I have a Gigi.  She's 93, Italian, about 5', smokes, legally blind, and enjoys a daily afternoon cocktail with cured meats.   She used to be Grandma Barotta, then when my cousin was born, she was Granny Rose, then when my daughter was born and subsequently named after her,  she became Gigi (great grandma).  The odd relationship that those two share is another story entirely.  She is not your old fashioned Italian grandma that wears an apron, waits on everyone, eats by herself in the kitchen after serving others, and prays all night.  No.  The only thing I ever saw Gigi cook was out of a toaster oven and went on an hors d'oeuvres platter to be served with filthy vodka-martinis and she refuses to eat alone.  She is also not the warmest person I have met.  And let's just say she likes to stir the pot a bit.  She did not disappoint at all this year.

When my sister and I were kids living in New York our family would often travel to visit relatives for the holidays and loved having all our Italian peeps around us.  You know, multi-course meals, lots of laughter, midnight-mass, traditions galore, etc.. For the last 25 years I have pined for holidays filled with those people and activities.  This year I got a bit of that when Gigi decided to come visit us....for five weeks.  It was interesting as always with her.

I hate to cut the story short abruptly, but without going into too much detail her visit started on a Wednesday and she was on a plane home the following Thursday.  I am glad we got to see her, but a little tends to go a long way.  At any rate, I thought I would post some evidence of her visit.