sugar pet lover doll

"Hey there Sugar Plum!"

That's the greeting I get when I call or see my grandma. She's my mom's mom. She and my mom are nothing alike. My mom is more like my grandpa, therefore, they totally irritate each other. However, my mom is devoted to my grandma in a way that I will have to live up to in my own time.

Grandma is a funny one. She lives alone since grandpa died in '96. She has a little white poodle. Get any image out of your head of old ladies, poodles, badly applied lipstick, and big hair, stiff with hairspray. That's not my grandma. She used to smoke unfiltered Camel cigarettes, loves a stiff drink, is a retired meat cutter/wrapper, has no qualms giving you the finger, and was raised with 4 boys. Grandma adopted her poodle, Missy-pooh, from her hairdresser. Missy is getting on in years now and can't see a thing. Currently her hair is so long it covers her eyes and when she bumps into things grandma says, "Oh, I need to get her hair cut. She can't see a thing." As if.

Grandma is turning 90 on Sunday. She was born in 1918 and she likes to tell people she was born in "18" so for a minute they think she was born in the 1800's. We took her to a Mariner's baseball game yesterday for her birthday. Grandma LOVES Richie Sexson, the Mariner's first base man. He's really tall and looks like an ostrich when he runs, just not as fast.

I made a huge sign for the game that said, "My grandma loves Richie Sexson more than your grandma." She loved it!

Grandma and grandpa used to go to Mariners games frequently in the day. That would be back in the Weedle on the Needle days (extra points if you know about the Weedle). But grandma hasn't been to a game since, probably, the very early 90's. So when I handed her the tickets the day before the game and said we were taking her, she said, "Oh neat. Neat, neat, neat." About every 5 minutes throughout the rest of the evening she would exclaim, "Oh neat!"

Doing dishes, "Oh, neat."
Playing crib, "Oh, neat."
Taking her pills, "Oh, neat."
Walking down the hallway to her bedroom, "Oh, neat!"

The day of the game we were helping her get ready. We were talking about what she should wear. My dad said, "May, you should get dressed up for Richie." Her response was characteristic of my grandma. She didn't miss a beat. "It wouldn't matter to him what I wear."

In fact, at one point in the game, Richie and half the team were having one of those pow wow's out on the pitcher's mound, so my dad and I held up the sign jumping around like a couple of lunatics yelling, "Hey Richie!! My grandma loves you!" I'm sure he heard us, and hopefully he could read the sign. Grandma thought that was "real neat".

My grandma is cute. She hates when we say she's cute. But she is. She sings to her dog. Actually, she has always sung ditties to people and pets she loves. This is one of her ditties.

"Missy pooh sugar plum, honey pot, bummer pooh, snicker lover doll, Missy dog sugar pot, lover dog..."

And on it goes as she putters around her house. She used to sing to me like this. Used to.

"Kimmer doll, sugar pet, lover doll, snicky pooh."

Now she just sings to her dog.

She also calls me "pet". I have no idea where she got that. Neither does she. Since I was a wee child she has called us "pet". I think it might have something to do with the fact that sometimes she confuses her pet's names with her family member's names.

Grandma's verbal confusion is the source of great mirth in our family. In attempting to say your name she will first say the name of every family member. Including the pets. First, you need to know some family names: Terri, Gordon, Vera, Gerry, Lew, Carole, etc.

And here are some pet names: Kermit, Peetie, Missy, etc.

So when she goes to say my name, it sounds something like this: "Pe..Gor...Car..Ve..Terr..Ker...Miss. Oh, god. Whoever you are, come here."

My grandma used to go to church when she was young. NO, don't go thinking she's religious or anything. She is adamant that you not assume she's religious. She always makes sure you understand that she only went to "that" church because it had a huge swimming pool. Grandma was an avid swimmer. I hear she was fast. I hear she should have gone to the Olympics.

I feel very lucky that I still have my grandma. She's the last of my grandparents. I guess I just wanted to share a little bit of her with you. We will celebrate her 90th birthday this weekend. She'll have a stiff drink or two. Then she'll want a cigarette. She'll sit with her big brother and tell stories. She'll probably say, "Oh, that's neat," throughout the evening. We'll probably give her a crown so she can be queen of everything.

She'll tell us stories that we've all heard before. But that's okay. She'll tell us about how she took a ship over to England when she was 12. She'll tell that she heard about Hitler while she was over there and no one even knew who he was here in North America. Stories about growing up in a household with her mom, two brothers, 3 cousins, and uncle. Her father died in the war on November 13, 1918. She was 5 months old. She only knows him from pictures. Handsome pictures. "Isn't he a handsome devil," she says. My great-grandma's brother-in-law and his 3 children moved in with her and her three children to make ends meet. Grandma was the baby. Probably why she's so cute. They were the blended family of the era grandma grew up in. The survival tactic they employed amazes me. I found a picture recently of the kids sitting on their front porch. That must have been one heck of a household.

Anyway, I love my grandma. And you?