A "Gran"d Disappointment

If life were fair we’d be well on our way to Michigan this weekend in time for lunch at one of our favorite Ann Arbor eateries – the Cottage Inn. We first discovered this gem back in the late 90’s when Moira and Brian were undergrads at Eastern Michigan University in Ypsilanti. In those days there were two Cottage Inns, the main one in Ann Arbor and a secondary one in Ypsi  conveniently located on Washtenaw, the main drag, not far from campus. Oh, the delightful hours spent there over plates of pasta pignoli after basketball games when Earl Boykins, the  turbo-charged 5’3” star from Cleveland (second shortest player in the NBA after Muggsy Bogues) , cleaned house with whomever came calling.  Wine poured, glasses clinked,  and you waited for a table however long it took. But then a decade later the world changed somehow and that was the end of the Ypsi Cottage Inn, as well as the end of an era.

I could write a whole blog about this, but it’s really not the point, nor is Earl Boykins the point, though I still have a major crush on Earl Boykins even now. The point is that it looks like we woke up this morning encased in a snow globe. The wind’s howling, the white stuff’s blowing, and the temperature hovers ten degrees south of miserable. We called the kids at eight-thirty to say we’re still hoping to show up, but now I’m beginning to wonder if desire trumped reality here. It’s ten-thirty and it’s still not pretty out there. Well, it IS  pretty actually, but pretty isn’t the point either.

The point is we want to see the little guys for Valentine’s Day. I have their cards and presents wrapped and even hand-decorated the gift bags. Tyler at eight gets candy and a Target gift card, the latter because he told me over one of our 6 a.m. breakfasts-for-two  to please, please, PLEEEEEEEASE never, ever, EVER give him money.

“If you do, Gran, my mom and dad will make me put some in the bank. If you get a gift card they can’t.” Micro-Economics 101 delivered with a grin! Of course I pinky-swore on the spot that I wouldn’ even consider cash and, in fact, if necessary, would walk to Target in a blizzard to avoid it. If you don’t already know this, involvement in conspiracies is one of the major perks of grannyhood!

Two year old Dylan gets a little panda and a pop-up book. Right now small stuffed animals – he calls them “the babies” – and board books are an obsession. So I think Gran and Papa scored big on those. The funny part is he calls us both Papa. ALL  the oldies are Papas.

Anyway, getting back to the weather, it’s so miserable I didn’t even wrap orders this morning, but that might have been an excuse too since the post office branch at the grocery store is only a mile up Rte. 18 which is reasonably clear -- at least I think it might be. All I know is that for one rare day I have actually traded my bookseller hat in for my granny hat. Though of course I never actually wear a hat because  I’d rather freeze than get hat-hair.

Vanity, thy name is GRAN.

P.S. Eric  just returned from a trial run down Rte. 18 to Interstate 71 to  Rte. 3. The verdict, he informs me, is as clear as the icicles hanging off the gutters on the screened porch– no way, Jose!

P.S. Again -- Wow! I'm over 10,000 page views! Amazing. I actually stuck with the second incarnation of this blog. Maybe that novel could happen yet. :-)