Last weekend, Mom and I took Grandma H to the cemetery to clear the leaves from her parents’ and sisters’ graves. Grandma H steps out of the car, looks around and says, “Everything is so dead here.”
Mom and I look at each other and erupt in laughter.
Mom gently reminds her, “This is a cemetery.”
Grandma H chuckles. “No, not the people. I meant the grass and the trees.”
Grandma H and I are driving and we go by the spot where someone committed suicide. She says, “He got the neighbor’s wife pregnant while her husband was away and couldn’t handle it.”
I ask, “Didn’t they know about oral sex back then? I mean there were ways to have fun without risking pregnancy.”
She gets quiet.
I ask, “Can I ask you a question?”
She goes, “Not about sex.”
“But you have all those years of experience,” I tease.
My Aunt Cindi asked my mom to pick up a palm cross for my grandfather’s grave.
We take Grandma H all over town with us in search of one.
Grandma H says, “I don’t know why Cindi doesn’t save them each year. Just take the palm off and keep all those yellow ribbons.”
Mom says, “What yellow ribbons?”
Grandma H says, “The ones it’s made out of.”
Mom says, “Those are all from the palm. If we kept the ribbon it’s just the one tiny purple ribbon.”
Grandma H erupts in laughter.
I’m a bit behind on sales reporting. March was a slow month, I only sold 12 books. But April is kicking March’s butt in sales. So yay!