Days like this make me wish more than anything that Jeff was around. As my father gets my grandma going and my mother begs for him to stop, I long for Jeff to keep me sane. Plus, while my father gets her going in a negative direction, throwing out expletives and all, Jeff gets her going in a goofy direction. A direction that is always good for a laugh or two. He keeps it cheery. He has that way about him.
But, since the reality is that Jeff was not here, the cheeriness lacked at times. After throwing out expletives over her neighbors, her sisters, her doctors, and people that drive on the roads, she later claimed that she never curses using the f word. Never does she drop the f-bomb.
Well, I did what any respectful granddaughter would do and called her out on it. I let her know that I could count a number of times in recent memory that she has dropped the f-bomb. No way, she continued to deny it. It's so vulgar and classless. She is not her sister, who uses the word all the time. Right! Okay.
Her defense continued with her admitting what she says in place of the f word:
"I don't say F. Instead I say 'son of a b*tch, b@st@rd."
Much better right? According to her, yes. According to her it is a very acceptable thing to say. It is much more classy than swearing. Funny, I was pretty sure that both b*tch and b@st@rd were swear words. But who I am to question the class of my grandmother?
Now, do you see why I need Jeff around? Even better, do you see why I am so excited to head to Cleveland in a week? My grandmother's youngest sister (83 years old) often tells her to "take the bridge" when she is complaining about things. If Jeff wasn't a mere week away I would have gladly taken the bridge today!
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