The Boy with The Gun

For those of you who write at diaryland, blogger sends me an e-mail when I get a comment and instead of just telling me that I have a comment, like diaryland, it gives me the comment. Well, I read two last night before I went to bed which essentially stated I was boring. I thought that Scott and MW (he's all locked and shy, so I won't bother linking to him) were telling me that my really long not-quite-three paragraph post yesterday was a snoozer, so I went to sleep all stressed out about my lack of interesting life. This morning I checked in at my blog and saw that they had been commenting on my Grand Prix post. Could I be more paranoid? Of course, this isn't to say that they didn't think the other post was boring, they're just much too polite to tell me so, well, Scott, at least. ;-)

Tonight is DSO night. My friend Jim had asked to go since his birthday is Saturday, but his mom is going away for the weekend and wanted to see him tonight so he bailed on me. Instead I'm going to take my friend's son, the same one I took last year. He's very very excited. I think the program might not be that exciting as they're doing Mozart, Symphony #38 and some Chopin which while pleasant might not keep us from fidgeting in our seats. I have high hopes for the showcase piece, the Concerto for Orchestra by Lutoslawski. When I lived in SF I would dread the modern pieces because the SFSO always picked the crap of the bunch, if it weren't dissonant they wouldn't play it. I do have to say though that the modern crap was usually first and therefore short, so we would just have to suffer through ten minutes or so, but let me tell you when you're stuck listening to "music" that is "repetitive and clangorous" that ten minutes can feel like a lifetime. Thank God, the DSO likes to choose modern music that has some musicality to it. It's probably not going to be melodic like Mozart, but I'll bet it keeps us awake and interested, and not wishing just for it to end!

I had absolutely no plans for the weekend other than tonight but then I e-mailed Jim to see what he was doing for his b-day. I have no idea what we're going to do but we will be celebrating his b-day tomorrow evening. Tomorrow during the day I might sit outside for a little while, if it's nice, because my legs are so white they are BLINDING!!! I didn't notice until I went to the gym this week (twice!!). Wow, but damn, I'm white! A number of years ago, I had to pick Grandma up at the airport. She sid she would take me out to dinner at her country club as a thank you. It was about 90˚F out, so I put on a lightweight sundress and sandals (no jeans allowed at the country club EVER), as my apartment was not air-conditioned. As we were sitting at dinner Grandma said to me, "Kathleen, your legs are so white. Why aren't you wearing hose?" "Grandma, it's 95 degrees outside! I'm not going to wear hose." "But your legs are so white." Hard to argue, but I figure it's partially her fault anyway, so she's just going to have to deal with my white legs.

I have been meaning for some time now (yes, this is paragraph #4, like Mr. Schprock, I reserve the right to write more if the muse strikes) to tell you all about my Grandma, and I don't think I've done it. If I have, so what, she deserves more than one entry!

I feel that there is nobody in this world cuter than my Grandma who I quite affectionally call Shortstuff. She even signs my birthday cards (and Christmas and Valentine's Day and Thanksgiving, etc.) as Shortstuff. Grandma isn't all sweetness and light and she doesn't even own a rocking chair, but growing up I always knew she loved me. When I was in grade school, I was painfully shy, even amongst family, and would spend most of my time in my room reading a book. I would do the same thing at Grandma's house, just because that's what I wanted to do. I can't tell you how many times she would come upstairs, take the book out of my hands and say, "Come downstairs and join the party, Kathleen." And she would proceed to drag me down the stairs and into the family room to socialise. As soon as I could, though, usually after she went back to the kitchen to continue working on dinner, I would escape back up the stairs to my book. I appreciated this because the paternal grandparents took my hiding in my room to read as a personal affront to them, and they literally held it against me until the days they died.

Grandma's favorite color is blue and her entire house is blue, except for the basement which is a walkout, not really a basement. That must have been decorated as the one room for Grandpa – paneling, La-Z-Boy, TV, built-in bar, etc. I've taken to saving every voicemail message she leaves. I just have to hear her cute little voice saying, "Ahem, ahem, Hi Kathleen, this is Grandma." which always makes me laugh because I think I might know her voice by now.

At her tallest, Grandma might have been 5'2" and I remember how my siblings and I couldn't wait to be as tall as Grandma when we were kids. The funny thing now is that all my cousins, nieces and nephews still measure themselves to Grandma and get all excited about being as tall as her. I like to burst their bubbles though by saying, "When we were growing up that was actually an accomplishment." Grandma's lucky if she's 4'8" these days. She's just so cute and tiny, not that osteoporosis is cute, but I can't help but hug the stuffing out of her (gently) when I see her. And I completely feel like an Amazon next her and I'm only 5'6"!

Back in December she turned 87 and is finally starting to slow down. I hate seeing her so frail as, although she's always been tiny, she's never been frail. It makes me realise that she's not going to last forever, something I don't like to acknowledge. A few years back she told all of us to let her know what of her stuff we wanted or to put our name on it. I've told her a few things (mostly stuff I've given her), but always qualify it with "But I don't want it for at least 20 years." And she laughs at me, and says, "Oh Kathleen." I dread the day that she will no longer be here. Holidays and family get togethers just won't be the same without her.

My Grandma has never said a swear word in her life and just tsks tsks at me, although I do try to be good around her. I won a black leather motorcycle jacket with a whole bunch of old punk bands names on the back. Now the black leather motorcycle jacket didn't faze her at all as I have had one for years, but the names on the back make for some interesting reading. She's seen the jacket twice now and both times she started out reading the names out loud, "The Ramones. The Buzz----. Okay Kathleen." I had to laugh, and just kissed her good-bye.

That's just a little snippet about my Grandma, as I just don't know how to express how damn cute she is and how much I love her.

This is the only digital pic I have of her and it's an older one. That's her brother which might explain why they look so much alike.



Have a good weekend, everybody!