Wolfman & I took my grandma out to brunch on Sunday, to the Hibernian (the pub where Wolfman and I fell in love, and where Wolfman proposed to me, and where we ate after that little civil ceremony that bound us as man and wife). We were early for the Sunday buffet, so sat at the bar where Grandma and I giggled and swooned over our Irish bartender. "They are charming, aren't they," said Grandma, as if slightly annoyed. I'm not sure if she was talking about Irish men or men in general, probably the latter. The thing is, I kind of despise Mothers Day (and Fathers Day), most likely because I come from a nontraditional family, and these holidays seemed to rub these differences in my face when I was a kid. But, I do love my grandma. I will use any excuse to take her out and treat her nice.
We went thrifting after our meal, and I lost track of her in the shop at one point. I asked Wolfman, "Where did she go?," and he pointed her out. I got a good look at her, from a distance, and thought aloud, We are practically the same person, aren't we. Wolfman says, yes. The day he first met her, she kissed his face before even being introduced properly, and later that night when we were at his friend's house, he informed that friend, "Michelle's grandma is a fox."
She is.
