After a night of proper, horizontal celebration about our engagement, I decide to sneak out of bed and make a nice breakfast for my princess. Cooking is a passion and great way for me to decompress. I slide on my boxer-briefs, and stumble foggy-eyed into the kitchen. I open the fridge, grab eggs, and then begin searching beneath the stove for a pan. Suddenly, I hear a spoon clinking against the side of a glass. Where am I, at a wedding reception?
I turn to find Grandma seated at the breakfast nook wearing reading glasses while browsing the Union Tribune.
“Be a good boy and warm up my coffee,” she orders as she slides the mug in my direction.
“Oh, and put on a shirt, will you? I wouldn’t want to find one of your silver chest hairs in my eggs.”
“Grandma, what are you doing here?”
“You may call me by my proper name, Silver.”
“Gertrude Aspinwald … Ms. A, if you like.”
“Fine,” I agree as I carry the pot of coffee over and top off her mug. She doesn’t look up.
I retreat to the bedroom, grab my shirt off the floor, and return–no longer a health risk.
“So, Ms. A, how would you like your eggs?”
“Two whites with one yolk over easy. Fry up some bacon too. I prefer it crisp, but not burned.”
“Don’t you have room service here?”
She’s testing me …
“Of course. Don’t you know how to separate eggs?”
… and I’m not giving in.
“Then you best get a-crackin’. You have a long day ahead of you.”
“In fact, I do. I’ve fallen behind in my blogging. I was supposed to interview Bea, and in two blinks I’m halfway down the aisle.”
“Not even one-tenth the way.”
I ignore her sass and begin cooking silently. I can feel her eyes. The TV remote is sitting on the counter so I flip on the TV to catch some news. Naturally, in my groggy, yet agitated state I forget the video of yours truly strapped to the bed is still loaded. Grandma snickers. I hit the “Source” button and finally find the news.
“You know something, maybe you should interview me for your blob.”
“What, of interest, would you have for my readers?”
“Plenty. We could talk about my empire, how my father became rich by investing in Canadian oil fields, how I’m going to turn this property back into the thriving mecca it once was, …”
“… or, I could tell you all about my granddaughter Bea’s other fiance.”
I’m wide awake now.