Today’s post is going to be a short one because I’m on senior-sitting detail all day. My parents are headed to Toms River to bring my grandfather back to Philadelphia, which means that Abuela and I are going to have the house all to ourselves.
We’re still considering our options at this point but I think we’re going to have a party. Why? Well, to put it frankly, my grandmother is becoming a cougar.
I don’t think she even realizes it (that’s the beauty of Alzheimer’s) but you should see her when we’re out in public.
Take Wednesday, for example. I had to go to the bank to deposit some checks and I brought her along with me because she’s training to be a long-distance walker for the next Olympics. (At least that’s the only possibly explanation I can come up with.)
Our particularly Wells Fargo branch has several rather nice-looking male employees and she of course had to turn a well-meaning “Good morning” from one of them into a full-blown conversation while I was filling out my deposit slip.
On our way home, I was feeling a little punchy (you try remarking on the weather 37 times an hour) so I said, “That man at the bank was pretty cute, wasn’t he?”
“Oh yes!” she replied. “And he thought I was cute too. That’s why he said ‘hello’ to me.”
I’m pretty sure it had to do with some corporate policy about greeting customers, especially old ladies, but who am I to burst her bubble?
I wouldn’t be all that concerned except for the fact that my mother set up a Facebook account for my grandmother a few weeks ago.
Seriously: it’s complicated.
For an eighty-something year old woman who’s been married for the past fifty-something years!
I was like, “Mom, you can’t do that. She’s married!” (Sometimes I think I’m the only sane person left in this house.)
Evidently my brother had lodged the same complaint an hour or two earlier but what do we know? She’s still an “It’s complicated” and now she’s flirting with the personal banking folks, the man who sells Avon products at the flea market and even The Wedding Date.
(It’s true. We were discussing his habit of singing in the shower and she told him the next time he takes a shower she’s going to sit right outside the door so she can hear him sing. Um… gross.)
When my mom and I took her to buy groceries the other day, she smiled one of her “I’ve got a secret” smiles at the cashier and whispered, “I’m here without my husband!”
So like I said, we’re going to have a party. I’m going to invite every man I know between the ages of 18-99 and we’re going to drink wine with chopsticks and have ourselves a rollicking good time because tonight, my grandfather arrives. Then little Miss It’s Complicated will have to stop being such a cougar.