My dad's mother is 89, and my mother's parents are 87 and 90.
They are neighbors in an "active adult community", where they run Bingo two nights a week, and my grandfather hustles the other tenants for quarters every Wednesday night playing poker.
And even at their ripe old ages, they are the epitome of health. In fact, two of them still drive.
Yes, they drive.
My 87-year-old grandmother – the spring chicken of the group – is the designated driver for my 89-year-old grandmother who never learned how to drive.
The two of them go everywhere together – to the hairdresser, to Target to "poke around", and even to McDonald's to split a filet o' fish on Fridays.
The other day, the two of them were heading home, and they decided to stop by the new house and visit, because they knew I'd be painting.
I never saw them.
Today I found out why.
GRANDMA 1: "We were going to stop by when you were painting, but we couldn't find the house!"
GRANDMA 2: "We got to the second bridge and I said, 'Rita, I think we went too far'."
KK: "Did you know the house number?"
GRANDMA 1: "No, we didn't know the number. But we sorta knew where it was. And I knew you had a black mailbox."
GRANDMA 2: "There were sure a lot of black mailboxes!"
GRANDMA 1: "Then we got to this crazy intersection, with cars going every which way. And I was worried because I didn't know where we were."
GRANDMA 2: "I told her, 'Rita, you should turn around'."
GRANDMA 1: "So I turned around in this BIG loopy driveway, and we went home."
KK: "So now do you know where it is?"
GRANDMA 1: "Well, now we know where it isn't."