Friday, September 9, 2011

Slapping Granny

A Cautionary Tale....


She looks sweet doesn't she?
Photo courtesy of AP news.



Sit back kiddie-o’s and read a true story that I have just laying around in my brain.

The scene is this- my mom and I take my Grandma to Florida for a vacation after my Grandpa died. I know, I know...more dead people. But people die; it’s a fact of life and Buddha says you better damn well get used to it. So saddle up.

Grandma, mom and me...down in Florida. Grandma doesn’t want to go to the beach, because it’s too hot and she doesn’t like the sand. She doesn’t want to sit at the pool because it’s too hot and she doesn’t like to swim. She doesn’t want to go to any restaurants because they’re too expensive and she doesn’t like seafood, and forget about shopping at all the touristy outlets...she just can't walk that much anymore. Sounds like a super fun vacay to you, doesn’t it?

Here’s a fair question to ask and believe me we DID, “Hey, you old biddy. What DO you want to do?”  And, to be fair, there was an answer. It was this, “Why don’t go to the grocery store and buy some bags of chicken Voila, and then we can come back to the condo and dust and vacuum?” 

For reals, peeps. That was the answer.

And for any reader who wasn’t upwardly mobile in 1999, chicken Voila was a precursor to the Bertolli meals in a bag type thing. Except it was awful...awfuler than what you can buy today. What can I say, it was the late 90’s, and the world was in flux.

We decided to get an umbrella for the day to lure the woman away from the 24 hour news cycle and whatever Giraldo Rivera was doing at the time. (This is post-Capone’s tomb, FYI.) Mom went up to the room to grab another batch of drinks, and took longer than I thought was necessary. When she got back...she was laughing hysterically...not a good sign. I think you should be able to guess that by now.

“Hey Liz, look back at the condo.”
“Why Mom...I’m relaxing...”

(Anyway, what could I possibly be looking for? Everyone knows that rules at beach condos are that you can’t even hang a beach towel over the balcony rails...what’s to see?)

Here’s the part where you scream for me NOT to look back, kind of like when you want the dumb chick to NOT go into the woods, or the dark house, or the basement.....but I'm the dumb chick in this story and so I looked.  

My super sweet granny had been scrubbing MY UNDERWEAR and had hung them off the balcony to dry.... From the beach, one could see 5 or 6 pair of industrial underwear....flapping in the sea breeze.

Picture the scene, if you will. Take a moment. 

What does a 26 year old woman who packed her work undies for a vacation with a mom and a grandma do when she sees aforementioned unmentionables hanging from a balcony, visible to the naked eye, from the beach?

I’ll tell you what she does. She sprints, full on, back to the condo and rips the things off the balcony screaming, 
“You’re not allowed to hang things from the balcony! It’s in the rules!”

Yes, that's what I came up with...that was my argument. It was only later that I had the wherewithal to ask, “Um...why were you cleaning my underwear?” Whatever the answer was, I can’t remember it. I don’t really think it matters much.

Don't let this happen to you!
Photo courtesy of amygump.org


Here’s what you need to know of my cautionary tale of horror: if you ever take Grandma on a beach vacation, remember to buy fancy new underwear that you’ve never, ever worn before. Make sure they're something that will enrich the lives and photos of other beach goers, and for the love of all that’s decent in the world....remember: Grandmas really don’t belong on vacation anyway.

Have a great week end pals!!

2 comments:

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  2. Frank...I don't know why your comment shows as being removed. Thanks for reading and no, I don't know about the aunt and sleeping pills!

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