DISCLAIMER: Flamingo Dancer may have been in the process of swishing down a large goblet of red wine in the process of writing this blog. If you agree with stated opinions, FD claims full copyright and ownership, if you do not agree with the opinions thus expressed, well, she disclaims her said opinions and heartily disavows them. If you can’t decide if you do or don’t agree, for heavens sake get a life and stop fence sitting.
We survived not only Christmas Day (my family), but also Boxing Day (Mr FD’s family). . We survived MIL as well, without her throwing up in the car on her way here, and back to her care facility (The HOME, the site of her “incarceration” as she declares at every available opportunity, spreading guilt as Santa does joy ), or any failure on her part to totter to the bathroom on time. Apparently, according to the Scripture of SIL, we attained some kind of record, keeping MIL together for some 6 hours.
In recent years, the Grandmas have come to have a dominant aspect of Christmas. My Mum is somewhat vague and a little deaf, though she denies both. She participated in a somewhat memorable conversation with Daughter 2 on Christmas Day on whether to “scratch the scratchies {lottery tickets] on your scratchie tree [ a small Christmas tree with lottery tickets attached] that has already gone down in Christmas history.
“Grandma, do you want to scratch the scratchie tree, now?”
“Yes, I scratched the scratchies.”
“No Grandma, those were the scratchies I gave you, I mean the scratchie tree that Dee gave you”
“Yes, I scratched the scratchies.”
“No Grandma, those were the scratchies I gave you. Remember how Dee gave you a scratchie tree too (pointing at the said tree) do you want to scratch the scratchies?”
“Yes, I scratched the scratchies”
“Grandma,” through clenched teeth, “would you like to scratch some more scratchies?”
“Do I have more?”
“Yes, Grandma, the ones that Dee gave you. Do you want me to get them for you?”
“Oh, should I? “
“Only if you want to.”
“I don’t know. Do you think I should?”
Look on Daughter2’s face communicates that about now she is considering cutting her wrists and ending it all with the carving knife on the ham platter, replies “Yes, I think you should Grandma, it’s not like you have anything else to do right now!”
“Well, then maybe I will.”
“I’ll get it for you then.”
Daughter 2 brings the tree over to Grandma.
“Oh, are these for me?”
“Yes, Grandma, Dee bought them for you.”
Cue in Son laughing in the background.
This afternoon, Daughter2 and I went to the movies to watch The Women on the Sixth Floor. I loved it, but D2 felt it was slow. I suspect I was the demographic audience and she wasn’t, as it is about a midlife crisis and living life and love. Walking down the stairs afterwards, an old man with a cane was walking in front of me, using the stair rail as support, when a group of young teenies barged up and forced him to relinquish his grip on the rail. The old man soldiered on, but I could see he was very unsteady and just as I said, “Are you ok?” he tottered backwards towards me. I put my hands out to catch him, but he swerved towards the rail and saved himself. Then, someone who may have been a son or a grandson came back up the stairs and said “I’m in front in case he falls.”
Old Man was as unimpressesed as I was, and muttered, “Fat lot of good that does me!” and so I turned and said “Maybe you should hit him with your stick!” to which Sonny Boy replied, “Don’t worry, he already does!”
Obviously, not often enough.
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