Granny Frass’s Daily Dose..

A Visit from Granny Frass – And Who the Hell Took My Waterford?

Well now… I didn’t think I’d have to be back so soon but here I am, barely one life into my eternal rest and already I’ve got to haunt the living with a bit of sense. Honestly, you’d think after all these years of raising ye savages, some of it might’ve stuck. But no, turns out, old habits die much harder than I did.

Let’s start with this morning’s gossip:

Someone and I’m not naming names

But she answers to ‘Fanny McFox’ and smells like she just robbed a Yankee Candle shop, thought it was perfectly acceptable to ‘liberate a certain piece of Waterford crystal from the china cabinet. Now, love, I know you fancy yourself a collector of sentiment but last I checked, sentiment doesn’t usually involve a crowbar and a fast getaway.

It’s not that I’m rolling over in my grave. I’m far too stiff for that. But I am rattling the curtain rods a bit.

Here’s the thing, darling:

I didn’t spend my earthly years polishing glass and hiding the good sherry just so you could come waltzing through like the Queen of Emotional Appropriation. That crystal bowl? It wasn’t just for decoration – it held jelly at Christmas and potpourri in spring and exactly one dead goldfish in ’97. It had layers. Like onions. Or Fanny’s reasons for being conveniently ‘sentimental’ when there’s inheritance about.

But enough about that – I didn’t claw my way through the veil just to talk about shiny nick-knacks.

Let me tell ye what actually matters.

Today, this very day – you’ve got choices. You can stew in old grudges and keep score like it’s a championship game of petty. Or you can do what I taught you: keep your heart open, your humor sharp and your feet planted like the roots of that bleeding rhubarb patch I slaved over. Life’s not fair. It’s never been fair. But you, my love, can be.

So here’s your to-do list from the afterlife:

• Forgive someone who didn’t ask for it. (Even Fanny. Maybe.)
• Tell the truth – especially to yourself.
• Dance in the kitchen, even if the dog judges you.
• And please, for the love of all saints and small gods, stop pretending you’re not powerful. You’re your Granny’s grandchild, after all. We don’t do small.

And if you see Fanny, tell her she can keep the bowl.
I’ve got my eye on the lamp next to her bed, the one she thinks I don’t know she swiped from my reading nook.

Heaven’s lovely, but honestly, the entertainment down there is far better.

With a wink and a warning,
Granny Frass