How my grandmother became a criminal

The one out in front? That’s my grandma . . .

I snapped the photo last October, when I joined the old girls for their Halloween party–before I knew about their nefarious deeds.

Between my mother and I, you would think we would have caught on by now. After all, my grandma has lived at “the home” for nearly a decade. We paid visits back when the walls were whitewashed and the common areas were known as ‘Main Street.’ We’ve survived a year’s worth of remodeling, attended countless parties, and joined the old girls for many a meal in the dining room. We’re known as ‘the girls’ and we count both staff and residents amongst our friends.

The old girls are something special. They’ve lived long, full lives. We’ve chatted the hours away and laughed, a lot. All in all, they’ve taught us to enjoy our days of youth (which, I might add, is anything under 70); they’ve taught us to age gracefully.

I guess we were blinded by all that.

Luckily, we have corporate headquarters to help us see the e’er of our ways.

We caught our first glimpse at the parties. What began as family affairs, turned to events geared toward bringing in new blood. Then came cameras, for safety’s sake, naturally. Totally understandable, given many are of the frailish sort. Taking “attendance” at meals came next–including the milling about to see what, exactly, residents had on their plates. Really, that’s quite understandable as well. After all, some of those people request a full order of food. We’re talking a whole stuffed green pepper people! Gluttonous fools. 

A couple weeks ago, residents began receiving flyers about a very important town hall meeting–there would be fanciful treats and “exciting news” not to be missed. We’re still a little fuzzy on the latter. They did encourage the residence to bring in their friends–and spoke of some retirement communities that have resorted to turning off the heat in the dining room. So . . . they have heat? I guess that is pretty darn exciting when you think about it. And when they only pay a few thousand dollars a month in rent, no less! 

We went for brunch yesterday. The heat was still on. Although, the old girls (who ate before us) were lying in wait. Apparently, they had gotten in trouble for trying to put the food in their own take-home bags. I know it well. I’ve seen it with my own eyes–a piece of ham here, a couple muffins there. Food that would otherwise be thrown out, they were bringing home. In their own bags! For crying out loud–when will the insanity end?!

If corporate has anything to do with it, such criminal activity will end sooner rather than later. 

Yet the question begs to be asked, what will happen if the old girls rebel? 

I better start working on my baking-a-file-into-a cake skills–you know, just in case.