Birthdays and wooden nickels

I will be going on vacation for a week so I wanted the masses to get a phyx prior to my departure.

I am currently on the phone with Gram. Right now she is going through "that" birthday book. She is going through every birthday of each child/grandchild/great grandchild/and of course the deceased relatives. "Honey, my sister, is deceased." Next, my poor sister. "Meaghan. Ohhh, she's going to be 30. God, she's getting up there." Right now she is writing down my Nana's (RIP) birthday, "May 28th, Adele." She just wrote down her own birthday in case she forgets.

July is a huge month. About seven birthdays, four anniversaries. "July 12 would have been Rose's birthday. She's deceased." Gram just realized that she missed her ultrasound appointment. "July 31st, that would have been Olive. She's dead."

I am pretty much the one grandchild that talks to Gram on a regular basis. I was looking forward to November and when she would play dumb. Instead, "Ohhhh, who's in November? Let's see! November 29th! Miss Meredith!"

Well, that would have been great, except my birthday is November 28th. She didn't believe me. She said, her father was buried on the 28th and I was born on the 29th. I was pretty sure she was mistaken. Her father died in 1972, so it's not like it was the same year. I asked her if she wanted to see my ID. She said, "It's going to be 80 degrees on Monday."

Gram talked about the weather for a few more minutes, but I had to call her out on the fact that she knew the birthday of every single relative, living or dead, young or old, loved or indifferent, and she replied, "It must be all the stress that I'm under."

To end the conversation she said, "Well, I'm going to hit the road honey bunch, do you mind?" I said no, that I loved her and that I would see her after my vacation.

"Don't take any wooden nickels, dear. Love ya."