once we get up to the dentist's office, I see Dr. L talking to his receptionist behind the desk. "You are the devil!" I say to him, but probably not loud enough for him to hear me. Grandma is called in and he says with a big smile, "I told you you'd be back." At this I almost melt with disgust.
"Well, don't tell here she'll be back this time," I suggest as Grandma is taken to the back. The appointment doesn't take very long, which I am very happy about. We exit the building through the non-construction side, and decide to go to lunch. Grandma usually likes to take us to lunch after her appointments which is very nice of her. I used to find it very aggravating taking her in and out of the car, and the restaurant, but I have calmed down a lot, and am actually quite patient now. I think it is good for Grandma to get out, otherwise she would be like one of those shut-ins who just stare at the wall and lick their blankets. Actually, for her apparent lack of mobility, Grandma does get out a lot and is very savvy. My husband and I drove into Pittsburgh recently, and on Fith Avenue, a main road, there was this rehabilitation/nursing home. It was later at night and the windows were open in the front. All we could see were these old people just kind of slumped over in their wheel chairs staring into space. It was really sad, but I felt a kind of relief that Grandma is not like that. Sometimes a lot of times she can be aggravating and demanding and self centered and needy, but she is with it, and she does like to get out, which can be a blessing and a curse. I mean when she doesn't want to go out, we all get aggravated and say, "See this is why you have trouble walking, if you don't use it, you're going to lose it!" But then when she does want to get out, it's like "Oh why are you so slow? Wouldn't it be easier if we just bring you lunch to your apartment?" It's hard to have your mind going in so many different directions, so I have decided to take the stance, sometimes reluctantly that it is better to have Grandma get out than stay in, with the exception of grocery shopping, because that is just ridiculous, like beyond. Anyway, for lunch we decide to go to the diner in our town, which is a place we go to a lot. They have mostly older patrons, so they know how to treat the elderly. Grandma seems to be preoccupied from the get-go by the limited amount of wait staff.
"Our waitress is the only one here," she says.
"She's the only one in our section," I answer, "they all have different sections."
"She's not taking her time." Grandma comments.
"Well it's fast paced here," I answer, "she has to move quickly."
"What I mean to say is, she's perspiring." Grandma whispers. And then surveying the crowd, she whispers, "It's all old people here."
JoJo
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