Ode to Grandparents

As a full-fledged, responsible, independent adult... I am currently living in my grandparents' basement. Yep. No rent. No utilities. No coin laundry. And I only have a curfew on school nights! YEAH SUCKER!....Ahem. Just kidding! No curfew at all, which is completely surprising to me actually, when I think about it (which isn't often as I'm afraid of jinxing it).

My grandparents were once quite strict, according to my mother. Flicking the porch lights on and off at her, driving around town in the old Buick to find her if she missed curfew, making her sleep on the floor if she didn't finish her gruel, stuff like that. Kidding again! I don't think my grandpa drove a Buick. Now that the years have mellowed them, they show remarkable restraint when it comes to my lifestyle. They don't control it whatsoever. On the other hand, as a former Communications professor, my grandpa feels he MUST suggest certain things to me, out loud. Immediately. Usually this has to do with my sleeping and/or eating habits. These comments always come with a smile and a kind voice, "Krista, I notice that you are getting plenty of sleep, as we never see you before 11:30 am... perhaps you should go to bed earlier if you need to so you can enjoy this thing we call the morning," or "My dear granddaughter, please feel free to join us for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner. Please, eat some of these carrots I have here. Or this peach. A glass of milk? A crust of bread?! PLEASE EAT." About the 10 second mark I start hearing the incredulous concern leaking through the politeness. He tries so hard not to show me that he is so very worried I might fall over and die because the first thing I eat every day is a handful of Hot Tamales at noon after resentfully crawling out of bed not long before that. It's rather sweet.

My grandmother has Alzheimer's and while occasionally that means interesting episodes involving shirt-doffing and lots of yelling, it also can mean the most fantastic one-liners. My favorite ones are almost unfailingly about s-e-x which she refers to as "hibbildy gibbildy." Or my apparently impending marriage, even when I'm not dating anyone. Or both. I can't reproduce them here and fully give them justice, so I won't even try. But sometimes it makes me worried how good-looking she seems to think my boyfriend is. Hands off Grandma! He's mine!

All in all, moving in with my grandparents was certainly not the worst decision I've ever made. It's nice to be looked after in this lonely world of adult-ness. I send my love to my awesome G-Pa and his wife, who apparently thinks that cheating in a game of rummy with her posterity is akin to Zion.