Grandma Says..

Observations and views from a different set of eyes


This gave me chills it is so filled with truth!


A Visit By An Angel


Last May, when my SO, Danny, was in the hospital, I was at my wit’s end.  Putting up with his hysterical sister, negative reports from the doctor’s and the stress of just being in a hospital 24/7 was beginning to take its toll.  I couldn’t sleep; couldn’t eat and was finding it harder and harder to keep up a positive attitude.

One day, feeling low, I stood out in the hallway outside Danny’s room and started to walk outside for a short break.  I stopped in my tracks when I saw an elderly woman pushing a harp.  Curious, I stepped aside to let her pass and watched her as she set up a chair and her harp at the end of the hall.

As she began playing soft and beautiful music, I looked around the hall and was amazed at the effect her magical harp was having on all those within listening range.  Visitors came out of the rooms; nurses seemed to speak more softly, and patients who were able to walk gathered around her with smiles on their faces.

I watched and listened as her magical fingers traveled up and down the strings of the harp, producing heavenly songs.  Too soon, she silently put her chair away and pushed her harp back down the hall.  There was no applause, just silent awe that this angel had come to bless us with such beautiful music.

When Danny returned home from the hospital, he was telling me how little he remembered of the two weeks he had spent in a hospital bed. He spent most of the time in a heavy fog due to large doses of pain medication.  But, he told me, he had dreamed that angels were playing their harps for him.

I smiled, and said “No, honey, that wasn’t a dream.”

My thanks to that unknown angel, who brought beauty and peace to us that day with her magical harp.

Author’s notes: This was previously posted the second day I was on WordPress.  I reread it and felt I had to share the experience one more time.  I hope you enjoy it!


Is It Too Late To Unbottle?

Since I’m swamped with revisions, I thought I’d share one of my first posts with you. I was brand new to WordPress when I posted this. Hope you enjoy.

Grandma Says..

“Artists who begin late are sometimes said to unbottle.” said Nanuzzi.

Excerpt from Duma Key by Stephen King


I have always dreamed of being a writer.

When I was much younger than I am now, I took my first creative writing course.  Before the course ended, my instructor called me aside and told me that I had a talent for writing and that I should pursue a career in it.  I thanked him and walked away.  At the time, I was raising three children, trying to make a second marriage work and had just started a job in the banking industry that offered an opportunity for growth and a career.  So, I stuffed my dreams of writing in a bottle and moved on.

A few years ago, I decided to sign up for online writing courses, curious to see if I did have any talent in that direction.  During…

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When There Are No Words


I sit here, filled with emotion and for once, I can’t find the words to describe what I am feeling.  I am a writer, words are my life, and yet I can’t seem to find the right ones that describe the sadness or the feeling of helplessness I am now experiencing.

I watch the news videos covering the destruction of Moore, Oklahoma and the loss of life that occurred when the tornado hit the small town.  And, I find myself without words.  The usual words sound empty and shallow compared to the pain these tornado victims are going through.  I guess there are no words that can describe the feelings we have when we witness such tremendous loss and agony.

We have seen so much pain in the past year.  Senseless murders of our children; horrific shootings of innocents; and terrorist attacks on our own lands.  But, these events are ones we can find the words for.  We have a villain; we can express our anger, our outrage, our quest for justice.

But, when the natural forces of nature destroys lives and levels a whole town in a blink of an eye; we have no one to rail at.  We feel impotent and unable to comfort those victims.  We have no one to blame and that leaves us feeling helpless and words feel inadequate.

There are some, who although they can’t find the words, are doing what they can to diminish the pain of these victims.  The social media is filling with an outpouring of love and support for the people of Moore. One woman posted on Facebook and offered to provide shelter and feed for horses that are now without stables.  She went further and has offered to pick them up and transport them to her farm.

Many of Moore’s neighbors in towns as far as 300 miles away are taking pictures of the victims’s memento’s and property that the tornado left in their yards.  They are posting these on Websites to enable people to retrieve valuables that they thought were lost forever.

Lost animals, found wandering and hungry, are being cared for and their pictures are being posted so owner’s can retrieve them.

With help from their fellow-man; the town of Moore will rebuild.  They have done it before and they will do it again..I have no doubt about this.

But, for now, while I look at a couple going through the rubble of what was once their home; when I watch the parents try to deal with the irretrievable loss of a child; I find myself without words.  And maybe that because there are no words strong enough to comfort these people.  Only by stretching out a helping hand, will they start to heal.

May those hands come quickly and soothe their pain.



Join Me Please


Please join me in sending our prayers, our thoughts and our hopes to the victims of the deadly tornado that has devastated Moore, Oklahoma.

Let’s pray that people will find their loved one’s safe and sound, let’s think about how we can send help and support for the victims and let’s hope that they find all the children still buried under the rubble of the elementary school, and all other survivors not located yet.

Let’s pray together for the families, for the rescue workers and for the volunteers and send them our love and support.  It is times like this that Americans should put aside all their differences and pull together to help these poor people.

Yes, let’s pray together.




The Devil Next Door


Are you familiar with the old saying, “You can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your family?  Well, I’d like to point out they forgot an element; you also can’t pick your neighbors!

Danny and I bought the house we now live in over six years ago; we were enchanted by the pool area, complete with spa and fish pond.  A separate enclosed patio offered a sublime area for us to sit and relax while we enjoyed the great outdoors.  We put a deposit down and wondered why we were getting such a great deal on this beautiful home.

We soon found out that our visions of peacefully sitting on the patio, listening to the birds chirping and holding quiet conversations were not to be realized.  We had no idea that we had just moved next door to the devil himself.

Shortly after moving in, we were awoken to the sounds of a cement saw at seven a.m. If you haven’t heard one of those babies running; count your blessings. They sound like a million fingernails being scraped against a blackboard.  The hairs on your neck stand up and your ears are assaulted by a screeching loud enough to make those ears ring for hours afterwards.

Six years later, we are still rudely awakened by this horrible racket, not every day, but often enough to make us dread the oncoming dawns.  The word around the neighborhood is that our guy next door is a serious sculptor; although, we have never seen a completed piece of his artistic endeavors.

When we tried to convince the devil to perhaps delay his activities with the saw from hell at least until the sun was completely up; he grinned and said his creative juices start flowing when he got up and he had to strike while the irons were hot.

We checked with the Property Association and inquired about the noise restrictions and were advised that our neighbor had bought his house prior to being a deed restricted neighborhood, so he was “grandfathered in.”  This confirmed our suspicions that our neighbor had been torturing the previous residents of our home since the beginning of time.

So, here we are, stuck in hell until either property values make it worth our while to sell without taking a tremendous loss or until our neighbor grows too old to run that damn saw.  We don’t wish him ill; we just wish he would stop.

So my advice to you my friends, is to check out your neighbors before that dream house you buy turns into the a nightmare in hell!


Sharing Some Love


What?  Cranky’s feeling good?  Oh, yeah.  And when Cranky feels good; she shares the love.

Now, I’ve been so busy today working on the second draft of “Just A Ticket And A Map” (my novel’s title), that I’ve not been able to crank out a legitimate blog today. Hey, I know you guys warned me about the work involved and you were right on the money.  But, I’m back on the word train and having fun revisiting and beefing up my story.

I developed a system of editing one chapter at a time; I even bought a printer so that I can make notes on the first draft.  Moving along..oh yeah..and it feels good!

But, I needed a break and thought I would share some of the pictures that inspire me and keep me going when I feel down. Wanted to share a few and some love with my WordPress family!




And, I can’t end without my favorite picture that I look at every day!


Hope you all have a great weekend…blog ya later!




My Middle Name Is “No!”


I’m laying here, head on paws, wondering where I’ve gone wrong.  I know I’m new around here;  just arrived four weeks ago from my cage in PuppyTown.  I thought I was ready for the humans my cage mates talked about.  But, somehow, although my new housemates named me Buddy, I’m beginning to think my middle name is “No!”

My cage mates told me to expect a different life than the one I lead.  They talked of scratches behind the ears (o.k., I admit, I get a lot of those!)  They promised lots of food and snacks (so far, so good on that point).  And, they raved about the glories of walking tall and proud around the neighborhood with my masters (yup, love that part.)

What they didn’t warn me about was something I heard my master’s talking about since the first day I graced their doorstep.  Something they call “Training”!  Wow, where did that come from?  I believed my life would be spent having the humans fulfill my every wish; be at my beck and call and lavish me with love and attention.

But, lately, I’ve been hearing that word “No” a lot..and I have a sneaky suspicion it’s all that “Training’s” fault!  It seems like a day can’t go by without my hearing the word “No”..I nibble the female’s toes; it’s “No Buddy!”  I chew on that nice yummy rocking chair leg and it’s “No, bad dog!”  I jump up into a chair to get a little puppy nap and it’s “No, in your bed!”  I can’t seem to catch a break!

Now, I try to get past those stern “No’s” by batting my big brown eyes and putting on my cutest little puppy face.  I wag my tail so hard it shakes my back end.  But, they are just not falling for it.  I try to persist and they just insist I stop!

To be fair, I also get a lot of “Good boy’s” or my favorite, “Atta boy!”  These happen when I sit when told; leave my messes out in the yard and generally try to please them by not using my nails to rip the screens or sinking my puppy teeth into their ankles.  I also found out that chewing on their shoes was frowned upon in this establishment. (hey, I only take one!)

And, I’m not the only one getting this “Training.”  My humans are learning to be consistent and firm. They know that if they let their defenses down, I’m gonna puppy walk all over them.  They also make sure that I get something called “treats” that are rewards for when I do listen.

They protect me by picking up things that just should not be chewed by puppies, like wires and things called “chemicals”.  And, they always use a leash when we go off the home front so cars don’t wind up running me over and so I don’t get lost.

I’m slowly discovering that if I just learn the all the do’s and don’ts, we can all live happily together.  My humans say that I am progressing on that front and I guess, with a little more of this “Training”, I’ll hear that word “No” less and less and get a lot of those most excellent belly rubs.

But, now I’ve started hearing another word bandied about by my owners. What’s with this word called “Neuter“?



Sometimes, They Just Get It Right


Danny and I have eight kids between us, four on each side, and all are adults.  They are busy with their own lives..and that is a good thing.  Our two youngest, one girl and one boy, are often guilty of forgetting that we exist unless money becomes an issue (they need some) or a favor is needed.  On their visits, they pack the car with “goodies” from our fridge; they hog the couch and forget to say “thanks” for the things we do for them.

And, that’s the way it is for a lot of parents.  We become a little less important in their lives; their calls become few and far between, their visits are short  and we are left wondering if they think about us at all.

Sunday, Mother’s Day, I was having a cup of coffee and thinking we had a double reason to celebrate the day.  It was a year to the day that Danny was admitted to the hospital and damn near died from liver failure.  I reminded myself to congratulate him on not drinking and following a healthy lifestyle since that day.

Since Danny was sleeping in, I grabbed my cup and headed to my laptop.  I jumped on Facebook and started scrolling down when I came upon our daughter’s message she had posted on her wall.  She had written:

“Oh one more thing that just crossed my mind and i gotta give it up to my dad. A little over a year ago my dad was in the hospital for stomach pains, most of his liver shot, hipatitus c and had to get his gulbladder removes. We didnt know what the hell was going on. We didnt know if he was gonna survive or not. But the soldier he is quit drinking and started eating healthy. He is still standing here today and still going strong minus all the partying and drinking. I couldnt picture my life without u. Love you dad. Keep up the good work im proud of you”

Later, when I brought out the laptop and let Danny read what she had written, I watched the tears well in his eyes.  He was so touched and surprised that not only had she remembered the exact day he went in the hospital, but she was telling the world how proud she was of him.  The smile on his face when he finished was the best Mother’s Day Gift I could have ever asked for.

Oh, yes, sometimes our kids can be thoughtless and selfish.  But, sometimes, they do get it right!

Good job, sweetie, good job!


Dad and M.E.


Itsy Bitsy Spider My Butt!


There I was, Kindle in hand, sitting on the commode; when I noticed a slight movement on my left.  Marching towards me was my biggest fear; my source of nightmares and my cause to panic…a slippery, slimy, scurrilous, succubus of a spider.

I froze, afraid to breathe and watched in horror as the arachnoid, that looked to me to be the size of a small dog, headed right for my leg.  My heart started pumping wildly; sweat formed on my brow and my legs started to shake.

I was helpless; the two gallon jug of Home Defense Bug Spray was in the garage; the can of Raid was under the kitchen sink and the fly swatter lived on the lanai. Desperate, I looked around the room and used any weapon I could find. I threw my slipper; the spider laughed ( I swear, I heard it). I threw an empty paper toilet roll with all my might; it bounced and rolled under the sink. I threw a bar of soap and it skidded out the door.  With no other weapons in sight, I resorted to the only gun left in my arsenal; I screamed!

Danny came rushing in and found me sitting on the throne, pointing at the floor.

“Kill that monster.”

Dan followed my finger and doubled over with laughter.  He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little Itsy Bitsy Spider!”

“I’m not kidding,” I shouted, “get rid of it!”

So, my hero stomped on the insect, picked it up with his bare hands and left the room to dispose of the disgusting creature. I sat and tried to compose myself and waited for the blood to return to my legs.  Finally, I bent over and reached for some toilet paper..


I’m now lying in bed with a couple of Valiums under my belt and a fierce determination to hold my water until the exterminator finishes spraying the whole house!

Cranky don’t like spiders!


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