In the meantime, please enjoy this picture that Mama Shakes recently scanned and sent to me of The Pink Petulance and her nana, who was being made to wear a book on her head, circa Christmas 1976.
I loved my nana (who's made the briefest of cameos here and here) to itty bitty pieces. She lived in the same house in Queens from the time she was 5 years old until a few months before she died in her 70s; she smoked like a chimney (which eventually killed her), always drank the same whiskey (Dewar's), and was intensely witty.
Once, she was visiting us in Indiana for the holidays (when I was about 13), and we saw an advert for an upcoming episode of Geraldo—back when he was a daytime talk show scandalmonger, before he became the highly reputable journalist for Fox News that he is today. It was one of those that announced the topic and requested guests: "Prostitute Grannies! If you want your grandma to stop selling her body on the street, call 1-800…"
I told my nana (who was, by the way, a secretary) that I was going to call, because I was tired of her wild whoring.
She took a long drag, exhaled with a raised eyebrow, pointed at me with her cigarette, and said without missing a beat: "Don't mess with my livelihood."
I collapsed into a fit giggles. And possibly put a book on her head.