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.

Happiness is Julia Watching

To be specific; Happiness is watching Julia watching birds. She spotted two new birds for her lifetime bird list. I felt like I had scored a home run. I think I was more excited than Julia.

Happiness is a bit of sons, a bit of Connor, a bit of book club, a bit of movies, a bit of Jan, a bit of drives, a bit of sitting, a bit of organ recital -- her hip my knee -- plus a few other aging complaints: ears, eyes, gait, need I go on.

Happiness is pacing myself as a concession to aging. Not going too far or hard. A Camano Island trip, and a Olympic Peninsular trip paced is a wonderful thing.

Happiness is watching Julia watch Connor show her the correct way to enter a walking trail at Mill Creek Town Center. You start at the beginning NOT in the middle of the trail, thank you very much.

Happiness is watching Connor discuss the blue dots in the hand sanitizer. "What are they for?" Then extracting two of the specs to inspect them on the tip of his finger. Passing them to the tip of my finger and then making me pass them to Julia's finger for inspection and discussion.

Happiness is watching my three energetic, talkative, animated sons entertain Julia at a sons dinner.

Happiness is introducing two of my three sons to the staff at one of Ian's and my favorite restaurants and forgetting to introduce Julia. Yes, I paid for it with scorn from all three of my son's.

Happiness is listening to my three son's tell Julia she is a good specimen of a human being, a wonderful aunt, a stellar bird watcher, a great trail walker, a fine family member, and a terrific Washington guest -- but -- AUNT JEAN makes chocolate chip cookies, thank you very much.

Happiness is sharing Julia at book club where she entered into the discussion with gusto. And yes, Jean, she agrees with you, it is more of a social club then a book club. I quote: "It took two hours to finally start talking about the book."

Happiness was introducing her to Mary, Claire, Sandy and Lynn.

Happiness is Mary, Claire, Sandy and Lynn.

Happiness is picking Julia up at the airport and going to Spuds for lunch. The tradition continues.

Happiness is ferry riding, car driving, Roosevelt elk, The Chestnut Cottage, deer, Cresent Lake in all it's glory, Camano Island and bird chasing. Birds are slippery little devils, they never sit still.

Julia had never been to the Olympic Peninsular or The Chestnut Cottage. Our breakfast was divine. Julia ordered the specialty mimosa with her breakfast and the waitress asked if she wanted it split so we could share. I answered for Julia and said, YES, we would like it split. It came in two perfect sugar rimmed champagne flutes with a perfect strawberry sitting on top. Tropical Sunrise Mimosa with guava juice, strawberry syrup, I don't know if it had orange juice. It was divine. Thank you Julia.

Happiness is glorious weather, not too hot for me or too cool for Julia.

Happiness was the tiniest amount of misty rain possible in the Olympic Rain Forest. It always seems appropriate to have rain in the rain forest.

Happiness is knees not hurting, and Julia doing doing the 1 1/2 mile hike to Marymere falls and everything working pretty darn good after all her issues with hips and ankle.

Happiness is waiting for Julia to hike the Marymere Falls trail.

Happiness is being one of the last six cars loaded on the 4:40 PM ferry, when we just knew we wouldn't make it.

Happiness is a daughter, sending a mom, to a sister for a visit.

Happiness is family, friends, traditions, and new experiences all rolled into one sweet trip. I repeat, happiness is family, friends, book club, adorable Connor, three sons -mine, and a daughter -- Julia's, good food, good conversation, good book club discussion, good drives, good birding.

Happiness is Julia admiring my tomato farm, and not complaining about the dust...

Happiness is Julia swooping in, swirling around and whisking away, just like a slippery bird. The hub-bub is over, the energetic son's have departed, Julia is homeward bound. Hell, she is probably already there.

And while I am at it, happiness is a sweet nap when all is done and the home is quiet. Nite, nite.

Happiness is a good sister visit, always a gift I treasure.

Some Truths About Sliding

I failed at my kindness-towards-everyone-day.  Twice.

Once with a Facebook post instructing the rest of us to quit putting two spaces after a period.  Jeez, I felt my blood boil just a little and grumbling came seeping through.  I forget the other time.  I will be sure to slide belated blessings in on them whom ever they are.

Now Connor, on the other hand, slid some instruction in on me on putting a period at the end of a sentence in a book we were writing.  Well, I was writing the book because he was feeling a little lazy, so he did the dictating and I did the writing. I said well I wasn't sure if I was going to put a period or the word and. He decided the sentence should continue with the word and and more description, but studied the end result to make sure I had in fact slid the period in where one belonged. He was adorable with an opinion on periods. 

This was the Connor and the Dinosaur Hunt book we were writing and illustrating. He can think a whole lot better and faster then he can write and spell so he had me do the pesky writing bit. This was after we had made spinning tops and secret pockets. He do keep me busy. No grumbling there.

We also measured ourselves sideways going out the back slider door. He was pretty darn skinny and he called me "funny fat." That was with our back to the door frame and the slider sliding towards our bellies. I have no idea why he wanted to measure us that way.

We played a rousing game of Pokemon where Connor slid an Energy card right out of my hands assuring me that he was trading it for a very valuable card. Yeah right, Granny let that one slide, but she wasn't fooled for a minute.

When I wrote the word Pokemon in his secret pocket, he made sure I had the accent on the word and in the correct spot. Sliding in detail, detail, detail.

Before he could dig into his treat tin that Granny always brings to play date, he had to finish his lunch. He didn't want Mommy to know he hadn't finished his lunch at school, he said she would get mad.
I asked how mad? Will she send you to bed?
No.
Will she make you sit in a corner?
No.
Well how mad will she be?
She might take away my screen time.
Screen time? I needed a translation for "screen time" It seems as though it is any game, TV, iPad, or other type of digital activity. Screen time? New punishments for the crime.

Quote: "Every eye must negotiate of itself what it sees."

"Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind always."

Yep be kind to mothers, fathers, children, the fat, the crippled, the slow, the hard of hearing, the busy, the lost, the locked out, the locked in, the desperate, the angry, the hurt, the loved, the artist, the engineer, the salt of the Earth.

Connor gave the backseat of my car a good straightening up. He was cleaning the windows with glass wipes getting rid of the frozen bird poop, straightening up my water bottles neatly in a canvas bag, throwing away the plastic water bottle wrapper and a few stray dead leaves when I found a tube of Revlon lipstick, Coffee Bean. Does it belong to you? It is not Jean's, Claire's, Lynn's, Jacquie's or Mary's.

Julia will be sliding in here in hours.

Tornadoes, Julia and Blessings

Are the tornadoes distant enough that I can tell you a joke?

What did the tornado say to the sports car?
Want to go for a spin?

Sorry... I'll save it for Connor.

Speaking of tornadoes, JULIA is coming, Julia is coming!
Luckily for me, the JULIA tornado has slowed down a little.
I'm thinking bird watching.
I'm thinking Cordelia Stanwood.
I'm thinking slow drives and slower walks.
I'm thinking my knee better feel better, unless Julia is still crippling around. She isn't much of a foodie, but she loves coffee on the deck. I can do that. I remember when we would go see three or four movies a day. Good times back then. Can't see or hear now. Poor Julia. Sorry Julia.

When ever I think back on our movie marathons, our power drives across America, our hanging out just to hang out, I feel that age. I don't feel old looking back, I feel sixteen or twenty-seven, or thirty-eight. Reading books, lunches at Mom's when she would come sailing down the hill, standing on her head, taking the nieces and nephews sports car riding, photo-ing, zoo-ing, theater-ing, cake decorating, animal naming, (Was anyone ever better at naming a pet?) I felt slow then and slower now. Oh Lord, what will I do if she wants to climb Mt Si?

Julia I will pick you up at the airport and then the game is on. Spuds? We can do it. Drive to the ocean? We can do it. A walk in the woods? Sure? Maybe? It won't be long now and I'm almost ready. Julia I might dust for, have you ever seen how tidy her home is? I will at least shine and dust my earrings.

Julia is coming and ain't I glad.

I have a busy weekend, for me, ahead; Claire and Connor day today, visit to Magic Toyota for a Toyota recall fix, visit to Ian's University Village sidewalk sale and lunch, he always treats me, and I usually walk away with some neat free stuff, breakfast with a friend, eye exam, planning and anticipating Julia's arrival. Lets see anything else? Nope, I guess that is about it.

Janice is home, I hope you got my email. What a miracle she was in the hospital days instead of months. Tough old bird, unless someone up there doesn't want her.

Janice told me Art's tomato plants have failed. Failed? If Art's tomato plants failed it surely means the world as we know it is ending, so get ready for Zombies or The Rapture.

Roger's Birthday is Friday June 5th, and Jane's. Josephine's came and went as will Mom's. The days and years continue to pass by. Roger was born in Grossmont Hospital in San Diego California lo, these many years ago. Easy birth, easy child, disciplined child, athletic child, smart child, loving son.

I don't know where Jane was born, but she is a great friend as well as sister-in-law and nurse to her extended family. We have been friends since I threw her in the floorboard of that old Dodge Slush-box vehicle I was privileged to drive, lo, these many years ago. I threw her in the floor (I was a bad driver even then) coming down Classen from that pizza joint where we could dance and I could wear my short, short, short shorts. Yep, friend since then, go figure. Jane was as good as I was bad. Disciplined, smart, gracious, not too athletic, but a damn fine nurse and a loving friend.

I have made the uncomfortable discovery about myself that I need to be kinder. I am kind enough in actions and beliefs, but not always in interior attitudes and thoughts. I shy away from the downtown homeless, the scary, the dirty, the loud, the people who make decisions I don't agree with, how they raise their young, vote, plan their finances, what they watch on TV or in a sports arena, do their job, worship. I need to open myself to wider avenues of kindness, acceptance. Not forgiveness. Forgiveness denotes something else.

From the homeless to the financial steady, from getting by to success, from me to Janice, life wraps us all up differently. The people of the world don't need my opinions on their decisions, actions, life.

Some people need blessings not grumbling thoughts. So for today, I am blessing in direct proportion to being blessed. For today, I'm blessing only.

Quote: "Humanity is not thinking less of yourself, its thinking of yourself less." CS Lewis

Quote from some weird movie I watched, but I can't remember which one: "I can't die, I'm not unhappy enough yet."

Blessing and peace on you today.
Julia is a blessing and she is coming - soon.