First thing when I opened my e-mail this morning (at the crack of, er, noon), I got this message from my mom:
Today would have been Grampy's 100th birthday!
My maternal grandfather, Col. Hal Peter Andersen, died when I was in ninth grade. I wish I could remember more about him; we have a wonderful photo of the two of us out in front of his and Grammy's tidy grandparently home in Manteca, me dressed in Spanky Pants (tm) and hair ribbons, him teaching me the proper way to salute the flag. He built us doll furniture, wrote us notes in his neat squarish block caps and told my sister "You have a cookie in your left hand and a cookie in your right hand. That makes you a P-I-G. Do you know what that spells?" To which she replied, "Ambidextrous!"
Happy birthday, Grampy. I'll have to ask Mom tonight if she can take out some photos of him to show my boys.
Also: I finished a story today. Not "the" story (i.e., book), but a short story (4500-ish words). Haven't actually finished a piece of fiction since my sophomore year in college. Hope this bodes well.