So, this is it. I'm finally taking peoples' advice as far as starting this blog. Why, you may ask, was I suggested to start this? Because for the past eight months (a little more if we're being exact) I've been living in the middle of nowhere with my oldie relatives. When I say oldie? I really do mean oldie. My great-great-aunt, who is 84 and a 1/2 (though I swear she acts five) and my great grandmother who is 86. Yep. Told you. Oldies.
I feel the need to have a bit of a disclaimer here and let people know that despite the stories I'm going to be sharing here... I do love them very much.
I just turned 23 yesterday but staying here sometimes really makes me feel like I'm becoming one of the oldies. You should hear my complaining about back problems. So much so I've had to resort to sleeping on the pool table because Grandma's bed is waaay too soft for me to handle anymore. As a bit of backstory, my Great Uncle passed away, followed by my Great Grandpa. As a result, I've been here to take care of the women left behind. Honestly? They're tough old battle axes and really the definition of strength. They've been through so much in their lives - it's awe-inspiring when you actually think about it. That being said.... let's get this here started. Problem with this is I'm not entirely sure where to start....
Should I start with the battles for the fan? Or maybe the experiences of wrinkled nudity? Or perhaps the story of the cop arriving in the morning.... I feel like these are supposed to be stories for a sorority or something. Not a home aptly called "Sleepy Hollow".
Since this is my first entry I'll start with a juicy tale.
Tillie, or demonic Oompa Loompa as I like to call her, (this is my great-great aunt by the way) is this really short, really feisty little thing. If any of you have seen Lord of the Rings you can compare her to the part where Bilbo tries to get the ring back from Frodo in Rivendell. She looks akin to that, especially when she's upset. Which....she was this day. Anyway. Tillie worked herself up one day because she assumed someone threw a rock at her bedroom window. Allow me to paint a picture. This house is out in the middle of no where behind a Fire Department building. It's in a fenced in area....the fence a good 30 feet from the house, a decent number of feet high....and her bedroom is on the second floor. Yes, she believed someone threw a rock at her window. We were able to talk her down and convince her otherwise. Seemingly, everything was fine.
Fastforward to weeks later and the next thing I know a police officer is knocking on the front door. We don't have a doorbell. I managed to stumble out of bed only to find Tillie chatting him up telling him this ridiculously elaborate story about how a boy from Waco, in a white pickup, threw a rock at her window one night and how she was afraid people were going to get on the yard. Insert a confused police officer and a mortified me.
"Tillie, Grandma wants to talk to you." - "No she doesn't. You're just going to tell him I'm lying!" Insert odd looks from the police officer as the white haired old lady begrudgingly goes back inside only to stand guard at the screen door.
"I am so sorry. We think a bird hit her window a few weeks ago and she worked herself up and thinks someone threw a rock. No one comes down here." - "We've never had a call from this area so I was kind of surprised. Is she on medication?" - "No, she's just old and worrisome. We haven't seen anyone even drive by here or anything." - "It looks pretty fenced in, I was about to ask. But it's alright." We proceed to say our goodbyes, all the while.... the demonic Oompa Loompa is listening in on the conversation. I watch the cop drive off for a bit before going back inside annnnnd this is where it turns interesting.
The second I get inside...she pounces. Verbally, though I swear she was about to gut me or something. "You told him I lied didn't you!" - "No, I didn't. You shouldn't be calling the police. You could get in trouble for that." - "You're so stupid! Why did you tell him I lied? You think you know everything! I'm not a liar!" At this point...she's yelling. At the top of her lungs. And continues to follow me all the way back to my little laptop on a desk set up. "You're a stupid pendeja! You don't know anything. GO TO HELL. YOU GO TO HELL. GO TO HELL. I'm going to tell the Devil to take you!" An angry finger is pointed directly at my face as she continues to yell until she's literally as red as a tomato and she stomps off. Great-grandma ends up waking up. That poor woman is nearly completely deaf...and our screaming happened to wake her up. What does that say?
"Someone threw a rock at my window and people are going to try to break in!" Needless to say Grandma freaks out and starts asking me if things are okay but then she goes on to tell Tillie to shut up. They bicker. So much. They're sisters, by the way. Which probably explains it....now that I think about it. Anyway, Tillie then proceeded to tell me that I'm this evil, disrespectful little thing. At this point, I'm so upset and annoyed and yet have no means of going to Wal-Mart (the only real source of human interaction at least 15 or so minutes away by car) because the keys to my great-grandpa's broken down little van are no where in sight. In hindsight, all of this was really hilarious. I don't know if that can ever really be translated through writing though. She stayed mad at me, and would make comments about it for literally months to come. "Oh, that Katie. She knows everything. So contradicting. Fine, you're going to learn the hard way. You're going to have to deal with what happens when someone breaks in!" On and on, over and over.
.....I'm going to have to post one story per entry at this rate. I didn't really realize how long this was. Regardless, these are my adventures in a land of wrinkles and the constant smell of cabbage. Until next time, my friends. Ciao.