In jest, a coworker said I was “everyone’s favorite grandma” last week as I walked in the door with yet another plate of cake. If you know anything about me, my thin skin is one of my most prominent features. So is my tendency for a fiesty over-reaction. And an insecure knee-jerk questioning of those closest to me.
“Am I a grandma? Is that how you view me?”
“How about you?”
“And YOU!”
Accepting your quirks is part of life. Please raise your hand if you aren’t getting weirder as you are getting older.
Thank you. I thought so.
And frankly, if you’ve met my grandmas, you’d know they’ve lived through some serious business. They are fierce and while the connotation was meant as a dig at my tendency to go to bed early, delight in knitting and feed my obsessive habit of stuffing those around me baked goods, etc. Anyway, being this nutty, crazed, and at times overly-sensitive girl, I headed out to the bar to meet some friends after teaching VBS one night last week. Let’s just say it was Matty’s last night in town for a bit — he’s home in Africa for a while — and fueled with a desire to prove I in fact am not a rocking-chair owning, cat adoring, needlepointing matriarch — I had a good time. Although I was encouraged to share every last detail of the night’s adventure, I won’t. Add chicken to the list of faults. I will say Matty has new enthusiasm for coming home to Tempe; I’d never had quite so much fun with him and the boys in the two years that he’s been here as we did the night last week.
As for the jerks at the office? Say it with me: NO CAKE FOR YOU. I’ll just take myself out for a plate of enchiladas and margaritas for lunch with that baking money instead.
-K