Driveway Divas
Trash to Treasure

Will You Still Read Me, When I'm 164?

Miss Grace
Meet my neighbor, Miss Grace.  She's turning 103, this year.  I know, right?  Trust me, it's not easy being her neighbor -- I took this picture from my kitchen window, yesterday.

NO!  I wasn't spying on her.  Not really.  I just happened to be doing the dishes -- because, the dishwasher was full, but SOMEONE forgot to turn it on, the night before and, if you've visited here, before, it probably won't take you very long to guess who -- and, well, don't let her age, or the size of Miss Grace fool you, either.

"Hi, Miss Grace!"

The woman IS intimidating as h...e...double hockey sticks!

"Liz...COME HERE!"

Aaaand, she can STILL holler, REAL LOUD, too!

"Have you changed your phone number?"

Not that I haven't thought about it, but, no.

"Where've you been?


"No, Miss Grace, but I got a job and...."

Then, she gave me that, it was a rhetorical question...MORON!

"I tried calling you."

Oh, wait, maybe I'm NOT such a dope, after all.

"Oh, really, when was that, Miss Grace?"

This time, she looked me dead in the face with her milky eyes and I winced, imagining what they must have seen, or at least, what Miss Grace saw in me, right then and there.

"I've been trying to call you...ALL WINTER!"

Shoot me, now.

"I'm sorry, Miss Grace."

She tapped her cane and her great-grand niece gave me a smile, all empathetical-like (at least, I hope it was) as she tried to nudge Miss Grace along.

"You must have dialed wrong, Auntie Grace."

[one beat, two beats]

"Well, MY phone number hasn't changed any."

Miss Grace also calls 'em like she sees 'em and, well, I can't say as I blame her, either.

"So, how've ya' been?"

I mean, what DO you tell an almost 103 year old woman...anyway?

"I'm just fine, Miss Grace, thank you, and you?"

What else?

"Did you know I fell?"

Shoot me, tie a couple of cinder blocks around my ankles and just throw me into something wet.

"No, I'm so sorry, Miss Grace."

Dang, but I felt like total pond slime.

"Nothin' to feel sorry, 'bout."

Rhetorical, or not, Mis Grace has this way of making me take a real a good look at myself (and my life) and, well, I just stood there, quietly and planted my feet firmly to the pavement, ready for my scolding.

"I'm still alive, ain't I?"


"Yes, Ma'am and will probably outlive me...too."

She slapped her good knee (I think) and, well, I'm just glad Miss Grace doesn't have a blog, or not that I know of, anyway. 


Because, just imagine what she would write about me?

"You lost weight, or somethin'?"

[eyes go wide]

"Why, yes Ma'am...yes, I have!"

[one beat, two beats]

"Well, there ya' go!"

Aaaaand, then she smiled, tapped her cane and hobbled off to her house.

" a nice day."

I know, right?  You go ask her what she meant.  Not me. Quite frankly, I'm too scared to find out and obviously way too busy being a MORON!

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