Jeff Sez

Jeff says he is only bringing a suitcase, chairs, the goodie box, hot dog skewers, Vienna Sausages, booze, his cast iron dutch oven, and an axe to the family reunion next year.

Ian's Friend

Ian's friend Calysta honored The Spirit of Maxine on Instagram -- aren't they cute?
All of Ian's friends are drop dead gorgeous.
Thank you Calysta for thinking of The Spirit of Maxine.

Random -- Acts of Kindness and such

There are millions of random acts of kindness that often goes un-noticed. We all see what grates on our nerves; the weaving driver, management decisions, rudeness, forgetfulness.

Remember the old couple that were newly weds and he was busy making flower arrangements, wild flower arrangements, for every picnic table at Greenleaf State Park, filling found jars and bottles of every shape and size. It was the year of the apple pies. He was the one who wanted to know where the little red wagon full of pies was going that Jean kept baking and baking and baking being kind to her family.

I see people picking up trash -- not theirs.

A colleague at work told me about the time she didn't have enough gas to get home and could not find her debit card. The Shell station attendant gave her ten dollars and said pay me later.

Stephanie is kind; she notices people, things, animals that are in need. Like the time she tried to feed the little lost kitten in their retention pond until the little lost kitten in their retention pond jumped six feet straight up into the air to make it's wild bobcat escape.

Do you notice the car that lets other cars into a long line of cars going -- some place. I usually do this, but sometimes I'm past before I notice and the car behind me lets them in and then I feel kind of unkind.

I saw a car stop in the middle of the road once to help an old gentleman with an artificial limb who was down on the sidewalk with his walker and couldn't get the traction he needed to get upright.

Have I told you about the night time crew who makes coffee every morning before I get there so I have fresh coffee -- and apologize if they don't get it done. Every morning, well most mornings.

I read about the window washers at a Philadelphia children's hospital who dress as super heroes, Spiderman, Superman, Captain America and Batman.

Kindness noticed brings a lift to the beat of living.

Christian picked me up from the airport and as we were driving home I texted Ian that I had been picked up and was on the highway home. I looked at Christian and said just to let Ian know I'm safe, he is such a worrier. Christian said, You think he worries about that, you should try working on his car.

And a week later Ian is worried about his car and I'm driving to Ballard to pick him up so he can leave his car for Christian to have a look/see.

I didn't mind, besides getting to go to my new favorite Mexican restaurant and have tacos to pick him up, I was able to meet, chat with, and laugh with three of his delightful friends; Loren, Jessica and Calysta. They decided Jessica was probably the kindest and Calysta was probably the least.

Jessica is from Minnesota -- a kind state.
My friend Claire is also from Minnesota -- a kind friend.
Minnesota birth place to Bob Dylan and F Scott Fitzgerald. NOT knowm for their kindness.
Had a lovely breakfast with Claire yesterday.

I was reading Into the Silence: The Great War, Mallory, and the Conquest of Everest and was so happy when Malloy finally died on the mountain. Not kind, I know, but it was a hard, hard book to read and I knew Mallory died on the mountain and I knew when he died the hard, hard book would be over. Actually I really liked the book, but it was hard.

I have an unusually happy Tomato plant actually thriving on my back deck, with happy happy leaves and happy happy blossoms. Soon I will have happy happy tomatoes. And it survived our recent storms, not tornadoes, but fierce enough to slow traffic on I-5 down to 45 mph.

Speaking of weather; As it stands right now, Juneau, Alaska has more days at 80 or warmer this June (3) than Seattle does (2).  Today, the number 90 represents a percentage -- as in 90 percent of the last 10 days have had rain at some point in Seattle, but we are headed for heat, soon the number 90 could represent our high temperature.

Roger and Stephanie are going camping on Hood Canal over the fourth.
Ian is headed to California for a few days in his other work hat.
Christian worked on Ian's car -- other than that I haven't a clue.
Friday I'm spending with Lynn, guess I'll find out how she likes Facebook.

One of Stephanie's friends posted this on her Facebook page: Kids toys should come with warnings for parents: Extremely loud, No off switch, needs 217 batteries. I'm so glad I don't have to parent a little one anymore.

Connor's dance recital went off with out him needing to go to the bathroom. There was Connor in his bling suit and eighteen little girls in pink fluff. I'll get to watch his T-Ball soon. Roger said Connor likes to stand on the bases so his shoes don't get dirty. Love that kid.

I also was able to see Roger dance the Daddy Dance with all the little kids and their daddy's.

Liked this quote: There are three sides to every story. My side, your side, and the truth, and no one is lying. Memories shared serve each one differently.

And this poem I have been meaning to post for a long time. Thank you Lynn.

Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better,
To paint a picture or write a letter,
Bake a cake or plant a seed,
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
Music to hear and books to read,
Friends to cherish and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world’s out there
With the sun in your eyes, the wind in your hair,
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come ’round again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not always kind.
And when you go and go you must,
You, yourself, will make more dust.

Author Unknown
And did I tell you Jancie is walking...

Love is in the Air

All you need it love
Love conquers all
and mom's favorite
Love Is...

I was saddened by the sudden death of Jeanette's husband,Gregg,  not because I knew him well because I didn't, but because I knew how beloved he was. I never, never heard anyone say an unkind word about him. Every story I heard was of how he helped and assisted everyone. I know Kathy Noland loved him dearly. And isn't it a great thing to die loved.

We all face our ground zero at some point or another and this will be Jeanette's. The power of love will help her through, help her carry on, help her survive and thrive.

Love the emotional fodder for books, movies, and music; ancient and elemental. Helen of Troy? Love the emotional fodder for life. Love heightens pleasure, alleviates grief and what more could you ask for an emotion?

Love may not conquer all, it won't make Janice walk, she has to do that herself, but it can strengthen her resolve.

All you need is love - and - food. When faced with hardship in concentration camps, on a mountain top, or adrift in an ocean thoughts turn to food, then love. Isn't it written many times over that death on a battlefield a soldiers last breath is for mom, if that's not love what is. And they say in a fox-hole thoughts turn to God, is that not another manifestation of love?

Cousin love, birthday love, love my son's, son's dinners, son's girls. I love sending cards, seeing sister's, movies and books, not music so much any more, but I can remember that kind of love.

I'm in love with my new happy tomato plant, sitting in the rain and sun.

The power of love is what makes us face a storm protecting those we love, helping those we love, finding those we love.

Love like Jerry loves Jane.
Jean loves Brittany.
Julia loves her children.

Love is..

The Power of the World

The power of the world; the known and the unknown. What bush is out my back window? What is over the horizon? What can be weighed and measured? What can't? What I can see; the moon, the stars the sun and what's living in the tree stump, a world of mites, grubs, and lichen. Worlds beyond my ken. I am reading a book about the exploration of Mt Everest. I know none of it. Not the people, the passes, the religion. Not the clothing, the books, the prayers. I'm ignorant.

I saw the movie Life of Pi and it mentioned the Mariana Trench the deepest place on Earth, then the book about Mt Everest the highest place on Earth. The power of the world to amaze. The power of the world to exhaust. The power of the world to entertain. The wonder of the world is two fold; how it is the same and how it is different.

What is taught, what is gained, what is feigned. Who stands tall enough to say they know what the power of the world is all about? Who stands still enough to hear the world explain itself?

I'd had a gloriously crap week.

I was late to Claire's Dr appointment when the doctor was going to tell her whether she had more cancer. I didn't want her to stand alone for bad news. She stood alone for the good news.

I was late for a Dr appointment. When they sent the letter I didn't read it because I knew when my appointment was. When they called I didn't listen because I knew when my appointment was.

I missed my lunch with Jo-Anne; When I texted and said I'm here are you? She texted back that is tomorrow, Jan, not today.

I have enough gray hair to not trust my memory, my eyesight, or my reading skills any more.

I cut my finger.

I had car trouble: it took three sons, two calls to Triple A, the crew at Walt's and $89.00 to get me back on the road.

In the power of the world of tornadoes, volcanoes, earth quakes, eruptions, bombings, shootings, collapsing bridges and circling sharks, in the history of the world this is a bad day?

Once I stood in the middle of an immense wheat field and felt the power of the world, felt the connection to Earth. I stood transfixed by the quiet and being able to hear the sounds of wind rippling the ripe grains. The grasshoppers and other insects chirping. Watching the wheat as it moved ever so slowly toward the sun, the sun calmly and with out intent reaching down, healing.

Christian went to the seaside, Gini walked the Grand Canyon. It's not beauty, wonder, or creativity that draws humans, it's the power of the world, whether tulip fields, the Grand Tetons, or 80 million miles of highway.

I felt something primal and transformative in that 1,000 acres of maturing wheat as I realized I had nothing to do with the immensity of the world. The beauty of the world. The power of the world. Without intent, I existed, and existing was enough.

More -- Fnding Home

More -- finding home.
Amid collapsing bridges, bombs, fires, shootings, explosions, tornadoes, and other disasters. Home is a good thing to have

I saw a Norwegian airplane at Boeing -- it will soon find its way to its Norwegian home.
Lynn has returned to her blogger home after months absent.
I-5 Skagit river bridge collapse will effect a few going home moments, 71,000 cars a day use that bridge and two cars were affected -- go figure.

More "Home" books/movies:
The Boxcar Children -- classic
Glass Castles
Kathy Bates movie; A Home of Our Own
Janice's favorite; Angels in the Outfield

Going home: the anticipation, relaxation, family, pets, mementos, potted plants, junk.
Janice needs to be going home. I'm traveling south on June 13 just to look her in the eye.
I don't want her going to her spiritual home just yet,
unless she insists.
Going home can mean after death, returning to your own heaven or paradise.
As you will recall, Mother was ready to go to this home.
More than ready.

Finding our way home.
A light in the window.
The horse knows the way.
Someone waiting.
Someone who cares whether you walk through the door.
The girls in Cleveland who finally got to go home.
Home is where you wait and worry when a loved one doesn't come home.

A place where you breath easier, relax better, eat what you want.
A feeling of safety envelopes you.
Security.
Trust.
You don't need four walls for that, a tent or mud hovel will suffice.

Home is family, being welcomed, being missed, being enjoyed, being understood, or at least accepted.
Lost on the road of life and finding an emotional home.
Looking for a home.
They told a story about when the Taylor family made the big move from Texas to Oklahoma way back early in the century and stopped somewhere along the way and strangers gave them "store bought" crackers. Aunt Voleta said she couldn't even eat them because she kept thinking, "Ain't got no home now."

Making new homes.
New hope drove settlers across the ocean, across the prairie.
A white picket fence or a Gilbert farm house.
Home can be a motel room as mine was for many years.
A tent like I did for a summer.
A fantastic 99 cent tube tent -- what a joy that was.

Home the safe place on every board game or sport.

Connor comes stomping into my home in his new cowboy boots, looks me in the eye and asks, no, demands, no commands "Are we going to book club?"
"No" I answer.
I just thought he wanted to play with his granny.
"Well, we will next time."
Yes sir.

For our playdate I had set out some wine corks for Connor to play with. He looks at them, looks at me, and asks, "Granny have you been drinking wine?"
"No" I answer, "I put them there for you to play with."
"Granny, they don't make any noise."
Yep that was a granny failure.
I said, "Well you can throw them," so he did for about 3 1/2 minutes. Yep, that was a granny failure.
No book club, wine corks that don't make noise and to top it off I didn't have a yellow glass for him to use the yellow straw in. I might have redeemed myself a little when I had a red straw for the red fruit punch -- thanks be to Jane for the straw gift. Saved this granny that time.

This home stuff gets complicated.

Jeff says he is only bringing a suitcase, chairs, the goodie box, hot dog skewers, Vienna Sausages,  booze and his cast iron dutch oven to the family reunion next year.

Find Their Way Home

A young FaceBook friend, Lisa Bruce, engulfed in the devastation of the Oklahoma tornadoes posted her heart felt feelings that included this line: Hoping lost loved ones find their way home. What a beautiful thought.

It triggered in me deep thoughts about humans and animals true north, our home, what ever that home may be.

When I was young and less wise than I am now I once waxed poetic about our home and dad said, "It won't feel like home when mom and I are gone, it will just be a house on 50th street. Dad was right. Like gazing at the dead body of a loved one, the essence that made them them is gone, the body that is left is not them.

Homes can be devastated, ask Jeff and Oklahomans, but our "home" survives. Our home is more a state of being on the inside than a structure on the outside. When I was divorced I felt I had been pushed out of a plane without a parachute that was bound from east to west coast, but home survived. I carried it with me.

Righting yourself and pushing forward is never easy, yet it seems to happen almost in spite of ourselves. Like Mongolian nomads or turtles we carry our home around, patched or battered though it may be. No matter how dim or devastated home is where others are; sons, family, friends. Home is where we cook dinner not own a TV. For some people home is a spot of concrete, a cardboard box, a sleeping bag tucked inside a garbage sack.

Birds re-nest every year. A babies home is where ever its mother is, not an address, when mom moves so does home.

What we lose in devastation with tornadoes, fire or divorce is things -- stuff -- we don't lose ourselves. We might curl up with depression, distrust or loss of hope, but home is curled up with us. When we emerge so does home.

From the snows of Pakistan to the heat of Haiti people plow through and rebuild sometimes starting with something as fragile as a blade of grass: Wall-E or The Wump World.

Finding your way home is sometimes as easy as standing still.