So. My family is kinda cursed. Not Winchester cursed, more like "sitcom" cursed. Y'know; having my hours increased, decreased, and shifted without anyone asking me about it. Having my battery die suddenly, then die again. And again. Hitting one another's cars, running into the garage, motoring out into the middle of the lake and having a motor die, power going out in the middle of a drought, speeding tickets, etc... In the midst of all these "WTF" moments, though, there is little that can astound me more than the way my grandpa handles me.

Now, I know I've never been his favorite grandchild. He's a man who wakes up at 4 in the morning, every morning, and fishes until noon, listens to the tv way too loud, lives the life of a man divorced four times. I, on the other hand, am the pretty granddaughter who turned into a bookish nerd, who listens to quiet music and spends her days reading and writing. I was always that kid whom he loved, and whom he knew returned his love, but with whom he never could really communicate. Still, I thought I understood him. Until he sat me down and gave me some advice about life.

Don't get fat, he tells me, or I'll end up with a knothead. Because the smart, worthwhile boys always go for the skinny bimbos. (Yes. Because smart boys can't possibly look beyond appearances and fall in love with a girl's brain.)

Don't talk too much. Some boys are shy. You get him talking, then you shut up. (Okay. Some sage wisdom here, until he seemed to think that there was nothing wrong with me having to wring every word out of a boy and keep quiet myself.)

Try to enjoy the boy's interests. (This was introduced in the form of a story that I thought would boil down to "A couple must try one another's experiences". But when I tried to reiterate it, it really became "The girl learns to like what the boy likes, and if he doesn't share her interests that's too bad." Yes. That IS too bad.)

I didn't see fit to remind my grandpa that he had been divorced four times and a bachelor for at least the last fifteen years. Seemed a little too obvious.

I also didn't want to bother reminding him of the fact that I am an Ordinary Sea Scout, almost an Able, have won second prize in a national writing contest, have climbed a mountain with a fifty pount pack on my back, and all without anyone ever suggesting that I was "Mannish" or "Dyke-like". It's just the age he was born in, so there was good reason for me to shut my mouth, smile, and nod.

Good thing I also neglected to mention that my ex-boyfriend was Indian, and I was currently flirting with the idea of entering into a relationship with a Chinese guy. The Korean war veteran in him would not have liked that.