When I grow up, I want to be like her ...

On Tuesday, I was sitting in the newsroom when my attention was grabbed by one of the many t.v.'s we have tuned to all-news channels. This happens a lot, because I am easily distracted and televisions are pretty and shiny. But what I saw this time was deeply disturbing - not in the usual, Britney's-latest-escapade way - this was more personal. It was coverage of the wildfires burning in Southern California, and I saw that they were evacuating people from the town where my Grandma lives.

As soon as I could, I called the senior living retirement/assisted living center where my very independent, 90-something grandmother has a one-bedroom apartment. I was surprised, and somewhat relieved, when someone answered, then horrified when, after telling the woman on the phone I was trying to reach my grandmother, she told me my grandmother had been evacuated to Qualcom Stadium.

The woman quickly assured me in a matter-of-fact manner that my grandmother was fine, and the center's staff were with her, but that didn't stop me from getting choked up at the thought of my in-great-shape-for-someone-in-her-mid-nineties-but-still-frail grandma bivouacking on a football field full of evacuees. I was greatly relieved to learn from my mother later that night that my grandmother's son had picked her up from the stadium and brought her to her sister's house at the beach, far from danger.

She returned to her apartment yesterday, and after a little phone-tag, I finally got to talk to her this evening. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Grandma," I told her, and she said to me: "You know what? It was an experience, and I'm glad I had it."

My grandma rocks!