Grandma Goes Viral

Well, not exactly, but I won't be surprised if this video does make a few internet rounds. Grandma moved to an assisted living facility in Charlotte last year.  She's close to my uncle and his family and not to far from my sister.  Being the social butterfly that she is, I'm not at all surprised by this clip from the local news station.  My cousin Angela called Grandma "bad ass" after seeing this. (Choose full screen for proper viewing enjoyment.)

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I'm not even surprised that there is video of Grandma doing the Harlem Shake before I even knew about this phenomenon.  This is the same woman who when I was maybe ten or eleven years old, came into my room to do the Electric Slide while I was doing my homework and listening to the radio one night.

Of course, my favorite part is that she's been living there for just over a year and is already the Ambassador for the facility (it's capitalized because it's a title, and when Grandma thinks about it, I'm sure she sees it that way).

I just hope when I'm pushing 90 years old, I can still shake it.  Although my sister said we'd probably break a hip shakin' it.  Worth it.

Nothing Like a Warm Beer

If you couldn't tell from the Keisha vs. Grandma post, my Grandma is pretty hilarious and provides much amusement for those who know her.  She'll laugh at herself and has accepted that at age 87, she can do whatever she wants and get away with it.

So part of me wasn't surprised to find her drinking a warm beer one afternoon.  The other part of me thought she had lost it, since Grandma certainly can appreciate the tastiness of a cold beer.

While Dave and I were in Pittsburgh, we went with my parents to visit my grandparents at their apartment in their assisted living facility.  My dad provides beer for them like he's their dealer.  Except apparently the last time he was there, he hadn't put the entire case in the fridge.  He'd put about half in and then put the rest in the cupboard.

When we arrived, Grandma was happy to see us and excitedly exclaimed, "I'm drinking a warm beer."

At this point we all looked at her with question marks in our eyes.  Come again, now?

Grandma: I didn't feel good earlier, so I decided not to take my meds. Instead I decided to have a warm beer.

Hmm.  Either this was her way of saying the meds were making her feel bad, or she'd lost it.  Either way, we continued with our visit and eventually she convinced both my dad and Dave to have a beer with her.  They certainly couldn't let her drink alone.

After some banter about whether they could have cold beers or if they had to drink warm ones, they got their (cold) beers and then proceeded to drink them out of the can.  For which they were quickly harassed.

Grandma: Out of the can?  Yuck.

Dave: What's wrong with that?

Grandma: It doesn't taste as good.

Somewhere along the line a straw was mentioned, and Grandma thought that was a terrible idea as well.  Clearly the way to enjoy your beer is poured into a glass.  I wonder if the temperature matters.

A little while later, Grandma said, "Huh.  This warm beer is starting to taste pretty good."  Unable to contain himself, Dave said, "That's because you can't remember what a cold one tastes like!"  Which was pretty hilarious.  And because Grandma is funny, she agreed that he might have a point.

And then she questioned why she was drinking a warm beer.

For the record, Grandma hasn't completely lost it.  When I spoke to her on Thanksgiving, I asked her if she was having a warm beer.

Grandma: I'm never going to live that down, am I?

Me: Nope, sorry Grandma.  It'll haunt you for the rest of your days.

Grandma: Eh.  Whatever.

Best Fantasy Match Up EVER

This past weekend, my brother and sister went head to head in fantasy football.  It's a rivalry by definition, but JR pulled out the big guns and it may have been the funniest thing I've even seen in fantasy football.

Backing up, you need to understand that I grew up in a family that played games, especially cards.  Years ago, my sister, Amy, was on a pretty good losing streak and one day my grandmother said to her, "Amy, you're a born loser." (We all think Grandma's pretty funny.  Except Amy.)  Years later, we're playing cards and Amy was doing really well.  Since Grandma wasn't at that family gathering, JR took a small picture of Grandma and put it next to Amy, as though to curse her.  And it works.  Amy went downhill from there, and didn't win the rest of the weekend.

So naturally, when JR called me on Thursday night asking for a picture of Grandma, I burst out laughing.  This is what he put up as his team logo:

But better still, is the logo Amy (AKA Keisha--which is a story for another time) has for her team:

 

For real, for real.  So this is what the match up looked like:

JR's slogan was, "Amy, you are a born loser."  And sure enough, he won by 20 points. I'm not sure which is funnier, the fact that Grandma took on Keisha (and won), or the fact that JR pulled out a decade old Grandma curse to win in fantasy football.

Better still, when I told Grandma JR used her curse on Amy, her response was, "Meh."

Hip-Hop Grandmas

I have a distinct memory of being in my room when I was in either 5th or 6th grade, and Grandma made a sudden appearance. She and Grandpap had come over for the evening and were playing cards with my parents. Apparently my brother or sister had won the TV battle, since I was playing up in my room instead of hanging out, watching TGIF on ABC or some family movie. My brother was probably watching baseball.

Anyway, I'm in my room, listening to the radio and the dance party/remix set that came on after 8:00 pm was jamming. All I needed was a disco ball and I was ready to bust a move. The Electric Slide started to play and I continued playing or reading or whatever I was doing. I'd heard Grandma come upstairs, and when she heard the music, she came in, "I love this song!" I smiled and laughed because I knew it was true. Grandma and Grandpap used to go out dancing most weekends, so I wasn't surprised.

Grandma: Why aren't you dancing?

Me: Oh, I don't know it.

Grandma: It's easy! I'll show you.

And that's the story of how Grandma taught me the Electric Slide in my bedroom. Growing up with such an influence, I'm rarely flustered at the actions and comments of, well, grandmas. So it should come as no surprise, that this past weekend I wasn't fazed by a few things.

Over the weekend, my mother-in-law, M, and I traveled to the Allentown, PA, area to go to my husband's cousin's fiance's bridal shower (did you get that?). We stayed with D's step-grandmother, A (D's grandfather passed away last year, but A is a part of this very small, close family). On Friday night, we piled into A's car to go out to dinner. Now, I wasn't actually surprised, but I was curious when I heard Ke$ha playing on the radio. Later, on the way back to the house, A addressed the interesting choice of music, now playing a little ditty by Ludacris.

A: How do you like my radio station, C?

Me: It's pretty good. Not what I'd think you'd have on, but I'm not complaining.

A: Well, they play different stuff during the day, and then in the evening it switches for more of what the kids to listen, so I just never bother to change the channel. I don't mind it.

Me: That's cool. I don't know which is funnier, that you listen to this station or that my 4 year old niece knows all the words to these songs.

A: Well, last week I was in the car with my daughter and my grandkids and they had their iPod hooked up. We're driving along and all of a sudden, I say, "That's Usher." Just about blew them away.

I laughed, and then A admitted that she cheated a bit because Usher had just been on Oprah so that's the only way she knew his name. Regardless, I was impressed that she recognized and remembered the song. It made me wonder if she could do the Electric Slide. (I checked our wedding photos and couldn't find any evidence of such behavior, but that doesn't mean she wasn't out there!)

The next day, after the shower, we had come back to the house and A said, "I need a drink," meaning she was parched and wanted some water, but the way it came out made us giggle that it was happy hour. This sparked something for A and she had M and I follow her to the basement so we could help her with something. She opened one of the cabinets and we saw this:

About 40 bottles of varying alcohol that hadn't been touched since the late 1970s, so far as M and A could determine. It had been added to over the years (wine that D's grandfather had received as gifts from work and such), but no one had actually consumed any of it and many bottles were totally untouched.

A: What do I do with it?

Me: I think we need to dump it. If it's that old, it's not good any more.

A: Even the unopened bottles?

Me: Yeah. With the temperature changes and humidity down here, I don't think any of that could have survived one year's worth of temperature swings, let alone 30.

And so it commenced. I'm sure my Irish grandfather rolled over in his grave when I poured a 5th of Seagram's down the drain. As I popped corks from wine bottles, they disintegrated and it wasn't long until the entire basement smelled like a distillery.

Before we started, I sent D and text: We're going to help A empty out the liquor cabinet from the 1970s.

In return, he wrote: I wouldn't drink any of that if it's that old.

I didn't know what to make of that: My husband thought his wife, mother and step-grandmother were going to get totally sloshed on a Saturday afternoon by drinking 40 bottles of booze or he thought I would actually drink 30 year old liquor. (He told me later he was joking about us drinking it.)

When we were done, this is what we accomplished:


Oh, the humanity.

And poor, A is so concerned about throwing the bottles out. Living in a small town, she's planning to throw out a few at a time, so as to not cause suspicion that she had a wild party.

Beer = Church

Good times were had by all this past weekend and I've got some funny stories (and a few pictures) to prove it. But I'll start you off with a little light-hearted hilarity courtesy of my grandparents.

Grandma and Grandpap are hysterical. They are some seriously funny people. They've been married for 68 years and have cracked me up all my life. Grandpap is 92 and has Parkinson's; Grandma is 87 and in pretty good shape, although she calls herself "Flaky Sally" (and no, her name isn't Sally). And by her own admission, she was flaky before she ever got old. My grandparents now live in an assisted living facility are are thriving as a result. It's great to see them so happy and well and not have to worry about trying to take care of their house and property or just not having anyone right there to help out.

About two weeks ago, my grandfather was taken to the hospital with what was first thought to be pneumonia. Typical of his diagnosis, Grandpap usually has difficulty speaking and something of a stutter. While at the hospital, the nurses were asking him questions and getting some background from him. At one point the nurse asked him if, while he was working, he'd ever been exposed to hazardous materials. Without missing a beat and clear as a bell, he responded, "Just my wife." When I heard that, I knew he was just fine. (And he was.)

Over the weekend, we all took a trip to visit my grandparents. It was my brother, his daughter and her sister, my sister, her husband and their son and daughter, D and me. When we arrived, Grandpap was in the apartment by himself. We said hello and after a little while I asked why Grandma wasn't around. He responded that she was at church (the chapel in the facility). A little while later, he told me to go to the front desk and have someone get her. I walked down the hall and from a distance spotted Grandma talking to someone outside the common room. (Shocker--Grandma talking to someone? Seriously, this woman talks to EVERYBODY. She can literally strike up a conversation with anyone who will stand still long enough.)

As I approached, I called out to her, smiling, "Grandma, quit your yapping and get back to your apartment to entertain your guests." She looked up and was surprised (not knowing we were coming) and came running over. I got a big hug and a gentleman passing us stopped and had to harass her. "How come I never get a hug like that?" So of course, Grandma had to hug him, too. Just at that moment, one of the nurses came around the corner and said, "Come on, Grandma. Leave the boys alone."

Grandma: Hey...Whatever.

Me: Yeah, you gotta watch out for this one.

Nurse: You sure do.

On the walk back down the hallway, I told Grandma that we had all come to visit.

Grandma: Well, I didn't know you were coming. And here I am boozing it up.

Me: What?

Grandma: Yeah, I was at happy hour. I'm loaded.

(I must interject here that Grandma was not actually loaded. She was at happy hour and I have no doubt that she had a beer--or maybe 2--but drunk she was not. She wouldn't have been able to walk--even with the assistance of her walker--had she actually been loaded. But don't you love that my Grandma used that term?)

Back the apartment, Grandma shared her whereabouts with everyone else. D looks at me and says, "I thought she was at church? Hmm. Well, church, beer, it's pretty much the same to her!"

And I honestly don't think Grandpap was wrong. I just think it depends on your definition of church. And when your 92 or 87, that can be whatever you want.