By Dovie Valentine
Such sass, my granddaughter Lucy has.
She thinks she’s so clever, and that I don’t know what she’s trying to do.
That girl is trying to match-make, and if you know Lucy, you know she doesn’t do that so well. The worse part is who she’s trying to match.
Shush now. I know you’re all saying that I deserve what’s coming to me, just because I tried to match Lucy a couple of times, but didn’t I find her Sean? Nobody seems to want to give me credit for that match. Noooo.
Hush again. If I hadn’t been trying to set her up with the local butcher, then she wouldn’t have been trying to so hard to avoid me, and wouldn’t have been spending so much time investigating that murder, ipso facto, spending time with Sean. Therefore, she should be thanking me (a great-grandchild would be nice) instead of trying to find a match for me.
Oh, for the love of Pete. Quiet down. I shouldn’t just go along with it. I’m not ready for any kind of long-term commitment. Or short term either. How do you feel about blind dates? Me? I’m not so fond of them.
Right, technically this isn’t a blind date. I’ve seen the man in question— what would that make it? A deaf date? (How do these terms even get started?) Lucy had the nerve to invite him to my home without telling me first—it’s not like I would ever do that to her.
What? Oh right. Well, water under the bridge. Forgive and forget.
What’s that? Yes, yes, the man she chose for me is rather handsome. So fit. So strong. Has all his hair and teeth (hey, that’s a plus at my—ah—his age).
Perhaps I might give short term dating another try. Just this once. Just don’t tell Lucy. I don’t want it going to her head.
What? You all want some credit? I see Lucy’s not the only one with sass.
Okay, I’ll give you a teeny tiny bit of credit, but that’s it. Don’t press your luck. Now, what should I wear on this date? You don’t think he’ll take me to do something athletic, do you? Oh, for the love. What did I get myself into?