Rest In Peace Grandma Quotes

I have a spreadsheet of all the women I'd like to spread and sheet. Your mom is on my list. So is your grandma, may she rest in peace.

Like my grandma, may she rest in peace, used to say: “The best check is ready cash.

I approach this one gently, because you are my beloved sisters, but I call to the witness stand high-waisted jeans. They were bad the first time and are now repeat offenders. (Watch early episodes of Friends if you need to be reminded.) I can’t get behind a sixteen-inch rise. Three more inches and it’s a strapless pantsuit. Heaven help if you have even a tiny pouch of belly flesh; high-rise jeans are basically a display case for your butterball. Sure, your waist looks tiny up in your rib cage, but your butt is half the length of your body. It looks like my Grandma King’s backside, and all due respect to Grandma and may she rest in peace, but that is not a compliment. (Grandma, you had a great rack. We all have different strengths.)

I’m pouring salted peanuts into a heart-shaped crystal bowl (a contribution from Alicia, who brought it out of storage, along with her ice tongs) when John Ambrose McClaren walks into the room in a light blue Oxford shirt and navy sport coat, not dissimilar to Nelson’s! I nearly scream out loud. Clapping my hands to my mouth, I drop to the floor, behind the table. If he sees me, he might run off. I don’t know what he’s doing here, but this is my perfect chance to take him out. I crouch behind the table, running through options in my head. And then the piano music stops and I hear Stormy call out, “Lara Jean? Lara Jean, where are you? Come out from behind the table. I want to introduce you to someone.” Slowly, I rise to my feet. John McClaren is staring at me. “What are you doing here?” he asks me, tugging on his shirt collar like it’s choking him. “I volunteer here,” I say, still keeping a safe distance. Don’t want to spook him. Stormy claps her hands. “You two know each other?” John says, “We’re friends, Grandma. We used to live in the same neighborhood.” “Stormy’s your grandma?” My mind is blown. So John is her grandson she wanted to set me up with! Of all the nursing homes in all the towns in all the world! My grandson looks like a young Robert Redford. He does; he really does. “She’s my great-grandmother by marriage,” John says. Stormy’s eyes dart around the room. “Hush up! I don’t want people knowing you’re my great-anything.” John lowers his voice. “She was my great-grandpa’s second wife.” “My favorite of all my husbands,” Stormy says. “May he rest in peace, that old buzzard.