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Jun. 19th, 2016

Listening to the spousebeast talk to The Patriarch on Father's Day and just sending up a quiet thought to Grandpa:  "Thank you for not being like that."

My father was an abusive piece of crap.  But Grandpa...he was this mountain of a man.  A body and fender guy.  Did paint jobs for the LA Hell's Angels.  Imagine Grandpa Walton and Mr. Edwards and Ernest Borgnine all wrapped up in a bow that was all for "his girls" (me, Steph, mom, and Granma).

I miss him so much.

But I was thinking how lucky I am.  I HAVE had some great father figures in my life.  One bad apple can't always spoil the whole bunch.  So I sent a bunch of emails to some of those guys this morning, thanking them.  It's important to say thank you.

In other news, I SURVIVED THE WEEK!  Boy, and it was touch and go there for a while.  Friday, we had an unexpected group show up at 11 (pro-tip:  yeah, if you're bringing in 38 people...CALL FIRST) and a group of 15 women from the senior center in Pittsboro at one.

It wasn't bad.  it was just...emotionally challenging.  The first group was special needs older teenagers/adults and their caregivers.  They were part of a life skills class.  I found it wonderful (especially the guy who wanted a meatball sub or chili fries--neither of which we have--and exclaimed "Is this a FRENCH food place!?!?!?"  I almost giggled, but we decided that a BLT isn't French and barbecue potato chips would suffice as a side.  After I took his money and gave him his change, he shook my hand and thanked me for not being French), but...wow.  It took forever to get everyone's order and make sure the right food got to the right person.

I was staring to clear tables and got pulled aside.  "We're going to the Planetarium.  We have all our money and can buy you a ticket so you can come with us."

I had to gently explain that I had to work.  And give hugs as they left.

And then went into the walk-in and cried.

Deep breath, clear the tables, and here comes The Granny Squad.  BLTs and grilled cheese as far as the eye can see!   Tiny little change purses, pennies counted out (I bet we won't need change until Monday, and pennies until 2026), and suddenly I am everyone's granddaughter.

They were SUCH FUN.  It was a girl's day out vibe (and, boy, did I sell some desserts!  "We need one of those carrot cakes with three forks."  And, bless them, when I jokingly said I was one dessert away from a free meal...they decided they all needed to try the chocolate cake, too).  And I saw Granma in each and every face.  <3 <3 <3

I was holding the door open as they left and one woman stopped.  "You remind me of my Lisa."

I boggled (I had misheard) and she expounded "My little granddaughter.  Lisa.  You're just like her."

Then she took my hand and squeezed it.

And slipped me a ten.

Back to the walkin for me!

And now I need to go get ready for brunch.  The spousebeast decided Santa Pete needs brunch for Fathers Day, and we need to drink a toast to Grandpa.  Who am I to argue?  <3


Jun. 20th, 2016 11:15 pm (UTC)
Got a little something in my eye over here... <3


The fucking YARN FAIRY!

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