Why I'm Weird: The Series, Part I

Why I am Weird, Story One: Because I don't know when to hide my faults and when to flaunt them.
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My father is in town for the week and whenever my family comes in for a visit, inevitably dinnertime becomes story time. "Remember when..." "That was so funny..." kind of stories.

Last night we were remembering something funny my grandmother did. I was about to graduate from high school. I was visiting my grandmother in Pennsylvania and she wanted to do something special for my graduation: bake owl-shaped cookies. She thought owls looked smart and, I don't know, graduation-like. I was smart, I'll give her that. I was valedictorian of my class. Granted, I was homeschooled and the ONLY graduating member of my class, but that's not important.

In order to make these fowl cookies (I crack me up... fowl, foul) we had to purchase some cashews from the grocery store. Grandad was out golfing and we had a grocery "emergency" for nuts, so my Grammy decided to drive us there.

I don't think I had ever seen my grandmother drive before. (Enter first clue to story's plot.)

Good thing she didn't have a really nice Lincoln Towncar.

So we hopped in her Towncar and, if I'm remembering correctly, I'm not sure my grandmother looked back when she threw the car in reverse as we flew out of the garage. I'm pretty sure of it because there was a rather loud scraping sound on my side of the car ("Good Glory!"). But we contined to drive to the grocery store anyway.

When we arrived at the store, we took a look at the damage. No need to be near the car to see the damage. Approximately one third of the front shiny bumper had been twisted and pulled several feet out in FRONT of the car. No one who liked their car could park in front of our car; that's how far out it stood. My grandmother and I looked at it, whinced and bought those cashews.

Back at home, my grandmother went to the garage intending to fix the bumper. A fully grown man couldn't have pushed it in. So she didn't even try. (This is where it gets good.) So my dear grandmother SHINED the bumper with Windex. That's right, instead of trying to conceal her guilt, she made sure it screamed, "Look at me! Look at me!"

Fast forward to "later that night" when grandad arrived home.
Grammy: "Cal, I have something to tell you and you won't like it. Something happened to the car..."
(Granded DARTS to the garage and all sorts of unhappiness ensues.)

Don't worry, I know what you're thinking. I DID graduate that next week. With VERY expensive owl-shaped cookies. Hoo-hoo!