Grandma is doing well. I dropped by to see her today and she was pleased to see me as well as the pink wine I had brought for her. Grandma loves her White Zinfandel and she loves it even more when it comes in tiny bottles in a convenient four pack.
"Hot dog!" Was her actualy response when I presented her with the pack of pink wine. I was pleased with myself for making her happy.
Oh, how I wish I could make Grandma happy without aiding her in what could possibly be nefarious pursuits. When I went to use her bathroom, my heart sank. All this time we had been thinking that Grandma put ice in her wine to keep it cold and for her rationale that it cut the alcohol. Now, I realize that she put ice in it to water it down to make it last longer. At most, she goes through a tiny bottle of wine a week yet has been receiving a 4-pack a week for over a year. We never questioned the discrepancy in her wine consumption. I wish we had.
In her bathroom, to my surprise and dismay, were a couple of hundred tiny bottles of pink wine affixed with tiny rags to use as fuses to ignite her nursing home made molotav cocktails.
My shock pushed me out of her bathroom and stumbling into her closet where I caught myself from falling by grabbing the sleeve of an Alfred Dunner sweater with pockets sewn on the inside of the sleeves to carry the elderly explosives to her target.
I have no idea what Grandma is doing these days, but I will try to find out and keep the family posted.
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