Showing posts with label Granny Dot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Granny Dot. Show all posts

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Transporting Again - With A Twist














On the road again.  Have a bunch of pups to take to the Mohawk Shelter in Menands, NY.

This trip will be a little different in that Judy is driving up to NJ and is going to meet me for my nude blogging in Winchester, VA.  I will get up on Saturday and drive back to Commerce, GA, and she will continue on to Spotswood, NJ, to stay with her mom.

She will spend the week with her and use her home as base while she works at Murryhill.  Then she will lode up Granny Dot and drive her back to spend a few weeks with us. Damn!

At any rate, I will be checking in when I can.  Till then, later Peeps!

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

Jabba Hutt Has Gone Home and A RePost From The Past

My MIL, Dot (Granny Dot - better know around here as Jabba Hutt because she is 5 feet tall and close to 300 lbs) is on a plain heading for home.  Thank God and Continental she’s gone.


I do like (though love would not be a good word to use) her and in many ways enjoy her visits - though three weeks is a bit much.

Every time she comes down she has something new to add to her arsenal of strange and weirdness.  Like, she takes pills to help her with drearier, along with stool softeners.  This time she ask Judy if we have any honey.  We looked in the pantry and found a jar.  The next morning she ask Judy didn’t her lips look soft and most.  She rubs honey on them. (Think 300 lbs)  This might be an old remidy for chaplips that has been around, but I have never heard of it. It is so hard not to laugh at 90% of what she says.

Anyway, I was looking for a picture of Dot when I ran across this post from 2008 and got a chuckle out of it.  So I though I would re-post it.  He’s 15 now and lives on the phone with his girlfriends.

Maybe you will get a smile, too.
 


My grandson, J-Man (now Mater), is growing up; but not just growing, he's taking after his Paw Paw (me).  We were heading to the North Georgia Fair last Friday and he ask me, “Paw Paw (that’s me, ya know) you know what’s 40 feet long and smells like pee?”

“A safety rope in a water treatment plant.” I answer.

“Huh?”

“Never mind! What’s 40 feet long and smells like pee?”

“A line-dance in the old folks home.”

It’s really hard to drive and keep the car on the road with tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.  I’m so proud of him.

I have to say, though, that knowing me, his mom and his dad, he didn’t stand a chance of ever being serious.  It’s in his jeans. 

And I think the horns on his head are very appropriate, too.
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