Thursday night I couldn't stare at the monitor a minute longer, so I took Grant up to South Pasadena to see my sister. We let him push his stroller to the farmer's market down the street — every Thursday night there's a market at which you can buy not only produce and flowers, but also bread, cheese, kettle corn, fresh tamales (yum!), roasted ears of corn, baked potatoes and yams, and more. The farmers had parked trucks at the ends of the market, mindful of the tragedy that recently occurred at the Santa Monica farmer's market, in which an elderly man in a Buick plowed through a crowd stretching a few blocks, killing 10 and injuring more than 50. The atmosphere at the market is always festive and relaxed — it's hard to imagine that being disturbed in any way, much less a way as horrific as that.

At the market, we waited in line for baked potatoes and were told when we arrived at the head of the line that they were sold out. Sis got an ear of roasted corn, and we wandered off to grab a couple of tamales. I could eat those tamales every day, I think. They make all different kinds, from the traditional ones like pork, to the nouveau, like pecan and feta. I love them all!

Grant was hungry, but not hungry enough to want to try some new foods. ;-) On our walk home from the market, we stopped in at Trader Joe's and I bought some bananas. That kid ate two whole bananas on the way home, poor thing! Then he ate a big piece of hearty toast and a bigole cup of milk when we got back to Sis's place. Silly rabbit. I'd hoped that when he got hungry enough he'd be inspired to try some of my tamales at the market, but the stubborn little thing likes to stick to his limited toddler repertoire of foods. My, oh my. What to do?

I'd also picked up a potted begonia for Bee, Sis's landlady who lives right next door in the duplex. She's 92 years old and sharp as a tack. She'd been in the hospital recently, not feeling well (possibly a result of combining some medications, but my sister didn't know for sure), and a coupla weeks ago when I saw her, she seemed down, although she made an effort to sound up. Anyway, Sis and I (and Grant! he noted Bee's garden bumblebee decoration and remarked, "Buzz, buzz, buzz...") chatted with Bee prior to our trip to the farmer's market, and she said she'd enjoyed going there with her daughter the prior week when she was visiting. I asked her what her favorite thing was at the market, thinking I'd pick it up for her, but she demurred, saying she had a refrigerator full of food already.

I decided to get her the potted begonia at Trader Joe's rather than a cut bouquet from the market, in case she was already asleep when we returned — I didn't want cut flowers sitting on her doorstep all night wilting or waiting in water. Too complicated. A potted plant was the way to go. Turned out Bee was awake and her front door was open when we came back after dark, so I rang and she was pleased as punch to receive the plant. She even put it right into a basket on her dining room table. I felt like a kid who'd managed to please my own grandmother — just beaming. (My own grandmothers have been deceased for at least 10 years or so.)

We got chatting about this and that, and I was telling her about our upcoming move, as well as my ability to freelance regardless of where I lived as long as I had a computer. She then asked me in to take a look at her phone, thinking that since I knew something about computers and gadgets, maybe I'd know what to do about the phone. Turned out she'd accidentally yanked a power cord out of the phone, but she wasn't sure if it really went to the phone or her answering machine or her Life Alert machine. I didn't see anyplace for the cord to fit into the other machines, so I figured it had indeed come from the phone and I plugged it in again for her. She was so appreciative! Once again I felt like a kid who'd done good. :-) I'm so easy sometimes. After I fixed the phone, Grant burst in the front door with a tummy full of bananas and toast, and proceeded to run in circles around all the furniture. We laughed about it, but I was hoping he didn't have sticky hands as he was steadying himself on Bee's red velvet couches. (He didn't, thank goodness.)

There's something about her, I think, that's sweet and hip and just hugely appealing, that makes me want to hang around and chat and help her out if I can. She's interested in a gazillion subjects, keeps up on current events, loves to have my son around (a giant plus, of course) and is just a way cool gal. She kinda reminds me of my maternal grandmother, in a way, but minus the need (on my part) to guard my disclosures because of possible family baggage. Plus, lately I've been kind of seeking out older women to learn from — not chasing them down, but noticing when they appear in my life and trying to be aware of what they have to offer. It's wonderful.

Anyway, I hope Bee sticks around for a while. I'm enjoying getting to know her. :-)

- Beth