Grambo

While Grady and I sat at the food court at Costco, I told him that my non-fat swirl frozen yogurt reminded me of my Grandma Turley. I told him about how my grandma would call over to my house and ask my mom if I wanted to "go to lunch with her". It always meant Costco. Now this was when Costco was Price Club and it was located off Grand Avenue. We'd "lunch" on samples. Mini quiche, deli cut meat, blueberry muffins baked that morning in their bakery, etc. I remember being very young when Price Club started a little frozen yogurt cart right outside their exit. My grandma always bought chocolate and we'd share. Eventually Price Club became Costco and my cousins and I refused to call it Costco. We protested with heart! Costco added a few foods to their food court including the hot dogs and polish sausages. At that point my grandma would get us a non-fat chocolate frozen yogurt and a polish sausage for my grandpa. What a woman! After I finished my overly detailed story of the rise and fall of Price Club (in my mind) Grady said to me, "I love hearing about your stories of your grandma. My grandmas always lived so far, it was such a different experience for me". This made me think. My whole life I lived less than a half mile from my grandma. When I started my freshman year of high school, my family moved. NEXT DOOR TO MY GRANDPARENTS! I loved it. My mom warned us during the moving process that we couldn't "bug" grandma and grandpa all the time. There were jokes thrown around that we'd knock the fence down between the two yards and just wander between houses. I wish that actually had happened, it would have saved my little brother and I the energy of having to hop the fence! In honor of Valentine's Day, I told Grady another story of my Grandma Turley. Every Valentine's Day my grandma made the HUGEST sugar cookies. I swear they we're the size of my head! She made one for every grandchild. Now, I have a large family which meant a lot of cookies. She decorated each cookie and took the time to pipe our name in cursive with white frosting. I love my grandma's cursive. We cherished those cookies. They were so pretty we almost didn't want to eat them. The older I got, the more I wanted to savor each bite of the cookie and always ate my white piped name last. Valentine's Day will forever be a giant sugar cookie with my name piped in cursive with white frosting. A few years after we moved into our house next to grandma and grandpa, we were driving past Horizon Elementary and a huge tumbleweed blew in front our car. My mom, little brother and I all died laughing. (those who are not from Arizona, tumbleweeds don't blow in front of your car everyday like they portray in the movies, it never happens) My mom said, "kids, go grab that tumbleweed and put it in the back of the van!". So we did. She drove home and said, "let's put it in front of grandma's door". So we did. Now, my grandma is the cleanest person on the earth. She is so clean, she sweeps the gutter in front of her house. The gutter. So we thought, this will be so funny! Grandma will freak! A few hours later, we had completely forgotten about the tumbleweed, but were quickly reminded by the phone ringing. I answered. The only words spoken were "Liz, get this tumbleweed out from in front of my door". I laughed for like an hour. So why do these small things have such a deep impression on me? I think it's because my grandma is my hero. She's not your typical hugs and kisses, buy you a frilly dress for your birthday grandma. She's the type that lets you eat an entire pack of her Trident wintermint gum in the first 45 seconds you've walked into her house. She's the type of grandma that knows you put on her Oil of Olay lotion in her bathroom and pretends you didn't just waste $5 of her eye creme. She's the type of grandma that pays you $20 to stop talking for an entire day, because you are annoying the crap out of her. She's the type of grandma that laughs when you tell her you need "ingredients" for a recipe you are making, and the ingredients you need are milk and chocolate milk mix...and makes you a glass of chocolate milk, because she loves you. She's the type of grandma I hope to be. I am grateful for my grandma's example of strength, hard work and Christ-like love. She is my hero and I hope to be half the woman she is.