She's going a little batty...

So my return to the geriatric ward was actually not too horrible. Grandma (and of course Grandpa!) seem to have genuinely missed having me around and appreciated me. I even had some rather nice chatting time with Grandma and weaseled a little more information out of her about both of her weddings! Since details about Clarence are pretty sparce I was quite thrilled. She mentioned that they should have been married in 1941 and he was almost out of the service, but got called back up after Pearl Harbor. And I guess they had known each other a long time because she worked with his mother. And his army friends took them out for fried chicken dinner...
Grandma was halfway decent, which is always a little worrisome! I showed her the pictures from the wedding and she kept asking if Mom was Daniel, who was David, why was Leslie there...admittedly the pictures were small, but she was getting a little out of it. She also asked if I was baking cookies. When I was sitting next to her.And if I was taking classes at Biola...Hmmm...but hey, she still remembers everyone's birthday and what state Marilyn did for her fifth grade report and what she ate for dinner sixty years ago...so either certain brain faculties become particularly accute, or she's still alright. Or both. Who knows. I press on :)

Still surviving

The fever breaks…after a couple of days getting more and more riled up and fed up with Grandma’s glares and grumps (I even gave her a couple nasty looks), I think I have once again risen out of the ashes and hardened up again. Oh how healthy this must be for my emotional welfare, Heehee. Monday and Tuesday were more of the usual comments… “if we’d known you would be home early, we could have waited to eat.” (I know, actually, that is why I deliberately delayed…not that I get any peace- “what are you eating???”) And then for about the one hundred and seventy-seventh time “it’s too bad you couldn’t live at the school. They really ought to let you stay there.” I told her that I know it’s a shame, I wish it were different too, I do feel kicked out, but that’s just the way it is because of the number of students they have. And then of course she assures me that they’re happy to have me around, glad they could come in. Oh, and what am I doing right now? Why? Not that she’s being nosy…but she does an awfully tremendous job of being nosy when she’s trying not to. Oh brother. And then she keeps picking on Grandpa, how whatever he does just isn’t good enough. I was getting increasingly angry, and was more than happy to hide away at school Wednesday. I came home and to my delight she was off to another church meeting, which is quite a rich blessing from above and a time to sneak in some laundry and baking. But all too soon she was back again, sniffing the granola and apple crisp that I had been working on. “smells like cookies…did one of them get cooked too long? Oh, a glass pan, that needs less cooking time you know. You don’t cook it as long.” And that is when I gave her quite a glower. And I can certainly glower when I’ve got a mind to. It was to prevent me from screaming and whacking her. I told her I know a thing or two about baking, but I don’t think she believes it. Then I had my reward and revenge when I scuttled up to my lair to work and heard her down below sampling the dessert with a grunt of “good.” Hahaha…then she just couldn’t stop saying how angry she was that the debate eclipsed Jeopardy and it didn’t come on later. “I’m mad at them.” And then she had to once again lament that if they’d known I’d be living here, I could have picked the color of the room. I assured her (for the two hundred eighty-eighth time) that I like white quite nicely, and I have adorned things with posters. I also let her know that I was quite set on blankets and things, which is always a terrible concern. And I once again breathed deeply to keep from explosion.
Then today I once more let it go a bit more. It helps that she’s practically falling asleep from their doctors’ visit, but at least she isn’t quite as interrogating and staring. She did question my dinner again, naturally. I asked where they had gone with Keith and Caroline. “Polly’s. But mine wasn’t any good. It was late for me to eat.” So that reminded me that she’s just good old grumbling curmudgeon of a relative, and I can just escape as often as possible and laugh when that is not an option.
The trouble came today when I got an email asking me where I’ll be living next semester for my student teaching placement. Oh dear. I don’t know where I am going to live. I have been surviving this one day at a time but trying to comfort myself with the notion that it won’t last forever…but I can’t avoid figuring it out too long. Where will I be? What will I do? Alas and alack, I suppose eventually I must face it…
And then in the midst of it all comes Grandpa..."what would I do without you?" he asked after I took out the trash barrels at her grumbling urges. And my heart just warms :)

Poor Grandpa...

So my latest endeavor is standing up for the dear old man who I enjoy living with, against the forces of the not so sweet woman who continually attempts to tear him down and turn others against him...her recent efforts seem to be aimed at convincing me he's no good. Like the other day when he was in the shower and she said he should have just waited and stayed in bed because then I could've used the bathroom. I told her he had a right to shower and I was happy to use the other one (well, it's not such a pleasant experience using her shower but I try to avoid looking at my surroundings and fight the feeling that I'm really just getting dirtier)...
Or last night when I was having my dinner ("what are you eating?" she always demands...and I usually drop my fork with a clatter to hide my irritation, then calmly respond with a near-smartass remark like "food" or "dinner"), and she said it wasn't much variety and she could have cooked it better. I always praise Grandpa's cooking and say he does a fine job. This morning she claimed he "thinks I need to eat," to which I responded that of course I do, everyone does. And I'm happy to have his service. So I press on, enduring her glares and refuting the nasty comments, in order to bring the world joy and entertainment through the words of this blog :) Thanks for listening! And for all who can truly understand ;)

New Verdict: late night meetings not healthy…

Well, the above conclusion was drawn after watching the woman in full form tonight. I came home to that rare but joyous dream of Grandma freedom, it being board meeting night. There was Grandpa, happily munching away on my cookies and telling me it was his second or third dessert of the night (oh, grandpa J), and commenting on how he could watch whatever he wanted on TV. Oh, it was nice. And then she came home. Let me tell you, I don’t know what it is but she is loopy! I mean she is acting quite literally drunk, to be perfectly descript. Not quite the bumbling goofy that David and Daniel get, but at least not belligerent. First she does her heaving and sighing and I didn’t dare ask how the meeting went (made that mistake last time). Then she called me Karen and asked me about three times in a row if I had eaten dinner. And what did I have. And did I eat it here. And then she asked if my friends liked my cookies, which is interesting because I didn’t make any cookies. So I iterated this fact, but she still didn’t quite believe it. Then she said my friends must have been disappointed, but I informed her that I hadn’t been hanging out with friends this evening, I actually had class…to which she said that of course she didn’t mean to be nosy. But she does an excellent job of it without meaning to, I must say…and then somehow or other she upset the table and the phone went flying off the couch and landed with a clatter. At which point she sang out “there go the peanuts!” So now it’s just getting kind of funny. I let her know the peanuts were safe, a detail I was quite delighted with myself as I wouldn’t have particularly enjoyed gathering the whole jar up from the already nut-strewn and ant-infested carpet…
And that is the part of the story where Kristin runs away to her lair and gets excited because it is time to start watching special features on the amazing new Sleeping Beauty fiftieth anniversary two-disc platinum edition Disney DVD!!! Hurray Amazon.com!!! Hmm…fiftieth anniversary. But I remember my Daddy saying that Sleeping Beauty was the first movie he watched in a theater. And he can’t be that old…heeheehee. Love you, the stories will just keep coming!

another fun filled evening :)

Damn it, I just need to vent…admittedly she is really getting better in many ways. And I think I’m growing on her. She says cute little things like “there’s our girl” or “we missed you” or “this is your home.” But she is just so utterly grating sometimes. Well, all the time, but now and then the little things just get to me all the more. It’s just a little stressful to be under constant scrutiny, to know that eyes are always upon you when you’re around, and always going through your stuff when you aren’t. Fortunately my upstairs lair is still safe. No prowling there. But my little snack supply is sure to be investigated and if I get something new I “must have bought half the store.” Speaking of snacks, it is rather irritating to try to eat when you know she’ll watch and comment on every bite. I noticed I practically live off nuts and raisins lately because that’s what I can munch furtively or while driving. I mean, they feed me and Grandpa loves to do so, and I can always count on getting plenty. I just have to be prepared to either defend my real choice, give in to theirs, or escape altogether…tonight I was having some delightful Yoplait yogurt, and there she is, staring. Granted, I could have tried to avoid the situation and stick in my loft, but I like to attempt social demeanor. At any rate, she watches me and then comments, “yogurt. Hm.” “yep, I like it.” I cheerily replied. “Sour milk. We used to feed that to the pigs. I smelled the process.” At this point I remarked that at least I wouldn’t have to worry about her eating it, then continued to enjoy my bacteria (and then left the room). But if I want to actually do any real thinking or working, I can’t try to do the social thing, because she’ll be there staring over my shoulder and interjecting stories and comments every half minute. I mean, I’m sure it’s very sweet of her to offer these memories or mentions, but they quite frustrate the flow of concentration. And she still hasn’t quite been convinced that I am capable of doing things. She told me to lock the door before going to bed and I readily agreed, but when it didn’t happen instantly she told Grandpa I hadn’t done it yet and neither had I closed the garage (his usual job), so he’d better do it…good grief. Oh well. Just another day in the time capsule J Oh dear, she comes squeaking back again…

Supermarket sweep!

So actually and fortunately, there is not too terribly much to report lately...but perhaps that is simply because I haven't been around all that much. I generally go to school early morning for work or to observations-- which Grandma eagerly wants me to be mistaken for a high schooler at. Every single time I mention it, her response is the same. "did they take you for one of the kids yet?" "I keep saying they'll think she's a student there." "I'll bet they think you just go there." Despite how many times I try to explain that much to even my surprise I've been dressing and acting mature enough that teachers and people know me and I haven't been asked for a hall pass or anything, she gets such a kick out of thinking I am so young. Oh well...
But today I decided to try and rescue my Auntie from driving all the way out and back to shop, and finally talked Grandma into letting me take her to the grocery store (only took a month and a half for her to give in!) And then she kept acting like it was her great idea all along, saying how nice it would be that Marilyn wouldn't have to come out, if we forget something I can pick it up. Not that I haven't been saying this for weeks. Whatever. It was actually not too bad, though. I was a bit nervous that I'd be having tales of adventure and woe. But we managed to get in the car and figure out the seatbelt (eventually). The scooter cart at Stater Bros was a bit frightening. I got it out (that was fun!) to the car and got her in it (the grabbing by the pants seat trick works wonderfully! It was awesome!), but she was having quite a tough time maneuvering at first. She almost hit a couple of cars, then scooted around and tried to go in the exit so she had to back up and almost rolled off back into the parking lot. We finally got into the store and only had a few near collisions with people and things. But we did a pretty good job on the groceries, moved through efficiently enough, and didn't even spend too much which always makes her happy. She kept insisting we'd need another cart to take it to the car but we managed. And now she doesn't have to go out at night, which she kept complaining about...and maybe dear Auntie will get a weekend...and I'll go bake for grandpa and everyone will be a winner. And that is how I earn my keep :) :)