There's hope yet...

I had to go review a movie this morning. I left the theatre around noon, intending to hole up at Starby's with my little laptop.

And then I remembered that my grandfather is living at a retirement residence only a few blocks away.

Now, my grandad is something of a tough old bird. He's around 84 or so, much taller than I (I'm 5'9) and up until the fall, was very active (friends have seen photos of him and said, "Oh, is that your dad?").

A couple of months before he hightailed it off to Florida for the winter, he fell and broke his hip... and was marooned in Toronto for the entire winter, much to his horror.

I haven't seen him since the end of December, when he was grumbling about the walker he was forced to use (you can't play golf in a walker). The doctors were telling him to just get used to the walker, but he was bound and determined to get on a cane as soon as possible.

After hitting Godiva for a small fortune's worth of chocolate goodies, I stopped by his posh retirement place unannounced. He seemed delighted (and not just because of the chocolate) and invited me to lunch.

No walker. Just a cane, and when I commented on his ease of mobility, he stopped and, with a smile and a near dance, took a couple of steps sans cane and switched hands. I expect he'll ditch the cane entirely sometime over the next year.

I come by my stubbornness honestly.

After ordering lunch, we were chatting when this spicy, ginger-haired older women came by to say hi. My grandfather invited her to join us.

What a fucking fantastic woman. A delight. Joan is almost 90 (you'd never know to look at her), and while she relies on a cane, she looks pretty good, and has these dancing eyes. She teased my grandfather mercilessly ("Thank god he's deaf," she said with a saucy grin) and we chatted very amiably.

She's contemplating giving up all her medications because she's convinced they're rot.

I believe her words were "...to see if I slide off my perch."

If I could age half as well, I'll be a happy girl.