Last week we celebrated my Grandmother Bera’s ninetieth birthday, and I posted an entry with some photos of the family at her party. Since you guys now know that she’s ninety, I think you’ll understand the absurdity of this little entry:
Bera called my mom at work a few days ago and told her that she thought she’d be okay to drive herself to the beauty shop.*** My mom told her that she would leave work and go pick her up and take her to the hairdresser. Bera replied, “No, I’m okay to drive. I took a Xanax so I won’t be nervous.”
***A Southern woman would crawl on bloody, broken knees through a hailstorm to keep her hair appointment. Just so ya know.