Posts Tagged ‘ grandma ’

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…)

All You Need To Know About Dogs

Wednesday, October 24th, 2012

Bob, Also Known As ‘The Domino.’

When my granddaughter Lexi is 6, she tells me about dogs:

“Trazor dogs stop trains.  A Trazor dog stops a run-away train by pushing against the train with it’s back toes.

“A Trazor dog can open train doors.

“They also bark and tell people to call 911 to help the engineer. The dog helps police and fire fighters push the train in for repairs.

“So, Baba, your dog Bob, is called a Domino because Trazers are black and Doxie’s are brown.”

“Great Grandma’s dog Beckie, is 1/2 Georgian.”

Personally, I think this is about all we need to know about dogs. It simplifies the entire subject.

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The Laughing Club Party

Tuesday, January 20th, 2009

Welcome to my Laughing Club Party.

I have decided that we all need a laugh. To that end, here is the note I have sent out to my family and various friends:

“Please come to THE WOMEN’S LAUGHING CLUB PARTY at Venus’ house, Jan 31st, 2009 at 11:30 AM.

“Let’s get together and laugh and laugh and laugh for our GOOD HEALTH and FRIENDSHIP!

“Please bring a dish (potluck) and something to drink. Wine would be nice but you can bring whatever moves you.

THE PLAN: We will eat and drink and whoop it up. For those of you who aren’t shy, please have a STORY in mind; something that has happened in your life or someone else’s life that is really funny! You will tell the tale and we will laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh. We will roll on the floor and laugh some more. We will kick the furniture and spill the wine.

“And, then we will laugh some more for no reason at all.

“This is an all woman party, just to see how it goes. If we like it, let’s have more of them and often, hosted by whoever feels fit enough to host a bunch of crazy acting, loose laughing women!

“Please RSVP by Jan. 27th, so I know how many chairs and plates to set out that may get broken.

“I hope to see you!



Well. I have had a tremendous response. People are calling me and saying, ‘Oh, my friend wants to come, she desperately wants to come, can I bring my friend?’

I say ‘sure. What the hey.’

My brother Art with the leukemia, the one who’s car got smashed and who’s house burned down, says he wants to come, that he needs the laugh. I say “OK, you do need some laughs, but if you come  you have to wear a dress and a lady’s wig. You can be our Honorary Woman.”

My friend Karen in Florida, demanded that I send her the invitation, then called me and said, “I love it! I am already calling people to have a Laughing Club Party at my house!”

Maybe we will have Laughing Club Parties all over the world?? What fun.

I’m going to start my party with this story, which I admit is really juvenile humor, but that’s part of the fun, right?

I’ll be telling the ladies, “Awhile back a friend of mine named Billy came over to see me at my house. He’s about fifty. He called me to come out on the front lawn beside my pool.

“He sidled up next to me, leaned over and whispered, “Got something really funny here. It’s a fart machine.”

“He glanced over at my pool where Paul The Pool Man was busily scooping leaves. He was scooping slowly. He doesn’t like to rush. He’s a big man, maybe in his 60’s with a great ruff of gray beard and flying head hair and he wears faded overalls with a bib.

‘Got an idea,’ Billy said, grinning like a nine year old. ‘This is remote control.’

“He carefully held up some kind of small box and something that looked like a TV clicker.

“Paul had his back to us, scooping the pool and gazing up into the great pine tree, the tree he has come to hate, that hangs over the water.

“‘Watch this,’ Billy whispered.

“He ran over to the grouping of deck chairs just behind Paul, put the fart box under a cushion and skeedaddled back to me.


“Paul The Pool Man bent to scoop some twigs from the water by hand.


“Billy had pushed the remote.

“Paul didn’t blink. He didn’t even look our way.

“Billy and I broke into screeching laughter.

“Paul leaned to the side and put the pool pole down.


“Billy and I collapsed with howling glee.

“Actually, I’d hit the grass ‘first fart’ and couldn’t get up. Whenever I laugh, my legs go weak and I collapse wherever I am. I can’t get off the ground until I stop laughing.

Billy and I were choking with laughter, roaring with mirth and silly merriment but again, Paul The Pool Man never even looked our way.


Every time Paul made an adjustment in his methods, he passed thunderous ‘gas.’

I was screaming with laughter, my nose face down in the dirt and muck, unable to even crawl to my knees. Billy was dragging me by an arm, across the lawn, trying to get me to stand up.

Paul looked skyward.

It went like this until Billy and I finally tired ourselves out, gave up and limped into the house.”


Well, OK, maybe it will be funnier when I tell it in person? Maybe I should wait until the general hilarity at the party has taken hold?

My sister, Candy, will be telling some Grandma Stories. These are true tales about my mother’s mother that just rip us to pieces with hysteria whenever she retells them at family parties.She does the voice, she does the mannerisms, she does the body movements of everyone in the stories and we absolutely almost choke ourselves laughing. Candy should be on stage.

I’ve been telling the ladies that are coming to the Laughing Party that if they have pee problems when they laugh that they had better make sure and wear their diaper pants. They have assured me that they will.

“You’re not ruining my furniture,” I tell them.

Gee! I wish YOU could come to my party!

Do you have any funny stories about yourself or your friends that you can tell us? If so, please put them in the ‘comments’ section (below) so we can all laugh together and have our own world-wide Laughing Party!


*WINNER OF A FREE 15 MINUTE PHONE SESSION WITH VENUS: *Ernest Brenner* Offer valid through Fri. Jan 23rd, 2009, after that null and void.

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