Topsy-turvy temps plus GRAND Social No. 274 link party for grandparents

Topsy-turvy temps plus GRAND Social No. 274 link party for grandparents

Topsy-turvy temps

In most places in the country — with the exception of the desert, where my grandsons live — most any weather conversation includes the common refrain of "wait five minutes and the weather will change."

Much of the time in Colorado the weather doesn't change that whiplash fast. But waiting one day certainly makes a difference.

To wit: Yesterday was the epitome of a fall day. Pleasant temperature, slight breeze, blue skies, no precipitation...

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Snow, buds, and the truth about #SpringtimeInTheRockies

If you've been on social media a bit lately, you've likely come across the hashtag #SpringtimeInTheRockies here or there. If you live someplace other than the Rocky Mountain region, the hashtag may have conjured romantic visions of some sort or another.

For residents of the Rockies, the hashtag reads #ThatCrazyPsychoBullshitOfSpringtimeInTheRockies, the italicized part an unwritten given for those who know what springtime in the Rockies truly entails.

To wit:

I live in Colorado Springs, Colorado — the Rockies. On Saturday we had snow (which I shared on Facebook):

On Monday, there was sunshine and...

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5 joys of July

July is my least favorite month of the year. It's too hot and... well... it's just plain too hot.

I'm not a fan of hot weather, which is pretty much why I'm not a fan of July.

Rather than stew over the scorching season, though, I'm looking on the bright side today, pondering the positive parts of a month I mostly despise. 

There are but five.

joys of july

ONE
My third and final child — Andrea, one of my favorite people in the world — was...

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Wacky weather! Plus, GRAND Social No. 214 link party for grandparents

Wacky weather!

I was born in Minnesota, land of not only 10,000 lakes but lots of tornados, too. From what I've been told throughout the years, I was in a tornado when I was 18 months old. Houses were demolished, people died, and my mother was bathing me when the funnel clouds first swirled through our neighborhood.

My family survived with nothing more than scary tales of the tornado. Mine are just retellings because being only 18 months old at the time, I obviously have no recollection.

I've lived in Colorado for more than 40 years. Tornados pretty much never happen in Colorado Springs, where I've lived for more than 30 years. Last Friday, though, an Emergency Services alert blasted my cell phone, followed by a message stating "Tornado Warning in this area. Take shelter now."

I was the only one home other than my animals, so I took Mickey to the lowest, safest spot in our house (didn't even attempting wrangling up the two cats who wouldn't stay put anyway) and I headed to the highest, least safe spot in our house in hopes of spotting the twister.

No twister as I peered out the upper level bathroom window, but I did capture this (plus several other similarly ominous shots):

ominous clouds 

I waited and waited for a funnel...

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Photo replay: Farewell to fall

With the arrival of this weekend's snow and cold temps, time for me to give up hope for a resurgence of Indian Summer. I hereby officially bid farewell to fall with these end-of-season snippets from my back yard.

Today's question:

What's the weather like at your place today?

5 places I'd rather not be

I shy away from frequenting sites where the blogger complains day in and day out about his or her lot in life. Yeah, life kinda sucks at times, but <cussing> and moaning about it doesn't make things any more enjoyable. For anyone.

Because I feel that way about reading such blogs, I do my best to not be a big ol' complainer here on Grandma's Briefs.

Except today.

Accuse me of being a crab, of having a double standard, but today I must <cuss> and I must moan. Because I've had enough. I simply cannot take it any longer. At least not quietly.

I'm talking about the heat.

I seriously cannot take the dreadful heat of this summer not one second longer. I. Have. Had. Enough. Truly enough. More than enough. I've had it up to here with the heat and have been racking my brain to come up with somewhere to run, somewhere to go to escape the crazy high temps that are making me crabby.

Being the Negative Nancy I am, though—because of the <cussing> heat!—I can't come up with any place cool to go. I can only come up with worse places, places I'd rather not be.

From the Debbie Downer depths where I currently dwell, here are those places:

Five places I'd rather not be

1. I'd rather not be, believe it or not, visiting my grandsons. It's even hotter in their hometown than it is mine. The photo Megan texted me yesterday of the guage on her car dashboard proves it: 

2. I'd rather not be anywhere east of Colorado. Crossing the border into Kansas and beyond means there's humidity—for which even the presence of ever-so-lovely, ever-so-coveted lightning bugs isn't adequate consolation.

3. I'd rather not be working in an office with air conditioning. What? Who wouldn't want to be paid and cooled all at the same time? Meh... Getting a regular paycheck is overrated, I say—especially if you have to wear panty hose and closed-toe shoes while earning it.

4. I'd rather not be in Afghanistan. Or Syria. Or anywhere in the Middle East.

5. I'd rather not be on the west side either. The west side of my own city, that is, in the part of town where many folks who once did have air-conditioning now don't even have a home, thanks to the Waldo Canyon fire.

I'll stop there. No need to continue. I feel better now. I'm definitely not any cooler, but I do feel better.

How could I not? For things could be worse. Far worse. And are. For too many.

Enough said.

photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

Where would you rather be...or not be...in hopes of escaping the crazy heat?

Pledge of the long-distance grandma

We all know the pledge of the United States Postal Service: “Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail shall keep the postmen from their appointed rounds.” I propose a similar pledge for long-distance grandmas, only the obstacles—at least in my case—go far beyond the basic blustery weather.

For example, when I visited Bubby and Baby Mac last August, I encountered a haboob that delayed my return home:

 

Then, when Jim and I drove to see our grandsons last October, the return trip featured an epic traffic situation that left us sitting—literally, at a standstill—on the interstate for three hours:

And last night, as I attempted to make my way home from a week with Bubby and Baby Mac, a blizzard threatened my return, resulting in delayed arrival (and fears arrival wouldn't happen at all, courtesy of the pilot stating as we prepared to take off into the storm, "We'll give it a try and we'll see what happens"):

 

Okay, okay...the photo above isn't an actual shot of last night's snowstorm, but you get the idea.

Yes, like the Postal Service, neither haboobs nor treachery on the highway nor snowstorms of any significance can keep me from my appointed rounds with my grandsons. But...all of the above and more sure as <cuss> muck up my return home after each and every visit anymore, without fail.

I've had enough, and I'm not gonna take it anymore!

Well, at least not until April, that is. For in April I take my next trip to the desert to play full-time grandma again, and I won't let <cuss> conditions of any sort keep me from getting there.

Getting home, though, will unfortunately surely follow what has become this long-distance grandma's traveling protocol. Especially considering that April is typically one of the snowiest months in the Rockies; I can pretty much tell you now getting back home afterwards isn't going to be easy. Or fun.

My grandsons and their parents can still count on me being there, though. Like I said, it's not the getting to them that's the problem, it's getting back home again. But the USPS pledge gives no guarantee nor particulars on the return of its postmen. The same shall apply to the long-distance grandma pledge, too—whether I like it or not.

Snowstorm photo: stock.xchng/tes

Today's question:

What obstacles do you anticipate encountering in your travels this weekend—even if only to the grocery store?