After Grandpa retired from farming he moved to Provo and became a bus driver for BYU. He loved that job. He traveled all over the United States with the BYU students and talked like driving bus was the highlight of his whole existence.
He was gone a lot and Grandma didn't like being home alone. Becca and I spent a lot time at Grandma's house. We were there nearly every weekend. Grandpa would magically appear every Saturday morning to fix us breakfast. And it was always the same: french toast.
The bread was wheat, and Grandpa would cut it in half. We used Karo Syrup. Seems strange right? I'm not sure if he found a special brand that went amazingly well with french toast, but I've never been able to repeat that taste. In fact, Grandpa is the only person in the world I know who used Karo syrup. Makes me hungry just thinking about it.
French toast is about the only memory I have of Grandpa from that time in my life. My grandma was my world, and Grandpa just happened to show up once in a while. I'm glad that things change and life evolves.
* * *
It's my bedtime but I'm still at work...thus a short post. Once May is over I'll become wordy again.
Sandra, thanks! You're an angel!
Someone called today and said this to my brother: "I've been a customer for years. I love your selection and you have great prices, and you're nursery is beautiful! But must the Platt girls in the barn always be so ornery?"
Becca and I just laughed. I said to her, "Am I ornery today or are you?" She drew the short straw...so I guess the customer was complaining about her. People are funny. Dad told us that he didn't think we were at all ornery but I thought, "Hey, we earned it. Let us claim it."