GOING TO TOWN WITH GRANDMUM

A trip to town with Gran, featuring her mystical, magical purse

What a treat; a trip to town with Gran! She hunted up her big old purse, got me into a sweater despite my protests--"But Gran, it's not even cold," I argued.

"Nivver ye mind thet, child," she replied, "We're in New England, and the wither can turn," she snapped her gnarled, old fingers, "Jist like that!"

A shawl for Gran, and we were om our way.

We hadn't gotten far before we were spotted by a woman who'd met Gran recently at a church bake sale.

"Mrs. Smith!" the lady cried. "How lucky I was to run into you! I misplaced that recipe you gave me for that wonderful pistachio cake of yours! Could you possibly write it down for me again?"

"Why, to be sure, Mrs. Adamson," said Gran, ever agreeable. "Jist let me hunt up a pen, and I'll write it down for ye."

The cavernous purse was opened, and in went her hand, rummaging about. A scrap of paper was found, then several pens--each found to be dried beyond usefulness-- were tried and discarded until one that wrote was found. It wrote for a moment... one box yellow...and it quit.

Mrs. Adamson, fortunately, had a good pen, so the recipe was given.

GRAN'S PISTACHIO CAKE

• 1 box yellow cake mix
• 1 small box instant pistachio pudding mix
• 1 cup water
• 1/4 cup vegetable oil
• 4 large eggs
• Powdered sugar, for dusting  
• Prepare an 8" round or square baking pan.
• Mix all ingredients until batter is uniform and lump-free
• Pour into pan and bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes, until tests done.

On we went.

Gran glanced down at me.

"Ah, dear," she murmured, "Yer nose is runnin' a bit, love. Lemee git thet for ye."

She opened the purse, rummaged again, coming up with tissue after tissue, all used. At last, she found one less used than most, and applied it to my nose.

"Blow," she said, and I did. Back into the purse the tissue, now twice-used, went.

"Waste not, want not," she advised. "Thet's in th' Good Book," she added, giving her worn Bible, in its front pocket, an affectionate pat.*  

As we trundled on, Gran saw her neighbor, Mr. Sikes, in front of the hardware store, looking irritated as he searched his pockets, looking for change for the parking meter.

"Don't worry," said Gran, "I've got some change."

Alas; every coin she came up with was probably valuable, at least in Gran's estimation.

"Don't trouble yourself,Mrs. Smith," said the gentleman. "I've found a nickle. Thanks just the same."

We went on.

As I walked, I got a tickle in my throat and coughed, immediately regretting that when I beheld the purse opening, and a Sucrets, a bit of fuzz stuck to the part exposed by the torn wrapper, being pulled out.

I opened my mouth dutifully, though, and Gran popped it in.

Here was another church friend; Mrs. Flynn, my Sunday school teacher, a pained expression upon her wide, bland face.

"What's yer trouble, Agnes?" Gran inquired of her.

"Oh, I have a  headache," explained Miss Flynn. "I'm afraid it's making me feel cross."

"'Ang on," said Gran, with a sympathetic cluck. "I have some aspirins 'ere...some'airs."

She dug, handing me a sheaf of old cards and letters to hold while she searched. I looked at them, to pass the time. To my surprise, there was a birth announcement, heralding the arrival of one Jeffrey Johnson, whom, I knew, had recently come home injured from Vietnam. 

Looking further, I found some long-expired coupons, and photos of a few of Gran's cats.Two of those cats, I knew, had been resting in eternal repose beneath Gran's roses for several years.

Finally, success!

"'Ere ye go, love," said Gran. "These'll put ye right."

Mrs. Flynn sniffed at the proffered pills.

"I think they've gone by," that lady said sadly. "They smell of vinegar."

"Ahr, not t' worry," Gran assured her, "Nothin' better for an 'eadache than a bit o' vinegar applied to yer temples."

Mrs. Flynn, smiling wanly, dry swallowed the pills and thanked Gran before passing along.

Well, here we were at last!

The drugstore.

Now, if only Gran could remember what we'd come here for...

*Not from the Bible; this sentiment is credited to Thomas Hardy,circa 1872

Reviews

[Gee]

You tell a good story Angel, wish I had the patience to sit and write longer pieces.
Good morning' t'ya...

[angel]

Good morning back! Oh, dear, you think THAT was long? My NOWHERE MAN is 10 chapters, and FOR THE LOVE OF JOHN tops out at 16! This was a short one. Thanks for reading me;I appreciate it.

[Flowers of Eternity]

This was a fun read!!
I really enjoyed it!
Who knew a walk to the drugstore can turn into an adventure!
This was great!!!

[angel]

If you'd known my gran, you wouldn't be surprised.
Thanks for reading!

[Flowers of Eternity]

Your welcome!