Gigi and her plate at Thanksgiving while niece Ella looks on in horror at cranberry Jell-O salad.
I was in the next town at Target today when I ran into my grandmother Gigi. (As you may recall, that’s just her fancy way of spelling G.G. for great-grandmother.) Please, let me be 86 and driving myself over to the next town in my sporty Mazda to buy Legos for my great-grandson because I thought he probably needed some for his birthday next month. She was concerned that the Lego supply would be down after the holidays, so she wanted to get them today. That’s my Gigi’s way of thinking and that part doesn’t have anything to do with her age. She’s always been that way.
I’m not saying that Gigi should be driving, by the way. It’s been a long time since I have ridden with her, but she is . . .