Parties and Fun

Grandma’s Bad Bath Behavior

Wednesday, August 21st, 2013

My Mother’s Old Chinese Doctor..I Don’t Think Dr. Ron Would Like His Picture Here!

“Oh, you girls, bathing Grandma can’t be all that difficult.”

This is my brother in law, Dr. Ron speaking. My mother and my 3 sisters and I are sitting at my mother’s kitchen table, discussing how it’s time to Bathe Grandma, Again.

This is a long time ago. My mother’s mother is in her late 80’s and has had dementia for as long as I have known her. She and my grandfather live in a cottage on my parent’s property.

My grandmother is the funniest woman I know. People tell me she had a terrific sense of humor before her strokes, but stroking hasn’t seemed to have taken away her zany and outspoken world view.

Hot weather or cold, Grandma always wears her heavy, hairy red coat that hangs below her knees with a lop-sided drag. She has long white hair that sweeps to her waist, hair that she brushes, puts into 2 two fat braids and loops over her head and pins.

She’s got the black grandma shoes and the nylons rolled right above her ankles. She wears gold wire-rimmed glasses over her nose, glasses that accent her heavily wrinkled face.

She’s healthy and strong and sinewy and likes to take a boxing stance. When she walks she lists to the right like a ship ready to roll over and go down in the roiling sea.

She doesn’t like to bathe and we don’t like to bathe her, but it becomes an absolute  necessity when we can smell her as she rocks her way towards us or sits at our conference table for dinner with all 10 of us every night. The 10 of us are my father, mother, 6 kids, Lancaster (our grandfather) and Grandma.

Then, of course, in this room we need to count the big, smelly dogs, the cats, a few chickens that like to come in the house and visit and sometimes my brother’s mean, wild raccoon that rummages through all the pots and pans in the drawers and cupboards in the kitchen, while we eat.

But, that’s another story for another day.

We’re talking about my grandmother and once again it’s Bath Day. We girls all hate this day because it takes all 5 of us to get her in the tub and hold her in the tub and get her washed. She screams at us, yells and slaps us soundly with wet wash rags. By the time the wash is over, the small bathroom in her cottage is wet, floor, walls and ceiling, soaked with water and we are all drenched with our clothes stuck to us and our hair in runny clumps with knots of soap and water.

Dr. Ron is sitting in Grandma’s small living room which is actually part of the kitchen, as we girls and Mom at the kitchen table discuss The Bath, which we are gathered to here to accomplish. We’re having green tea, getting fortified. Grandma is sitting with us, nodding and smiling sweetly, not having a care or trouble in what is left of her former mind.

Ron repeats himself, “You girls are all making too big a deal of this. There’s a right way and a wrong way to do these things. You’re obviously not approaching Grandma in the right manner.”

We all turn our heads to look at him and somebody says mildly, “Well gee…why don’t you show us how to do it,then?”

Maybe it was me?

Dr. Ron says, “Ok. I will.” (more…)

Positively The Best Way To Meet New Friends & Romantic Prospects

Wednesday, August 14th, 2013

This Is Not Where I Met Mr. Penis. I Did Meet Someone Else Here

I’m at a buffet bar and there is a very startled man looking at me with a shocked expression on his face. He can’t take his eyes off me.

This is happening a number of years ago when I lived at the coast in the Land Of Surfers and Hot Babes.

I am at a ‘Networking Meet and Greet’ and I am wearing a sticky name tag that says, ‘Venus’.

The woman who runs these meetings always brings her brown pet ferret with her, draped around her neck like a mink.

She and others who are here to network and find new business, are lined around the salad and food bar, smiling winningly and scooping up pre-fab morsels of food.

There is a good looking young man across the salad from me that I have not seen before. His name tag says, ‘Peter.’

I am feeling especially bright and friendly and I call out to him, “Hello! You must be Penis!’

Oh my god. Why did the name ‘Peter’ come out as ‘Penis’!? (more…)

Children Disappear Into UFO

Wednesday, July 31st, 2013


The UFO That Whisked The Kids Away!

Here is the UFO that swallowed my grandkids.

Lexi, 10, has assured Loch, 7, that he will love being slammed and flattened against the wall, defying gravity as the UFO spins rapidly in the air.

I’m not so sure that we won’t have to stop the ride and go into the UFO and save Loch from his folly.

We’re at the local Fair. What I’ve noticed  about this Fair is that most people here, (the public and the carnival workers,) need to wash their hair.  Also, most folks are a bit more than just fat; they’re pretty much dragging loose flesh around as they slap through the dust.

I feel my own hair and pinch the skin muffin around my own waist.

We’ve been here for several hours. I’m tired and hot and I want to go home and wash my  hair and lose weight.

Here is the joke Loch tells Bill and me as we drive to the fair:

” What do you get when you cross the road with a dog and a rose?” The answer: “A cauliflower!”

We think he means, ‘What do you get when you cross a dog and a rose?’

We find his joke hysterical and he is much pleased. Then Bill tries to explain that you don’t cross a road with a dog and a rose to get a cauliflower, you cross a dog with a rose.

Loch doesn’t get it. Neither does Lexi and they are outraged when we laugh even more.

They keep shouting, ‘Why are you laughing so much! Explain it!’ We do, again and again in various ways and get no where. Maybe because there are a lot of holes in their understanding of the birds and the bees. In Loch’s case, he knows nothing, and Lexi has had only had a bit of ‘The Talk’ which sent her into outraged hysterics, at the time.

At the fair, it’s getting late. The kids want to eat dinner and then come back and do more Rides.

Lexi chooses chips with melted fake Velveeta cheese as her meal and Loch gets a hot dog. For dessert, they can’t decide. Caramel corn, waffle cake or poison dyed snow cones.

I’m glad when they choose the evil snow cones. Do you know why? Because the kids are anxious to get back to the Carnival for more Rides. It’s getting cold and dark and I want to go home.

My approval of the snow cones works perfectly. After the kids are halfway into them, because they are wearing shorts and tiny tops, they get chilled and want to leave!

And so we do.

Once on our way, the kids start badgering us about that darn dog crossing the road again, but I tell Bill, ‘Let’s leave this one to their folks!’

And so we do.

(And, now that I have finished this Blog, I am going  to the kitchen and make another peach cobbler. The one I made last week with an oat topping, didn’t turn out so well. I had to eat it as a breakfast cereal!)

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