So, my grandmother is starting to decline in her mental health, and although its sad, and I wish she were in prime health, sometimes our con stations are comical. S I came over, bandana on, sweatpants and grubby t-shirt cause I clean her house for her. Afterward she tells me we are going to lunch, she has a taste for humus at aladdins. Yay, I'm starved. I go change and take off the bandana. This is the conversation that followed:Grandma: Jen, go do something with ur hair, it looks like u havn't brushed it in months.Me: I like it this way, and I havn't. Remember I'm letting my hair dreadlock.G: hmmm. I don't know baby, what happens when you want them out?Me: I don't plan on not wanting them, but if I don't ill brush them out.G:what about your feller? (lol yes, feller hehe)Me:what about him?G:what's he think?Me: as long as I don't shave my head and stretch my lip piercings and put a plate in, he doesn't care.G: well what happens when you don't want them anymore.Me: I don't plan on not wanting them, and if I don't ill brush them out.G: what's your mother think?Me: she doesn't care.G:and ur feller?Me: he doesn't care.(Conversations stops for a moment when I help her tie her shoes, arthritis is a bitch)G: Jen, go brush your hair, you look like u just rolled out of bed.Me: how about I put my bandana on, and we get lunch?G: Sure, where do u want to eat?Me: how about aladdins?G: that sounds delicious, I love their humus.Idk it made me laugh, in a sad way, and thought I'd share.
updated by @myschyf: 01/13/15 09:40:06PM
Had the talk with my grandma... Dread talk that is... Again lol
Reminds me of my great-grandma. Once, a while back, she asked me how old I was and I answered her honestly:10.She asked me again a fewminutes later and I said9. A few minutes later she asks again and I tell her11.This goes on for a while with me changing my age every time she asks xD not the nicest thing to, looking back on it, but it was amusing at the time.
She also had a habit of calling my step-mom, whose name is Brandee, Carrie (the name of my birth-mother). It was awkward.
She lived to the age of 100 
Very cute. My grandmother was like that too. She had OCD and would constantly ask me to cut my hair and wear a hat (even when it was 100* outside in summer). She hated my hair, but loved me. I used to laugh about it all the time. Even though she would beg me to cut my hair a dozen times every time I went to visit, there was something sweet about it
