My grandmother turned ninety freaking seven yesterday.

Yep--Gram is 97. So yesterday I called her during happy hour (she always drinks a glass of $3/bottle cream sherry with two ice cubes at 5 PM), which was right around when B. and I got home from playing Frisbee golf (his idea) in the g.d. icy rain, which started pelting us in the face around the second "hole." We (and by "we" I mean "I") only lasted 4 holes. I did not enjoy yesterday's rain. I digress.

So I called Gram while I was waiting for my ass to thaw out and B. was making us tea. Gram had had a rockin' birthday party on Sunday with 30 guests, most of whom she was responsible for putting into the world (catholics, you know). Sons. Daughters. Grandchildren. Great Grandchildren. And I said, "Wow, lady, you've done your part to keep the globe populated!" and she said (really loudly), "Yeah, so when are you going to start doing your part to populate the globe? You're not getting any younger either."

The new guy was standing 4 feet away, my friends. Who is Catholic. Which I didn't tell her. I have learned my lesson. The last guy I dated once saw the Pope, and Grandma still begs me to drag that poor chap down the aisle. You're almost 30! He'll do! Go get him!

B. thought the comment about me doing my part to populate the globe was pretty funny, although he does not recommend spitting hot tea out your nose.

I have to say, Gram says this stuff, but she's kidding. My grandmother and I talk about dating and marriage fairly openly, and she's got a giant heart and isn't actually applying serious pressure (although I suspect she prays the rosary for me frequently). We have an understanding that she only wants what's best for me and that I'm going live how I want. Even though she doesn't always get my choices, she respects them. We've discussed.

Anyway--I love my grandma. She's a badass. She still lives alone. She still has a valid driver's license (she chooses not to drive) and she still prunes her own humongous rose bushes. During the depression, she wanted to marry my grandpa but "wasn't allowed" because he had no job. So SHE got a job, used her paycheck to buy coal, which he sold on the street. Selling coal counted as a job for him, and they could get married without pissing off her parents. So she gets it. Sort of.

When she turns 100, we're partying in Jamaica.