Good food, good company, good advice from Grandma

Karen

The Sun Sets On Another Season..

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Today was my last full day to work at the North Rim this season. It was a beautiful day, with a cloudless sky and tempertures around 56 degrees. 
 
As the shadows got longer, I felt a little bit sad that it is over, but happy thinking about my memories of the summer here. 


 
It was a wonderful, almost perfect sunset, with the only clouds I saw all day turning pink, red and purple over the meadow beyond the entrance station. 

 
What a great way to end my season!


 

I won’t be wearing the uniform again until next year. And so, we will be moving again soon. In about a week from now, we’ll be on way down the road.

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Remember Whensday

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 (Michael and FabGrandma: love at first sight: 1996)
Thirteen years ago, on October 13, my first grandchild was born. I drove a thousand miles from Atlanta, Georgia, to San Antonio, Texas to hold him in my arms for the first time. He was so tiny, so perfect, so beautiful. He was the one who made me the FabGrandma. 

Yesterday was his thirteenth birthday. He is now living in Maryland with his Air Force Dad, my son. But I have to tell ya, that little guy has been to more places than I have, and I go a lot!  Besides San Antonio, he has lived in Guam, and England. He has been to Stone Henge, Loch Ness, the Leaning Tower of Piza, the Eiffel Tower. He has camped on the shore of Wales, and near the beach in Tusany. He has caught grunion on the beach at Imperial Beach, California, and crappie in a lake in north Georgia. 
 
 (Michael fishing in north Georgia with his Dad and FabGrandpa: 2003)
That boy really gets around. Here is another photo of him that I love:


 
(Michael on the pier at Imperial Beach, California, with the catch of the day: 2004)

Hope you had a very happy birthday, Fab Grandson Michael!

For more Remember Whensday posts, click here.
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Scenic Sunday

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I came upon this family of deer on the road to the Widforss Trailhead this week. The deer up here are wild, but they don’t seem to be as skittish as other deer as they didn’t run off as soon as they saw me. Instead, they seemed to pose for me. 

For more Scenic Sunday photos, click here.
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First Snow Day Of The Season

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When the alarm clock went off at 4:30 a.m., I thought I heard the soft pattering of snow on the roof of the trailer.  I jumped up (OK, I slowly got up and grumped about it some) and looked out the front door to verify that it was, in fact, snow. Yep, snow. On October 7.


 
My duty station this morning was the entrance station. I was surprised to see the buffalo out in the meadow in the snow, because they haven’t been around in more than a month. They are usually gone back down to House Rock Valley by this time. 

 
Sunrise over the meadow on the Kaibab Plateau. How beautiful is that?


 
The snow came in showers, and snowed like crazy for about a half an hour at a time. A couple of times it was coming down so hard and fast that it covered the road. 


 
But, then, a half hour later, it was all gone again, and the sun was peeking out. The forecast high was 52, but I don’t think it got there today. That wood stove really came in handy today.

 
This is looking across the road from the entrance station, to the parking lot. 


 
And here I am playing in the snow, um, er, I mean working. Isn’t that a cute outfit? I was glad when my shift was over, so I could go home, get a blanket, a cup of hot tea, and a gluten free cookie!
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Remember Whensday

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Me on the left, Donna on the right in 1995
I met my friend Donna, in 1964 or 65, when we were in the 8th grade. I was the new kid, having moved from Austell to Douglasville, Georgia, after school had started for the year. We were inseparable in our early teens, spending almost every weekend at her house.  We helped each other through our first marriages, having our children, and through the divorces that followed. 

We visited as often as we could over the years, but it never seemed like often enough. The photo above was taken in May of 1995, when we drove to San Antonio, Texas together to take a bassinette to my son and his wife for their firstborn child. We decided that since we were close enough, we would just drive down to Mexico for one day before returning to Atlanta.  

Donna bought a longhorn steer skull, with a horn span of what seemed like six feet. If it had been one more inch, we would have had to have driven all the way with the rear windows rolled down so they could stick out.  A few years later, when I hit the road for my life as a gypsy, I lost track of her. We haven’t seen each other in almost 10 years, maybe more. But, I found her on Facebook this week!  I hope we can get together when I go home to Douglasville over the winter. 

For more Remember Whensday posts, click here.
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Where Does The Time Go?

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I’m sitting here tonight, wondering how in the world it got to be October 6th already, and thinking I only have 18 days before we leave the North Rim to go to Alabama. I am psyched for traveling again, and really glad that I’ll be in a place where I’ll see water every day. I am happy that I will see my daughters and my grandson again soon. But on the same token, I am saddened that I will be leaving a place I love so much. Saddened that there aren’t enough days to spend with friends before we go. Lonely for them already and we aren’t even gone yet. 

And as I think about that, I also wonder how I got to be fifty-seven years old so fast. Where did all THAT time go. I think about the people back home in Georgia, the related ones, of course, but more often the chosen ones. People who have been my friends for years, who still love me, no matter what flaws I may have.  Amazed at how many of them I have found on Facebook, and who want to get together with me for lunch or coffee, or whatever, when I get back to town this winter. And overjoyed that I found one in particular just recently, who I have known since the 8th grade. Knowing that she was my best friend for many years, and that I have known her for more than 40, and happy that I may see her again soon.

And that kind of thinking always leads me to think of my mother. My relationship with my mother has always been shakey–I have never felt like I have accomplished quite what she wanted me to, or that she has ever approved of anything I have done. Lord knows I have tried.  But at 57, I have tried to let all that go, and just love her, no matter what, in the hope that she would do the same. Sometimes that is hard to do. Sometimes I cringe when I see her phone number in the caller ID, and sometimes I don’t answer when I know it is her. Sometimes I do, hoping she will be the sweet mother I always hoped she would be. Too often, though, it’s not. And I know I can’t change that.  I really do try to be patient with her. She misses me–my sister tells me that she does. It’s just hard to believe that when every time she calls me she loses her temper with me–whether it is something I say, or, a lot of the time, whether it is something I DON’T say. 

We have very different opinions about a lot of things, from politics to religion, and back again. Most of the time she rants on rather loudly about whatever it is that has gotten her ire up, and I just listen until she calms down. More and more often, though, if I keep my mouth shut and bite my tongue in an attempt to NOT make her mad, that just makes her mad. And I have told her over and over again, that just because we have different opinions, it doesn’t mean I don’t love her.  That maybe we should agree to  not discuss religion or politics, and just talk about family, and my life and her life. And forget about the rest.

Our most recent telephone conversation ended with her calling me some ugly names, and hanging up on me. And I cried like I was eight years old again. I wish I could figure out why this happens. My sister says it is because she misses me. And that she wishes I would call her more often.  And I might agree, that that is the case. But who wants to call when they know what the result will be?

I know there will come a time when I will wish that every time the phone rang it would be my mother. She is almost 82 years old, and I know how lucky I am to have had her in my life for as long as I have. I just wish she would feel lucky to have me, even if I am 2,000 miles away. Mama, do you know I love you???? do you know that you did a great job raising me? do you know that even if I didn’t accomplish what you dreamed for me, that I have achieved my dreams for myself? do you know that I am lonely for you, too?
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