Good Morning Gentle Readers,
After spinning the odometer around about five grand worth, Ma arrived in town last week. Apparently the road trip from Maryland via St Paul and Montana left her a bit fatigued. She allowed that it might be her final cross country driving trip, which piqued The Boy's curiosity.
Mr Kool: Why?
Grandma: Well, because I'm getting kind of old.
Mr Kool: How old are you, grandma?
Grandma (grins & hesitates because in her day you just didn't ask a woman her age): I'm eighty-one.
Mr Kool (big eyes, big grin): Wow! You look really good for being that old!
Ma's color heightened and she chuckled. So did I, but I figured I probably ought to smack that boy up side the head anyway.
Grilled a killer mesquite smoked pork roast seasoned with fresh sage and sea salt. Gotta keep my cholesterol up, now.
Later she asks me to scan a pile of family photos from the thirties and forties for a distant relative. But in the stack are a couple of more recent pictures and one is of me. This is a thrill because I hadn't seen it before and I have only a meager handful of pictures of ME from those days. Most of which ain't that great anyway.
That's me (on the right) and my little sister at her wedding in 1978. I gave her away because my pop was half way around the world in the South Pacific and couldn't get back for the festivities.
Oddly enough, in real life our hair was much lighter.