Meet my Grandma
02 Aug 2011 Leave a Comment
So I decided, I needed a break. Desperately. So desperately, I decided to drive all the way to Gurdon, Arkansas to spend the week with my grandma. Now, if you have never been to Gurdon, well, you’re not missing much. It’s one of those small towns, with one stop-light, a truck stop or two, and plenty of old folks. The population is roughly over 2,000 and that number is quickly dwindling as such-n-such passes away of cancer, heart disease, or what have you. My grandmother is like a walking obituary page and I swear she’s related to almost everyone in town, sometimes in two ways. Not kidding. You can save your jokes. She calls it a “double-cousin”, the rest if us would call it something else.
Let me introduce you to my grandmother, Doris Ann (pronounced in Arkaneese as “DarseAnn”). She is probably known as the town busy-body because she knows just about everything about everyone and wants you to meet them all so she can talk about them under her breath and behind their back as they walk away. This person just got out of jail, that person is divorced, this one is cheating on her husband, and so on.
Doris is a wealth of knowledge when it comes to all things medical as well. I honestly think she’s a borderline hypochondriac. Her life revolves around her medical ailments, her medications, doctor’s appointments, and surgeries. The last time I saw her she wanted me to add her physicians’ office numbers to her Fave-5, she calls them THAT often. The woman is going to cure herself to death! She called me as I was driving here so I could possibly diagnose her bladder infection because she couldn’t wait another hour. I wasn’t even through the door 15 minutes and she was offering to show me pictures of the inside of her colon and from her hernia repair. Grandma, there are just some parts of you I don’t care to see or even know you have! Thanks for offering, though, especially right as we are discussing what to have for dinner.
I’m glad she’s so concerned about her health. She really puts a lot of effort into staying healthy. For example, she refuses to drink the water in Gurdon because it’s too “hard.” What does that even mean, Grandma? Maybe it’s like gangsta-thuggin’ on her colon, I don’t know. I didn’t look at the pictures, remember? But what I do know is that this is the reason I have to load four or five milk crates of glass bottles the size of Hannah in the car every visit so we can fill them with natural spring water from Hot Springs in 102 degree heat. That’s what she has planned for us tomorrow.
In fact she’s planned out the entire trip. That’s why I never come here with an itinerary. I just show up and let her know what day we are leaving, which usually bugs her because if we “woulda stayed just one more day, then we coulda (insert random thing she’s been meaning to get done here).” Audible sigh of irritation from her, “oh, well. Maybe next time.”
As quirky as she is, I absolutely adore my grandma. I love the way she says Wal-Mark, instead of Wal-Mart. I love that she is allergic to all dairy products except ice cream. I love her homemade biscuits and gravy. I love that she and Hannah “watered” the flowers and came in soaking wet and giggling. I love that no matter what happens, she is there to love me unconditionally, never runs out of hugs, and is the first to tell me everything will be okay. I love my Grandma!
And I know she doesn’t have Internet or a computer, so if any of my relatives read this to her, I will cut you.
