just because I'm feeling nostalgic and wanted to look at my tattoo, and well, to do that I need to look in pictures or a mirror, and pictures seemed much easier, so I thought I'd share.
Why Dolly? because my cute grandma used to call me that. I was her little doll, for most of my life (other times I was Moan-a, but that's just not as sweet is it?) Cute grandma died in january 2004, and I miss her.... mostly I miss the old grandma, but sometimes I even miss the crazy grandma she became late in her life....
"who's that coming down here?" (driving down our busy little street?)
"where are they going?" (driving down our busy little street?)
"I wonder what Doreen Johnston is up to?" (her friend, who lived a block away, who's house can be seen perfectly from our front window, but was never visited by my gran)
"what's that up there with the red sign, is that new?" (a daily reference to the shopper's drugmart built in the old Canadian tire, just visible through the kitchen windows.... there for nearly 10 years)
"where do you want me to sit?" (nightly, as she hovers around the table, behind a spot laid out with pill bottles with her name on them)
She flexed her last means of independence against my mom.... she wouldn't eat, she'd take a long time to come to the table, she'd "forget" stuff....
and with me, it was more fun, somedays I'd make her nacho's (she'd eat more than dave, keith, matt and I combined), dave, mel and I made her sushi..... and got her to eat wasabi... she loved when we cooked for her, when we doted on her and treated her like our gran, and not a burden in our home.
She'd lose stuff, I'd find stuff, it was a daily game. I don't think I ever made it to Geography class on time thanks to her, (it's okay, I passed anyhow.... and I wrote my exam drunk). I had to bring her to the salon when I got waxed once, and she was forced to sit in the lobby for nearly an hour, all because she had HUNDREDS of dollars in US cash lying around her room, that I decided needed to be deposited at the bank, before someone more skeevy came across it. She pretended Dave was her boyfriend, and knew how to make him smile. She stomped around in her sneakers hours before her ride came to bring her to bingo or "the club" while I tried to sleep downstairs. She forgot how to play Skip-Bo, her fave card game.
She lived at our house, and made living both fun and hard, and we got very little repos from our family. But we loved her, and still ask each other at dinner where should we sit, who are they coming down here, and what is that red sign, is that new?
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