Chit chat

I am sitting in the car with my grandmother waiting on my mom to get wine. I refused to go in because I have bought wine the past two days and had the same checkout person and I have to shop there and they think I am a wino.

Anyway, my mom apparently fell in a black hole so I am typing what I am listening to my grandmother say. Enjoy.

I don't really shop at garden ridge. But I bought those bird pillows, so now I will have to go there if I need to return them.

That woman should squeeze her far ass into those tight pants. Oh, her husband is black.

There are a lot of people going in that store and nobody coming out.

I only had two glasses of wine last night. You two drank three bottles.

I don't know how people can afford to smoke. It's so expensive and everybody is always bitching about how poor they are.

Don't let anyone fat sit on your new dining room chairs.

Do you like Maury Povich?

I swear I did not say a word. Until now. That was a resounding no.

Happy 4th of July everyone!

Grandparents

Update: MY GRANDMOTHER HAS LOST HER SHIT ALL OVER FACEBOOK. 

Posted on my wall: Happy Birthday to the boy. Happy Birthday to the boy. Happy Birthday dear the boy! Happy Birthday to you!

Erratic: You are supposed to post this on his wall, silly.

Yeah I know I didn't have his then figured out if I clicked on his on yours viola. Honestly I surprise myself with my brilliance! luvm.

All comes to he who waits patiently in the sidelines!

Try a vitamin (health food store) for the honey. luvum.

The very last comment was in reference to a completely different post. Also, terrible advice based on that post.

On another grand-parent related note, Papa and the boy have the same birthday. So, tonight I picked him up from the retirement home and took him to dinner. He had one margarita and was pretty tipsy. He was cracking me up. I laughed through our entire dinner. It was the first time in a long time that I have been able to keep him away from sad stories and just laughing and having fun. 

But, I still tipped the waiter 30%. How do you teach and 87 year old man that whistling at servers is rude? No, seriously? How? I would like suggestions.

Maybe it is time to reconsider Facebook

So, my grandmother joined Facebook. And for those of you who are new and haven't read the archives, please click on the "conversations with grandma" link in the sidebar. 

I have had the following comments on my Facebook page over the past few weeks.

In response to a check in: "AND? I am not a read between the lines kind of girl. luvum." (She signs every single written communication luvum.)

On my wall: "Did you make the shushi? looks good. How are ya? Did you get your valentine? luvum."

On my wall" "I can't seem to get through. Oh well. luvum."

In response to my facebook status about me having a bad day. "Why if I might ask waht happened I cannot sympathize with that I don't know...luvm." (sometimes she forgets a u. Or adds a u. Nobody can be sure.)

In response to my disappointment in the Ohio election. "in what? MJ" (MJ are her initials.)

In response to a post about Robin Thicke. Which is random, I realize. " I knew that. I forgot! When I heard the name thaat is what I thought I heard him once is it ok to say I thought him ok! But then I htouhgtb dadddy was a  jerk. m"

This had nothing to do with what I posted. HOWEVER. The woman gives me a Penzies spice catalog every time I see her. Also, she asks me this every single time I talk to her. "So you will work all week no break? Yuck!!!!!! Do you go to Penzies the spice place? You have one don't you? Do you ge ttheir catalog interesting! luvm" 

In response to a lazy Sunday post. "dont thinks o bunkie thats burning your candle at both ends Not working today? Ya didn't get blown away? isnt it awful? luvm"   

On one post where I said I was going to the seafood market and making Thai food. "o I will try again I can't seem to get htis luvum" and "waht do you know about eatig Kevin? luvum" and "ahhhhhhhhhhh I get it! luvum" and finally "this is so easy I am going to be a facebook nut! luvum."

All spelling errors are left in for comedic purposes. 

My mother had to go over to her house and show her how to use it. And specifically told her to stop signing all her posts with luvum. Clearly she got the point. (She didn't.) And now when she calls me, she grills me about everything I have posted on Facebook in the past week. 

Is it wrong to block my grandmother?

So, so many things

This is going to be a long one. I suggest grabbing yourself a drink and putting on your comfy pants. Or no pants. But, if your laptop gets hot like mine, at least a blanket. Singed thighs are never a good thing.

Last weekend I went back to StL for Christmas with my mom's side of the family. The weekend started with a 6 am flight. SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. I am not a morning person. Getting up at 4 am was not pleasant. 

Then the boy and I met Bradshaw for lunch, which was all kinds of awesome. For whatever reason, these encounters always make me ridiculously nervous. It is easy to hide behind a computer and a smart ass blog. It is much harder to be in person and enjoy someone's company. Both times I have hung out with Bradshaw, 30 seconds into it, I have remembered why we are friends in the first place because it is always like we have been friends for a decade and see each other every day. I love this.

The usual craziness of my family ensued. My grandmother is on some sort of anti-China campaign and refuses to use, buy, eat, or be near anything made in China. This led to us frantically unwrapping all her presents and removing various made from china stickers and blacking out the same labels on boxes. All made in Argentina. Yep. Sure thing. Some favorite quotes from the weekend;

"Sometimes I am just walking and I forget I have feet." (After falling over for absolutely no reason.)

"You know, I never noticed, but you have no ass." (To my mother's husband)

There were more, but neither the boy nor I can remember them. The crazy ass apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I am afraid. I think I am slowly turning into her.

Saturday night, we went out for my sister's birthday/her friend's birthday. It was this little microbrewery and it was AMAZING. They had a girl scout cookie beer that tasted just like a thin mint. The rest of their beers were pretty delicious too. It was literally a guy who bought a bar and put the brewing equipment in what would normally be the office. It was really cool to see someone so small time doing so well. The place was packed.

Sunday we went to brunch at her house and she pulled out all of my art from when I was a kid. Like, two years old. I have been taking art classes since I was old enough to hold a paint brush. There is one called "Might be a Bird" and one called "Mosquito." It was quite funny to see paint strewn all over a page and my grandmother's interpretations. 

Work has been kind of odd this week, a weird mix of slow during the busy times and busy during the slow times. Super frustrating.

I am also making a 6 course Indian meal for my dad as his Christmas present. I am pretty nervous because I feel extremely unprepared. Mostly because I haven't prepared. So, work needs to stop being an ass hole and give me some time to work on some of this shit. It is always nice to do your testing on someone else's dime.

So, there is the update of Christmas #1 and why I will be very absent through the rest of this week. However...I will definitely be posting all of the pictures of the dinner on the 24th!

I hope you all have a wonderful holiday, whatever it is you celebrate. 

Tornado

The boy sent me a video of the tornado that hit the St. Louis airport. I knew that all of this happened, I know my family is OK. I did not think anything of it.

When I saw the video...I burst into tears. Years ago, a tornado hit really close to my grandparent's house in Indiana. I remember having the same feeling...this could have been them. My mother, stepfather, sister, and brother-in-law live no more than 10 miles from the airport. My grandmother, lives about 25 miles away. Bradshaw is there, though not particularly close to the airport. The city is full of old and new friends who I love.

I am not scared of storms, in fact I love them. I am not scared of tornado's. I am that idiot sitting outside on my porch with a beer watching the sky change. I miss the storms back home, the storms here are rare and underwhelming. But, moments like this make me wish I could be everywhere at once. I could be in the basement with my St. Louis family while they waited out the storm...be here with my Ohio family...I wish we could all be in one place.

I am so happy that everyone I love is OK and am so sorry for those who are not. Those videos were scary and I am not posting them because, frankly, I don't want to watch them again to embed them. (note: figured that out today. For a former IT person, I am kind of a moron.)

In conclusion, I love you, man. And when in doubt, hide in the airport bathroom.

Little fucker, I love him already. And feet.

Two posts in one day, but it's been a while since we have had conversations with grandma.

She starts chemo the beginning of August. Now, let me preface this with the fact that she had leukemia for the better part of a decade. It is essentially so slow-growing that they chose not to treat it and, in fact, estimate that she has had it far longer than a decade. She was diagnosed, the day of my sister's rehearsal dinner no less, with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. There were a lot of tears and everyone is scared. But, the doctors have essentially said that, unlike the leukemia, this has to be treated.

Having said all that, I realize this is serious. I love my grandmother dearly, no matter how crazy she is. I, in fact, inherited said crazy and embrace it with everything I am. But, this conversation? It had to be shared.

Erratic: So, when do you start chemo?

Grandma: Sometime in August. They say I have to do it. Or I'll die. I don't think I can afford it, so I figure I will just die.

Erratic: Grandma, seriously, that is ridiculous. Don't think about money. That is the stupidest thing you have ever said. This family has enough money to pay your copays.

Grandma: Well, that's true. What happens if I shit myself? If I shit myself, promise you will make them send me to a home.

Erratic: Nobody is sending you to a home and nobody is shitting themselves.

Grandma: I'm just saying. I talked to my sister today. She is bat shit crazy.

Erratic: Well, yeah.

Grandma: I mean, everything is about her and how her feet fucking hurt. My feet hurt to, you know. Did you know my feet hurt?

Erratic: Yeah.

Grandma: Well, they do. But, nobody cares about my feet. It's all about HER feet. And that loser of a son of hers who won't get a job. You have a job. And you're in school. But, he's too good for a job.

Erratic: I mean, the economy...

Grandma: Oh, don't defend that crazy family with all their feet and joblessness. I don't have the time. How is that kitty of yours?

Erratic: He's good, rotten, but good.

Grandma: Well, that's good. I've got to go. So You Think You Can Dance is on and I am rooting for that little shit from Ohio for you, honey.

Erratic: Um, thanks? Love you.

Grandma: Love you too. Send pictures!

Of what? I don't know. I sent pictures of the cat, thinking that is what she meant, to which she responded, "He looks rotten. Little fucker, I love him already."

The crazy runs deep, my friends. Very, very deep.

Christmas, Part I

Christmas was oddly calm this year. My holidays are usually spent flying or driving all over the country to see various members of my family. Everyone will meet in one city and Christmas is mass chaos. There is always drama, as my family tends to cause trouble wherever we go. Lies are told, people are manipulated, and someone always ends up in tears. Merry Christmas, right? This year was totally different. The boy and I drove to St. Louis and spent the weekend before Christmas with my mother, stepfather, grandmother, sister, and my sister's fiance. All the boy did was sleep and eat and I feel like I didn't do a whole hell of a lot more than that. It was boring. In a really really good way.

The only excitement came from my grandmother...who we all know is a tad off her rocker. We were supposed to all gather (my other three aunts - the drama makers - and everyone listed above) in St. Louis. My aunts scheduled a craft show for that weekend, so we cancelled the family gift exchange and decided to just buy small for everyone. My grandmother claimed that my mom (the bearer of bad news) cancelled Christmas and my grandmother wanted nothing to do with it. So, when we arrived, we were not sure what to expect. I called her when we got there because otherwise we get a frantic phone call claiming I am dead somewhere in Illinois.

Erratic: "I just wanted to call and let you know I made it safe and sound."

Grandma: groans

Erratic: "Are you OK?"

Grandma: "I have had a migraine for a week. I can't leave the house. I think I am dying."

Erratic: "You are not dying. Have you called the doctor?"

Grandma: "Yes, he put me on steroids."

Erratic: "So, you left the house to go to the doctor?"

Grandma: groans

Erratic: "OK, well, get some sleep, I will call you tomorrow."

The next morning she told my mom that she hasn't eaten in 5 days, so we made chicken noodle soup and went grocery shopping for a bunch of migraine-friendly food. When we got to her house, she was fine. I mean, completely and totally fine. She was ranting and raving about how China is trying to kill us and she refuses to buy anything made in China, even though I pointed out like 14 things IN THE ROOM that were made in China. Sigh.

So, we had to postpone Christmas until she "felt better" which caused everyone to say over and over, "Where's grandma, I want to open presents," something I said a few years earlier and have not lived down. I hate surprises and tend to get a tad impatient when there are 15 wrapped surprises in my presence. Let's just say my biggest childhood accomplishment was steaming open presents and then wrapping them and never getting caught. Oh, and taking the hinges off of closet doors that were locked. That served well both for presents and liquor.

When we left, my step dad, who even hates his own children, told the boy what a pleasure it was to have him this weekend and stated it was the best Christmas he has ever had with my family. It took me most of the drive home to recover from this.

Christmas part II will follow shortly.

The Erratic Crazy Train

I called my mom on Sunday to check in and see how everything was going. We did the usual catch up stuff and then this happened:

Mom: "Your grandmother thinks you are mad at her."

Erratic: "OK, I'll play along. Why?"

Mom: "Because you haven't called her since I came to visit."

Erratic: "I have talked to her, like, 5 times since you left. I have just been busy."

Mom: "I know, but she is calling me and driving me crazy because she thinks I told you something about her and now you are mad."

Erratic: "I have nothing here. Do you want me to call her?"

Mom: "Only if you want to."

Erratic: "I'll call her this weekend."

Mom: "Oh, and she told me that there was some investigation into your postman?"

Erratic: "You have got to be kidding."

Mom: "No. Is he really stealing your mail?"

Erratic: "She is just spewing crazy now. No, mom, I am getting everything except what she sends. Maybe HER mailman is stealing HER mail."

Mom: "Christ, Erratic, don't tell her that. She'll have the fucking FBI involved by Friday. Just call her so she gets off my back."

Erratic: "Done. Love you."

Mom: "Sorry about the genes. Love you too."

Grandma Goes to the Post Office

A little background: My grandmother has sent me a $100 check since the day I moved out of her house. I don't know why. I have never really asked, I guess. It's just one of those things. I have told her I don't need it, that she doesn't have to, but the check comes every month without fail. If I do not cash it within 5 days of her putting it in the mail, all hell breaks loose. Observe.

Erratic: Hello

Grandma: Did you get the check I sent you?

Erratic: No.

Grandma: This the second one in a week. You didn't get the last one did you?

Erratic: No. I got a page out of Reader's Digest about a pillow you put on your chair to help your back. That is it since you left.

Grandma: Your postman is robbing you.

Erratic: I am sure it is just a mistake or something wrong at the post office.

Grandma: Erratic (first and middle name) open your eyes. Your postman is robbing you.

Erratic: Have the checks been cashed?

Grandma: Well, no.

Erratic: Are you missing money in anyway?

Grandma: That is not the point. What if he is collecting them?

Erratic: To accumulate a mass fortune, $100 at a time?

Grandma: Stranger things have happened?

Erratic: I will call the post office tomorrow.

Grandma: Call me as soon as you hear. That postman should be fired.

Erratic: OK, I will

Grandma: What did you have for dinner?

Erratic: I used leftover pork to make pork fried rice.

Grandma: Did you have a salad with it?

Erratic: Yes.

Grandma: Good. You should really be drinking tomato juice.

I am buying her a case of tomato juice for Christmas.

Grandma: The After Show

I come home Saturday to the following message on my answering machine:

"It's your grandmother! (said in approximately the same tone as "it's your parole officer.") I haven't heard from you in a while and wanted to make sure you were OK. And I am bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. I tried calling everyone and no one is home. Call me back."

I did not call her back. Because I was working and crabby and was positive I would have tried to kill her with my mind through the phone. By Sunday, I had completely forgotten that she had called. About 9:00 pm, my phone rings and my TV (because, yes, my TV displays my caller id and it is AWESOME) tells me it is my grandmother. Shit. I answer the phone.

Erratic: "Hey! Sorry I didn't..."

Grandma: "Are you OK? Why aren't you returning my calls?"

Erratic: "As I was saying, sorry I didn't call you back. I was working all weekend."

Grandma: "How many hours did you work?"

Erratic: "About 20 this weekend, about 50 last week."

Grandma: "That's too many."

Erratic: ...

Grandma: "What did you have for dinner?"

Erratic: "Pizza. I didn't feel like cooking."

Grandma: "That isn't healthy. Did you have a salad?"

Erratic: "No, but I had garlic bread."

Grandma: "Erratic (she actually used my first AND middle name here) you are going to get sick and end up back in the hospital if you don't take care of yourself."

Erratic: "Pizza will not hurt my back. Promise."

Grandma: "Well, what if it does?"

Erratic: "You win. No more pizza."

Grandma: "Do you like tomato juice?"

We talked for about 10 minutes about why I should drink tomato juice. I will spare you the details. I get into work Monday morning and have an email from my mother that just says:

"Call your grandmother. She thinks you are mad at her."

I responded that I had already talked to her and was, in fact, not mad at her. I had been busy and forgot to call her back. My mother responds:

"Good. That woman is a loony tune. I swear I was adopted."

I could not agree more, mom.

Maybe a family can be too honest...

Grandma: What is it you are always doing on that computer?

Erratic: Reading blogs, writing blog posts (that I never publish), IMing your youngest grandaughter, you know, interent stuff.

Grandma: What is a blog?

Erratic: Sort of like an online diary that everyone can read.

Grandma: EVERYONE can read it?

Erratic: Yeah, that is sort of the point. It's a way to communicate your thoughts and feelings with the world.

Grandma: How many people read your blog?

Erratic: Not that many. I am not that cool.

Grandma: What do you write about?

Erratic: I don't know...just life. Here, read my last post (note: the one where she asked if she was interfering in my love life.)

Grandma: Did I really say that?

Erratic: Yep

Grandma: Did he really grab your ass?

Erratic: Yep

Grandma: Oh. Well, I guess I have one less thing to worry about; my grandchildren have a healthy sex life.

Erratic: That I do.

Grandma: Good. Let's never talk about it again.

Erratic: Deal.

Road Trip

Erratic: The speed limit is 40 mph

Grandma: I am doing 35 mph and everybody is whizzing by me

Erratic: That is because the speed limit is 40 mph

Grandma: Well, all these people speeding are making me nervous. I can't talk and drive that fast.

Erratic: They aren't speeding. Why are you slowing down?

Grandma: That person up there looks like they are going to turn

Erratic: They are. After you pass them. You can't just stop in the middle of the road.

Grandma: I didn't stop, I slowed down.

Erratic: You are going 5 mph

Grandma: Well, sue me.

Erratic: You need to turn left at the light.

Grandma: OK

Erratic: Left. You need to get over one more lane.

Grandma: OK, OK. Jeesh

Erratic: Left. You need to turn left.

Grandma: Oops, I just turned right. I really don't like making lefts, you know.

Cleaning Day

Grandma: I am going to clean today, but I can't find any rags.

Erratic: They are in the blue basket in the basement. That is all rags.

Grandma: I looked there, all I found was this old stained towel.

Erratic: That is a rag.

Grandma: Oh.

**Approximately 15 minutes passes, I am watching Chuck and paying no attention to her.**

Erratic: Where did all the pictures on my mantle go?

Grandma: They wouldn't fit.

Erratic: Where are they?

Grandma: I don't know.

Erratic: Well, you had to put them somewhere.

Grandma: I put most of them in the bathroom.

Erratic: Why would I want my pictures in the bathroom?

Grandma: Because they wouldn't fit on the mantle.

Erratic: OK, you win.

**I again, zone out on the television and am paying no attention.**

Erratic: Why are all my pictures on the end table?

Grandma: You sounded upset about them being the bathroom.

Erratic: Well, now they are just stacked on the end table. I can't see them.

Grandma: Well, you can rotate them. You really have too many pictures.

Erratic: OK, you win.

**Another 15 or so minutes have passed**

Grandma: This dusting spray you have is worthless.

Erratic: All my cleaning supplies are animal friendly. They aren't quite as good as the regular stuff, but they are safe for kids, people, and animals.

Grandma: Oh, well, that is nice of you. Why do your dogs shed so much?

Erratic: Because it is spring. It is shedding season and I haven't been able to brush them.

Grandma: Do you think I could just run the vacuum over them?

Erratic: (stunned face, no response)

Grandma: I mean, lightly. I wouldn't hurt them. I'd use the hose.

Erratic: I don't think that is such a good idea.

Grandma: Well, somebody needs to vacuum them, because the shedding is out of hand.

Erratic: I will have the boy brush them tonight.

Grandma: Well, that is fine, but tell him not to leave the hair all over the floor.

Erratic: Do you think that is what I do, is brush them and throw their hair in the floor?

Grandma: Well, I just can't think of any other explanation for all this hair. How much water have you had today?

Erratic: I don't know, I haven't been counting.

Grandma: Well, if you aren't going to drink tomato juice, you should at least be drinking water.

Conversations with Grandma

Well, kids, I was going to blog the Monday/ Tuesday experience at the hospital, but, frankly, when on Oxycontin, your memory retention is fairly nonexistent. I remember, vaguely being there, some shots, a nurse, maybe a doctor, being stranded in the hallway after an X-ray with a belligerent racist woman...you know, typical Monday.

Tuesday was release day, which consisted of me pushing the nurse call button approximately every nano second to see if the release papers had been brought up yet. I am pretty sure there is a dart board with my picture on it somewhere in that hospital.

Now that I am home, I am relaxing, and holy mother of shit, am I sleeping. It is all I want to do. I know that is partially the drugs and partially being home. Whatever it is, I slept 13 hours last night and woke up feeling like I had just fallen asleep.

So, to help out, my 77 year old grandmother is staying with me. First of all, do you know what a complete useless human specimen I feel like when the 77 year old woman can move around better than me? I kind of want to fling myself in traffic. Also, she never stops talking and asking questions. Which is scary for two reasons; first, I may kill her before this ordeal is over. But, secondly, I am a very inquisitive person and just had a 50 years from now flash forward, and frankly, I am going to require that I be shot at 65. I will hire the hitman myself. Nobody should have to deal with me then.

Here is the conversation I have had while I was typing this:

Grandma: Is this Nip/Tuck?

Erratic: No, it is Charmed.

Grandma: Have you ever seen Nip/Tuck?

Erratic: No.

Grandma: Oh, he is a sex addict.

Erratic: Good to know.

Grandma: What does your step mom do when your dad is out of town?

Erratic: I have no idea.

Grandma: Is she good at her job?

Erratic: I have never watched her work.

Grandma: Does she make a whole lot of money?

Erratic: I have never asked.

Grandma: Could you go to the college she teaches at for free?

Erratic: I don't know.

Grandma: Is there anything in your oven?

Erratic: A cast iron grill pan. You can put it on top of the stove.

Grandma: How many baked potatoes will the boy eat?

Erratic: One

Grandma: How do you turn on the oven?

Erratic: Hit bake, use the arrows to adjust the temperature.

Grandma: I hit bake, nothing is happening.

Erratic: It has to preheat.

Grandma: What?

Erratic: It has to preheat

Grandma: Oh. Do you like tomato juice?

I am not even kidding here. It is like a constant flow of her asking questions. Constant. So, I have decided I am going to do a segment (I apparently think I am some sort of TV producer here) called conversations with grandma. Good times will be had by all. Except me. Who may hang myself from the ceiling fan. If my back is strong enough to climb the step stool and kick it out of the way.