A few years ago, before we realized just how demented (as in one who has dementia) my grandmother was, part of the family took a trip to Seaside.
That part of the family included my good friend and roommate, the Dancing Queen. (she is a really good dancer and because of her I have legitmately learned some dance moves--think ballroom/swing-type stuff)
The trip was a bit of a logistical nightmare, because the people coming from the east side, besides my grandmother, were not going to be able to stay for the whole week.
This meant that while my grandmother had a ride to the coast, she didn't exactly have a way back.
It was decided that I would drive back with the Dancing Queen and my grandmother, and then fly home.
Very efficient. And green.
In an effort to keep my grandmother from hating life (and, quite possibly, me), we stopped early on in the trip at a Fred Meyer.
The goal: some sort of music that my grandmother might actually enjoy.
The solution: a 3-CD compilation of old time gospel. I kid you not.
And she didn't appreciate it, which is ridiculous considering hymns are some of her favorite music.
I can honestly say that most of the trip back, and the music involved, is a blur. By that, I mean that I still listen to the CDs every day.
However, I do distinctly remember my grandmother saying at the end that next she would get to pick the music.
I avoided that fate by never driving her across the state again.