Martinis For Two

"I went to Glamour Shots and had my pictures done. Do you want to see them?."

My 70-year old grandmother was always getting her photo done, but these were the first Glamour shots I would see.

"Sure, let me see." I had visions of seeing my grandmother photographed in something a little flashy, maybe a red suit or a cowboy hat. She was just that way, always doing something a little nutty. But the photos she brought out, shocked even me.

Clad in a sexy off-the-shoulder top and pink feather boa, my grandmother posed in her photos as any sexy syrin would.

"Oh, these are nice," I said. All the while I thought to myslef, "God! If I have an ounce of this woman in my genes, just shoot me now!"

Fifteen years later, I understand (and you all know just by reading my words) that I have a more than an ounce of her genes in me. The apple didn't fall that far from the tree, and for this, I am happy.

I paid my final respects to my grandmother on Saturday. Despite advanced years, her death came somewhat suddenly.

I looked at the large photograph positioned in the foyer of the church. In the picture, my grandmother looked perfectly refined and dignified, dressed in her little red suit. But refined and digified did not describe my Nanny, and I couldn't help but wish that I was looking at her old Glamour shots. Those photographs better captured her personality and firey spirit. And, more importantly, she would have been happy with the smile (and attention) those photographs brought.