ginnygram

 Not what you think. Never assume.

We are a police family, and my daughter and her daddy were sharing some together-time. Cleaning their weapons and baking cupcakes. Mmmm, gun oil and chocolate. Our house smelled wonderful. Like a police home should.

Testing, testing? This is my kitchen. My family was baking cookies with apparent gusto. I like the photo, so I used it for my test blog, to see if I could actually do this thing. It worked, so I am keeping it as a happy memory. Two happy memories in one.

Today would have been my granddaddy’s birthday. William Ellington Kingsley Miller. Granddaddy Bo. I guess he was born around 1907, because I have his 1927 Transylvania University diploma (but not the family Bible or the energy to pick up the phone and ask my mother). He was a dentist for 50 years, until the day he signed off. Big man with a big appetite and big heart. Did free dental work for the Deaf School and the Children’s Home and anybody else who needed better teeth but had no money. I always thought he was rich, and I suppose he was. He bought me enough Bazooka Joe so I could send in my wrappers for a beautiful diamond necklace. He told stories after supper, and before dessert, and we all laughed about the time when he never did learn to milk a cow–and his brothers all thought he was stupid.