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Grannys got a new crib
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So remember a couple of weeks ago when I told y’all about Granny pulling a mummified piece of KFC outta her pocketbook? How it was all snugged up amongst wads of paper napkins, and she looked at it like it had fallen in there from right outta the sky? And how we laughed til we wet our pants cause we knew the chicken po-leece was on to her?

Remember me telling you how she always talked about how when her husband’s mind started going on him that the only way he would believe who she was was to look at her teeth? I saw it with my own eyes. He’d ask her who she was and she’d tell him, and then he’d walk over and ask her to show him her teeth. She’d pull her lips apart like Mr. Ed and that would satisfy him. Surely I told you that.

OK, and remember how I told y’all about her getting so mad because her doorbell wasn’t working, and we stood right there and watched her press on the little magnet that holds her screen door shut, fixin’ to bust out laughin’ cause she was red hot about the bell not dingin?

Oh ... didn’t I tell you that one? Well, it was goodie.

She stomped that cane of hers and barked, “Why won’t this darn thing work?” press press press. I said, “Because,” presspresspress, “this isn’t the bell. This is...”, leaning over to press the doorbell.

Her mouth dropped and she went a little pink in the cheeks. Then she laughed. And she laughed, and she laughed some more.

That was unusual because normally she’s whining or groaning about something.

Remember the little boy who cried “wolf”?

Well, Granny’s been up to the same.

She’s been a-whinin’ and she’s been a-cryin’ that she is so lonely, and she is so miserable, and all she wants to do is get out and go do something.

We all do plenty for her and with her, but it’s never quite enough. Sometimes she forgets that she’s even been out.

We all figured she was becoming a prisoner in her own house, letting the ghosts of the past catch up to her.

She mentioned to sister-in-law that she wanted to go look at retirement homes. Not assisted living places, but just somewhere she might could move to so she’d have some company.

Sis-in-law picked her up the next morning and took her to one.

The next week they went back so Granny could sit through the church service they have on site. She enjoyed that.

A few days later, we all went with her for one more look, to check out the apartment she’d have if she decided to move in.

We were invited to stay for lunch and it was a very decent healthy meal.

Granny’s little apartment was completely shaded, with a big gorgeous tree to gaze upon whenever she opened her blinds.

She walked around the apartment, asking should she or shouldn’t she.

We had all pretty much decided it would be a good thing for her to do. A change of scenery. Be around folks of the same background and interests. After all, who else would want to listen to stories of “growing up during the Depression” than folks who’d done just that?

As we walked through the hall of the main building, there were lots of elders with walkers, or canes and one or two in wheelchairs.

She muttered to me under her breath, “God, they all look so old!”

Mind you, she’s just about 80.

The lovely gal who is in charge of admissions was with us the whole time and I asked how old the oldest resident is.

She said, “Oh, that would be Annie. She is 105.”

Wow. One hundred and five years old.

“Yes,” she continued, “Annie was doing really well up until about three years ago. She’d gone to the grocery store and was just coming out when the automatic doors closed on her. That was really hard on her. She now has to use a wheelchair to get around.”

I guess the doors were trying to do her in before she was ready to go.

As we were sitting in the office waiting for the paperwork to take home, a spry little gentleman walked by wearing a dashing sweater.

I commented, “My, that’s quite the sweater you’re wearing. Looks good on you.”

He stopped and grinned at me, like the wolf the little boy was crying about, and said, “I’ve got more of these if you’d like to come to my room and see them...”.

I leaned over and said, “Honey, if you ain’t got a pacemaker now, you’ll need one after I get done with you.”

He winked at me and took off, guess he was going down to get those sweaters out.

Granny’s been mulling it over now for the past few days, having put a deposit down on that sweet little apartment, but not wanting to leave her house. The house is going to be rented out to her very responsible grandson and his wife, and if she doesn’t like her new place, she can move back in to her old one.

“I just can’t stand being around people all the time,” she whined this morning.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect housewarming gift for you. It’s just so ‘you.’ It will be the first thing people see when they walk by your door.”

“What is it?” she asked, excited at the prospect of getting a gift.

“It’s a welcome mat that’s not very welcoming. Suits you to a tee.”

“Why? What does it say?”

“It says, ‘Go Away.’”

She likes that. She’s afraid the little wolf with the sweaters will be over at her place all the time.

Looking for me.

“Hey there little Red Riding sure are lookin’ good, you’re everything that a big bad wolf could want.....oooowwwwww...”