The Abyss

I was having a friendly chat with Kathy Noland and mentioned my myriad aches and pains. I said I don't know where they come from. I was really doing fine, in fact I was down right smug at how little arthritis and aches and pains I had, when it seemed like all of a sudden -- wham -- I'm aching everywhere, head to foot, just like an old lady. Just like any old lady would. 

Kathy said a wise nurse told her once people don't age gracefully or gradually, aging is like stepping off into an abyss. Over the cliff I have gone. 

And on a lighter note I am an old fart. I make old references, old jokes, and listen to old music. I have old knees, old complaints, old sleep patterns, old books, old habits, and old dust. I have my old lady cane for balance and old lady house slippers so I can toddle around my home in shoes with good arch support for my old feet. I am not aging gracefully.

I had to drive to work in the wind. I hate driving in the wind.
I had to drive to work in the rain. I hate driving to work in the rain.
I had to drive to work in the fog. I hate driving to work in the fog.
Maybe I just hate driving to work like any old lady.
I will admit I am a wee bit jealous of Kathy Noland being her sweet retired self. Her sweet young retired self.


Roger was telling me he was talking to Connor and Connor was quite concerned that Santa wouldn't find him this year. He will be so many places: Mom's, Dad's, Papa's and Gramma's, and/or Granny's that how would Santa find him?

Connor went into that sweet six year old narcissistic mode. "Yeah, but what about me? What will happen to me? How will I be taken care of? How will my Christmas needs be met? "

Roger assured him Santa had his ways and you never knew where Santa might leave a present.

And isn't this true for all of us, the human us? That buried narcissistic us. We all want to feel safe without anxiety over our future, no guess work, no maybes. We all want to feel comforted by loved ones. We all want to feel our needs are met without fear of being left or forgotten or lost. Yes, love is important, very important, but first comes the deeper more primitive emotional needs. Am I taken care of?

I have learned many lessons from my sons, but this was an important lesson to be reminded of by my grandson. There are so many in the world who do have to wake up destitute. People all over the planet without food, water, shelter, heat or even more mundane gifts like garbage pick-up, convenience stores, good tires, scotch tape, or something like brown sugar for that last batch of Christmas cookies. I for one appreciate my many gifts, Christmas and otherwise.

Christmas is nigh, so I will concentrate on the gifts of living, young or old. I am warm. I have books, movies, a home, family, food, I can walk even if with a cane for balance. I have Connor. He isn't making me a great grandparent yet, but I have a great-great niece coming my way. I have a car, gas and places to go. I have a job although it seems a bit uncertain for now. I have friends and a New Year's Day get together planned. I love playdates.

I am older, not dead and still learning those all important life lessons.

Many of those life lessons I learned at the knees of my children. Roger taught me what discipline looks like, how if you want to do something to slow down and do it right, how to save money, buy a home. Ian taught me that to succeed you have to fail 200 times, how to be soft on the outside and cast iron on the inside, to never deny who I am, to rarely get angry or out of sorts, how to go through life with grace. Christian taught me what art looks like, contentment, how to master a skill, how to expand my reading, my thinking, my humor.

If you ever want to know if God is great look to your children. Look, listen, and learn.

For those of you who saw, and or, followed the wrapping wars challenge on Facebook, I have to tell you that besides creating beautiful packages, Ian has his own distribution system. There are no name tags on any package. NONE!

The lesson I am currently working on is walking. I have great inspiration from many many loved ones; Jerry and Jane, Mark and Amber, Roger, Roger, Roger, Julia and Jeff, Tal, are you walking? Kathy Noland, Art Manning, when I talk to Janice she wants to get back to walking also. So 2016 is the year of the walk. Julia I don't think I will ever get to the woggle stage. Actually I know I will never get to the woggle stage. I mentioned to my friend Sandy I intend to walk; not far, not fast, not hard, but walk. Maybe wobble with my cane.

Since I have quit smoking I have gained seven to ten pounds and it feels like 207. I intend to walk them off. No cigarettes for eight weeks folks, eight weeks.

I have completed my bleeding for this family Christmas dinner. I only bled a little in the Carrot cake. Today I will organize everything else. My family gets left-overs this year. Thanksgiving left-overs. Turkey and ham left-overs. Delicious left-overs.

Also for 2016 I'm starting the Book Challenge List from the Jack Russell Memorial Library. A challenge list that my friend Sandy, or maybe Kathleen, I am getting old and forgetful, gave me for 2015. Well, better late than never, so readers start your engines the first book challenge off the book challenge list is: A book with a one word title. I'm reading Gilead, my book club's February selection.

Mark Harris I just saw the comment you left on a past blog. I'm sorry I missed it at the time, just send me a kick in the pants so I will be sure to notice in the future, or message me in FB -- I'm glad you love me.

Jeff is going to England -- somebody loves him.
Hannah is expecting a girl -- somebody loves her.
Chris Daley where is our Greenleaf update -- don't you love us?

Last great movie I watched: The Wrecking Crew, about session musicians. Great movie, I felt like I had completed "Rock n Roll 101" after I had finished. See still learning I am.

Bring on that wind, rain and fog.

Hey the abyss isn't so bad, come on down.
~ and ~
Merry Christmas Eve.

The World is Hard and Strange and Loving. I think!

The world is not always the world I want, but I fear it is the world I have. If I want to make the world a better place I have to make myself a better person. I believed that years ago and I believe that today. "Everything has a price."

"The key to a happy life is to accept you are never actually in control" Jurassic Park. Wisdom can come from some surprisingly strange sources.

I tend to lean on love, what wisdom I can muster, and beauty, like Mahalia Jackson singing a beautiful Christmas carol: Christmas Comes To Us All Once A Year

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wo3kWwnA5fg

I so want this beautiful sentimental Christmas carol to be true, it lifts my spirit, but I believe the truth is more along the lines of there are a lot of non-Christians that December 25th comes too also. I wish them peace and love, and babies born in a world without fear and guns and ambushes and death.


Mary Carstensen shared a fabulous speech from Australia on Facebook; Nine Life Lessons. I embraced it and want to share it because I believe in the basic truths in it. I've spoken these thoughts myself, but Tim Minchin said in minutes what I have tried to say for years in my inarticulate way.

https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=855352884549930&theater

In case you don't have the time to listen, here is his list. Nine life lessons:
1.  Don't have a dream.
2.  Don't seek happiness.
3.  There is lots of luck involved.
4.  Exercise (this was a hard one for me.)
5.  Be hard on your opinions, examine them often.
6.  Define yourself by what you love, not what you are against.
7.  Be a teacher, share your wealth of knowledge.
8.  Respect people with less power.
9.  Don't rush.

Quotes:
A true sign of intelligence is not knowledge, but imagination.
Albert Einstein
Strive not to be a success but rather be of value. Albert Einstein
Talent perceives differences, genius, unity. William Butler Yeats

Best six doctors: Sushine, water, rest, air, exercise (there it is again), diet. I can't remember where I copied this from. Sometimes I love the world so much when little gifts like this drop in my lap. I'm lucky -- life lesson #3.

It's weird how traditions come and go.

I can't believe how sad I am about not smoking. My friend for years is sorely missed, but I'm still NOT smoking no matter how much I want one during stressful moments, after dinner, sitting at the computer, writing, after a shower, before going to see Connor, while cooking, watching a movie, reading a book, before I go to sleep, after I wake up, and on and on and on...

Jerry, I finally finished Strange Fruit. That was a hard hard book. How did the South ever change? How did it ever progress to a more tolerant era? How did it give freedoms and understanding where there was none?  How did reasonable win out? Did it? Can reasonableness win again?

Does this mean there is hope for change now, with the current hatreds rampant, with old hatreds resurfaced?

The world is hard and strange and loving and finally full of wisdom.
I think!

I love a world where I can "lift" wisdom from here and there and every where. Thank you world for sharing, teaching, and giving -- Life lesson # 7.

Ain't It Awful

I'm at a loss looking for words, the right words, good words, meaningful words to express and assimilate the latest mass shooting.

San Bernardino, my home town for many years. Feeling the close connections. Feelings of love for the Carrillo Clan flooding me. Ain't it awful just doesn't suffice.

I lived there, drove the streets, had picnics in the parks, had holiday dinners, biked, watched children play, went to school, learned to love menudo and sweet bread, buried my family, all in the city limits. The city where I survived my own personal mass deaths.

Aint' it awful ain't enough. I read the news feeds; blame the NRA, religion, politics, Obama, open carry, a lack of mental health care services, prayer. I can't wrap my head around it. Facts don't suffice. I can't combat it, ignore it, understand it. I can't vote it, pray it, express it, or blame it. The magnitude is so devastating, so much larger than me, that I can only feel it deep, deep inside me.

I understand praying a last desperate cry. A cry into an abyss for an event so much larger than ourselves. The prayer that please it can't be so, it can't be true. The prayer for something, for anything, but a full understanding of the truth. I've uttered that prayer myself.

How can the deaths of so many in a smallish city in California be perceived as a threat to a way of life somewhere else? How can it be political? How can it not? It's not a blow to a belief system, to religion or open carry or gun control. It was a blow to those people, at that place, at that time. It was a blow beyond my understanding carried out by humans beyond my understanding.

My friend's granddaughter has a birthday Saturday. I was primping and fussing over some dolls from my doll collection that I intended to pass along to little Stella when I heard the breaking news feed. Dolls to death. How much can you weep?

Can we pray and have gun control? Does it have to be a choice for or against? One or the other?

Let me tell you a story about Christian. Christian didn't like to be read to. As a child when I was reading him a story he squirmed and wiggled and asked to be excused. Later in grade school he didn't like to read. I would pay him a buck a book to try to ignite an interest in books to no avail. I paid him to accomplish his required academic reading. Is it still twenty minutes a night? Then one day, he was about 14 years old I guess, he brought me a song he had discovered and was so excited by it that he had to share with me.

It was Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Iron Maiden. I listened to the music and asked him, "Do you want to read the original?" After his aghast disbelief that there was an original, I handed him an English Literature book turned to the epic poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Christian loved reading that poem. With the lit book in hand he went on to read Edgar Allan Poe and other classical works and became a life long reader. Greek, Roman, Norse mythology, philosophy, history, fantasy, fiction and non, he reads it all.

Here is the lesson he taught me. It seems all my important life lessons I learned from my children, or as Picasso said, "Don't teach children to draw, learn from them."

What Christian taught me is the world can be deeper than what presents itself on the surface. The world is deeper. It is deeper and sweeter and more profound and bigger than we as humans have the capacity to even imagine. Paying Christian a buck to read some sixth grade book didn't open his love of reading. Connecting did.

I didn't plan for or imagine Christian reading Norse history when I stopped and listened to his music. When I accepted the gift of him sharing something that I had no love for, understanding of, or appreciation of, I mean who loves Iron Maiden? What is on the surface is just the beginning to deeper understanding.

I can't present the words or pretend to understand the causes of the world's ills, horrors and sorrows. I can't blame Obama, Planned Parenthood, the NRA, or religion.

I can seek a deeper understanding.

My Cane and I

A long time ago wobbliness entered my life. I noticed I steadied myself with a hand on a wall or rail when I walked along. I noticed I always had to have a shopping cart to hold onto in any store. I noticed I wibble wobbled when I walked across parking lots. I noticed people sometimes looked at me funny, like I might have had one too many as I maneuvered myself into or out of stores, restaurants, houses, work, bathrooms.

I noticed I fell -- more than once.

The doctor told me to get a cane. Yeah, yeah, okay. 

But did I?

The doctor gave me a prescription to get a cane. Yeah, yeah, okay. 

But did I? 

Wobbliness became worse, I steadied myself more and more, but did I get a cane? Yeah, yeah, okay, someday.

I fell again. Hum, maybe I had better look into that cane idea.

I fell again. Okay, okay, I get it! I'll get a cane as soon as I can figure out the logistics -- you know -- how was I going to carry my purse, a lunch, an umbrella, and a cigarette while walking up the hill to work in the rain. The logistics stumped me. 

I fell again. 

Oh, the logistics that can be solved.

Hello cane, nice to meet you. 

You can tempt fate only so many times.

Sometimes don't you just want to laugh? Laugh at our foibles, our vanities, our stupidities, our stubbornness. Humans, now that's entertainment. 

We worry when we should be enjoying. We leave when we should be staying. We run when we should be walking. We walk when we should be running. We love when we shouldn't. We cry when we shouldn't. Sometimes we laugh when we shouldn't. And still somehow we manage to muddle through this thing called life. You just gotta laugh. 

Oh the messes I have made and the fates I have tempted, and yet, here I am, ready to live another day. Ready to face winter, work, friends, family, Black Friday, Cyber Monday, sons teasing, driving on the interstate, and a lively growing grandson. Ready to face all the uncertainties, risks, problems, failures, wobbliness, and all the other dangers inherent in aging, living, surviving. I'm believing I will see you all at Greenleaf in 2016. I believe in living for today and trusting tomorrow will be there. I got plans. And if it isn't, if this is the end of this journey, so be it, Life is a gift, not a given. 

And I have a cane to steady me on my way.

I survived this Thanksgiving dinner with only two burns and one cut finger. When life gives you bones, throw them in a pot and make something wonderful.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled down the Juan de Fuca Strait battering and rattling my back window till I thought it would cave under the assault. The lights flickered and flickered all day -- then with the night --  they went out.

Pitch black darkness engulfed.

Sitting in the dark with only myself is humbling. Yes, I had candles, yes, I had flashlights, but I blew out the candles and turned off the flashlights and let myself slip into the darkness and the silence. I loved the exquisite eeriness of the black surround. A lovely gift to myself.

Dim moonlight whispered in the window, otherwise there were no lights. No lights up or down the Speedway except for an occasional car looking all lost in the dark. No porch light, no neighbors light, only darkness and storm.

Sitting in the dark with only myself I tasted a minutiae of primitive man. How comforting a weak flickering light reflected on a cave wall must have felt. How comforting a breathing being next to you must have felt. Ian was out for the evening with business obligations so I was alone with my thoughts.

The darkness remained for hours. Two hours became four. The dark and stormy night stretched on. Four hours became all night. I occasionally used the flashlight, but mostly I sat in the dark and appreciated it. Felt it. I wandered in my mind from primitive man to modern man.

If we were all suddenly cast into darkness would we lean on our fellowman. I wondered about tribalism, now causing death and chaos in many places in the world. We are so isolated from our neighbor, our fellow human beings, with all of our modern advances we don't seem to need our neighbor for sustenance or comfort.

We don't need to share light.

As I went to bed I left a soft candle glowing on the counter to guide Ian in when he came home. The lighted candle in the window had a whole new, revelatory, absolute, concrete meaning. It became the powerful symbol I have read about.

A candle left burning in the window to welcome a loved one home from the dark to the hearth.

It was a dark and stormy night and I sat in the dark alone with thoughts too deep for understanding, just feeling.

The dark and stormy night passed as they are wont to do. I awoke to brilliant sunshine and spectacular snow capped Cascade Mountains. A modern woman once more with life at the push of a button. No more mysterious mind excursions. I was back. No longer reliant on my thoughts, my musings faded with the light.

No longer alone with myself. Yet very much so.

Little News and Dragons

No big news around here, lots of little.

I have worried so much about Jean falling, and Cathy and Julia and Jane falling that I forgot to take care of my own feet.

As they say "The fall wasn't bad, it was the landing that hurt."

Yep, went kersplat. Yep, right out front on the condo entry. Yep, Ian was with me. Yep, he helped me up, helped me inside, helped me get pain medicine, heating pad, feet up, and then went back outside to clean up the mess. We came in with him carrying groceries and me carrying restaurant leftovers, drinks and the books from the library. Yep, restaurant leftovers do make a splatty mess on the walkway. Yep, Ian is amazing.

My second fall in two months. Never, never, never again, NEVER. Although to be fair neither time was it my own personal bio-mechanics that failed. The first fall at Flathead Lake was due to an out of balance picnic table and down I went flat on my back. The only thing really hurt was my pride.

This recent fall was due to the adorable new shoes that I had won at work and the wet slippery walkway. Walkways due tend to get slippery after 37 hours of non-stop rain. My cute new shoe slid right out from under me and down I went. And when I go down a lot of mass is on the move. Splat, right flat on my back. No twisting, turning contortions, just a mighty SPLAT.

Nothing was broke, no one part of my body was particularly severely damaged, but I hurt from my head to my ankles. No broken leg, hip, shoulder, or arm, thankfully, and I am always grateful for those miracles, but my body was rattled. Everything was hurt. I'm still shaking and aching and afraid to walk outside. I landed flat on my back and my knee is killing me, figure that one out. My neck hurts, my head hurts, my arms and shoulders hurt, my pride hurts, and yes, my back hurts. I'm hoping a week off work will cure everything. I was freaking lucky with these two falls, and don't I know it, that I'm never going to fall again. Done. Been there done that. Finis.

Hum, adorable new shoes and slippery walkway, hum, I think that is how I also fell out there some years ago. I think only non-slip shoes for me from now on no matter how cute they are -- or become a recluse and never go outside.

Coincidentally, I'm the one teasing Julia about not falling, not hurting herself, not jeopardizing the Costa Rica trip. See if open my big fat mouth anymore. I apologize Julia. And I won't chide Jean or Cathy or Jane anymore. I will look to my own feet.


Or I could blame it on not smoking. I haven't smoked for almost four weeks. Did I ever tell you not smoking is exhausting. Exhausting. So far I'm sleeping my way through it/out of it -- maybe.

I am hopeful.


So, do you ever think about Dragons? How dragons are a part of almost every culture world wide? From India to China to Japan to Europe to South America even to Costa Rica? Quetzalcoatl is much like a dragon. Dragons in myth, stories, lore. All that dragon lore couldn't have spread from Persia, could it?

"There be dragons"

Dragons representing the unknown, the unknowable, the drop off the edge of the Earth, the place no man has gone before. Do dragons derive from lizards, iguanas, crocodiles? How have they become such a large part of mythology? The demon to battle, to save the damsel from, the adversary that needs overcome who is so much more powerful than ourselves. Smaug was eventually defeated.

Ancient cities had the North Gate, the Iron Gate and the Dragon Gate. That was a dragon that guarded something precious, another part of dragon lore. Protecting.

My mind be on dragons, conquering smoking dragons.


And our beautiful fall here in the Pacific Northwest. It hasn't been a spectacular fall like some we have had in the past, but a particularly beautiful one. It has been a soft watercolor kind of fall. Gentle fall reds and yellows, gentle falling leaves, gentle rains. Soft, albeit I guess that is getting ready to change with wind and winter storms approaching. And lots and lots of rain. The rain seems odd after such a long hot dry summer.


And winter brings holidays, lots of fun festive holidays, and glitter. The glitter season is upon us. You can expect glitter now through Christmas. Glitter wafting down from ornaments, bows, tinsel, trees, cards and other miscellany. Get your vacuum fired up. Instead of dragons it is time to battle glitter. Actually it will probably be glitter through January 22nd.


Roger and I were driving to the Fortener's to pick up Connor and Roger drove me past a concrete boat -- sigh -- what I don't know about the world, what I don't know -- sigh -- there it was sitting in an old barn looking somewhat spectacular, if somewhat forlorn. Before the sun went down I had to learn more about concrete boats. Roger had me something to study hours later. Concrete boats have been around for a long time and were quite common. Who knew? Actually it was an inexpensive building material, but not very fuel efficient. Not in fashion anymore. I still hurts the logical portion of my brain. I accept it, but it hurts. And this was before my head hurt from the fall.

Sometimes I am excited by everything.

Sometimes it takes me nine hours to get five hours worth of sleep.

Sometimes the creative play of others is inspirational. I was inspired, delighted, entertained and otherwise captivated by the shenanigans of the Costa Rica wedding. I can't remember the last time I saw so many smiles. Or glasses raised. Or lived so vicariously through the photos of others. Thank you for sharing.

The only thing missing from your litany of activities for the week long adventure in the jungle was archaeological exploring. Did you traipse around any ancient ruins? Trod any ancient byways?

Or play at any art museums?  Learn a local dance? Visit a cultural shrine?

I'm pretty sure you weren't shopping, were you?

Sometimes I wonder if Chris Daley is going to post a family reunion Greenleaf countdown update. That would be bald headed Chris. That would be "Cool Car" Chris. The "Chris" Michael snagged a ride from, or tried to, every time the Challenger moved.

Wedding special is over. Janice is having surgery. Holidays approaching. Cathy and Kenny traveling. As soon as I am brave enough to go outside I'm buying a cane, whether it is bio-mechanics or slippy shoes I am NEVER falling again.

The really sad sad part, I'm embarrassed to say, is I had just spent all my gift certificates on some really really cute shoes. Seven new pair of shoes and the first ones I wore threw me. Tell me life is fair. My friend gets paper cuts regularly not whooshing falls.

I'm ancient and my pretty pretty shoes are like pretty pretty dragons.
Beware "there be dragons there."

Isn't It Funny How Life Goes On

Isn't it funny how life goes on?

Connor doing Connor things,
Dr appointments for the geriatrics.
Wedding plans for those adorable Tulsans.
Roger running.
Ian traveling.

You unpack after the reunion trip and start to pack up for something else.
Carpet cleaning needs planning.
Work.
Oil changed.
Dogs walked, petted.
Go to school, play.

The rhythm of days.
Lives lived out in the smaller moments.
Necessary moments.
The dinners cooked and shared with family.
Onions peeled.
No one aspires to onion peeling, but we do it often, regularly, for the fellowship and feeding of our family.
Rocking babies, gardening, fishing.

Yes, the big moments arrive, Costa Rica anyone?
But big moments are tied together with a string of day in - day out.
Destination weddings still need underwear packed.

Many conversations we have had around the kitchen table included,
"Let's have another cup of coffee and talk about it."
It doesn't have to be big and grand to be meaningful.
Many conversations led up to picking green beans, painting fences.
Grand only in sharing, experiencing, helping, loving.

One step at a time, one day at a time, one life at a time.

We flow through gentle rains, down country lanes.
We see things; small things;
colored leaves, colored glass, colored birds.
No Grand Canyon every day.

Even multiple re-runs of I Love Lucy.
Small times, laughs, mundane days

Baby steps to bright new beginnings.
Baby steps to the next day, the next love, bed, night time sleep.
Small things.
Sun rises, sun sets, a moon every night.
Nothing special.

A heart full of love for small things.
Like Jeff's flag line. One flag at a time.
Reunion. People gathering one person at a time.

Look at Amber's FB post today, the poem about What Will Matter, by Michael Josephson.

Small things,
Small things matter.

Taylor Family Reunion part Deux

Ooops, I forgot and age has nothing to do with it.

Absolute Master of the Flag Line, Captain Jeff
...and
His Sister Julia.

...and the freaking delicious Pizza Bread.

Is everyone happy now? Mike's Pizza Bread has been mentioned, high-lighted, showcased, praised, and immortalized. If you know Mike Noland -- insist, INSIST, he make it for YOU.

Goodie Box and Ghost Stories

Sit down and relax, I have a lot to say and it might take a while.

Goodie Box and Ghost Stories:
How did the kiddos keep emptying the goodie box? How many $20.00 refills did it take? How far could Branson crawl inside? How many goodies could Branson eat? Connor? How many adults had their fair share of Oatmeal Cream Pies?

Goodies came in handy during night time ghost stories. Connor went on a fact finding mission to ascertain the truth of the "scary Annie doll with red eyes who goes oooh oooh waving her hands" while sitting in the dark time tent" It was real he said, Michael saw it. He was not satisfied with the it is just-a-ghost-story theory" He was satisfied with the report that it might have been taillights going up the hill. Sounded logical enough. Who said Michael told a ghost story good enough to scare himself?

Snakes and Zombies:
Jackson wasn't too sure about hiking up the hill,
at night,
in the dark,
past where the snake slithered up the tree over his tent,
and after all the zombie movie talk around the campfire.
Two scary things was one scary thing too much. Auntie Ber came through, of course. It think it was even worse than being kissed by his sister.
His tent was abandoned for that night.
Until it was moved.
In the daylight.
Away from the tree.

Flag Lines and Fish Fries:    
The biggest success had to of been the flag line. There were a few gaping holes but they will be filled next year. California was missing. Jeff said people got so excited about the flag line he went out and bought another 100 feet of rope.

From Tibetan Prayer Flags to a Hogwarts Banner, everything was pretty much represented; three countries, four states, sports teams to numerous to enumerate. Well, actually I can enumerate them, I made a list in anticipation of this moment:

Tibetan Prayer Flags --  wafting prayers heavenward
  full of peace, compassion, courage, love, tranquility, happiness.
  If it hadn't of been me it would have been somebody else.
  Jeff's original inspiration.
  They worked.
  Birds and prayers fly free.
Hogwarts -- Chris and Nora
Stark Banner -- Chris and Nora
Arkansas Razorbacks -- Julia and Tal, I think. Maybe Jeff.
Costa Rica -- Julie and Tal
Arkansas State Flag -- Julia and Tal, I think. Maybe Jeff.
"It's Five O'Clock Somewhere" -- Jerry and Jane, good call
Turtle -- Jan's itty bitty turtle doo-dad
American -- Lynn
Boy Scout bandanna -- Jeff
Dogs at Cards -- Jeff's tapestry
Arkansas Razorbacks -- Jeff
Oklahoma University -- Jeff
England -- Jeff
do-rag 51 -- Jason's football bandanna from Springdale High School -- Jeff
  Do you know how long the Taylor's can talk about the correct spelling of do-rag?
Oklahoma State Flag -- Jeff
Small flag little faces??? sorry can't read my notes???
and another I can't read my notes???
Greenleaf T Shirts -- Jeff
  Starbucks -- 2013
  Crossword Puzzle -- 2014
  Survivor -- 2011
Welcome Garden Flag; Frog -- Jean and family
Washington State -- Jan, it only cost me $53.00
Oklahoma T Shirts -- Jan
  Scissor Tailed Flycatcher
  Rose Rock
Do What You Can bananna, for the Earth and the animals that live on it -- Jan
Christian's 10th Birthday Capture the Flag flag -- Jan
American -- Jerry and Jane, the one flown over the National Capitol in his honor.
Oklahoma State Flag -- Jerry and Jane
Oklahoma Thunder Flag -- Jerry and Jane
late comers;
Washington University -- Roger, go Huskies
Han Solo's Millennium Falcon -- by Connor
The Old Red Barn -- by Roger
Oklahoma State University -- Blaine
  Were there others?
Kansas State -- ???
  Were there others?

Next year it will be bigger and better, Jeff promises. He already has a box marked Greenleaf Flag Line. Go Jeff go. Hum, maybe we need a "Go Jeff" flag or "Jeff, Every Bodies Favorite".

Marc outdid himself with the fish fry. All the expertise, all the equipment, all the fish and french fries you could eat, all the gawkers. He works deliciously under pressure. I mentioned to Roger that with all the fabulous food one of my favorites is still Jeff's Tub-O-Stuff. Roger said, I don't know the fish fry was pretty fantastic -- yes it was. Thank you Marc. You will do it again next year I presume. And Mary Lee what can I say about the tarter sauce except Christian brought me the wrong kind at first and I made him go back. I love how prepared you were for this annual event. You will do it again next year I presume.

Photos and Fishing:
Speaking of fish fries, there wouldn't be one without fish. The fishing dock was a big fat bust. Days and days of fishing yielded no fish. Not no one, not no how, so Marc to the rescue and off to Lake Eufaula for a guided fishing event. Fish aplenty. You would have thought it was the miracle of five loaves and two fish. We are always grateful for miracles, and fish, and family, and fish fryers, and equipment, and gawkers,

Mike was a genius at photographs. A GENIUS! He planned, ran, busted his head, and delivered the most outstanding group of family pictures ever. He even outdid himself. What can I say, he just keeps getting better and better, besides he is a GENIUS.

Bumped Heads and Dizzy Spells:
Besides Mike's bumped and bleeding head, yes, he got the shot before he received medical attention, Tal had the dizzy spell. A trip to Muskogee Hospital couldn't find anything apparently wrong. Hopefully he was just off his feed; diabetic, outdoors, fishing to no avail, different environment, sleep patterns, and water, etc. Nurse Jane, wife Julia and future son in law accompanied him. Jane as the expert, Julia as the concerned loved one, Chris as the one who had to face Nora if he did it wrong. Nora was a long, long, long ways away and Chris had to keep her updated. Nora was at a Yellowstone Valley business retreat.

After the concern for Tal's health subsided, all the Costa Rica fear rose. Everyone was watching everyone else so closely trying to maintain everyone's health and fitness that I started feeling the pressure to stay healthy until after the Costa Rica trip, oh, and wedding. Never forget the wedding. Jeff finally came to the proper conclusion that it would be really sad to leave anyone behind as they flew away on a magnificent Costa Rican vacation, but it would be done. 

Michael inquiring after Tal's health the following morning told Julia, "I have to have him, I have to." "I don't want him to get dizzy and pass out." He then went on to plan, in detail, what he would do if it happened under his watch. If they were in a car, if they were drifting, which brake to use, how to call 911. Michael has Tal's back.

Mimosas and Mamma's 
Chris and Nora made a return performance of mimosas, well, probably Chris, Nora was in Yellowstone. It was almost mimosas in bed as they delivered to all early in the morning. Generously bringing cups, ice, OJ, and champagne. We were happy to see them also, it wasn't just the mimosas.

Great mamma's graced the stage, and one daddy. Cara and Summer are stellar parents as attested by their adorable kiddos. And Roger did a mighty fine job of letting Connor run with the big boys, eat out of the goodie box, climb, hike, play, paint, pout, and swing glow sticks to his heart's content. When Connor was getting ready to leave he said he wanted to come to Greenleaf every day, actually he wanted to live there.

I cannot express adequately how precious, kind, helpful, generous, loving, entertaining, funny, smart, witty, creative and adventurous all these young ones are. From Sun up until after Sundown they were amazing. Here's to Jackson, Avery, Maddie, Michael, Connor, Branson, and Tripp the trip. How lucky and blessed we are to have them in our life. And then along came Isabell...

Isabell does not think she will come next year, she knows she will. It has been decided or is that decreed? That long-legged beauty has plans. What started as a diversion became absolute. No such thing as long lost cousins to her, we are all family.

Dutch Ovens and Dogs:
In just about equal measure. All those good Mamma's I mentioned can be extended from kids towards their dogs.

All the goodness I mentioned can be extended from kids, to dogs, to dutch oven cooking. What would we do without all those dutch ovens fired up and cooking delicious awesomeness. I noticed two new converts perusing the methods of our resident masters; Jeff, Mike, Tal, Chris M, anyone else. I think Marc gave it a go. And now Mark and Chris Taylor are hooked and will be back next year, probably with a few pounds more travel weight and a dollar or two poorer, but cooking with the big boys.

For clarity, Christian named our three Chris's; short hair, long hair, and no hair, the three Chris's.

A bit of this and that:
Flags, food, pulled pork, sausage and veggies, heat, breezes, coffee on the porch, community, Branson, fleet Michael, big cabin, skinny Mark, Mike alone with the one and only responsibility -- to fish, Julia walking, biking -- carefully, Tal scare, he has a heart and a brain, short timers disease, don't screw up Jeff's Costa Rican vacation, helping hands; Chris, Jackson, Taylor had Jean's car unloaded in the time it took me to sit down at the fire ring, cookies, Jane fell, Chibi runs, Apollo weighs five pounds, No hair Chris cut himself with a knife, Mike banged his head on the cabin trying to get the shot, correction getting the shot, Clark had walking pneumonia and couldn't come, Jeff plays with or without family there, tent city Taylor style, no one and I do mean NO ONE can eat more junk food than Branson.

Speaking of Branson, when I arrived he said, "ooh, goo." I asked Summer what is he trying to say? She shrugged her shoulders and said, "ooh, goo." By the time reunion was over I was pretty proficient in Branson Speak, but Christian had the hug. Don't tell Christian but Ian received a hug also.

When Maddie was lamenting she didn't have a t shirt, Christian asked her; Did you order one? "Noooo" Did you pay for one? "Noooooooo."

Christian swears he went to The Taylor Family Reunion and food just kept appearing as if by magic. I'm sorry it didn't work for Maddie and a t shirt.

It was a great big fat do nothing reunion. Everyone came and nothing happened. Michael likes math. Jean is amazing; she cooks, walks pain free, picks up, drives, delivers, plans, helps, accepts help, is the matriarch, keeps the coffee flowing, and loves us all.

Well, Roger ran. Jackson has a goal of going the twelve mile distance to Braggs and back with Roger. Next year Jackson, next year.

A bit about Michael:
Besides being nine years old, nature's most perfect human being age, I told Michael he was going to rich and famous some day so he needed to learn how to be interviewed, He told me, "I don't know about being famous, but I'm sure going to be rich."

Favorite color -- yellow, subject -- math, flavor -- chocolate, wants to become rich working for and/or at The Ford Plant, likes cats because they are fuzzy, soft, and cuddly, everything is awesome especially family, he likes his Aunt Jan, discovered at the showers that girls get the hot water, boys get the cold. there were two levels; cold and colder, you Google to learn about stuff, you Youtube to learn how to do stuff, likes muscle cars.

Then I listened to a lot of talk about cars, trucks, suspension, and retained very little. This is just about the time Michael heard the magic word, mechanic. He raised his smart head, looked around and asked "Who's a mechanic?" Quotable quote; "Christian is my kind of guy.

A bit about Taylor:
What does your mom worry about you?
She doesn't worry she just wants me to be happy.

Other quotable quotes:
"Dance, monkey, dance." Branson to his staff.
"I can't help with that chore, I'm feeling dizzy."
"I'm not talking politics on this trip."
"There is loveliness in the world and you are part of it."
"It's nice to be important, but it is more important to be nice."
"Did you bring fruit salad?" Seventeen times, at least, to Karolyn.

"Jan, tell Mary this is the kind of book I delight in. I now think of her as a sister. Please remember to invite me to all family get togethers at Flathead Lake."

Greenleaf State Park office check out lady; 
"I came in early to get all this paperwork done before you all started checking out. This year was hard, really hard." Maybe we owe her a treat or a least a place of honor on the flag line.

We had success and failures:
Flag line super success
Pink Flamingos super failure

Jean's Speech:
2016 reunion will be October 9 - 16, 2016. The second week not the third.
Thank you Jeff for maintaining the fire, camp chairs, and family circle.
Thank you Jeff, Julia and Tal for all the paper/eating utensils.
Made clean up a breeze.
Thank you Jerry, Jane and the Marc Taylor family for all the firewood.
Thank you Mark and Amber for all the t-shirt work; the design, execution, sorting, delivering and exchanging. They were great.
Thank you new family and friends for joining:
Kenny, Chibi, Ed, and Chris and Isabell Taylor.
Welcome Jan's three sons. First time all three were here at the same time.
Jan had the most children attend. Hee Hee.
Congratulations to Nora and Chris Miller on their upcoming nuptials.
That would be short hair Chris.
Thank you Mike for always taking such stunning photographs.
You always make us look good.
Christian then thanked everyone for making him feel like he had never been away.

And I might add, Thank you Jean for being the most awesome matriarch.

And a reminder, Chris, no hair Chris, has started a countdown clock.
Please post it occasionally on FB Chris.

Intense campers unite the count down has begun from one mighty fine time to the next mighty fine time. Counting down, counting down.
See you at Greenleaf.

A bit about aging:
Anything I have two of, one of them hurts.

Best son's dinner ever.

Pack Up the Babies...

Pack up the babies and grab the old ladies The Taylor's are having a party. The sit around a campfire and food and fellowship kind of party, I'm bringing flags and pink flamingos. What about you?

Besides going to Greenleaf joy, I don't have to cook for next weeks work lunches, more joy. I don't have to commute, pay downtown parking, hike up the hill, heck, I don't have to work next week. I'll play, jabber, watch Autumn play in the trees, sit under the trees, look at the lake, the sky, the clouds, the dogs, the kids playing, growing, see the smiles, the fishermen, the biscuits come out of the oven. I'll be real busy.

Family, just what the doctor ordered when you are feeling down and troubled. Does anyone else have cataracts? Who knows anything about cataract surgery? I told my doctor my glasses sucked, he told me, "It isn't your glasses." How can one body have so much fall apart? My trick knee is tricked out! Curses! An artificial lenses? I don't know. Guess it is better than going blind.

I think I have plucked my last two tomatoes from my tomato farm. Had one for dinner last night with Roger and The Connorman, who are coming to Greenleaf, and it was delicious.

I have an idea for a Taylor Family Flag -- I'm still working on it. Roger went to four stores, Ian went to four stores -- a Washington State flag just wasn't to be found. Amazon here I come.

Did I mention all my family will be there? All three sons and one fine specimen of a grandson. For now; Connor is busy being busy, Roger is running, Ian is socializing, who knows what Christian is up to, but by next Wednesday they will all be at the lake. Cabin 5 I think.

Janice will be absent, Kathy might not make it, it depends on a certain new grandson's arrival. Has anyone heard from Verla? Kenny will be there, Summer will be there, Chris will, Jean will, I will. Hey, Summer, is Ed coming?

Big G Gathering? Greenleaf? Clan Gathering? Gathering of the Tribes? Family Reunion? Happy family reunion? Does it get any better than that?

People often look at me funny, and back away, when I mention how happy I am to be going to a family reunion. "Oh, that's nice," they say in a bored, backing-up, oh well, I can't believe it voice. It's not like it's Las Vegas, it's not Europe, those destinations would be okay and worthy, but a family reunion? Get real.

Don't people like families?

Don't people like their families?

I have two new turtles, one from Hawaii and one from Mexico. God I love friends. I've had a pedicure, I'm not getting a haircut, Netflix is tucked away for the next two weeks. I'm in full preparation mode. I have a small family heirloom for Summer. Is she already there? Is Jeff? I think Jerry and Jane have or will be arriving momentarily.

Don't people like their families? Our family is messy, like other families. Liberal to conservative, like others. Fat/thin, tall/short, rich/poor, reader/gammer, married/single, biker/jogger, those who sit at the fishing dock/those who sit at the campfire, you know, like other families -- messy. But somehow we don't' ask each other to be perfect, to be like us, we only ask each other to be family. What is not to like with young Branson, biking Michael, geeky Connor, chatty Cathy?

I've been thinking of mother and how her big old fat arms embraced everyone, all her family. Black, brown, red, or white her arms knew no boundaries. Her spirit is imbued in our everyday lives and most especially at family reunions. Her spirit scooped up Tal and Jane and all the other errant spouses the rest of us had for a while. She loved food, camping, get togethers, parties -- family. She was "game on" for just about any experience. She would go to a mountain top or the middle of the desert and find joy, beauty, have a wonderful experience. She loved us all with or without bad hair days, with children with drippy noses and beyond. Like I said, no boundaries.

I see a bit of Mother shine in everyone. Everyone who loves, who jokes, who's ornery, who's intelligent, sassy, game, accepting, cooking, rocking or holding a baby, hugging, laughing, sighing crying, going into jail or coming out, even run-a-way teenagers. Sigh, how did I ever survive. Mother wrapped us up in her big ole' non-discriminatory arms.

Julia and I were talking about Mother recently and I wondered if the younger kiddos know what a wonderful, wacky, silly, intelligent individual they are descended from. We don't have to keep her spirit alive, it is alive and well and living in her progeny. Lucky us.

How do folks get along without families? Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, a special cousin or two, how do families get along without gathering at Greenleaf, or its facsimile? A family blooms from a mother and a father. A family supports and loves and cherishes each individual through sorrow and joy. How can you go through life not sharing joy and sorrow? Mother loved her children, we love our children, and our children love theirs. A legacy of love.

I wanted to write more academically about families; scientific definition, affects and effects, studies done, conclusions drawn, but I failed miserably, all that love just kept oozing out. Families -- there's the good dog, the bad dog, and all the dogs in between. To quote a famous author, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," and family was there.

To quote a famous brother,"See you at Greenleaf." Now only hours away.

Those missing will be missed.

Big G Gathering, Family Flag Line, Family

The Big G gathering is about to commence. 

As we prepare to come together to celebrate family, well, not exactly celebrate, more experience. Yes, experience family, our hearts are lifted in joyful anticipation, and Jeff has captured the perfect way to symbolize that. A flag line.

A flag line that excludes no aspect of our family, from Marines to rainbow your flag is welcomed, as are you. Political - team Bernie, religious - Christian, affiliation - Girl Scouts, sport - I don't dare, hobby - what ever it may be. Signs we are all alive, active, participating, thinking, feeling humans.

We have survived no scourge, no racial cleansing, we've had no barriers put up to impede our progress through life. We have moved freely and easily from state to state, marital or geographical. Our intellectual ideas can be cleanly and clearly followed, affiliated with any ideal we chose. We don't have to risk our life to follow Christ or be born gay.

No one will be beheaded at this clan gathering, no one will be knighted or risen in stature. Our life passages are the human ones; marriage, babies, deaths. Human beings living human lives with a hundred divergent flags floating about our heads.

For years we have made this pilgrimage. Many years stand out as special just as some years are lost in the mist of time past. This year will be special for me because for the first time my whole family will be there. Three sons and a grandson. No grand processional parade will ensue, no feasts, festivities or games will honor their appearance, but it makes my heart soar as high as Jeff's Flag Line. What a comfortable sweet spot I will inhabit. No cloud on the horizon except one I would put there. Like I said, no cloud on the horizon.

I am passionate about family, from the Taylor Clan to the family of man. I feel passionate about Jeff's Flag Line. The point isn't the division, the point is the acceptance of diversity. Humans in all their glory, messy diversity.

I took a piece of material to Connor so he could design a flag for the flag line. He worked hard and diligently and drew a beautiful flag (I'm not sure he even understood the concept of a flag line) but he labored over the task. When he was done there was some space still available at the bottom of his flag, I said you can draw something colorful here. He looked at me with shocked disbelief and told me, forcefully, that that space was for his research materials. Research materials. What do they teach in the first grade now?

No, we aren't special, or as I once said about my beloved grandson, "In the history of the world he isn't even in the top ten." yet here we are stretching from some ancient ectoplasm type goo or star stuff all the way to Jeff in an unbroken line of lives, of survivors. To Jeff and beyond to a gaggle of grandsons and gals. Jeff who dreamed up and is executing a flag line from the most distant to now in some kind of congenial human prayer.

God I love family, and soon we will be breaking bread under the Big G Gathering Family Flag Line.

Peaceful, Beautiful, Spiritual

On my first morning at Flathead I had a moving experience. I felt a deep connection to all my loved ones who have gone on before me; Mother, James, Lonnie, Little Lonnie, Mr and Mrs Carrillo, all people I loved but who had no connection what so ever to Flathead Lake. Jerry looked out over the lake and said, "When you are in a peaceful beautiful spot, you can't help but be spiritual." Among all the other things it was, it was profoundly spiritual.

Like Greenleaf, as Jerry said, there were the trees, the lake, and the human beings enjoying themselves. Flathead and Greenleaf a common experience to diverse families.

Jerry and Jane drove me to Flathead Lake and spent the night on their 50th wedding anniversary before continuing their travels the following day, leaving the Gimpy Gang without them. As the book club retreat unfolded we kept going back to wondering where Jerry and Jane had got to. Did they make in into Glacier National Park? Were they home yet? We are a curious lot.

Claire, Mary, Lynn and myself, the gimpy gang, were the original charter members of book club. We barely made a whole healthy person among us. Lynn and Mary limped with bad hips and knees, Claire and I wheezed with bad lungs, but it didn't stop us. Talking or not, eating or not, reading or not, traveling or not, picnicking or not, boating or not, settled in or not, we scattered and came together like fall leaves whirling in the breeze. We always had time for a nap. A perfect book club retreat.

How terribly strange to be seventy (or nearing), book club members for 16 years, charter members, quietly sharing space, time, memories in such a stunningly beautiful location. We cooked in the kitchen with a view of the lake, smoked on the deck with a view of the lake, rocked in the living room with a view of the lake, slept in the bedroom with a view of the lake, read in the easy chairs with a view of the lake, did laundry in the laundry room with a view of the lake. Did I mention there was a view of the lake? The biggest purest lake west of the Mississippi, twenty-six miles long, fifteen miles wide, a big, big lake. Mary and Jerry are the only ones who ventured down the steep hill for a private lakeside moment.

Rain? There was an abundance. One morning it wasn't actually rain at the morning smoke bench, it was water sprinklers that had me fooled, when I went around back to the deck, the deck was dry as a bone. There were Tamarack trees, Mission Mountains, Swan Mountains, yaks, sunshine, a missed boat ride and a successful boat ride, drives into town to Walmart, and to the end of the lake for dinner. Lynn found a vest she wanted to purchase at a local gift shop that was marked free with twenty dollar purchase. Yes she found something to buy, then Mary went back in and got one for herself.

Claire said we could have ten book club meetings and not have as varied conversations as we did on this trip. Lynn cooked creatively. Mary and I reminisced thoroughly our childhoods, and our different lake experiences. Claire asked the questions like a good Claire would. She has always been our question asker.

Claire said she knew Julia and Jean were good conversationalists, and now knows Jerry to be one also. As silly as it may seem one of the things Lynn and I loved about the lake house was the abundance of plates. An endless streaming supply spilling out of the cupboards. Plates and chairs. Chairs across the back deck, around the picnic table, at the dock, around the dining room table. There was room at the table for everyone, no one would have to sit balanced on a ledge somewhere.

Sandy missed the lake experience, she missed the Dragon Boat races, we missed her, but Mary found her some Dragon Boat news in the local paper. I don't want to relive my tumble off the picnic table, nuff said about that.

Family photographs filled the house top to bottom from one end to the other. You could feel the years of family fun and activities that imbued the house with spirit and love. Children growing up, old ones passing away. The life that ebbs and flows like the shoreline of the lake, sometimes crashing like an tsunami other times peaceful as a dove.

Susan Carstensen provided us with so much more when she gifted us a week at the lake house. It all added up to more than food, fellowship, laughter, and a few tears. It added up to an experience of profound depth; as elusive as love, as grandly magnificent as the stars. An experience that cannot be weighed or measured by human standards. I think I got to know Susan a little bit on this trip. Her house is organized enough for Julia, pots and pans enough for Jean, historical enough for Jerry, I know Susan loves heart shaped rocks, cuddly throws, clean sheets, and sharing with her family. I know she loves her family.

She had a quote displayed by Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce that I found meaningful: "Let me be a free man, free to travel, free to stop, free to work, free to trade where I choose, free to choose my own teachers, free to follow the religion of my fathers, free to talk, think and act for myself -- and I will obey every law or submit to the penalty."

Thank you Susan and family who provided the rocking chairs, bear locked trash cans, books, beds, smoking sections, and plates. I'll never forget the plates, somehow metaphorical for abundance, sharing, family, food and fellowship. Somehow metaphorical for love. You made Mary all warm fuzzy and teary.


Asides to the trip:
I fell in love with the Columbia Plateau.
I saw more camouflage clothing in those five days than I think I have seen in my lifetime; Jackets, shoes, sweaters, purses, and sundry other articles. Not to mention boats, trucks and motorcycles.
It has been a long time since I did a three state road trip. I remember Arkansas, Missouri and Kansas on one food fest drive.
I still haven't looked at a map to see how the Missouri River flows.
I remember camping at Greenleaf when Ian was a baby and cranky and asleep. James and Linda were making campfire cherry turnovers, everyone was laughing too loud. I kept telling everyone "hush, don't wake up Ian." But Jeff told a joke that made everyone laugh loud enough to wake up our side of the lake, yes, he remembers the joke. Ask him.
I love those memories, that laughter, that fellowship.
That was the year Jean made all the apple pies, the year the older newly wed gentleman kept digging bottles out of the trash, washing them then filling them with wildflower arrangements. One for every table, camp, group. I love those memories.

And now Susan's book club retreat, lake house memory, is mine. I love those memories.

Blessings be with Jane and her family as they continue to watch over Joe.
Love to all.

On the Road, On the Move

On the road with -- EVERYBODY!

Tal, Julia, Chris and Nora went to Osage Hills. I saw one picture on Facebook but never heard another word. Anybody know how that excursion went? They never tell me anything.

Jeff rolls with his mighty grandsons. Always. Along with smiling boys; bikes and parks are usually included. Jeff always posts pictures on FB, bless you Jeff, you are everybody's favorite.

Connor rolled into first grade after rolling home from his legendary trip to Legoland.

Roger and Connor did the Southern California loop with lots of family and food. I think Connor was a wee bit spoiled. They stopped over for a visit with Art and Janice, but didn't make it to the beach.

Janice said her and Art's about-town travels have been hampered by the miserable heat. Tropical winds, drifts, somethings, have rolled in that bring far to much humidity. The kind of humidity that means you can breathe eight glasses of water a day. Too hot even for dog walks. I know, I know, I can't believe it either.

Ian rolled down to Arizona for a buying trip. I asked him if he had checked how hot it would be in Tucson. He had; 100 plus degrees. So don't whine Janice. Never mind, you can whine all you want. This is a case of air conditioning versus no air conditioning. Before the advent of my air conditioner I was a master whiner.

Jean gets released to roll independently today, a driver will no longer be needed or required. She also said she is rolling around her home sans cane, and she walked the entire grocery store sans cane just depending on the shopping cart. I told her don't get cocky.

I assume Marc is still rolling around in his science lab.

All the kiddo's big and small went back to school.

Christian didn't go anywhere because he was curled up with a bad back. The bane of the Taylor men. He said it only hurt when he moved.

And all you others? Brittany, Summer, Claire? Where have you been rolling?

Jerry and Jane are rolling up the highway, next stop Mukilteo, soon, today, after lunch. Actually they have been rolling EVERYWHERE. What I know of for sure is New Mexico, Arizona, California, Oregon, and now Washington. I will get the complete scoop - soon.

Monday Jan will be on the road to Flathead Lake in Montana. With friends and family. This is for a trip that has been a long time coming. Mary has invited me to the lake house for years, Years, and I could never go, usually due to not enough accrued vacation time to go to Montana and then Oklahoma for reunion.

The one year I said Mary, I have enough time to go to Flathead with you, she said, Oh, you can't this year we are having a big reunion. Like I said, this trip has been a long time coming. I can not express how excited I am. I'm barely squeaking by with the vacation time, but I'm not missing out again, and I'm not saving any time to go to Costa Rica like some folks I know.

In a perfect world we are all different. On the road with rainbows and smiles to many destinations and experiences. Look for my toes, on the deck, at the lake, watching a sunset, smiling.

My old toes. I can't believe how old I have become. Old fart that I am I listen to old music with old ears. Climb old hills with old knees. Old habits, old sleep patterns, old books, old dust, old complaints, and old dreams coming true. Ain't life grand.

In a perfect world we are all different. Our differences amaze and entertain me. Besides the obvious of short/tall, fat/thin, it is the amazing diversity of everything else. Jobs, loves, pets, Judy and her martial arts, Ian and Brittany Spears, Hannah and her, well, her everything. Her smile, her boyfriend, her job/jobs, her puppy, her spunk, her enthusiasm, her hair. I used to tell Christian he had hair that could eat Chicago, I think Hannah's hair could eat Illinois with out a burp.

Rolling down the road of life I have lived many places; from San Diego CA, to Rochester NY. I've lived in the mountains, the dessert, at the ocean, and all of them have been beautiful, special, spectacular, and the people so very diverse. One of the biggest blessings of my life is learning to live with, appreciate, and accept human diversity. I never had the opportunity to travel world wide, but I imagine it would have exponentially been even more breathtaking to observe other cultures.

In a perfect world we are all different and all belong to the family of man -- Mexican or Syrian.

The world is so wide and I am so small.

Heart to Heart

"When you are down and troubled and need a helping hand...."

"An early morning disease of fatigue,"
"Cement of the soul."
"I am an agnostic respecter of religions."

Quotes from Americanah that rested heavy on me by, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

I'm feeling the dissent among fellow human beings -- powerfully. The laws of fear that engulf our better selves. The disdain or disregard of the out-of-the-box, not usual, or not common persons who live here or nearby.

I see the disconnect via every news feed. The hatred despairs me. From simple disconnects to the deeply divisive.

My heart aches. I try to offer no judgement, no exclusions, no hatred. No baggy pants wars, no town clerk wars, no abortion wars, no race wars, no police wars, no religion wars, no immigration wars, no oil wars, no war wars. It aches for people without roosts to rest upon to live a life without fear. It aches for people without a common bond of humanity. I want people to disagree without feeding hate. Dreamer?

In the tribe of my dreams the aged would be taken care of, the stranger welcomed and fed. There would be wise leaders, gifted healers, gardeners, builders, thinkers, dreamers. There would be the ones who travel outside themselves, the ones who peer deep into mysteries, seeing more, feeling more. There would be scribes, artists, the one who can husband resources, the one who entertains and makes us laugh.

Soft rains, warm sun, enough food to feed upon, sons to love, sheltering home, books to read, eyes to roam, time to play, friends to share, and family members always there.

Bands, tribes, clans coming together as one. I'm ready for reunion.

Family in all its discordant color, in all its unity. Breathing the beauty of children at play, sunsets over the water, bacon cooking in cast iron, the old folks getting older. Taylor reciting something from a play, Michael going faster than everyone, Jean sitting quietly, Jeff lending a hand, Janice leaning on Art, Jan's three sons.

Chatting heart to heart; what has everyone been up to, how is Jane's brother, is anyone going to Hawaii this year, road trips, home stays, cruises and healing. Familiar faces and new -- all of us belonging to this family and the family of man. One big happy clan.

Take the long road home, or to quote Nike, "There is no finish line."

Trouble, or Not

"The trouble with trouble is it always starts out as fun" Wisdom from the local pizza parlor marquee.

"Getting older is its own beauty" Dalai Lama

I was gifted, from somewhere, a fascinating Facebook post about a Master Penman. If you haven't watched it, go back on my timeline, find it, and watch it. I can't remember seeing such a perfect example of a true art form. I can scribble, sketch, daub paint, and color, but this young man took years, years to perfect his art. Years of study, practice, and failure to achieve near perfection. I believe that his is truly an art form, much more so than the people who can throw color on a canvas, after all monkeys can paint.

This made me ponder how lackadaisical my approach to art has been. How lackadaisical my approach to life has been. When did I ever take the time, patience, passion, love, or trouble to master anything? Art, cooking, gardening, no scholarly study, no precision in home care, hair care, woodworking, or nature? The trouble with passion is it takes care, time, patience, love and yes, trouble to master.

"Jack of all trades, master of none" comes to mind. This is what I have always claimed for myself. My passion was; looking, listening, playing at as many interesting endeavors and in as many interesting ways as I possibly could. To say yes to one thing means saying no to all the other fascinating options. Or to put it another way, "You can do anything you want to do, but you can't do everything."

Anyway, I looked up "Jack of all trades..." and found the rest of the quote: "Jack of all trades, master of none, though ofttimes better than master of one." I am not sure I agree with the rest of the quote wholeheartedly, but it was comforting. The information went on to talk about the person who does have an interest in many areas is called a polymath. "A Jack of all trades may also be a master of integration, as the individual knows enough from many learned trades and skills to be able to bring their disciplines together in a practical manor. Such a person is known as a polymath or a Renaissance man." excuse me, and or woman.

Hum, I'm feeling better and better about my skill sets until the article mentioned Leanardo daVinci as the typical example. Nope -- not me, absolutely NOT me. I'm no daVinci, Einstein, or for that matter Hitler. Too much trouble.

I'm just an old lady who likes a little bit of lots and lots of stuff. I'm not "goofy" enough to be passionate, to quote Jeff's famous line "Passionate people are goofy." I'll leave all the trouble of mastering anything to others, Bronc riding, sky diving, submarine designer, mountain climber can be left to others. I have enough trouble in my life right now.

Fast tracking refinancing the condo, Dr appointments to get skin cancer removed, getting the dryer repaired is all the trouble I want right now. All the trouble I am capable of handling. I went to the dark-side, right to the edge of the Jan universe, attempting to handle all this trouble.

The refinancing of my condo had me coming apart at the seams. Ian, nervously, took over, bless him, all the scanning, electronic signing, attaching. The only thing I actually knew how to do was the emailing. Woe is me. Gathering documents, scanning, signing, researching everything to present to the mortgage company is almost more trouble than it's worth. Almost, I said almost. Bank statements and pay-stubs were easy, finding the policy number for the fire insurance on the condominium complex made me old.

The trouble with me and all my fascinating dabbling is it never included technology. I chastise myself, harshly, because of my technological difficulties, but not enough to go to the trouble of changing it. Ian wants to buy me a better phone, an iPhone, yeah that will be a great boon to confirm my ignorance. I almost don't know what-the-hell it is let alone how-to-use-it. Claire told me phone companies have classes for old ladies, God I hope so. I can do classes they are no trouble at all.

Dr Jack, the dermatologist, was no trouble at all either, he was a blooming miracle. I had an 8:45 AM appointment and I was walking out the door by 9:00. My face was burnt all to heck with frost bite loveliness, but cancer free. And only one more appointment instead of seven. Miracle!

Another thing that doesn't trouble me is I don't yearn so much anymore. Refer back to the Dalai Lama quote. I don't yearn for travel. Places like Nova Scotia no longer calls my name, it feels like too much trouble. I don't yearn for adventure, perfect health. I don't yearn for romance. I'll take my love, fairy tale and otherwise, in the form of grandson, sons, family, friends. What a relief.

Friends are worth any trouble it takes with the blessing that they are no trouble at all. Growing older with friends is like Paul Simon says "Can you imagine us years from today? Sharing a park bench quietly. How terribly strange to be seventy." Being seventy is no trouble at all.

Being bombarded with art, love, creativity, and beauty crowds out negativity. "The world is full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings."  Robert Louis Stevenson. Wondrous.

And that reminded me of another RLS poem -- "I have a little shadow." What fun dabbling is, everything from pizza parlors to the Dalai Lama, including iPhones -- I think.

We are all our very own "play station." That is what I call Connor's three activity shelves in my almost refinanced living room. And I do believe from the bottom of my heart in the art form of everything. Everything from baking bread to circumnavigating the Earth, or the Universe, or a your own back yard. Art has many forms and colors. Pruning a tree or navigating to Pluto, I can't do either one.

I am quite content with the story of my life. It has been trouble and no trouble in the appropriate degrees.

Have a trouble free day, no, on second thought have a wondrous day with or without trouble.

Weekends! Well, My Weekend anyway.

I told a friend at work what my days off looked like. My weekend would be Dr appointments, dryer repair, Connor playdate, condo refinance, movies and books. She said, "Well, at least you should do something fun!"

A different friend said, "Self care, family love, and home healing. What a great weekend!"

Friends? Is there anything finer?

Family? Is there anything sweeter?

Home? Is there anyplace safer, where we feel more comfortable?

Entertainment? Books and movies aren't for everyone, I get that.

Love? Is there anything more sustaining?

I've been missing my family and friends. Its been a tad bit lonely around here. For all my love of solitude, its been a tad bit quiet. No Verla and Earl dropping by, or anybody else for that matter. I guess I was spoiled with visits from Jean and Julia. 

~ But ~

My trip to Flathead Lake for a book club retreat is almost here. September 14th to be exact.

Jerry and Jane have given me a big fat maybe for a driving trip to Washington in September.

Greenleaf is in October. Yes Jeff, I'll see you at Greenleaf.

Kathy Noland retires the last of December and is planning a trip to see me for the month of January.

Even Brittany was showing her Grandmother good airfare deals to travel to Seattle after the first of the year.
I love the way that girl thinks.

I'll have a long visit with Lynn today.

A short visit with Mary tomorrow.

A phone visit with Claire every Wednesday. It's official now.

~ And ~

Book club is coming. Small but sweet. It's been a long time since we all congregated. I am so looking forward to that, although I haven't read the book yet.

I love the fact that my family and friends care enough to come see me even with all my cobwebs and dust.

Except for Ian. I was trying to plan a sons dinner for his birthday August 16th. He will be busy, thank you very much. Well, how about August 23rd or this Sunday the 9th? He will think about it and let me know.

In the past year I've had to replace my coffee pot, microwave, computer, car tires, couch lamp, bedroom ceiling fan, and the air purifier (for my incessant smoking). The screen door and tub surround are still in desperate need of repair, they are on my wish list but will just have to wait. I mentioned to Ian, in passing, that we have lived here for ten years without any major repairs, and the time was coming when appliances would need replacing. Then the dryer broke. Now, Ian is mad at me for bringing bad karma into our life. I should of just kept my mouth shut, thank you very much.
God, I love Ian. 

I picked Connor up at daycare and said "Why don't we go by the grocery store and buy stuff to make dinner for dad."
He said, "I want you to buy me some Lego's." 

We didn't do either.

We went to the apartment where he had me drawing his backpack, coloring his guitar picture, cutting out rockets, admiring his swim goggles, helping him put together his Spiderman puzzle, and explaining, in detail, what came out of the round holes on the back of cars, exhaust, and Dad made dinner; meatball sandwiches and kale and brussel sprout salad, thank you very much.
God, I love them, son and man.

Roger and Connor are going to California to visit family and Legoland later this month. I'll just bet he has some new Lego's in his future, Thank you very much. 

A tomato plant update; 22 tomatoes not ripe yet and the temperature in Seattle falling to the low 70's. 

No fun movies or good books to report.

After writing my last blog on the "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle" and all my second hand stuff, I looked around amazed at how much second hand stuff I actually had. Besides cobwebs, I don't know where they came from. I have a bed frame that Jerry made for either Mark or Amber when they lived on Drexel. Marc might have been six years old. How long ago was that? I have a dresser that I pulled out of Roger's Aunt Sarah's garage in 1971, Roger's old TV, Carol's old couch, Claire's old rocking chair, Amber's old end table, Dad's old lamp base, Lynn's old end table, Junior Carrillo's old bookshelf he made in high school wood working class probably around 1969, and my theater chairs salvaged from The Rising Star Baptist Church. Plus crates, cotton, boxes, shelves from the barn, shelves from The Model T... I finally just quit looking around.

Tomorrow I go get my cancerous nose looked at. Today it is time to go test my blood and then wait for the dryer repairman. My "appointment" is be available from 9 AM until 1 PM, after that Lynn and I are free to go play. After all it is MY weekend.

And my friend who said, "Well, at least you should do something fun." She was also just looking out for me. 

God I love friends, thank you very much.

Boys, Birthdays, and Love

Boys, boys, boys.

"Connor I want to draw your picture."
"Okay, but I won't sit still."

"Connor come give me a kiss."
"I don't want to come give you a kiss. You may kiss me though." So I did, seventeen times.

When Mark Harris tells you he is "time traveling" into the future to wish you a happy birthday, don't believe him. He was late...

My spectacular tomato plant now has fourteen nubbins, still nothing red and ripening. Maybe the next two weeks of 90 degree weather will give it a boost. I can't tell you how tall that blooming plant is, well, yes I can, it is taller than me, and I think it has a drinking problem. Its thirst is insatiable. Of course it is planted in a grocery sack, my version of a container garden. If I were smarter I would have planted it in a true planter, a ceramic or wooden one that you can buy at any outdoor store, but no, I have to make do with my Dansko reusable grocery bag. It is cute as can be, but just a tad low class.

I am a low class sort of make-do can-do personality type. Use what I have is my belief, and if I don't have it I will take someone's cast offs. I look around my condo and nearly all of it is Reduce, Reuse, Recyle. That is partly belief, partly finances, partly genetics. Mom was an expert at making do with what she had. God I love that.

My friend Mary philosophized on the observation that peoples outer personalities are a reflection of their interior selves. Woe is me if that is true. My exterior is filled with stuff, interesting stuff, lots and lots and lots of interesting stuff. Connor is convinced the horse skull sitting on my book shelf is actually a dinosaur skull. I scored on that one, not every granny has a dinosaur skull.

See, scary stuff if that dinosaur skull is a reflection on my interior personality. Or the smashed burnt trombone, or the twenty year old dried Maple leaves, I love my Maple leaves. Or the coffee table made out of stacked books, the thirty to forty year old hot wheels, jars for moonlight and peace I bought when Christian was three years old. I love my stuff, but don't like to think about what it portends of my interior. I'm thinking I'm pretty low class.

Speaking of low class, I had my birthday dinner at the locally famous Ezell's Fried Chicken. I thanked the boys for joining me in a slumming kind of birthday dinner, and Christian said, hey this is a step up, it isn't Ramen Noodles. I love boys.

Ezell's was the closest thing to Southern slumming as I could get and it was fantastically satisfying. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, hot rolls, and fried okra to die for. Now that Ezell's is selling fried okra I have a go-to okra place when that Southern yearn hits me hard. The okra didn't have a cornmeal breading like Mom used to make, (can anything be like Mom used to make) but it was very light and delicious. Okra that tasted almost like okra from a garden.

My tomato garden is still trying.

I have such a tiny life the the BIG events are my tomato plant and an air conditioner. The air conditioner my three sons bought for me for my birthday. I knew I could love inanimate objects, but I didn't know how much. I run that thing until I am freezing. Freezing bliss. And Seattle is expecting another one to two weeks of 89 degree weather, maybe even up to 94 degrees. I'll think about the electric bill tomorrow.

Did everyone see that moon last night? That Blue Moon? Full Blue Moon isn't until Friday night, but last night was pretty spectacular. I have always been fascinated by the moon. I learned late in life that Neomia was somehow Greek for new moon. How did Mom know?

And shadows: I have been, and continue to be, absolutely fascinated by shadows. There is no meaning, no direction, no manifestation, no projection. It just is. I am fascinated by the fact that shadows don't always tell the truth. Straight sticks can make a circle shadow, circles can make a boxy shadow. Was it Socrates, Plato or Aristotle who used the shadow-in-a-cave as a metaphor for man's understanding of reality? Reality that isn't really the real reality.

Metaphor? Don't know, but I would like to turn that fascination into passion. How does one do that? How does amazing turn into inspirational turn into creativity? Fascinating. And also makes me head hurt.

"It's in the detail, passion is in the detail" according to Richard Saul Wurman. I love TED and the passion and detail it brings into my life whether I agree or not.


On a sad note; Christian's little dog, Tiki, died. Christian swears it waited for him to come home. He said he came home and Tiki jumped in his lap for cuddling (not a cuddling dog) and then lay on the floor and died.

When Christian got Tiki he said, It's not the dog I would have picked, but she needed a home and I needed a companion.

When he was sharing the news he said he figured Tiki lived half of her life.

I love Christian and I love how he loved his dog. She will be missed, any life force is missed when it is gone, but this was Christian's Tiki. I share his grief so deeply. Love your children and you can't help but share their grief.

I guess I was feeling a little down and was searching for comfort meatloaf, yes I made some, and comfort fried chicken, and comfort okra, and comfortable temperatures.

It all happened. The comfort of boys, birthdays, and love.

A Funny Thing Happened

I watched three depressing documentaries:

The Pruett-Igoe Myth
The Salt of the Earth
The Pervert's Guide to Ideology

Don't watch them! They were good, interesting, informative, different, thought provoking, eye-opening, and many other things, but scary and depressing. Social commentaries all; Man's inhumanity to man, social experiments that failed, man's ability to rationalize the truth into something else.

I've just spent weeks with depressing Facebook posts, not enough of Judy singing Happy Birthday Papa and too much I hate Obama, save the confederate flag, save the rainbow flag, who is a hero and who isn't, who is or isn't baking a frigging cake, who can and can't get birth control, is the world warming or not, my rights were violated, murder, mayhem, man's inhumanity to man, social experiments of dubious outcome. Not enough Dalai Lama and shining light in the world.

I want some meatloaf, my meatloaf, my homemade meatloaf.
My comforting meatloaf with green beans and mashed potatoes.

I want more love.

Like Roger saying he is going to help Christian move.
WHAT? Christian's moving?
Mom, didn't you know Christian has a new job?
No!
I'm helping him move his tool chest.
Oh, the things mother's don't know.
Hum, is that more love?

Like Jean saying Jerry is planning a September trip to Seattle.
WHAT?
Hasn't Jerry told you?
No!
Oh, the things sister's don't know.

Bring me some comforting coffee, a comforting movie, a comforting book, a smile or two

Jeff's getting old. Oh, say is ain't so. Jean losing a part of herself. My tomato plant growing taller than me, NO tomatoes, but a beautiful plant. Book club morphing. Claire getting settled in Minnesota. Ian being gone and I've had to do all those hum-drum chores myself. Carry out the trash, carry in the groceries, check the mail. Not bad news, but a little dis-settling. Discombobulating as it were.

And my dust that never, never, never goes away. Although I suppose it would if I dusted it. I can dream about that.

"We are not responsible for our dreams they come from some unfathomable depth and we can do nothing about it." The Pervert's Guide to Ideology.

I think it is funny that love might be where we plant our eyes. Is that denial?
I think it is funny that comforting might be what ever is available. Is that rationalization?
I think it is funny that hopes and dreams come from the same unfathomable place. Is that a social commentary?

It is funny.

I want more of Connor's fascinating questions.
If a million million peices of puzzle were water would it put out a forest fire?
No, Connor it wouldn't.
Where does metal come from?
Melted rocks heated hot,hot, hot.
Melted rocks like lava?

I want Connor to continue to entertain himself with fascinating questions, and continue to entertain me. I want Jeff to continue to be as happy as he can be -- even old. Jean to walk pain free. Jerry and Jane to travel to Seattle with or without announcement. Christian to accept what is best for him. Ian to travel. Nora to get married. Julia to bird watch. Book club to morph. Boys to bike. Fireworks to whiz. Breakfasts and pedicures with friends. Judy to sing.

A funny thing happened on my way through three depressing documentaries. Mankind is the same. The world is the same. The universe is the same. I don't think you have to choose between a wounded soldier and Caitlyn Jenner. Bravery, like beauty, comes in many forms. Is Jean any less brave for undergoing extreme surgery because she isn't a wounded soldier? I think it is where you plant your eyes.

I texted Christian, it seems he received an offer he couldn't refuse. He will explain later.
Is that more love?

A funny thing happened on my way through three depressing documentaries.

I am the same.

What a Time, What a Time

Having company for weeks kept me busy. Claire and I did errands, visited Social Security more than once (did you know at SS you can't have guns, cell phones, photography, or talk to the guard), we went out to eat, a lot, survived the heat, (over two weeks of over eighty degrees), watched her car get loaded and hauled away (it still hasn't arrived in Minnesota). In the meantime my little life tasks were ignored and I had no alone time, no down time, no solitude. I need solitude.

After Claire flew away I curled up with solitude and zoned out; completely. I didn't watch a movie, read a book, go out for breakfast, lunch or dinner, think, didn't see Connor, it was too hot to nap, and I didn't do all those pesky little life maintenance tasks. I stared off into space and let my body re-configure itself back into "Jan." I need solitude.

Now, it is catch up time for all those life tasks I ignored. Nope, not done yet. Hair is shaggy, toenails need clipping, medicine not ordered. I did drag myself to the grocery store, and had a lovely breakfast with most of book club. The living room is back to being a living room. And Claire has found an interim apartment as she settles into Minnesota life.

Sometimes life is complicated. Sometimes people are complicated. Sometimes love is complicated.

Work, friends, family, forgiving, letting go. Who hasn't been conflicted, torn a little bit apart at various times, numerous times? It's complicated. Relationships with a rend in them that wasn't quite mended, not completed severed, but not quite right. Maybe not on solid ground, don't know where you stand. A bit askew. A mean grandmother. A uncompromising dad. A boss who doesn't have your back. A daughter who misbehaves.

Complicated conflicted emotions are a part of living.

"For what it's worth, it is never too late"
 I don't remember where I read that.

"I'm not suffering, I'm struggling." Movie Still Alice.

As I sit downtown and watch all the people go to and fro. I notice all the shades and sizes of people. Walking alone or in groups people do not match. Orange purses, checkered shirts, suit and tie, platform shoes, spiffy, scruffy, and all shades in between. People do not match. 

Personalities do not match. There are always slight variations, major variations. My belief in the after life has a small tilt that you don't quite agree with. My love of a movie doesn't quite fit your criteria for a good movie. My enjoyment of macaroni and cheese doesn't match yours. 

At our book club breakfast Mary had a slightly different take on this observation. Smart Mary. She observed that all of our exteriors are different. I have a horse skull in my living room, Mary has a painting of Bears, Sandy has a garden of roses. Some people have crystal or brass or multiple TVs.

Our exteriors don't match like our interiors don't match. We admire different stuff, hang onto different stuff, collect different stuff, baby different stuff, want different stuff. 

All the shades and sizes of a person. All the shades and sizes of a personality. All the shades and sizes of our environment. What's not to love?

And then I saw an advertisement for a $300.00 tire swing, $300.00 for what? A tire swing? 

Life is complicated. 

~ and ~

Today is Jean's birthday. 

I think I will have a cupcake in her honor.

And maybe some mac n'cheese.

And bless the cooler weather, only 78 today.

And rain is on its way.

Love you Jean.

Waiting, Claire, and a Movie

When Julia was here and I waited for her to hike the Marymere Falls she was concerned about the amount of time that I would be waiting. I assured her I didn't mind; I had waited for Jean at the grocery store, Jerry at light houses, Cathy shopping, and Mike and Kathy everywhere, I have no problem waiting. If you come see me I will wait for you no matter what you decide to explore. Hell, I waited nine hours for the USS Abraham Lincoln to sail out of Possession Sound -- it didn't.

I am very good at waiting. Is that a skill I can sell? I don't get mad, anxious, upset, antsy. I can wait, but I have no tenacity at all, like some people I know, to solve a problem. Have you ever seen Jean solve a tech problem, she is awesome and tenacious...very tenacious. As is Julia, Janice, Jerry, I don't know about Jeff. I know Jeff is happy, helpful, conscientious, contented, patient, especially with grand-kids, but can he wait nine hours for a ship not to sail?

Jane, Julia and I found a new quilt store, and I know of a slew of kitchen stores, you need to come so I can wait for you. Jerry, Ian took me to a new restaurant at University Village that is a test restaurant where they try new and unusual items. It was delicious and fun. I was going to try one of their "test" items until I saw their classic burger and fries walk by. I bailed on the shrimp taco and went for the classic. You will enjoy the place; Joey's Kitchen.

Speaking of Janice; I talked to her and she sounded just down right perky. Her antibiotic treatments have come to an end, the pic-line is gone, she has a physical therapist coming twice a week to help her strengthen her arms and legs for more ease getting in and out of chairs, the PT said he thought a lot of it was in Janice's mind not her legs. Janice didn't say if she agreed with that assessment or not. Art is still dressing the wound all day. He has given up golf to nurse Janice's wound. I asked him if he missed golf and said he sure didn't miss getting up at 6 AM to go play. He will go back to golf, for the exercise if nothing else, after Janice doesn't need him anymore. He told me his dad played golf until he was 85 years old. Me, I just want to walk up the stairs.

Art the name of the tomato plant in my tomato farm is Super Fantastic. It is beautiful.

Claire is staying with me until her move to Minnesota. She seems quite comfortable making her bedroom in the middle of my living room. I took her to Social Security Administration in Everett because I could not tell her how to drive there. And waited. Poor Claire was nervous about me waiting, but I explained to her just like I explained to you that waiting is not hard for me. I am a people watcher deluxe. She bought me lunch anyway. 

In response I've made her watch some of my movies, the good and the bad. We watched an Israeli Arabic film called The Attack, a very good, very powerful film about a Palestinian who made a life for himself in Israel and who finds out his wife is a suicide bomber. It is good, very thought provoking, and deep.

We also watched another film that Rotten Tomatoes only gave 67% to, yet I loved; Rudderless. I thought it was really good, Rotten Tomatoes said the subject matter was too weighty yet saved by the quality of the acting. It did get a fresh rating, just not a really high fresh rating. What I didn't know until I read the credits, yes, I always read the credits, is it was filmed on Lake Hefner, Heavenor Lake, Guthrie, the Oklahoma boat house, sorry I can't remember the official name of the Oklahoma River Boat House, anyway in and around Oklahoma City under the auspices of the Oklahoma Film Office and its incentives. Made me proud. And I thought it was a very good film, weighty, but good.

A particularly bad film was Into The Woods, with Meryl Streep of all people and loads of other fine actors. Didn't like it.

I don't think Claire has minded the mini film festival and it isn't over yet. Today Netflix is sending me Hyde Park on Hudson. She is extremely interested in politics and I think she will enjoy the political subject even though it isn't supposed to be a very good movie. Fury is also coming, a WWII story, don't know how she will feel about that one.

It's funny how Claire isn't exactly a roommate nor is she exactly a guest. What sits between? She showed me that you could do jigsaw puzzles online. Who knew? She also does crossword puzzles on line. Hey, Sandy McCarthy the name of the crossword puzzle movie I tried to remember is Wordplay, a very good documentary about The New York Times crossword puzzles, editor, writers, tournament, world champion. Really good, entertaining, funny, mind boggling. Have fun watching that. 

Yes, Claire is here for her two week mini film festival -- plus other things -- as she winds up her last details and moves to Minnesota. I will miss her. We have been through a lot in 19 years of friendship. She is planning to take the train to Flathead Lake for the book club retreat in September. I'm feeling just a touch of sadness.

I can't close the blog without mentioning Doc. That touch of sadness that that fills me with the death of Doc, the death of a cousin, that touch of sadness that flows for and towards the Milam family, that touch of sadness contemplating mortality, that touch of sadness knowing another of the cousins will die, another sibling will die. Just a touch of sadness that's all.

Doc, life.  

Cousins, life.

Movies, life. 

Family, life. 

Book club, life. 

Tomatoes, life. 

Waiting, life. 

Life, ain't it something.