My Grandmother, and her unhealthy obsession with my testicles.

My Grandmother, who I have previously discussed, appears to have a new mission: To save my testicles.

Last time I saw her, at Christmas, she sat me down and told me with great concern about something she'd seen on the news: "Robbie," she said (she calls me Robbie), "I know you have one of those lap computers." "Laptops?" "Yes, lap tops. I know you have one of those, and I saw on the news the other day that those things can break your testicles!" I couldn't help but laugh, awkwardly. Why on earth is my Grandmother talking to me about my testicles? This should not be occuring, in any context, ever. She continued: "You know I love your testicles because they are going to bring me Grandbabies! I want you to be very careful with that lap top, because if you have it on your lap all the time it can make you so you can't have babies! And you know Grandma is looking forward to some little ones in the family! And Heaven knows I don't think we can count on anyone else in the family, at this point... So don't you be using that lap top on your lap! I hope you don't already..." Anxious for this conversation to end immediately, I assured her that I actually very rarely use my laptop on my lap, so there's nothing to worry about. But apparently that wasn't enough reassurance.

What has followed in the several months since then has been a relentless mail and e-mail assault, as she continues to hammer home the significance of my testicular safety. I have received numerous web links, newspaper clippings, and general words of concern relating to the subject of laptop computers and sterility. Especially after she found a web article which rated the Powerbook G4 - the laptop I use - as "the hottest laptop on the market." Which is true, but the particular article she sent me was making reference to its popularity, not its temperature. Senility is fun.

Most recently I received this letter as part of a St. Patrick's Day card she sent me, which arrived much closer to Easter:

Hi Robbie: You are the only Irishman in the family so have a good time but stay away from Green beer. There is a legend that Leprechauns will give you green babies, if you drink a lot of green beer. Ugh I don't want Green Grandbabies.

Enclosed is another article on keeping your lap top off your lap unless you put a pillow or something between the computer and your legs. You should by now catch on, that I am looking forward to a few grandbabies.

Mom keeps me informed of your travels. Be careful, the whole world is going nuts. I want you safe.

Grandpa keeps asking for you, his mind is really going.
The weather has been super here, better than summer.

Take care and hurry home!

LOVE GRANDMA

I enjoyed this letter so much I put it up on my fridge. It more or less follows the general structure of letters from my Grandmother, which is as follows: Introduction, general update about the family, plea to be careful and hurry home, nonchalant remark about my Grandfather's deteriorating health, and an update on the weather back home. The Grandpa thing is always the best, because, at its most ludicrous it goes something like this: "We all miss you very much, hope to see you very soon. Be sure to be careful in your travels. Grandpa had another accident at church on sunday, and had to go to the doctors for another check on his bad heart. His brain gets worse and worse every day. The weather has been pretty good here but it rained yesterday. Take care! LOVE GRANDMA." At the most, the letter comes as part of a hilarious care package, which always includes random food items she clearly was just trying to get rid of. Last time I got a box of Tuna Helper® which had expired in 2002, and a half-eaten bag of Hershey's Kisses. The time before that I got a can of pitted prunes, petrified cookies in a zip lock bag, and a pack of sanitary wipes. Sometimes there's a five dollar bill with a note attached instructing me how to use it: "Buy an ice cream cone," or "Go out to the movies."

Well, it's the thought that counts, right? I just wish her thoughts weren't so focused on my testicles, lately. It's a bit creepy.

I'm so not looking forward to getting old.