Before you ask, yes, this is about my beloved grandma. Last post about it, I promise. And also: family. And, being brave. My grandma’s funeral was today. It was amazing to see everyone and hear all the ways she touched people’s lives. I learned a bunch of things, actually, that I never knew about the
Earlier this week, I bought a last minute pair of tickets to the NFC playoff game on January 10, my beloved Seahawks against the Carolina Panthers, in CenturyLink field here in Seattle. I geared up, navigated my way to SoDo, attended a 12th Man tailgater, and then made my way over to the stadium. Just
No, not the award show. My grandma. Isn’t she beautiful? As a kid, I spent a good chunk of my formative years in the company of my paternal grandparents. In a lot of ways, they were just as much my parents as my mom and dad.
My maternal great-grandmother Ceridwen Donald, born in 1899, migrated (immigrated?) to Canada from Wales along with her husband David way back before my grandparents were born. They eventually settled in Regina Beach (yes, that’s pronounced just like vagina, thanks) in Saskatchewan, where my mother and my uncle came along in the fullness of time. A
So, we had dinner with the grandparental units on Monday. Grandma and Grandpa live on about an acre of property out in the sticks of Auburn, which is a city kind of near where I live. They have a little stream running through a corner of their property, a little manufactured home, a vegetable garden,