tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376134561596648686.post2295902464135384196..comments2023-11-22T17:02:12.838-05:00Comments on Ginger's Junket: Independence Day WeekendGingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11008145024743103203noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4376134561596648686.post-50714908472592978002015-07-05T19:39:13.982-04:002015-07-05T19:39:13.982-04:00What a day!! After staying up late with the birthd...What a day!! After staying up late with the birthday festivities and fireworks displays, we all slept in. Rhiana got up and her and I went out on the veranda, kicked back, and while we drank cowboy-strength coffee, talked about things we needed to dust off and pump life into. It was good stuff. Sometime during our schmoozing Ginger had shooed away the cobwebs and had busted the frying pan WIDE open with chocolate-chip pancakes and enough bacon to decimate a herd of swine. We poured Mrs. Butterworth on those stacks like we were just out of the gates of Auschwitz! There was so much squealing going on you'd have thought we had hit the lottery. And, in a way, I reckon we did. Ginger is a grandma in that sweet way that made a trip to your Maw-Maw's always the highlight of the summer/spring/fall/winter. She speaks the language of everyday folks, of working souls that toil under the wings of F-15s, of mothers loaded down with chores and love, of people of faith, and those struggling with what faith is in their life, and that peculiar patois that is a voice both child and kindred spirits hear. I don't know how she does it, and wouldn't pretend to know how to replicate it. I just witness and revel. So the adventure of this weekend has not so much closed as it has once more eclipsed expectations and ushered in this blossoming of a woman into the powerhouse persona we know as, dare I say it--Gama Ginger (the girls version of Grandma). LARRY SCHNEIDERGingerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01539263431733601484noreply@blogger.com