by M.D. Creekmore on January 25, 2013 · 22 comments
Ah, yes…looking forward to the geriatric years!
In em, don’t be in such a hurry!
I’m on the “cusp”, and I hear ya’! LOL!
Grandma rocking the AK……AWESOME.
I saw an article headline yesterday about a home break-in where the perps saw the owner was home and had an AR. They remembered an appointment they had somewhere else!
If she was running for sheriff I would vote for her!
Everytime I see an old person with a smoke in thier mouth I think it’s ok to keep smoking…..
OK, MD, How did you get my picture? LOL
It was emailed to me in a forward…
Now that is a happy camper!!
I always wondered what happened to mom and where she was!!
Don’t mess with old folks
She’s America’s “Fighting Spirit” Poster Child because she shoots first and can sleep after a good day of fighting on the front porch lines. Goooo, Granny!
My hero. My grandma didn’t wear camo or carry an AK but that woman wasn’t afraid of anything except the wrath of God. Snakes, bobcats, wild dogs, hobos, grandkids.
Well I don”t know about bobcats, but as a small child while gathering greens with my mother,as snake stuck it’s head up above the patch of greens and mom simply whacked his head off with her heavy razor sharp knife and went back to gathering greens, It is safe to say I guess that she was not afraid of snakes. Harold
Well, I’m sure glad you didn’t omit the grandkids in the list; that would have been a huge oversight! ; ) LOL!
Don’t mess with us old people. We’re to tirde to fight, so we just kill you outright.
Also to tired to spell correctly
We’re old…we’re tired…it’s easier to shoot you and forget about the questions. (Chuckle.)
God Bless her! Reminds me of my dear departed Aunt Bertha (1900-1998.) Prettiest petite woman you laid eyes on. Makeup was for “painted women.” Smoked Kool cigarettes like a chimbley, drank whisky each day (medicinal, of course!), finest cook in three counties–her cherry and apple pies were to die for. AND she could shoot a squirrel’s eye out with her .22 rifle. Always kept that .22 next to her wood stove. Never wore glasses nor even so much as took an aspirin for aches nor pain. Water came from her rain barrel attached to the roof’s downspout.
She fondly referred to her spouse, Joseph as “my little bull-dog.”
One time, when Auntie Bert finally took sick, she was taken to the ER and then put in a private room and into an oxygen tent. A young freshly-minted resident doc called us over into the hallway to explain to us: “Bertha is not long for this world–say your last goodbyes.” Of course, with Bertha’s sharp ears, she heard the shave-tail doc and bellowed from beneath the 02 canopy: “Don’t bet on it, doc. I’ll be around to p*** on your grave!”
Bertha recovered and lived many years thereafter!
They don’t make ‘em like Bertha any more….gosh, I miss her!
Wow! Reminds me of a time in high school when several girlfriends and I were out late on a weekend night. I lived in a small town (10,ooo) size is relative, I know, and it was a block from parking my car to my home. My girlfriends and I were walking up the path to the house, envision several tall evergreens towering along and shading the path, and out popped my mom from beside a huge evergreen with a 12Gauge shotgun. There had been a carload of rowdy boys circling around the area and my mom made sure we walked ‘safely’ up the path to the house. She was also wearing a flowing nightgown that was backdropped by the full moon that night. Brought back a great memory. Don’t mess with me and mine!
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