This past weekend we had the pleasure of visiting EN’s 92-year-old grandpa at his new place. He recently moved from the home he’d lived in for a gazillion years to an assisted living facility. I warned him in advance that he’d be a hot commodity there as women far outnumber men. Plus he still has a driver’s license and a car. Great Grandpa gets to be the cool kid. I wonder if any of his harem ever call shotgun?
I’ll admit to being apprehensive about going. I was worried about the state of the facility… Those places can be run-down, smelly, have workers that treat patients badly… It could just be a bad scene. Plus those places are filled with old people. I won’t lie: old people scare the shit out of me. I blame that on a grandfather with a mean streak a mile wide.
The facility was GORGEOUS. The staff members we met were friendly and helpful. And Grandpa seemed happy. We had lunch in the private dining room and were then taken on a grand tour. I’m telling you, if I could afford it, I would move there NOW. I really was awed by how nice it was. My prediction was dead-on: Great Grandpa is a stud. Women everywhere came over to say hello and to be introduced. There were lots of hugs and Grandpa would introduce his lady friends with his arm wrapped around them. I would later find out that Grandpa had talked to his priest about whether or not “relations” between two unmarried 90+ year olds would be ok. Would you believe the priest said no?? In my head, if the old guy is still thinking about it, let him have at it.
EN Senior, Stepmommy and EN’s baby sisters were visiting from Alabama and we also saw a couple other family members. Unlike the magic happening between members of my own family, this get together was drama free and easy. We ate lunch together, then we went to a cousin’s house (formerly Grandpa’s house), then had dinner together. Throughout the entire day, no drama. I guess we don’t see these people enough. Or perhaps we do see them just enough to like each other but not enough to snipe at each other.
One of my favorite characters is EN’s uncle. We have a long, rich history of giving each other shit. It all started when we went south for Senior and Stepmommy’s wedding. After the rehearsal dinner, we decided that we should all go for drinks at the Ruby Tuesday next to the hotel. I said that I needed to change into comfier clothes because I ate too much and he said, “What would Stacey and Clinton say?!” OH MY GOD, Uncle John is talking my language! He knows “What Not to Wear”!!! Since that time we’ve called each other Clinton and Stacey. The next day while everyone was busy with wedding preparations, Clinton and I headed over to the local Walmart to people watch and shop. Our best find was the wide variety of camouflage. Who knew there were different patterns? We still haven't figured out if one mixes camo or sticks to one pattern at a time.
While we were at Grandpa’s former house, he suddenly got up from the party and walked across the lawn to visit with the “widow woman” who lives next door. We all giggled, wondering what was going on… then a thought occurred, what if Grandpa isn’t back by the time we need to go to dinner? Who would go get him? I’m eternally grateful that he appeared before we had to fight that out. I assure you, it would have gone the way of a Texas Death Cage Match.
In all, it was a fabulous day. I enjoyed the company of EN’s family and couldn’t help but notice again that he comes from a long line of “everything nice.” These men are some of my favorite in all the world. EN’s sisters are no longer the little girls I met for the first time on my wedding day. Now, they’re grown women with college degrees, both living on their own. And do I really need to say how much it thrills me to see Stepmommy? Seriously, do you know anyone else that would take a weekend trip with the woman who is essentially her mother-in-law without being forced?
On Sunday Sugar said, “Hey Mama, did you notice that Great Grandpa smiled all day? Every time I looked at him he had a cute little smile. I just love him.”
Just call him EN the First.