Mawmaw and Pawpaw invited me over for lunch yesterday. Upon invitation via cell phone, Mawmaw described the lunch as “healthy and delicious," and although I was of course RSVPing yes regardless of the caliber of meal, I was suspicious about the quote ‘health’ aspect. And here’s why.
Mawmaw and Pawpaw (85 & 90) have lived in many different worlds, you see, and have melded into each new transforming society with elegance and grace. From WWII and Oldsmobiles to melting pot regimes and face-timing Ipads, they have experienced it all. No. Really. All. Inevitably, they have recently conquered the technological world, and although it took increments of time and practice and increments of time and practice, I now receive emoji filled texts from Mawmaw. I know, right!? (Although, I’m almost certain she holds the space button down for a bit before actually typing said text, as I usually have to scroll down a ways before getting to the verbiage). But I’m ok with that.
Furthermore, my grandparents grew up in a time where lunch was served when the chicken’s neck was rung. And butter came straight from the cow in the backyard (if only). However, in no time, this triumphant lifestyle was abruptly metamorphosed into fried mechanically altered “chicken” and I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter chemical concoction, or, as I like to call it, fakeshit bullshit (wait, am I allowed to say that?). And just as with all other forms of change, Mawmaw and Pawpaw took on this new way of living with confident acceptance. Why? Because the amazing and progressive television they didn’t have back when told them so. It only made sense. Society was moving onward yet again, and they didn’t want to get left behind.
Be it as it may, as medical conditions and a series of illnesses arose, I began my best attempt to “preach” more things of the nature “eat this food for this nutritious value, physiological effect and metabolism booster” and less “eat this lean cuisine for energy and this 24day challenge diet for weight loss.” But, as the world continued to go round and round, the public continued to bark against me. Everything Maw and Paw read and heard strongly opposed my advice. The Dr. said margarine was better for the heart, and Living Social claimed canola oil as the least fattening form of cooking oil (whatever that means).
Nevertheless, Dr. Margarine and the Socialites were beating Katie blindfolded. Because that’s what they were when divulging said “nutritious” information. Blindfolded.
While I piled on the research and fixated articles for their browsing pleasure, my loving grandparents began to enlighten me with questions. Although, I could sense and understand that acceptance of my “ways” was beginning to resemble the road less traveled. (I have to note, however, that Mawmaw was far more willing than Mr. WWII himself.) In lieu of, I decided to take a hiatus from all the preaching and simply assured myself that the g-parents were set in their ways. And nothing was going to alter the situation. And I was ok with that. Until yesterday.
Lunch. Not only did I walk into a divine smelling oasis equipped with the most adorable place settings I’d ever seen (pictured), but what sat atop the colorful straw mats is what nearly brought tears of joy to my eyes. Included, but not limited to, the meal consisted of steak (Pawpaw said he purchased the steaks from the cows that ate the grass), a beautiful arrangement of steamed, rooted goodness, i.e. red potatoes, onions, carrots, bell peppers (of all colors), squash, and zucchini, and last but certainly not least, homemade vanilla ice cream topped with a mountain of tropical fruits for dessert. The (real) butter was melted to the counter, and the canola oil was nowhere to be seen (take that, Socialites).
As I gawked with excitement and glorified honor by exclaiming that if this was their lunch, they were eating better than me now, Pawpaw quickly shot me down by adding, “Don’t get your hopes up, granddaughter, we had Popeyes red beans for dinner last night.” You’ve got to respect the man for his sheer honesty.
A healthy and delicious lunch filled with intelligent banter of sports and politics combined with immature laughter over Pawpaw’s old banking jokes ended with Mawmaw searching high and low for the cell phone ringing in her coat pocket, and Pawpaw assertively reassuring her because he spent the bulk of his morning looking for his lost glasses that were on his face.
I hope to be as awesome as them one day.
You see, even the eldest of dogs can learn new tricks. Especially when the individual reaps undeniable benefits from the new tricks.