"your mother got a tattoo," (of a hibiscus in hawaii) i texted my mom.
"appalling. don't worry, YOUR mother will never get one," she texted back.
"your mother has facebook," i texted my mom.
"holy crap! tell her to keep it ladylike" she texted back.
"what's next, a vagina piercing?" i texted my mom.
"ew," she texted back.
my Mimi is an extraordinary woman. she says things like "Heavens to Mergitrude" and "Good God Golly What a Gas." she calls eggs cackleberries, and puts her grandchildren in timeout in front of the refrigerator. she has a million stories of her childhood included but not limited to: her grandmother getting kidnapped by gypsies and an encounter she and her sister had with a whale in the Puget Sound. she reads The New Yorker cover to cover every week, retaining information at a incredible rate. she was a successful lawyer, and (still is) a magnificent exaggerator. she had breast cancer and beat it, and showed one of my boyfriends her tattoed 3D nipple (not to be confsued with the new tattoo) after a few too many glasses of red wine. she says what she thinks all the time, and she's not afraid to hurt people's feelings. she took me on my frist trip to disneyland, drank my first first mai tai with me (that's the night the picture above was taken), and she bought me my first ipod. she had "some work done" and when we asked what all the bandages around her head were for, she told us she had a toothache. she loves collecting beach glass, and idolizes martha stewart ("honestly when she got out of jail, she never looked better. she was thinner and her hair looked divine!") one time in costco i asked her if she would buy me a backpack for school and she said "hell no, you'll buy it with your own money." (i was a freshman in high school.) i went to a garden party with her when i was 16 and she put me in an all-denim tube dress and introduced me to her friends as, "this is my granddaughter, she's a size 0 can you believe it?" the next time she wanted to take me to a party, she bought me a dress without knowing if it would fit me. it didn't. so she took my sister (in the dress) instead. (i had very hurt feelings and i cried). she named her white standard poodle J.D. (for Jack Daniels) and named her cat Popoki (Hawaiian for "cat"). she makes up a song for every situation, and she wears flip flops 365 days a year even though she lives in the Pacific Northwest. she once bought me a yellow Fubu sweater oblivious to the dangers a skinny white girl would face in gang-ridden Yakima if she actually wore it in public. she sleeps with orange earplugs in her head every night next to Papa in his whitie-tighties. she spends a third of her life in Hawaii, and half of her life golfing. she is hilarious, smart, mean and crazy. she is a conspirator.
so can you see why i wasn't surprised to see a picture message on my blackberry of my 71-year-old grandmother's foot adorned with a fiery red and orange hibiscus flower tattoo? or to see that she was on facebook? this isn't normal. many of the residents at my place of work are her age and don't know how to play solitaire on the computer, let alone how to add their grandchildren as friends on online networking websites. she is a special kind of breed. one who loves Ed Hardy clothes and feeding peanuts to the birds.
why are some of the 65+ crowd able to stay up on the latest trends? does doing things like getting a tattoo of a hibiscus and joining facebook make one feel younger? or does it simply mean they are keeping up with times? i am allowed to have a blog and to be on facebook, and to have a tattoo. i can wear knee-high boots and miniskirts. why can't she?
kudos, Mims. i love you.