#grandma

My grandmother got approved right before the law changed, so naturally she got grandfathered in. In related news, but completely unrelated, I was adopted.
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— Jarod Kintz

#adoption #family #grandfathered #grandma #law

In the absence of a cat, I’d consider cuddling with a synthetic fur coat. Especially if your dead grandma was wearing it.
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— Jarod Kintz

#cats #coat #cuddle #cuddling #death

I like watching baseball as much as my grandma’s left ear is loud. (She’d probably give her right ear for a left ear that wasn’t soundproof). 
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— Jarod Kintz

#baseball-is-boring #ear #grandma #grandmother #loud

We need to go back to the way it was 30 years ago, when everybody had Grandma and Grandpa, and we were willing to pass moral judgments about right and wrong. ↗

— Steven Tyler

#ago #back #everybody #go #grandma

I love the simplicity, the ingredients, the culture, the history and the seasonality of Italian cuisine. In Italy people do not travel. They cook the way grandma did, using fresh ingredients and what is available in season. ↗

— Anne Burrell

#cook #cuisine #culture #did #fresh

But in the east the sky was pale and through the gray woods came lanterns with wagons and horses, bringing Grandpa and Grandma and aunts and uncles and cousins. ↗

— Laura Ingalls Wilder

#bringing #came #cousins #east #grandma

The Everlasting Staircase" Jeffrey McDaniel When the call came, saying twenty-four hours to live, my first thought was: can't she postpone her exit from this planet for a week? I've got places to do, people to be. Then grief hit between the ribs, said disappear or reappear more fully. so I boarded a red eyeball and shot across America, hoping the nurses had enough quarters to keep the jukebox of Grandma's heart playing. She grew up poor in Appalachia. And while world war II functioned like Prozac for the Great Depression, she believed poverty was a double feature, that the comfort of her adult years was merely an intermission, that hunger would hobble back, hurl its prosthetic leg through her window, so she clipped, clipped, clipped -- became the Jacques Cousteau of the bargain bin, her wetsuit stuffed with coupons. And now --pupils fixed, chin dangling like the boots of a hanged man -- I press my ear to her lampshade-thin chest and listen to that little soldier march toward whatever plateau, or simply exhaust his arsenal of beats. I hate when people ask if she even knew I was there. The point is I knew, holding the one-sided conversation of her hand. Once I believed the heart was like a bar of soap -- the more you use it, the smaller it gets; care too much and it'll snap off in your grasp. But when Grandma's last breath waltzed from that room, my heart opened wide like a parachute, and I realized she didn't die. She simply found a silence she could call her own. ↗

— Jeffrey McDaniel

#grandma #heart #parachute #poetry #the-everlasting-staircase