Glamma Gigi and the Lizard Invasion

They are out there…

Imagine looking for your grandma and finding her floral caftan with matching pink furry slippers, the floral citrus smell of Channel #5 still hanging in the air meandering along the trail of brilliant zinnias all the way to the hot tub. Then imagine the evidence, a struggle, indentations in the St. Augustine signaling an awful sordid event that took all the sunshine right out of the sunshine state. Then there was my Pop, what would he do now without her?
My grandma was full-on glamour and style. She was a Bama Beauty. I fondly named her “Gigi.” When she and Pop were at the University of Alabama, he had all sorts of competition for her. She was blond curls and red nails, hair bows and ruffles, she was head cheerleader helping the Tide roll on its mission to make the South crimson. Pop’s arch-rival for Gigi was one Baxter Dupree. He always made fun of Pop. He liked to say, “You got Doris all right, Ralph. Thing is, can you keep a champagne woman on a beer budget?” But you know, they did alright. I mean. I know my Gigi had a thing for Baxter all those years, but she did choose Pop. I remember when we went to the homecoming games and how her face would lite up even more so with her frosted pink highlighter placed on those strategic points and the stroke of feather white powder going down the center of her nose just like they say Marilyn wore. Pop wasn’t even jealous, he was just as calm as ever when we were down at the concession stand pondering which had less cholesterol the Double Down Dog or the Cinnamon Sweet Bunz. We weren’t…