Party Planning

With Christmas behind us, my wife and I are making plans for New Year’s Eve. Planning a party* always reminds me of the time my mother planned a surprise party for my grandmother. I originally posted this a few years ago but hopefully you’ve forgotten it and will read it again. As an added bonus I’ve cleaned up many of the spelling errors that marred the original post.

The Surprise Party

At the age of 53, my grandmother was informed that she had an irreversible heart condition and that she had at best two years to live. She let everyone know about this…and I mean everyone…friends, people on the street, and of course family including four year old me.

She told me; “You better be nice to Grandma, cause I’m gonna die soon”. My dad told me I didn’t have to be nice but I tried anyway.

That two years became “I’ve got less than two years” which evolved into “You’ll all miss me when I’m gone”

We did our best to be nice, but she did her best to NOT hold up her end of the deal.

Two years pass with no dead grandmother, then a third, then a sixth. Halfway to the seventh year my mother realizes that she’s going to have to put something together for the upcoming and altogether unexpected 60th Birthday that grandma’s about to have.

Or will she?

You see, grandma has been insisting that THIS is the year it happens.

Grandma’s birthday is in November but she insists that she won’t make it through the year. Despite this fear, my mother plans the party…a surprise party. To be safe she plans it for several months before the actual birthday. Throwing the party in advance not only heightened the element of surprise, it also made sure that there would be a party just in case the long rumored end was coming.

On the night of the party It seemed like all was going well until the guest of honor arrived. The shouts of happy birthday three months early caused my grandmothers hand to go immediately to her chest a la Fred Sandford and she gasps for air, stumbles backwards out of the room, and falls against the wall. Everyone goes quiet as collectively the room thinks “we probably should have seen that one coming”.

Luckily it’s a near miss, and grandma recovers long enough to celebrate in style. The night that started as a near heart attack ends with her chair pulled up next to the keg to save time. After the older relatives depart, the tequila and the bongs get broken out and everyone left throws down like it could be their last birthday too.

As luck would have it, Grandma made it to 60 that fall, and 61…and then 71…and then some more before finally signing off, thus ending the longest two year stretch in history.

We all immediately stopped being nice.

Related Thought :Tough Titty
This story reminds me of a neat game my brother and I used to play, I have probably mentioned in these pages before but it bears repeating. The same grandmother we threw the party for suffered an accident as a young woman that left her with some permanent side effects, one of which was some uneven growth of tissue in certain parts of the body, or in medical terms one of her tittys was smaller than the other. To mask this fact she used the only option available to her at the time, an insert that went into the bra. Fast forward several years; my brother and I were snooping around one day and we found the aforementioned prosthetic. Since grandma was out it had to have been her backup boob. At the time we had no idea what it was but it was squishy, and cool so we started throwing it around…and threw it some more. My mom came home and saw what we were doing and informed us what we were playing with our grandma’s boob. This made it kinda gross but pretty funny. Then we devised the rules for indoor titty dodgeball, it’s a game where everybody wins.

*All party planning is actually done by my wife, my only job is to show up.

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