Grandma's latest advice

Now that my own grandmother is reading this I have to restructure my use of the term “old grandma” when describing the woman who gives E her shots. I don’t want thhe term to sound derogatory, so, without further ado; the much-needed description of the “old grandma.” First, I don’t know her name. Not a good start.

She lives in an apartment on the other side of the tracks, literally. Her apartment is about 500m from ours, but the train tracks separate us. She lives across the street from an arcade. There is Dr. Molinari’s office afianco (next door). The front door to her building is always open. She’s on the ground floor. E thinks that there are two older couples living in the apartment together. It’s a tiny place. She administers the shots in the room just inside the front door. It’s a cross between a storage room and a formal living room. It has a saggy old couch along one wall. I’ve only seen it in winter so I assume the mass of greenery in the room is the winter sunning spot for her plants. They face north, but it’s the only chance of exposure. The plants dominate half the room, the couch takes up one wall, a long low shelved bookcase with various cubbies and glass cabinets is opposite the couch and in the middle is a round dining room table. Various artifacts grace the surfaces; religious statues, picture frames and other knick-knacks. On the dining room table are boxes of new hypodermics, latex gloves and other tools of the trade. The woman herself is tiny. She carries herself with determination and purpose, sprightly. She may be all of 4’9”.

She always has nuggets of wisdom to dispose. The latest is that its too early to tell if the fetus has a pisellino (little pea) or a patatina (little potato). Still have to wait a few weeks for that.