grandmas & ripped jeans don't mix

I picked up the phone at my house in Idaho and my grandma was on the other end:

"Hi Grandma!"

"Well hi, Elisabeth." (Sidenote: I love my grandma. She's a hoot and one of my favorite people.)

"What's up?"

"Is your mom there?"

"Yeah, just one moment!"

"But guess what?"

"What, grandma?"

"I want you to meet this boy who was sheet rocking my garage the other day."

(She's keeping an eye out for me, isn't she?)

"Okay, cool. Yeah, I'd love to meet him. Just give him my number."

"What?! No! You need to meet him in person!"

"Uhhhhh grandma, I promise. Just give him my number, then he can text me. Or tell him to look me up on Facebook."

(Of course my grandma knows all about dating in the 21st century....)

That same day, I came downstairs after getting ready in these:

Awww yes, ripped jeans. You should have seen my grandma's face.

"What are you wearing?!"

"What? I like these jeans. They're cute."

"You look like a convict."

"What?! No! I love them! I'm going to wear them."

"That boy is going to think you don't have any clothes to wear."

"Well grandma...if he doesn't like me for my ripped jeans, then he's not the guy for me."

(This was proceeded by a huff and a puff from my 80 year old grandma.)

Just call me a stinker. I did learn one really important lesson...don't wear ripped jeans around your grandma.