Witch Shoes

Tonight I had to explain to my grandma about my temp job.

Sorry, she calls it “tempo.”

So tonight I had to explain to my grandma about my tempo job.

Jeez.

Like all things I know grandma won’t be able to hear (everything) or understand (most things) I don’t give out too much information, and just let her ask me the things she really wants to know. It was a painful ten minutes, but I think she feels well informed now, so that is good.

I guess.

Today the old ladies were freezing. They walked in the door and said, “Isn’t it so cold today?” (it was in the 70’s) and we would have to say, “oh, yes, bitter cold,” even though I was out in a short sleeve shirt and a skirt all day. There were jokes as to whether or not to keep jackets on, because it was so cold, don’t you know. Blah blah blah. Our indoor thermometer read 71 degrees. I don’t understand being old. I just don’t get it.

Now, one of our old ladies is s…l…o….w….so slow.

We always make her get her food first. The concept is that she will get her food, sit down and start eating. We almost always set up dinner buffet style, and one time she was last getting her food, and by the time she made it to the table, we were mostly all finished eating. Then we had to sit for 25 minutes while she ate. We learned our lesson.

So, we make her go down the line first. I know that after we pray and send her down the line, I can usually change out of my church clothes, wash my feet, start writing a post or have a conversation online, unpack my church bag, and brush my hair before it will be my turn to get my food. Usually by the time we have all filled our plates and seated ourselves, she has finally gotten herself organized so as to pick up a fork and start eating. She’s just slow.

She eats slow too. Everyone always finishes way before her. So we just sit around, waiting. I have had many discussions about this with my family, and we decided that it isn’t because she is always talking, or always fussing, she is just slow.

One day my mother and I had a competition to see if one of us could finish our dinner after this old lady. We couldn’t do it. I ran out of things to eat.

Tonight, after everyone had finished eating, Paul and Marissa called, and I answered the phone. So, I got to talk to them for awhile, and I knew I was missing dessert. Grandma always makes dessert, and tonight it was pineapple pecan non-fat cake with cream cheese frosting. I rarely enjoy these desserts. I don’t really like cream cheese frosting, and I hate nuts in my baked goods. Unfortunately, Grandma really likes to bake, so we get stuff like this all the time. This really goes into another subject about how Grandma is always calling us and herself fat, but then she makes these desserts and gets offended if we don’t eat them. Maybe we will talk about that later. But before we move away from the subject, I just want to reminisce a little bit: To everyone that was at the family reunion this past summer, remember when Grandma sent over those cupcakes, and no one could figure out what was wrong with them? But we kept eating them thinking… “these are odd…” and then she told me she forgot to put oil in them. Remember that? Yeah, me too.

Okay, so after I finished talking with the sibs, I passed the phone to mom and dad, and knew it was my turn to sit at the table with the old ladies. Of course, I had to get a piece of cake and pretend to enjoy it. So I sat down with them, scraping off the frosting, and eating around the nuts, and not enjoying whatever was left of the cake, when mom decides to take her phone call outside into the 55 degree whether. She doesn’t close the door all the way, and suddenly Grandma says, “Holy %#&@ she left the door open!!!! I’m going to FREEZE!!!”

I hadn’t noticed a change in temperature, so I lazily look over at the door, and then back to Grandma, who was still mehrnermerhnering about how cold it is, so I decided to shut the door.

I don’t know what we were talking about next, but suddenly Grandma yells, “Where is Mary, she needs to eat a piece of cake!”

I agreed with Grandma, where indeed, was Mary? Why was she not helping me endure? But she was getting ready to go out. So I tell Grandma, “She’s straightening her hair!”

“She’s WHAT?!”

“STR-AIGH-T-EN-ING HER HAIR!”

“Well, she has a lot of hair.”

Yeah.

About this time I was mad at myself for answering the phone, and thus drawing out the evening unnecessarily. Where were my parents? Why am I here all by myself?

FINALLY mom comes back in to hang the phone up, and she is smiling. So I look up and make some funny comment, and so we are both smiling, and Grandma says, “Why are you smiling?!”

Mom doesn’t answer, because what could she say?
So Grandma asks again, “Why are you smiling?!?!?”
Mom just shrugs, which is apparently not a suitable answer because Grandma exclaims, “WHY ARE YOU SMILING?!?!”

I don’t remember what happened after that because I busted up laughing, and then Mom says, “Paul and Marissa and the baby are fine. They are doing really well.”

Grandma seemed fine with that answer.

The phone conversation was over, dessert was over, and the old ladies were about to get their coats on when I decided it was safe to escape to my room to write this. Dad took one old lady home and mom took the other one home.

When mom walked back home, she came down the hall, stood between mine and Mary’s rooms and said,

“You know, there are times when I think I’ll never make it through dinner.”