The power of memory

Yesterday I walked into the staff restroom around the corner from my desk and it smelled like my grandma. If you knew my grandma, which some of you actually did, you knew that she loved desserts, booze, and cigarettes. And also her teacup poodle, Lester Wilhelm who really only goes by Lester. My parents adopted Lester when Grandma died and he is such an awesome dog. A total wuss but a little trooper (he was mauled by two (three?) huge dogs about a week before my grandma died and the doctor was sure he wouldn’t make it).

But this story isn’t about Lester, it’s about my grandma. The bathroom smelled heavily of booze and cigarettes. Of course, I could’ve been mistaken about the booze smell. It could’ve been something else I guess. But instantly, I missed Grandma. When I was little and they would come park their ginormous motor home next to our house, I would spend hours after school and on the weekends inside with my grandma. The motor home was an amazing concept to me: a luxury home on wheels. They had everything and traveled everywhere. I didn’t remember too much wine and yes, the cigarette smoke did burn my eyes and nose and throat. As my grandma got older, both problems got worse and by the time she passed away, we were no longer close.

But yes, I missed my grandma. In all honesty, I don’t know what I would do if suddenly she were back. Would I move in with her and force her to change? I don’t know.

Last night I bought a vacuum. I bought a vacuum, the Sims 2 Nightlife, and two books: Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda: the love letters of F. Scott & Zelda Fitzgerald and Sundowners. Both on clearance. I’ve read parts of the Fitzgerald book before but it was really kind of depressing, so I checked it back in to the library. Now I can read it at my leisure. The other book is one I grabbed because of the cover. And also because it was marked at $6. Turns out it was only $3.30. Can’t beat that.

Our vacuum is named Christina Aguilera. It’s a Dirt Devil Vibe and I kid you not, the box even has this bit of encouragement on the side: FIGHT DIRTY! I mean, if that doesn’t scream Xtina, then I don’t know what does.


Posted on September 2, 2006, in Rambling, Sparkling family tree. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on The power of memory.

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