Hugs from Big Gramma. I have had so many things to take care of the last couple of months that I have fallen behind on my reading. But I get your great updates in my email which keep me up to date on your doings. Some of you are rocketing up to the stars, probably surprising yourselves when it finally happened just how high you could go so quickly. Congratulations! If anyone hasn't gotten to where you want to be yet, take heart. Others going before you, pave your way after them. 

                 I myself read and paint. My background up above ^ are some of my paintings.

Maybe someday I will write some of the stories that float around in my head. I play around with this one  about my mom in the last half of the sixties. In an all girl band, she got to take part in the Grand Ole Opry with some Greats before they were great. She committed suicide, sadly at just 46 years of age.

      "My eyes locked on her as soon as the curtains opened. She was beautiful. Her band started playing before the stage was completely in view, and I felt my heart beating in pride when she started singing. She plucked her low-tone bass guitar in tempo with the quick beat of the drums, making my 
chest thump in time, too. She sang her heart out into the darkness shrouding her large audience and her children sitting there, singing out into the darkness of the great unknown of all her hopes and dreams. What else she saw when she looked out into the darkness, I do not know. I hope she saw only happy things."  

I would like to write a short story of being a drummer, starting in band class, before boys who were drummers accepted girls doing that. I played in bands my mother put together after she left the first one, but it scored me no points with the guys. Looking back, it was pretty funny.

"Two of the boys lifted their eyebrows in surprise as she struggled with her snare-drum case and headed in their direction. The third boy squinted his eyes in disbelief."