Yesterday I felt ANOTHER cold coming on. Dang. Third one since the week before Thanksgiving.
Feeling a little "down," I mopped the kitchen, did a few other cleaning things and sat down to realize how good life really is.
This morning I realized that twenty-six years ago, Gigi B. and I were in the lovely state of Louisiana. Our first grandchild on both sides of the family tree was due to arrive. We flew there together. (It's so good to be on friendly terms with your son's in-laws!) We had a good time and later in the evening, Miss E. decided it was time to head to the hospital. Driving on unknown roads, in the dark - but heck, I've been driving since I was fourteen, right? Well, I didn't see a curb that some engineer place right in the middle of four lanes and we went soaring over that but no harm unless it was to the station wagon's alignment.
Our first granddaughter arrived after midnight on the fourteenth of December, looking suspiciously like her dad did thirty-one years before! About her dad, he was over in Desert Storm and following events by telephone - no texting then (that I was aware of.) And the first thing our son said to me on the phone: "I hear you tried to wreck my Jeep."