Last night I slept over at my grandmother's house.

She lives in the same sleepy little town she's called home since JP was a little kid and they moved there from the arsenal. Even though it's just a stone's throw from Joliet, it's always felt (and in some ways very much so remains) as small town as it always had. That's part of its charm, and why being there is as comforting as putting on slippers after a long day. I'm a city girl, but I like going to Gram's because it's nice to sit still for a day or so.

As with all towns of its size, everyone knows each other and if they don't know you they know about you if you're related to someone in town. Rare is the time after Saturday night Mass that a friend of Gram's isn't enveloping me in a big hug, based solely on the fact that I'm Kay's granddaughter. That, too, is a nice feeling.

But what I really like, what I really love most, is the time before bed, when you're sitting in Gram's kitchen talking, especially if we've dug out the old pictures, is that after awhile, the ever-present police scanner will go off, and you'll hear the dispatcher relay one thing or another over the channel, and there is a very good chance it'll be something such as we heard last night:

"We've got a ... black and white dog missing ... spot on his face ... answers to the name Duke ..."

"He's a fast one that Duke."

Even my grandma, who is used to such things, had to laugh.

Posted by Erin at 03:51 PM | filed under: Odds and ends