I'll never have a husband?

How do you mention to your grandfather that he has offended you or hurt you in some fashion? I mean, without possibly hurting the good relationship you have with him? In my situation, I won't. I shall just let it roll off my shoulders and try to remember his "filter" doesn't work at all like most people's.

Last Friday I went with him on a special delivery - putting a rack in a new location and to fill it with our papers. He'd been driving around northeast California for 3 days picking up ad copy, so I offered to go with him on Friday, since I didn't have to work at Job 3. That way someone besides him knew where the new location was. Plus I was really hoping he'd want someone else (like me) to drive since he'd already been on the road for 3 days. Luck, as it were, was not on my side.

We left around 7 a.m. and stopped in Town to get gas. After we got back on the road, he suddenly panicked that he'd forgotten the bank deposits that he was supposed to take care of later that afternoon when we got back. I looked around the floor between the seats and he told me that they should be in his briefcase. In the backseat. I turned out and realized it was just far enough of my reach to make it difficult, so I told him we could check later when we stopped. Instead of agreeing with me, he instead - while driving - to reach back there to retrieve it. And wound up heading for the other lane. I scolded him . . . okay, I kinda yelled . . . "Not while your driving!" So, I reached back to get it, and it flipped off the backseat and twisted my left wrist. From that moment on, I was not in the best of moods.

Oh, and the bank deposits were in there.

Later when we got to our destination, his friend B was there waiting for us. B is kind enough to keep a few bundles of our paper in his garage and redistribute as our locations in that town become empty. We put our rack in the new location and put papers in it. Took all of 5 minutes. So B and Papa D decide to go to a cafe for some coffee. It was there that my mood got worse.

At some point in the conversation, we began to talk about food. B asked me if I like lamb, and I told him no. Well, that got Papa D going on and on about all the foods I don't like. And then said something - basically the gist was this: I will never have a husband because he won't like putting up with a picky eater.

Slap meet face.

I actually wanted to cry.

For starters, it's none of B's damned business how picky of an eater I am. I've eaten in his presence twice and everyone had burgers.

I admit, I am a pretty picky eater. I will say that I've improved a lot in the last 15 years. Trust me. But, unfortunately, I don't see it changing too much in the present. I don't like being a picky eater; it can be relatively embarrassing when others find out just how much I don't like. For many things, I think it's a texture thing, others it's because I just flat-out don't like the flavor or lack there of. But at 31 years of age, my eating habits are not bound to change much more. My grandparents, well my grandfather, has lectured me a couple of times already that I'm doomed to have medical problems later in life. My grandfather had the fucking balls to tell me two days after my Granddad passed about how poorly my Granddad must have eaten to have wound up a diabetic. (Unfortunately, stupid medical professionals never relayed that message to my Granddad). My Granddad wasn't a poor eater - the older he got the more salt he'd put on his food. He deserved some salt after living through being shot and a plane crash that literally killed him, 3 times.

If I hadn't been sitting on the inside of the booth at the cafe, I would have left the table. I think B saw the lightening flash in my eyes and after Papa D beat a dead horse, the topic was discarded. But my foul mood didn't improve.

The funny that did happen was this: on our way out of town, we were stopped at an intersection. A big ass truck was hauling one big ass 5th wheel. Probably a 45 footer. As it's pulling through the intersection -

Papa D: Wow, that's a really big motor home.

Me: *trying not to laugh* Um, that's what we call a 5th wheel.

Papa D: Because it doesn't have a motor in it, right?

Oh dear.

Photographic or Pornographic?

Old(er) people can be good for a few laughs.

The first time this happened to me I was nearly insulted. By the end of the day, I thought it was fucking hilarious. When it still happens (and yes, it actually has), I just give my grandfather "the look".

Awhile back, as PD and I were delivering papers, a tiny issue arose. He was kind of quizzing me about things he had told me about, like names of mountains or where our next delivery stop was. He praises my memory quite often, because let's face it - mine is 100 times better than his at this point. There are so many times he doesn't remember that he just told me what he's telling me not 5 minutes before. And whenever we're on the road, he says that my memory is wonderful and even a couple times he claims it has saved his life. In reality, it didn't save his life. My memory told him where he had written down someone's name for an article.

Anyway, on this particular delivery day, he starts praising my wonderful memory and then spits out: "It must be nice to have a pornographic memory."

*insert crickets here*

*insert horrified look on my face here*

I couldn't spit a word out. He saw the look on my face and then said, "Photographic? Pornographic? I get those two confused all the time."

All I could do was sputter, "Photographic! Photographic! Photographic!!!"

Now, I'm not saying I do or don't have a pornographic memory. However, that is none of my grandfather's business.

And for a guy who is into photography, you would think that he wouldn't get photograhpic mixed up with pornographic.

But maybe it's just me.

Mortified, party of one.

I mentioned in a previous post about how Papa D embarrassed the hell out of me a couple months ago. In fact, I was actually asked by him to delete this story from my other blog. I laugh about it now, what happened. Well, I actually laughed while I was being embarrassed because I really couldn't do much else.

I hadn't been up here long when my grandparents started thinking of guys they knew that they might believe to be worthy for me to meet. My grandfather was stuck on one particular person, who works for a company that advertises with us.

One day, Papa D and I were out picking up ad copy we stopped by this place. When we pick up ad copy, we tend to visit. Actually, let me rephrase that: Papa D visits. A lot. We were told, at this particular place, to speak to a specific person, whom I will simply call him "Guy". We had been to this place once before where I had met everyone there. So, we sat down at Guy's desk and he and Papa D started talking.

And Papa D starts with this: "You know I've been trying to get my granddaughter here to go on a date with you."

I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the floor. I'm also quite sure I was as red as a lobster. Guy and I kind of laughed it off, but I knew I was highly embarrassed and I'm pretty sure he was as well. And Papa D didn't stop there. Oh no. Throughout our time there he tossed in things like, "You know my granddaughter now works at the vet's office on Saturdays, you two should go to lunch."

I'm pretty sure the words shut the fuck up crossed my mind. Apparently my grandfather doesn't have telepathic abilities, so he didn't get my message. All I could do was laugh it off, although I was so embarrassed I actually had tears in my eyes. And it wasn't like I could easily go anywhere. I know he meant well, and he really had no intention of embarrassing me, or Guy. When I told K at dinner what had transpired, she just looked at Papa D and said, "Not cool, honey, not cool."

The next time I saw Guy was about a couple weeks later, and it was obvious we were both still highly embarrassed. We could barely talk to each other let alone look at each other. It took about a month, but the embarrassment seems to have waned. I, however, am still mortified.

Actually, I now have a running joke going with my mom when we're in Town picking up ad copy or delivering papers. I text her and tell her how many times I've passed this particular business. All I have to do is text "6x" and she knows what I'm referring to. And when Papa D and I get out of the car to go into this business, he says, "Let's go see your boyfriend."

hangs head.

And these are the days of my life . . . .

I really think I need a tape recorder going while driving around with my grandfather. No. Seriously.

So, about two or three weeks ago, one of my friends told me she wanted me to meet someone. Apparently her and another friend had been talking about this for awhile. Our first attempted meet up a couple weeks ago went bust as I when I arrived in town I first found our that one of my grandmother's was in the hospital for heart stuff, and secondly that my wingman was sick. I've been texting the guy off and on for awhile and he seems cool. We're supposed to meet up at a BBQ this Sunday at my friend's place.

Anyways, I had told my grandparents about it, and K was cool with it and wanted to know what I knew, which was basically nil. Name, Age, and job was all I had. Papa D seemed ambivalent.

This morning, while driving to Town to deliver papers, I got the talk. You know, the relationship talk. I was a wee bit taken aback, a wee bit annoyed, and nearly insulted that he felt he should have this discussion with me at the ripe old age of 31. I am no stranger to relationships.

PD: You know, since you've moved up here, I think I've developed fatherly concerns for you.

(Not a big leap since you are my grandfather and all)

PD: I'm a little concerned about your friends setting you up on this date. I think it's a little fast.

Me: What do you mean? (as in, how is meeting a person moving too fast?!)

PD: I'm just concerned about this guy. I never had a relationship with someone that I didn't already know for a long time.

Me: Well, I trust my friends. They wouldn't knowingly set me up with a bad guy. Besides, they just want me to meet the guy. I may never see him again after this.

PD: Oh oh, you do, okay. I'm just saying that I've never had a relationship with someone that I didn't already know for a long time.

(it's no mistake that being mentioned twice. lol)

PD: Well, I'm going to give you some relationship advice . . . (and he goes into this story of how he meet each of his wives, and how long he'd known them before marrying them, or even asking them on a date. meanwhile, I'm rolling my eyes and mouthing "are you fucking kidding me?" thankful that I was alone in the front seat and he was sitting behind me in the back seat).

Me: uh huh . . . yeah . . . mmhmmm . . . (all during his story so he knew I was listening)

PD: . . . . But I am concerned partly because I know what guys want. (and he starts chuckling)

Me: (speechless for a moment) Um, I know what guys want, too. Men really aren't that hard to figure out.

PD: I kinda feel like I'm having a conversation with my 14 year old daughter. I thought maybe I shouldn't say anything because you aren't 14, you're 31.

(yeah, I'm thinking you shouldn't have really said anything)

I eventually put it out of my head until I was finally home alone after delivering papers. I can sort of see that he may not necessarily trust my friends because he doesn't know them. Perhaps because one of them is a bartender. Who knows. But doesn't he trust me?

I know he worries about me, and has concerns about me meeting strangers. Apparently he forgot all about my attempts with internet dating in the big city, which was kind of a crock. And besides, he fucking embarrassed the shit out of me about a month or so ago trying to set me up with a guy. (That was a post I was forced to delete on my other blog, so I will re-post the story over here another day). So what is the big difference in him doing it versus my friends?

I know he was trying to look out for me, so I wasn't mad. Annoyed? A little. I know he will always worry about me, like my parents do. However, I am a big girl, I know what men want, and trust me . . . they don't get it easily from me. (insert evil laugh here)