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.