That’s how old my Grandma is as of yesterday.  She also had her first margarita.  I asked her how she liked it.

“Goooooood.  I can’t believe none of you have ever given me one of these before.”

Her grandchildren have more gray hair than she does.


A few weeks ago Mark and I visited her.  She’d had a bear in her yard recently, and we could tell by the dozens of unattractive piles, just what he’d been binging on.  We were picking all of her apples so his feast would be gone, and he’d stay away.  Never one to stay inside while someone was working in her yard, Gram came out to supervise the apple picking.  It was cold, windy, and she had been sick, so I told her that we were just fine, and that she should go back inside where it’s warm.

“Kid, don’t you tell me what to do.  I’ll go inside when I’m good and ready.  I’ll stay inside when I’m old.”

Then after a long pause where I had shrugged my shoulders because there’s really no point in arguing with Gram, “How old am I, anyway?”

“Gram, in two weeks you’re going to be 92.”

“Oh hell, I’m old.  I’m going inside.”



6 responses to “92

  1. Please have a margarita– or a warm drink– with K and family for me.

    You seem much more younger than the simple years would show. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. We should all be so fortunate. Happy Birthday, Gram. I enjoyed hearing about you– and that you are well and in good spirits with family and sharng apples with… bears.

    your friend, skippy

    ps: make sure K doesn’t have too many margarita-poos and hot toddies over the holidays. I do hope she’s having more fun. But not too much fun. Dancing on the tabletops and swinging off the chandeliers have their limits.

  2. Well K can have a good time wherever she goes because she is such a positive individual. I will keep my eye on her, though, when the festivities begin and my chandelier starts swaying!!

    Thank you for the lovely comments about Gram. She is, indeed, a very strong woman and we are so blessed that she is in lives.

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