I know it sounds like I am calling my dog when I say Ol' Roy, but I am not....when my sweet grandpa makes me chuckle and I am telling someone about him, I usually call him Roy. I do love this man. He is so special. Today he asked me to come over to his home and go through some things of my grandmothers...we did not expect to find a few Russell Stover's empty boxes of chocolate hidden under place mats, but we did...she was quite the saver. And she did have a sweet tooth. Chocolate. Roy never did, and still doesn't, so he is not so merciful about those hidden treats. Of course, having diabetes is what he was protecting her from.
It must be that generation....living through the depression is what probably did it. They carried with them the idea of "just in case" and for her in particular, she could not have too many hankies, cloth napkins, tablecloths or towels. I should throw in for good measure, Pyrex pie plates, flatware, and Tupperware. I am blessed to be using some of these things in my own kitchen, but since my generation and those since are the "throw away and buy more later", it is hard to balance both ideals.
So, we got such laughs today concerning his length of pants. He is not one who would be described in the song, "Pants on the ground" for sure...in fact one should be written about pants being too short. Some say high waters, but he cuffs them up that high thinking it is fine! It is. I told him so. But I also told him to unroll them and let them hang. They were fine. But he needed some hemmed, and so he was trying them on for me. Olivia came in half way through and offered her stylish expertise and he took it too, and so instead of four inches being taken up, we will only do three.
How funny is it that one still struggles with peer-pressure at ninety. He wanted his hemmed pants back for Friday night, 'cause it was Square dancing night. He even asked me recently about did I think his clothes were fine. Apparently there are a few "friends" who want to give him a makeover! All those ladies, who live at this retirement home feel a need to take care of him. I surely understand. He just has that way about him. I turn to mush, and would do anything for him. Some Sundays I just have to turn around to see his sweet wrinkled bald head and keep myself from giggling about the scent of vinegar that at times surrounds him. Toe nail fungus requires vinegar, so I am told.
He is a hoot. I just had to share today about Roy. I wish everyone had a Roy.
It must be that generation....living through the depression is what probably did it. They carried with them the idea of "just in case" and for her in particular, she could not have too many hankies, cloth napkins, tablecloths or towels. I should throw in for good measure, Pyrex pie plates, flatware, and Tupperware. I am blessed to be using some of these things in my own kitchen, but since my generation and those since are the "throw away and buy more later", it is hard to balance both ideals.
So, we got such laughs today concerning his length of pants. He is not one who would be described in the song, "Pants on the ground" for sure...in fact one should be written about pants being too short. Some say high waters, but he cuffs them up that high thinking it is fine! It is. I told him so. But I also told him to unroll them and let them hang. They were fine. But he needed some hemmed, and so he was trying them on for me. Olivia came in half way through and offered her stylish expertise and he took it too, and so instead of four inches being taken up, we will only do three.
How funny is it that one still struggles with peer-pressure at ninety. He wanted his hemmed pants back for Friday night, 'cause it was Square dancing night. He even asked me recently about did I think his clothes were fine. Apparently there are a few "friends" who want to give him a makeover! All those ladies, who live at this retirement home feel a need to take care of him. I surely understand. He just has that way about him. I turn to mush, and would do anything for him. Some Sundays I just have to turn around to see his sweet wrinkled bald head and keep myself from giggling about the scent of vinegar that at times surrounds him. Toe nail fungus requires vinegar, so I am told.
He is a hoot. I just had to share today about Roy. I wish everyone had a Roy.
1 comment:
Say it ain't so! Peer pressure at 90? I can't even speak of it! Lovin the pants on the ground quote :)Miss you
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