inbetween

I think my Grandmother has a cheese fetish.

Really.

Every time she goes to the grocery store across the street from my house, she buys me cheese. I now have cheese in my freezer, and three big blocks of cheese in my refridgerator. I've asked her to stop. She says she forgets that we don't need cheese when she does her shopping, but still buys it. I can just imagine her walking down the dairy product isle giggling away to herself as she pushes her cart full of cheap cheese. "Cheese! I'm going to buy cheese!"

And that's the real kicker, isn't it. It's cheapo-bleapo crap-cheese. It's the cheddar that's a step up from individually wrapped kraft cheezy-goo and kraft "how can we destroy your cheese"-wiz. I've always wondered what part of cheese-wiz was the "wiz" and what was the cheese.

I might not be so perplexed if she would buy a nice edam, of a brie, or even a good stinky stilton. Alas no, only cheap no-name cheddar is all she will buy. There's only so much you can do with it. Seven days of cheese and wine, and my liver gets angry at granny too.

She doesn't even eat cheese. She doesn't have any at her house. I don't think that she really enjoys cheese. Maybe it's just a fetish for cheese-purchasing.