Reverb 13, Day 15: Senses and my tether

1. Give us a sensory tour of 2013. How would you describe the year that’s passing in terms of: 

Sight?

Sound?

Smell?

Taste?

Touch?

2. Anchor | What kept you tethered in 2013?

1.  Ocean. Ocean. Ocean. We spent long hours multiple times by Mama Ocean this year, and I can close my eyes and see the sun sparkling on the waves that are rolling into the wide sand beach, hear the crashing collision of water with land and the gulls squabbling over a morsel, smell the slightly fishy, moist, salty air that is so distinctly coastal. In a few spots, sea lions barked their conversations as they hoisted glistening, fat bodies onto barnacled rocks or warm spots on the sand. More than once the coast was shrouded in damp grey fog, parting now and then with a gust of wind to show us the chill grey sea but muffling the incoming swooshing waves to mere whispers as they met land. At the docks, the fishy scent intensified and so did the gulls' cries as they sparred for fish parts from boats or fishermen who were cleaning their catches. 

We are  blessed every day to see our rolling hills and oak trees stretch out from our windows, and to hear the finches twitter as they devour thistle seed at the feeders or the hummingbirds' distinctive squeaky chirp high in the trees, or the cry of a roving hawk on the prowl for dinner.  We see the ocean far less often, but her sights and smells and sounds remain for me the most memorable.

Taste is more difficult to narrow for the year. I savor my morning cup of coffee, a hearty Black Tiger. But I also love the anticipation of an afternoon cup of elegant Earl Grey, or the magical Tulsi Rose tea. The gooshy sweet of browned marshmallow topped with sweet Hershey's milk chocolate on a freshly opened stack of graham crackers tells me we're camping and enjoying a fire -- that's pretty much the only time I eat s'mores. When I slow down and practice eating meditatively, every taste becomes a new experience -- but I don't do that even daily. Maybe more of that in 2014.

Touch: my favorite is always kitty fur, grey or white or ginger or yellow or calico -- but I also love to touch my husband and usually sleep with one hand touching him. His warmth and steady breathing comfort and ground me. I spent a lot of time sitting this year because of my foot, and I had a warm cat in my lap much of that time. Even now, McMurphy usually finds my lap when I sit down first thing in the morning to sip coffee and check email, and I love feeling his weight, his warmth, and his soft fur.

2. My tether is my husband, my dear soul mate. He pulls me back into the here and now when my fears and imagination take me way out into the ozone, he listens to me figure out a problem and will offer his perspective gently and calmly. He tells me every day that I am dearly and deeply loved, and how lucky he feels -- and I tell him the same. He was the steady constant caretaker as I recovered from surgery this year, doing all my chores as well as his own and never once complaining. He still fixes us breakfast every morning and cleans up the dishes after meals. He tends our finances carefully and promptly. He is an avid reader of news, blogs, magazines, and books, and conversation with him is always interesting and easy. We take good care of each other, but both of us feel like we are the luckiest one in our relationship -- and what an incredible gift that is! The day we met was the best day of my life, and I am constantly grateful for his constancy and deep love for me. How blessed we are!

Reverb 13: Day 7 -- A victorious selfie

1. Please post your favourite picture of yourself from 2013, self-portrait or otherwise!

2. Victory Laps | What was your biggest accomplishment of 2013?

Our visit to Limantour Beach at Point Reyes National Seashore in November. 

 While we've taken a bunch of photos over the last month or so, and I like a lot of them, this one evokes memories of a wonderful day spent by the ocean, even though it was not sunny and gorgeous. The fishing boat trolled up and down the coast while we sat and watched the sky and waves, the day was a bit gray with some wonderful clouds, and we were together at our beloved ocean. 

2. Two big accomplishments this year: recovering from my surgery of a year ago and being able to walk without pain, and relinquishing financial responsibilities for my daughter. It's hard to say which is bigger, since one was an accomplishment of the physical body (and also spirit); the other an accomplishment of the mind and also spirit. Both have given me great release and relief.

Reverb 13: Day 6 -- Memories and aging

Today's prompts:

1. There are so many “precious things” that are presented to us each day; discoveries and treasures found in simple moments, memories we wish to store in our hearts and keep with us forever.   What precious things have you gathered in 2013?

Which memories from this year do you wish to keep with you always?

2. Blowing out the candles | You're another year older!  How did you celebrate the passage of another year?  Did it turn out the way you had hoped?

1.  Of the many precious things that I have experienced in 2013, two remain my most vivid, two memories that never fail to soothe my soul and gladden my heart and create a deep sense of peace within. One is when we are safely in our great room, wood stove fire glowing, angel lights above it gleaming, kitties snuggied into their tuffets, and my greatest love sitting in his chair and I in mine. It feels safe and warm and loving. 

The other place also involves my Tony and the kitties, and it is when we are warm and safe in bed for the night in our 'great green room,' with clean sheets (flannel in winter, lovely organic cotton in the summer) and both of us reading, both kitties settled on the bed, and kindly dark quiet surrounding us. It just does not get better than this.

2. We chose to celebrate our birthdays, six days apart (same year) in a lovely wooded campground in western Marin County (California), very near the Point Reyes National Seashore. To no one's surprise, we spent both days by the ocean, driving those twisty, windy windswept and nearly bare hills and seeing the dairy farms (known by letters, not names), cattle roaming the hills, and nearly always within sight of Mama Ocean. We visited several beaches and sat for a long time watching the waves roll lazily in, the sea blue and quiet, the sun glinting off the water. We talked about so many things -- children, aging, memories -- and soaked in the wisdom and peace of the eternal water and ancient land. We took a walk along the San Andreas Fault, the Earthquake Trail at the Point Reyes Visitor Center, where we were reminded of the enormous energy that is contained under our feet -- I felt it all the way through the top of my head -- and watched a group of school children running from marker to marker to read about the fault line and discover the natural features of the area. 

I confess to feeling older and not especially loving that, especially walking along the trail with the kids running past us and their mothers and teachers following at a brisk pace. I want time. I want the days to slow down some -- just yesterday Tony commented on how fast they go by.  I am grateful for each of them, but aware that there are fewer ahead than there are behind me.

I can close my eyes now and see the waves rolling in on the chilly beaches, sunlight surrounding us golden and warming.  And I'd like to spend my birthday every year by our beloved ocean, drinking in that constancy.

Reverb 13, Day 2: Nourishment and the BEST moment

The prompts:

1. The way we nourish ourselves determines our ability to shine our light in the world. And nourishment doesn't just come in the form of food and drink and sunshine; it's equally important to nourish your spirit.
What made your soul feel most nourished this year?

2.  Shine: What was the best moment of 2013?

 Ah, nourishment of the soul: what feeds my spirit? 

 The arts, short answer. Theater, books, magazines, movies, music, even television. Creativity unfolding in story, notes on a scale, words on the page, actors and designers and directors creating timeless emotion and story. 

When I was recuperating from surgery, I literally could NOT do things and thus sat still for days. So I read more than I usually get to, devouring books and stories and articles daily and luxuriating in that freedom to just read. My first real excursion outside the house was to a play while I was still non-weight-bearing in a wheelchair. Nearly the first outing when I graduated to the boot and using a cane was to a play, the annual performance of The Vagina Monologues, held this year at Rolling Hills Casino. We watched movies a lot, have our favorite television shows.

They make me think. They stir my emotions and my beliefs. They help me find answers to hard questions, and ponder paths and options. Bits of music -- yes, even the dreaded earworms -- help me through difficult times and even pain (my iPod was with me in the hospital and got me through some hard and noisy hours). 

I am challenged and found and redeemed by the words I have read and seen this year, and I am so grateful for the ability to see and to hear them. 

The best moment of 2013: hmmmm.

I think the best moment was when we drove to our favorite Oregon coast spot in Bandon on our 13th wedding anniversary to spend a few days, and seeing our glorious Mama Ocean rolling in. It rained quite a bit while we were there, but we watched her from our windows facing in two directions and went places anyway. We met by the ocean 16 years ago and were married on the ocean. She never fails to settle our spirits and minimize our worries and fears, and we've happily spent many more days this year on her coast than we have in some time. But that day, May 20, we had come through months of surgery recovery and work and worry, and it was so good to be together by our beloved ocean and not to have a list of chores to do. It was a beautiful time away and apart from everything else.

Once in a Blue August Moon: Day 11 -- Celebrate!

The prompt:
Meredith & Kat write:

Thank you for journeying with us through this magical time! We've been so grateful for all of you, especially those of you who have shared your musings over at August Moon 13 HQ.

Today, we'd like you to find a small way to celebrate all you have summoned and all you have leaned into and all that you manifested over the past ten days. It could be a quiet walk in nature, a tiny talisman purchased to represent your dreams going forward, a confidence in a trusted friend. Whatever it is, please take the time to honour your courage and creativity as you planted the seeds for a flourishing future.

 

As with the various versions of Scintilla and Reverb, this series of prompts have encouraged introspection and analysis of what I'm feeling/thinking and how past events have influenced where I am today -- and indeed, simply figuring out where I am!  So much of the time we are doing doing doing, and not thinking about the state of our BE-ing.  These writing prompts are such a gift to me, a time to look inward without feeling like I should be doing something more 'practical.'

 

Although we live four hours from the Pacific coast, we go visit Mama Ocean as we can. One such trip is coming up, and we plan to spend a lot of time walking the vast, windy beaches and listening to the waves, soaking up those eternal echoes for times when we are too far away to hear them. On one day, I will release my 'letting go' list to her care. And I will celebrate who I am and what I know for sure.

 

And if I find the perfect talisman either on her beaches or in one of the local shops I love to browse, you can be sure I will recognize it and wear it, as I do my other regular jewelry, all representing some significant event or reason, to remind me of who and where I am.

 

Thank you, Kat and Meredith, for taking the time out of your busy lives to organize and create and share  this opportunity to listen to our innermost wishes. You enrich our lives. May our collective writings also enrich yours.

 

 

 

Reverb11 - Day 23 - Who I'm missing and Travels

#1 Prompt: Who did you miss?

#2 Prompt: Travel - Did you visit anywhere new this year?  Any plans to travel next year?


#1 -- Who did I miss? My parents, often, and never more than at Christmas time when my memories of Christmases past are so wrapped up in their presence. When I first married, we invited our parents and my brother (my ex was an only child) to come to us for Christmas, and they did for years, modifying that first when my in-laws divorced (after nearly 50 years) and he remarried, and then when my mother-in-law could no longer travel, and finally when my dad died and we went to Missouri every year to be with my mother until 2005 when she died.


That's a lot of years and memories: of putting together the Christmas jigsaw puzzle, usually primarily by my dad, with help here and there from all of us; of playing games -- Trivial Pursuit or Monopoly or Michigan Rummy or Screw your Neighbor -- eating nuts and candy and laughing. Going to church on Christmas Eve, and especially the year that my dad, brother, and husband all slipped in to the late service at the last moment on a very cold Indiana night -- I was already there in the choir loft and we'd all gone to an earlier, child-friendly service. The three of them lifted slightly whiskey-scented voices to the holy candle-lit atmosphere, and none of us could stop smiling.


I miss my friend Julia, again never more than at Christmas. For nine years we sang together at Christmas and other times, we laughed and cried and shopped and worked and shared stories and children. We are growing old together, although we see each other only every few years for maybe a week. I've no doubt that we'll sing again in that great celestial chorus, her short, round, red-haired frame next to my much taller and longer one, smiling all the way, even through our tears.


I miss my daughter, the person she was before illness and other things so clouded and distorted her mind. I still see flashes of that person, but it makes me sad to see such potential and intelligence and charm largely gone, and I am still trying to wrap my arms around who she is now, and who I am when I'm with her.

Always at special times of the year I miss my brother and sister-in-law, who I would like to know better as we grow older and hopefully wiser, and who become increasingly important as I age. And we miss our daughter and grandson, miss being able to know who they are becoming, and especially Gabe as he changes so much as he grows from a toddler into a pre-schooler.

I'm grateful that there are so many people that I miss, though, because it indicates that I am capable of great love, and also that I am the recipient of great love in return. It just doesn't get better than that.

#2 -- Travel is something that is on our minds for this coming year as Tony retires and our time is not bound by paid time off accrual. While I don't know that we'll do any long-distance trips in 2012, we are planning time in the LA area for a cousin's wedding, and also anticipate a trip to Seattle to see our daughter and her family.
Both trips also put us by our beloved ocean, where we've spent our vacations nearly every year since we've been together. Perhaps we'll make a trip further into the interior US to see my brother and other friends, but we'll see how time and money play out. For now, Tony is happy to think about staying home and working on projects that have piled up and that he is eager to begin. And I'm happy to have him here.

Reverb 11 -- Day 8 -- Labels and Joy

#1 -- Prompt: What label/story/box/belief clipped your wings this year? How can you flip the script in 2012? What’s your new story?

#2 -- Prompt: Joy. Take us back to a moment in 2011 when you experienced pure, unadulterated joy.

#1 -- I'm pretty sure of myself: a strong woman, reasonably confident in who I am, what I love, what I believe. I believe in change and in growth. But my belief in who I am and what I can do was shaken substantially recently by a casual comment made by a friend during a committee meeting.

For three years I have participated in an annual theater performance benefit. I've performed the same role -- an outrageously funny, bawdy, even slightly shocking monologue that had audiences -- and the cast -- rolling with laughter. I love acting and am eager to do this piece again as well as more theater in 2012. I think I'm pretty good at it -- I've been told that by people whose opinions I respect, and the audience seems to respond well to my characters, both this one and others..

So. During the course of the meeting, as we were discussing how to get more people involved in the production, my friend commented, nudging me,  that …”we’re getting too old to do this.” I gave her a long look of – I don’t know – surprise? Shock? Denial? – and she added, “Well, I’m getting too old.”

Much later, the ice weasels started their partying, eventually settling into a steady chant of "You’re too old! You’re too old!”  It woke me up this morning an hour before I normally am conscious. And I began questioning whether or not I was indeed ‘too old’ to do not only this particular event, but pretty much anything in theater.

“You’re 64 years old!” they taunted. “You look ridiculous up there, saying such age-inappropriate things and making a total FOOL of yourself! Stick a fork in it, tootsie, you’re done! You’re too OLD to act anymore, honey, and nobody is brave enough to tell you!”

We don’t see ourselves as others see us. I see from INSIDE looking out at the world, and while that ‘me’ is not only perfectly capable of doing pretty much anything she wants to do, she also doesn’t feel ‘old’ (mostly). But I began questioning how OTHERS, especially those who don’t know me, might see me on stage, and concluded that perhaps I AM ‘too old.’ The idea just completely flipped my whole impression of who I am and what I should be doing with the rest of my life, and I didn't like what I was feeling or thinking.

I’ve talked since with a few people who I knew would be honest with me, and I’m not ready to throw it all in just yet. As long as directors cast me in roles and I’m capable of memorizing lines and blocking, I’m staying onstage.  I’ve never done well with labels since I never quite fit into societal or corporate boxes. TOO OLD is not going to be one I allow in my life either, not yet.

#2 – We vacationed on the Oregon coast this fall in a lovely rental apartment that had a full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the mighty, mighty ocean endlessly washing over the little beach below our deck. It had been raining and blowing for a couple of days, and we had snugged in with plenty of food, snacks, and reading material.

One particular afternoon, I was propped with numerous pillows on the cushy chaise end of a sectional sofa that faced that glassed wall, and had an afghan covering my legs and feet while I read my lusciously long and detailed novel. Most afternoons I’d close my eyes for 15 or 20 minutes, dozing a little, relishing the quiet, the solitude, and pleasure of just being by the ocean and doing exactly what we wanted to do.

This afternoon, though, Tony had moved from a nearby chair where he had settled with his laptop to the sofa next to me, and put his head on my lap, the rest of him covered with another fleecy afghan. The ocean’s constant roar – louder that usual because of the storm – was soothing, the light was soft, and we were warm and together. With my hand lightly stroking Tony’s head, I closed my eyes and gave thanks for such a perfect moment of joy.

A mixed bag of July

Such a month it has been, this July. Unusually for these parts, we had many cool days where no air conditioning or swamp cooling was needed, we had some rain, and only a handful of days over 100 -- nothing approaching the usual round of 112+ degree days that is the fare du jour here in the north state.

 August may bring some of that, but it also brings a sighting of fall, although we know we will have some hot days well through September and sometimes even in October, but with cooler nights.

July has been stressful for both of us. Early in the month, Princess #1 rolled her SUV, totalling it. She was unhurt although shaken, miraculously, but that has left her without wheels and her boyfriend's car is unreliable on a good day. So I've done a fair bit of chauffeuring here and there, although I've tried to make it fit my schedule and not her whim, and have also done the bulk of research to find a new one for her, one that will last for a long time, and that is within her budget. Fortunately, she still has back disability dollars in the bank which need to be spent by this fall, so that along with the check from the insurance company should be sufficient to get her a decent car.

My ex observed cheerily from his home in Missouri that 'car shopping can be fun,' to which I suggested he get his butt out here and go with her. He backed off, but did send some pages from Consumer Reports which helped, and I've spent lots of time on Edmunds and Kelly Blue Book.

I think we've found a car for her, and possibly one for us, actually, although we weren't really looking hard. (Our 12-year-old Corolla has been a steady, reliable vehicle, requiring almost no extra maintenance, but it also is on the brink of things starting to deteriorate from sheer age.) So today Tony and I will go to the dealership so he can drive the car -- another econobox, really, but with some cute factor thrown into the practicality) -- and then I'll try to negotiate a deal for both cars.

R also goes on Medicare in August, and that has been a huge learning experience as well, as I've learned about 'benchmark' prescription plans, low income financial aid, and what and how expenses are covered.

And then there is the Congressional circus, with all the posturing and pontificating and pouting and pandering that has made news night after night. As we look towards retirement, this is extremely unsettling for our financial wellbeing, and unbelievably frustrating to watch the self-righteous Tea Party members who are refusing to play nicely with anybody, including members of their own party, and to wonder if anyone in the Republican party even is aware that there are more people in their districts who are not millionaires and big businesses than those who are. Most seem determined to throw our country under the bus in order to make their stand and get their own way; certainly they seem quite willing to bring federal programs and paychecks to a complete halt.

They underestimate us, I think. Obama's speech this week woke up some of us and the switchboards and websites were flooded with messages telling representatives to shape up and get on with it. But that will be a mere ripple compared to if Social Security, disability, and veteran's benefits checks are missed, even one.  People will lose their homes, will go hungry, will die, and there will be rioting, I believe.

Pretty dire scenario. I hope the Congress will start behaving like mature adults who are elected to represent ALL of the people, not just a wealthy few, and do what is right for our country. In raising the debt ceiling -- something that has been done over and over and over in the past, and is simply agreeing to pay bills we've already incurred -- we keep our credit rating in the world and act responsibly about paying our debts.

The budget issues are separate from this matter, and deserve to be addressed as such, but again, not by throwing people who depend on such programs as Social Security, disability and veteran's benefits to survive under that big honking billionaire bus. What they seem to forget -- and have for years -- is that WE fund Social Security with our wage dollars. It is not money to be spent or withheld by Congressional whim: it belongs to us and the government has been the (poor) caretaker of those funds. 

Okay. I'm getting off the soapbox. For now.

But it is stressful to read and watch, even the bits I permit myself to do. Suddenly I feel like our financial future -- our retirement nest egg -- is badly threatened by the actions of people who are not even elected by me and those in my area (not that our Wally Herger is a lot better). And it's all beyond our control to do much.

I feel as though I'm maintaining, not growing, not creating, just maintaining and doing what needs doing. I try not to beat myself up about not getting in a garden this year -- the first time in years I have not done so -- or about the other things that clutter my office space -- receipts, notes, assorted R papers -- or about losing that stupid 8 lbs that has gone back on again, and dealing with my own health issues. But these times are stressful right now.

I'm longing for some ocean time, too -- the constancy of the waves, the sea air, the crying of the gulls overhead, the smell of the salt and seaweed and fish all mixed together. The ocean helps me clarify and sort through things and dismiss those that are less important. It blows out the cobwebs and the sun-baked ennui. We're planning a trip for fall. And with August's coming, each day moves that relief a little closer to reality.

Living in Wonder - Reverb 10

Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

I didn't cultivate wonder this year, alas. So much of my year was spent in just living one day at a time, getting through the muck and the worry and the fears and the gotta-dos. It was not a year of depression and angst, mind you (and I've had those), but it was one of just getting through and making do.

But there were wonderous moments nonetheless.

As I have for many years, I did plant a garden again this year. It was not the biggest nor most prolific I've done, but I never fail to marvel at how those tiny, shriveled-up seeds result in little green shoots poking above my rocky soil, and then how they grow into bushy, big-leaved zucchini plants that offer slender green fruits, or into leafy vines that wander where they will and give me long, pale ribbed cucumbers, or bright orange marigolds that not only protect the veggies but survive the early frosts and keep their perky bright heads nodding in the wind and despite the baking sun in our hot summers.

I give them dirt (fed by compost) and water, Mother Nature gives them sun, and they grow into food that sustains me. That is miraculous. That never fails to thrill my soul.

*****
I am my best self when I'm by the ocean, that rocking cradle of life that has lapped at shores since earth was formed and will be there long after my essence is returned to the Universe. I know where I am when I'm standing on her wondrous shore; I feel her heartbeat inside me. More than anywhere else, the ocean awes me, calms me, stimulates me, scares me with its power and feeds me with its changeable constancy.

Reverb 10 -- feeling alive!

Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

What came first to mind was our vacation week in Brookings, Ore., in a charming house right where the Pacific and the Winchuck River meet. And in particular, the second full day of the week-long respite, when we woke to foggy skies and brisk, cool winds.

The great room of the one-bedroom house was all windows on the ocean end so we could see the driftwood-studded beach and the river mouth widen and narrow as the tides came in and out during the day. There were some 30 steps off the narrow back deck to the lower yard, which had tall trees, a lawn, and a short path out onto the beach, plus a fish-cleaning station and some of the ocean treasures others had brought from the sand -- buoys, shells, long driftwood poles, and an interesting assortment of oddly-shaped pieces of driftwood, for instance.

On this day we could barely see the beach. The ocean, of course, never ceases its wavery voice, first whooshing into the beach, then withdrawing with a sibilant purr. That was the constant background music for our whole week (and we slept with the sliding door and windows cracked so we could hear it all night long).

With the heat warming the room and lamps brightening corners, we ate a hot breakfast, then made a second pot of coffee. I snuggled into the chaise lounge part of the big, overstuffed sofa, afghan over my legs, and Tony settled in one of the big leather recliners with his laptop. And I cracked open a new book, The Help, and began reading.

Eventually I moved to another chair, propping my legs on the matching ottoman, because it had a better reading light. And read. All morning.

A quiet lunch, and I was back in the chair, this time with hot tea, and continued to read. All afternoon. I finished the book shortly before dusk: the fog never dissipated.

I don't remember the last time I just read a book all day long, blissfully lost in the word-created world. Occasionally I'd look at Tony, who was intent on reading news and blogs and video editing software, and sometimes he'd look back and me and we'd smile at each other, both of us utterly content to be exactly where we were, doing exactly what we were doing.

I have always, always been a reader. I'd read walking to or from school. I'd read in the bathroom. I figured out how to wash dishes with a book propped up in front of me. I'd read while drying my hair, while waiting in a line or for appointments; everywhere I went I had a book with me.

I've lost that in the busy-ness of the years and endless chores that need attention -- and there are always chores that need attention. Oh, I still read every day -- always the newspaper -- but usually a book only when I'm tucked into bed at night, before I turn out the light.

But I found it that day, again, that lovely soft grey day when there was nothing more important for me to do than sit there and just read. I found again the essence of who I am in that day and remembered how important it is for me to connect with my own story every day, to make time for that even with everything else beating on my door.

And the days keep rolling on...

It's been hot again here in Lake Woebegone -- er, Red Bluff.... gusting to 106 yesterday. It is supposed to plunge tonight to a high of only 82 tomorrow, and a possibility of showers for Monday. We'll see.

This is the time of year when everyone is sick to death of brown crunchy landscapes and hot temperatures. The trees have turned that desperate blue-green color of late summer, those that haven't already dropped their leaves and turned up their twigs in despair -- I worry about the pair at the front of the house because they look dead-dead-dead right now. Acorns are dropping, a good thing, since the deer don't have much left to eat and are looking mighty slender.

A family group visits around suppertime every day and includes a pair of twin fawns who largely have lost their spots now. When I come out to water the herbs and plants on the back patio, they prick up their ears and step closer in hopes that I'll toss out some peelings or past-their-prime veggies, not that I have a lot of those this year. I always worry about them too at this time of year, wondering if they'll make it until the rains come and grass starts growing again.

The vacation glow has worn off, although it stayed mostly through the first week back. Tony said while he was processing all the photos we shot that it made him want to go back to Bandon! Wish we were a little closer to the coast and the beautiful ocean. Even in the fog and rain, it is a wondrous sight, a reassuring constancy that no matter what else happens, it will be there, rolling in, rolling out.

You can see the coast pictures here -- taken by both of us.

Did I mention that the vacation rental we stayed in had 57 steps from the parking area to the door? Did I mention how our legs quivered after we climbed up them every day (and had to stop at least twice along the way?)

We were out and about every day, and made an excursion to Shore Acres State Park near Coos Bay. Gorgeous gardens with the ocean right there. Tony has a new lens and had a ball shooting pix; I used my trusty 18-200mm and got some nice ones too.

My flowers at Shore Acres, Tony's flowers.

Next foray will involve a trip back to Fayette, MO, the home of Central Methodist University, for my -- gasp -- 40th college graduation reunion. It oughta be an experience seeing all those old people, hm.

I'm hoping for a taste of fall weather there, and also that by some miracle the weather will change in the few days we'll be gone and that we'll be into fall weather here by the time we get back. (delusional, I know...)

We got to see our cutie-pie grandson last weekend for a few hours, and just marvel at how quickly children change, how quickly time passes as we age. All the time in the world that we had when we were young has now shrunk to something far too finite for comfort in some ways, and it makes us talk seriously of retirement and of doing things we hope to do, like more travel and more play. Not yet, we think, but not too far off either.

We have always felt that the Universe presents us with choices and options at the appropriate times, and that doesn't feel right just yet. Nonetheless, we are keeping our eyes and ears and minds open and watching. I feel a bit at loose ends right now about the "right" things for me to do, and seem to be reacting by not doing much of anything substantial. Little bits of writing here and there, little spurts of cleaning and refurbishing and weeding out stuff. We shall see what comes of it.

Meanwhile, we are in transition yet again from late summer into early fall, anticipating the rains and change, whatever it brings. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time, doing all we can to be where we are....