My grandma only calls me at work when it is a dire emergency. I can only think of two times for such emergencies. The first one was a while ago. I had taken a Crock Pot of beans over to her house and asked her to turn it on at 11:00am, in time for it to cook for supper. I accidentally plugged it in and she called the next day in a panic. It was cooking all night! She wondered why she had been smelling it all night! What should she do with it?? Put it in the refrigerator???
Yes. Calm down. Put it in the fridge.
Last night, I called to tell her FedEx was bringing a package tomorrow (I just LOVE online tracking my orders) and she may have to sign for it. When I got back from my lunch break, I had this message from her in my voicemail box. It’s word for word, complete with East Texan slang. I have included punctuation as a courteous to my readers. But try to read it all as one continuous sentence and then you will get a feel for how she speaks.
“Wendy. This is grandma. The man knocked on my back door, and I signed… for the package but he left it on your front porch. Do you think it will be okay over there? If not give me a call and I’ll try to go over thar and push it some were or I might can crawl up yer steps and put it in the house. Thank ye. Bye bye.”
First – “the man”? What man? Ah, a package… must be the FedEx man.
Second – Will it be okay?… Hmmm. Haven’t had a problem yet. We get packages delivered all the time, left at the mail box, thrown at the front gate, and on the porch. And we live in the country. At the end of a dead-end road. And my gate is closed. With a Beware of Dog sign on it. I think it’s ok. (Honestly, I think she just wants to see what I got.)
Third – “Push it”? Push it where? Further back on the porch? Off of the porch and into the grass? No, please. It’s glass.
Fourth – I’m sorry,… “crawl’? It’s weird to me how she can make it down and up her two sets of steps on the porch, but mine are something akin toMount Everest. Sure, sure, I don’t have a hand rail, but they are nice wide steps and there are only 4. And she could use the side of the house as a rail. Once, she came over for dinner or something and made it up the steps fine.Jordan was going to help her down the steps, but as he reached to take her arm, she flopped down on her butt and scooted down. My toddler couldn’t have done it better. It was certainly a sight to see. Oh! And she farted with every scoot. Needless to say, I was giggling in the house watching this from the window, andJordan was trying to keep a straight face out there.
I called her back and assured her it would be okay on the steps. Whew! Crisis averted!