My grandmother is rather opinionated and bossy.
The holiday season is always an eye-rolling event around her, and I truly believe that the woman owns every garish Christmas trinket that anyone ever had the poor taste to distribute. Her house is a wellspring of fiber optic gaud...and she loves it...absolutely, totally loves it. Her eyes dance as the tacky lights blink and shimmy, and her laughter comes like bubbles bouncing to the surface of a quiet brook.
At dinner on Thursday, she recruited troops to decorate her condo. The woman's decoration collection weighs enough to engage in teeter totter play with the Eiffel Tower. My long suffering brother was one of the unfortunates called. He returned home from the activity today looking down and dispirited. His eyes were tired and his shoulders slumped while he shuffled dazedly from room to room. "Which family members were there?" asked Mom timidly, for lack of anything better to say.
"Oh, the stupid ones," Charlie replied on a sigh. We looked upon him with eyes rounded in shock and he continued, "Well they'd have to be the stupid ones if they actually agreed to help."
Last Wednesday, Brenda ran a cable to my TV. It made me happy.
Wait, a minute...I didn't give that bit of news the treatment that I should have. Give me a moment...
Last Wednesday, amidst black clouds and rain and a frown that nobody thought could be turned upside down, my spectacularly beautiful aunt juggled, bounced and giggled. She tumbled and sang, sweat and grunted to no avail. Finally, her eyebrows crawling toward one another and her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth, she crept from our sight. We shrugged and thought, "Just as well," before leaving my subterranean loft. Moments later, she found us perched on kitchen chairs, sniffing exaggeratedly at the wafting scent of baking pies. Momentarily crestfallen—for what could complete with the scent of baking pies?—she scuffed her feet and looked to the ground, her hands sinking glumly into her pockets. We watched as she visually collected herself, rolled her shoulders back and announced, "I ran a cable to your TV."
I ran to it right that very moment, as though the devil himself were behind me . Revered silence filled the space as I regarded the masterpiece of a connected cable. Gingerly, I ran my fingers over the buttons on the remote, stroking it in adoration. I turned it on, the TV, and strayed from the DVD input setting...and to my wonder: TV SHOWS. With color and moving people and even sound! I closed my eyes, spun around, and clicked my heels together three times crying, "There's no place like home!"
