Reverb#14 for June: Staycation? Nope....

The prompt: Staycationing | It's summertime and the livin' is easy.  Tell us about where you are RIGHT NOW.  Tell us about your summer time at home.  Does "home" mean heading out of town for the season?  Does it mean an extended staycation?  What does summer at home mean to you?

We recently returned from two weeks spent in Chiloquin, Ore., near Crater Lake National Park. Two lovely cool weeks in our little Sallie Forth travel trailer, in a marvelous large site in Collier Memorial State Park. We used the electric blanket most nights. We used the furnace most mornings and evenings. At home, temperatures were in the 100s, dipping for a few days into the low 90s, but we left here in 106 degree heat.

And then we spent just an overnight in the San Francisco area -- I had an appointment with the cardiologist who will do my afib ablation later this summer -- and it too was gloriously cool, and we spent the afternoon exploring the areas where we met and used to live, watching waves crashing into the shore at the Pacifica Pier, eating seafood paella at a beachfront restaurant, smelling the salt air and the wild dill that perfumes  the coastline there.

And we are getting ready to go again: to the Seattle area to visit daughter and grandchildren, to have some quiet downtime by the ocean and also to explore some areas we've briefly visited but want to see more of.

Last summer, tired of the heat, we vowed to spend more time away from it this summer -- and we are. With 114 on our front porch today, it is too hot to enjoy anything except a good book and a tall glass of water with lemon. 

Once in a Blue Moon -- Day 2 -- Summer!

The prompt: We are about to enter into a gentler season i.e. Autumn/Fall if you’re in the Northern Hemisphere, Spring if you’re in the Southern Hemisphere. For me, these seasons often feel like a relief after the intensity of Summer and Winter. How do you intend to transition into the new season?

Oh, I am so NOT a summer person, especially as an adult. Even as a kid, I hated being hot and sweaty and sticky and dirty, and greatly preferred finding a cool, shady space where I could read for hours undisturbed. Not for me the summer sports or the cool blue of the public pool that was an easy bike ride from my house.

There was a fragrant tree that bloomed on the side of our house and aided by huge lilac bushes, the side yard facing our neighbor's blank-walled garage was my little private haven. I put blankets down to create a soft bed, took two or three books of the bike-basket-full I'd borrow from the bookmobile that stopped every other week in a park near out house, and read for hours, the dappled shade flickering on the pages, and what breeze there might have been in the hot, humid Missouri summers fluffing my hair.

When I was a little older and able to ride the city bus by myself, I'd venture to the main library, a huge old Carnegie building, and spend the day browsing in the cool company of quiet librarians and slightly musty odor of old books. I read my way through the entire collection of fairy and folk tales one summer -- every volume of "Under the **** Umbrella" books, Grimm and Anderson, and a myriad of folk tales and mythology.

My brother spent all day every day outside, playing with his friends by the creek (forbidden but done anyway), playing team sports, riding bikes, getting dirty and stinky and happy as a pig in mud.

I don't like sweating. I hate humidity. I am not an athlete. I'm not fond of bugs and things that bite. I like the occasional picnic, but civilized, with chilled lemonade, chocolate cake, lovely chicken sandwiches, cherries, and perhaps some pickles. On a tablecloth and a clean picnic bench, please.

Where I live now gets very hot in the summer; the one plus being that the humidity is often in the single digits. I get very tired of endless sun, crispy grass (because California's green season is in the winter and spring), tired dark blue-green oak leaves that literally shrivel on the tree towards the end of summer and fall off.. As summer comes to a close, the nights cool down more, usually enough to open the windows and turn on the window fan to freshen and cool the stale house air, but in the height of summer, it can still be 90 degrees at midnight. ''

This year I intend to transition by leaving town and going to cooler climates! I am hoping that by the time we get back home towards the end of September, the days will be comfortably warm and the nights even slightly chilly. Typically it will still be weeks before jeans and sweaters and rain gear come out well into October, but at least the end is in sight.

I have a winter heart. I have always known this, born as I was in November in cold, wintry Minnesota, always preferring the snuggly wools and fleeces and flannels, the wood stove fires, the thick, warming soups and stews, mugs of strong hot coffee in the morning and fragrant steaming tea in the afternoon and evening. My passions run deep and fiery but are not always visible at the surface, and I can freeze ice with a look if so motivated. I have a winter heart.

I welcome the annual transition from naked, put-it-all-out-there summer to the crisp and bounteous days of autumn, and relish the inward reflection and renewal of our California winters.  Bring it on.

Rain on the way -- we hope!

Our weather is sharply colder tonight and a north wind is sending the outdoor kitties into corners to shelter from the wind. Nevermind that they have houses that are packed with blankets, foam rubber padding, purrpads, and doors that help keep the wind out. They'll go in, just not when I'm looking.

But we have for the first time in a couple of months the promise of rain for this week. Our favorite Old Forecaster says that our area will have 1-2 inches of the stuff by this time next week, and more in the surrounding area. Since our grass is once again brown and crispy, after a brief greening-up following early winter rains in October-November, that will be most welcome. Most necessary, if we're to escape serious fire threat this summer.

I'm good with this. There is little I love more than snuggling down with an afghan in front of our warm woodstove, kitties curled deep on their tuffets (really RustiesGranny pet beds, which they LOVE, thankyouverymuch Tamina!), a cup of hot tea and something good on television -- and Sunday night is a big one, with Shameless, House of Lies, Californication, Desperate Housewives, Once Upon a Time, and I forget what else. Not that we watch all of that in one evening. It's hard to remember not having a DVR. We seldom watch anything live anymore because it is so easy to record and watch at our convenience.

Our day has been so good: brunch with friends at our favorite Mexican restaurant and then we went to see "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" which was quite good even though we haven't yet read the books. Tonight it's hot beef stew for dinner and a quiet evening enjoying shows. Tomorrow we're back to work and chores.

One of the posts I've been thinking through is about writing, prompted by a question asked at yesterday's Writers Forum conference: Why do you write? What a provocative thought, actually -- and I'll write about that sometime this week.

Another question from the same event asked about the kind of books I like to read and also authors I admire. That, too, deserves more thought, and I'll share with you. Generally, our leaders told us, writers read what they want to write. And I'm not sure that I do. Hm.

June doings

It's not for lack of subjects or opinions that I haven't posted since early this month. I have plenty to say, as those who know me well will attest, and sometimes I'm sure they wish I'd shut up.

I participated in a mystery dinner theater mid month to benefit our county's branding project -- a fund raiser for a professional marketing and branding guru to create campaigns that highlight our county's biggest assets -- among them are wine and olives.

It was an experience. I've done this before, about five years ago, and it's fairly corny -- lots of scantily clad women (excluding me, I might add), chase scenes, cat fights, raunchy humor, and a thin plot. The crowd loved it. It was a sellout both nights. And it involved a fair bit of rehearsal that last week, and a lot of willingness to adapt and change. It wasn't a particularly artistic experience and I sure didn't 'stretch' my acting -- I mean, I can play overbearing and bitchy blindfolded with both hands tied behind my back -- but the cast members are wonderful and I loved nurturing those relationships. That was the payoff for me.

On top of that  I'd waited until the 11th hour to finish the 45-hour required real estate coursework to renew my license for another four years, not that I really plan on using it. But it took a lot of work to get it and you never know... so I was studying and taking online tests during the early part of the month as well. It's done. I could indeed sell real estate again in California, under a licensed broker. 

And then there was a memorial service for a woman we met only a few times but are good friends with her partner and wanted to support him. It was an amazing service and I only hope that when my time comes that people are as loving and generous with their tributes as we heard at this service.

One thing in particular made me wish I'd known her better. Her spiritual path was very important to her and she'd studied in India, worked with practitioners from various spiritual paths, and her service was held in a Christian church designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. She was completely comfortable incorporating ALL of these practices into her own spiritual belief system and embraced all of them -- I love that, and found that to be eye-opening, especially since there were so many others there who seemed to feel the same way. The service was a mashup of  Eastern chants, Christian ritual, music from all of them, and poetry. Many were dancing at the end as a trio sang "The Great Storm"; my leaky face dripped tears because it was so perfect, such a joyous acknowledgement of who this woman was, of who we all can be.

There is no doubt that her children and our friend will miss her terribly, and there were moments of grief that just tore at your heart, but it was a great sending-off and ended with a reception and chocolate cake -- her wishes, since she was known for her desserts and homemade bread. She was only 65 and died of cancer -- a fairly prolonged death, hard on her and those who loved her.

Then this last Saturday, we recorded Tony's first radio theater script for New Radio Theater. His is an adaptation of Rudyard Kipling's Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, and a number of wonderful north state actors came together to interpret it. We were cast as the great cobra Nag and his wife Nagaina, and had a great time hissing evilly. This is Tony's first script and he was just delighted that it was accepted and recorded for play later in July. I'll put the date and time as soon as I know for sure. It was quite a red-letter day for him, and I was very proud of him and the end result. He's now at work on an original script.

And earlier in the month we had a lovely picnic with our now three-year-old grandson, his brothers and sister, and our daughter V in a park area near their home. Gabe took to the plasmacar that we gave him without any instruction and rode it all over the adjacent parking lot, as did the other kids and even his momma! It was a fun afternoon, a little piece of normalcy and celebration within a lot of busy-ness and turmoil. 

That's the 'doing' stuff for this month. There has been more 'being' stuff going on too, some of which I'm still pondering and trying to figure out. Not all of it has been especially fun -- including the ongoing state of the economy and turmoil over the budget, and with that, Medicare and Social Security, topics which at our age loom quite large in our priorities. Change is afoot for our children again, and we have become pretty good at holding our opinions and tongues close, although it is an uneasy compromise at times.

And the month which began in rain and cool weather also draws to a close with more rain and cool temperatures today (although we'll be up to 100 this weekend again) -- unusual weather for these parts, welcome though it was. Friday will bring a new month with new beginnings and who knows what endings we may find.

Powerless over others' actions

A recurring theme in these now years of blog posts has been letting go of issues that are not mine to deal with: acknowledging that we are all powerless over people, places, and things, and then letting them go, putting the responsibility where it belongs -- which is not on ME.

I keep working on doing that. And I keep working on not worrying about the outcome of others' actions, and to not feel (or act on) the great need to step in front of that speeding train to keep them safe.

Some days I am more successful than others.

According to one astrology site, a change is coming this week. Hard as change can be, it needs to happen for me.

Not that I want drastic, awful, horrible death-in-the-family change, please, oh please not. Just a shift towards the positive, towards good growth and constructive actions.

And more letting go of things and situations that I am not responsible for, that I cannot cure, that I cannot control. Trying to manage my own thoughts and actions and life is enough: I am not responsible for the outcome of others' choices.

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Spring is springing. Our harbinger tree began leafing out this last weekend (right on time) which means that the other trees will soon bud into green life. We've had daffodils springing up here and there for a couple of weeks now, and many flowering trees (some of which lost lots of blossoms in the cold and wind we've had recently) but the little tree that unfurls its greenness first has always been our true indicator of spring.

While I do enjoy the lovely mild temperatures and the pretty green grasses that make this area so beautiful in the spring, I can't help thinking about the heat that I know will follow all too soon, and I confess that I prefer the woodstove, the rain, and the green grasses -- even the weeds -- to the crispy brown fields and searing 110-degree days that are always a part of our summer.

Our weeds are definitely thriving too -- we have not yet done the spring RoundUp blitz that beats them back from the house and along the driveway, and need to do so. If I can just go out for 10 minutes each day and pull weeds, it'll help: we're now past the stage where they are little sprouts that would hardly be seen once hit by the weed killer, and into full bushy mode, where they'd lay in dead heaps on the ground and REALLY look crappy.

Rhubarb is coming up in the (also weedy) garden but I'm not ready to think about getting into the garden just yet, nor about the plants in the pots close to the house. Later.

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I'm not doing well on my intention to write a book so far; some better on taking care of myself. I'm loving my weekly yoga class and can feel strength building in legs and core -- I only wish we had it twice weekly but am grateful for even this. Loving the monthly massages that so slow me down and release the bad kinks.

It takes time to break bad habits too, and I'm working on that -- most especially the one about letting things go. I'm grateful for time and security to do that. It will come, just as those hot days of summer will come. Meanwhile, we take things one day at a time -- doing all we can, where we are, with what we've got.

Catching up -- bits of thought for 2011

While I've composed bits and pieces of blog posts in my head this past month, they haven't made it to actual type and format. I'm sorry...but also if you've missed me, I'm glad. I'll try to do better.

I've really missed Reverb10, which kept me writing nearly daily in December, introspectively examining the past year and figuring out what was impactful. I know there are prompts out there, but it's not the same thing.

I began a post about taking care of myself and my determination this year to do just that, but it didn't get far. That said, I AM doing more for my own good this year: a weekly yoga class that uses muscles I didn't remember I had, walking at least 10 minutes a day, monthly massages that rejuvenate my body and my spirit from a marvelous masseuse who also uses energy work to enhance her magic fingers, and better permission to read during the day if I want -- something I haven't allowed myself to do much of in some time. I guess it's because I think it's unproductive -- and yet I'll read on the computer for several hours, blogs, websites, etc. Go figure.

Anyway, I'm working on all of it, mostly successfully.

I've spent some time petting kitties too, especially since a friend recently lost her dearly loved 11-year-old cat, and his sibling kitty just three months ago too. I was so sad for her loss, knowing full well how devastating the death of a much-loved animal can be -- dare I say even more, sometimes, than the death of a human? I think it's because with animals we just are who we are and they love us anyway, warts and all. Animals sense a troubled spirit and try to soothe it; they give back so much acceptance and energy and patience with us despite our moods and our troubles. They are with us daily, especially if we're at home much of the time. I appreciate our little boys and am always happy to hold them and pet them when they spring into my lap, even when I don't always appreciate a furry tail in front of my computer monitor.

And I've been following the giant storm that's icing its way across the Midwest today -- deadly ice in Missouri and Indiana -- both states in which I've lived -- and other cities too. I still have relatives and friends there and have been concerned for them. So far, they assure me, they're fine.

We have such spring-like weather right now, with highs in the 60s and approaching 70, and sunshine. Last week we had some bad fog in the mornings and evenings, but it's not ice and snow. (Actually we need more winter -- rain and cooler temperatures -- because all this false spring makes fruit trees blossom too early.) But it's hard to remember what it's like to have below zero temperatures and ice over everything and deep snow -- and we both have had our share of that. I am not a fan of the 110 degree summer days, but I'll take that in order to have the relatively mild winters we have here -- little or no snow, good rain, and temperatures that only rarely get below freezing. Fifty miles in three directions, however, will put us right in a snowbank with plenty of cold ~ another thing I do like about living here.

So here we are in February again: a short month, sweet holidays, a bit more winter (I hope), and then March comes with spring, and then July isn't far behind with hot days.

Time goes faster as we get older, I think. The hair looks a bit more gray, the skin a bit more weathered, the flexibility a bit less. And I look at myself in the mirror and wonder how that all happened so quickly? I remember being 16, waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up for a date. I remember being 21 and about to graduate from college and get married, and I remember when my now almost-35-year-0ld daughter was a baby, feeding herself pears and cottage cheese with her hands rather than the spoon, and getting it all over her sweet face.

I wouldn't go back.

But I'd sure like to slow this time down a little bit more, savor the days and the love and the weather and the kitties and the tastes and the kisses a little longer. I'm heading rapidly toward what I used to regard as 'old' -- and I know what eventually comes -- and I'm not ready for that.

So I'll try again, always, to live where I am, in this moment, with this chore or this joy or this taste or this hug, and to really, REALLY be present. That's all I can do.

A quiet weekend

Tony's captured the essence of the road warrior in his new Cat-E-Whompus post, Roadrunnin'. Be sure to take a look.

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I'm feeling very thrifty this morning: I've managed to turn a $4.99 rotisserie chicken from the grocery store into a number of meals, the latest of which is bubbling away in my crockpot.

We had it sliced accompanied by fresh corn on the cob and steamed broccoli the first night.

A couple nights later I mixed more of the chicken with my garden zucchini, a sauce and some homemade sourdough stuffing to create a yummy casserole -- I did it in the crockpot but prefer it baked in the oven, actually. There's enough left to give us another meal at least and possibly a serving to go in the freezer.

And then yesterday I threw bones, skin, water and seasoning in the crockpot and let it simmer all day, resulting in a lovely rich broth. I skimmed off the bones and skin (then chopped up some of the bits and gave it to the outside kitties, who scarfed it right down), then put a pound of great northern beans in the broth along with a few spices and let them cook all night. I've added the rest of the chicken, onion, celery, hot peppers, and more spices to it this morning and we'll enjoy it as white chicken chili either tonight or tomorrow. And there will be plenty leftover to freeze or eat as lunches this week.

Weather is in transition today: mostly cloudy and warm-ish, but not really enough for air conditioning and too humid for swamp cooler. We're expecting rain tonight and tomorrow, and temps very mild through the coming week. I'm hoping we're done with the 90s, but also am not stupid -- we've had 100-degree days into October in past years. Alas, with the weather changes also come achey-breakys, and my joints are creaky this morning.

Based on kitty behaviors, I'm predicting another early, cold winter this year. The outside kitties have porked up considerably from their summer slim-down, and their fur has thickened and is very plush. Even Minnie, our tiny old little girl, has a tummy and her mottled black long hair is fluffing out. Not a lot of acorns, however, although there are enough that the deer have mostly lost their starved look. Leaves are already falling too, although there are plenty on the trees.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Well, I did better with a meme, didn't I, as far as posting regularly goes!

Tony has gone on and come home from his first trip to China, thanks to his company's being purchased by Alibaba, and shot lots of video and stills which he still needs to edit. He's still jetlagged a bit but that takes time and sleep to get over. The purchase will certainly create change for him and others. While he's told me lots of stories already, his main takeaway is that China is not what he'd thought it would be and is far more capitalistic than he'd ever imagined.

I'm sure he'll eventually write about some of his experiences on his blog, Cat-E-Whompus, and I'll link to it when he does.

In the meantime, if you're interested, you can read about the trip here, and soon there will be post-trip entries from him and others. Check back often -- new entries will be added.

I'm glad to have him home. China is a 14-hour trip at best, and a 15 hour time difference. I was always aware of what time it was there and looked forward to the 15 minute phone calls I'd make every afternoon around 4-5 pm; early morning there.

I did spend time getting things organized in the home office and finally moved my jewelry bench into position and put away all the tools I bought nearly a year ago. Just a few more piles to deal with and it'll look and be easy to come in here. I have lots of old jewelry to recycle into something 'new' and some new beads and baubles to play with too.

This stemmed from a class I took last fall given by Troy Hawkins, artiste extraordinaire, who has some truly unusual pieces that he's made from recycled bits and pieces. This weekend he's teaching a two-day class on jewelry-making -- last year's was a four-week, one day a week, class and included a field trip to some of his favorite thrift stores.

Like so many people, I have lots of costume jewelry that I never wear anymore. Partly that's because of the far more casual life we lead in California; partly it's because the styles change. The jewelry I own is from my life in Indiana and Alabama, both of which also involved jobs which required a level of professional dress. What's stylish also varies hugely from region to region: Alabama, for instance, was the home of the big earring, at least in the early-mid 1990s. I have some danglies and big pieces that I'll never wear like that again, unless it's dressup at Halloween.

So I'm looking forward to creating and mixing things. The project I began in class is to create a necklace incorporating all of the charms from my high school charm bracelets plus a few other meaningful pieces -- an honor brooch from an organization I belonged to, a very old charm from my mother, an enameled pin from my junior high days, my high school ring.

Don't know if all of that will make it into the necklace -- it might evolve into a zipper pull or a pin too. It'll be fun to play, though.

Of course in cleaning out, throwing away and filing tons of papers -- I am such a paper hoarder -- I've also realized that every drawer and cabinet and closet in the house needs cleaning out. We've been here for nearly eight years -- the longest I've lived in any house as an adult -- and it's either move (because everything gets sorted out as you pack) or clean. So my next ongoing project is to move through the house, taking a closet or drawer every few days and reorganizing, recycling, or donating what's there. I know there are expired meds; I know there are sheets that no longer fit my beds that someone else can use. It's time.

And then there are the ginormous cucumbers I've been blessed with in the garden: I'm giving them away, but I'd also like to make a vat of pickles -- refrigerator or freezer pickles -- which I've never done. Tomatoes are in a bit of a lull; the zucchini are coming just enough to be enjoyable; peppers also. Our days are currently warmish -- in the low 90s to high 80s, but nights are cooling into the low 60s and even 50s, which is wonderful. We're to get rain this weekend and much cooler temperatures: still unusual for this time of year in the Sacramento valley. I'll take it though.

I love this transition from hot summer into fall, with hints of winter rains now and then. While we just don't get the fall color that rainier areas do -- we are brown and crunchy -- we do have the falling leaves, deer munching on acorns, and the cool evenings that speak of change. I'm hoping for another wet and cold winter: last year's replenished ponds and lakes and water tables so well, and we need another like it. I'd even be up for a few flurries.

Bay area weather!

I'm hearing people complain about the cool weather we've had this month -- highs barely reaching 70 on many days, and lows touching the lower 40s at night -- far more like early April than like late May.

I love it. We actually had a fire in the woodstove Saturday morning and I expect we'll have another one sometime this week Now mind you, week before last we had a fire on Monday and were running the swamp cooler by Friday, although it wasn't really hot yet -- close to 90, maybe.

I'm still alternating between sweatshirts and teeshirts most days. Tony actually mowed and it was fairly cool outside a week ago, pretty much. I've done some garden work and it has been pleasant. No, it's not in yet, but the tomatoes wouldn't like these temps anyway, so I'm not stressing over it.

I expect that we'll explode into the 100s sometime within the next month, but even forestalling that by a month is a real blessing. I know the Midwest and South are heating up but so far, we're 20 degrees below normal on most days.

Downtown Red Bluff had a Girlfriends Day on Saturday and I hope it was well attended. I went with a girlfriend to HeartFelt Designs and ended up spending nearly all my time there, although I did get a lovely 15 minute chair massage elsewhere that only convinced me that I need an hour-long one and probably more than that.

But I also had a Reiki session with Jessie Woods which was very encouraging for me. I like angels -- I have several figures that my mother had, perched high over the wood stove on our plant shelf there, and I have always liked the idea of guardian angels. She strongly believes in angels, both human and spirit, and told me that I have several, including one large one nearby. She gave me some suggestions to ground myself every day in order to feel balanced and centered, and I'm trying that. It was helpful and I've felt good ever since. More positive...

And she is even my neighbor, which we realized only at the end of the session. That makes it even more significant for me.

Last night we attended auditions at Riverfront Playhouse in Redding for a new murder mystery musical play by Bill and Lisa Collins. Tony doesn't have the flexibility to be able to play at this point, but he wanted to observe, and there was a juicy role that I wanted to attempt. It was fun -- lots of good people, good readings, including mine. However, one of the things a director must look for is how people match up physically -- and I knew that I was an unlikely candidate when I saw the overall age and size of the auditioners. There is a another round tonight, but I'm not holding my breath. I had a great time, was very happy with my interpretation (and so were the directors, I believe), but I don't think this one is going to happen for me, and I'm good with that. There will be others. I got to see some friends from Steel Magnolias and see another Vagina Monologues actress who'd come to audition, and those were totally worth the trip!

Not very profound today, I guess -- but our life is in the details and in how you savor each of them. I like watching the clouds blowing in in preparation for more rain tomorrow, I like having the kitties climb in my lap wanting a snuggle, I like folding clean laundry and thinking of something good and nutritious to fix for supper. I do feel very focused and centered, thank you very much, and am trying to stay in the moment today.

Just another ordinary Sunday

...punctuated by rain and wind as has been the case lately. Absolutely not one whit of progress on getting RoundUp on the weeds, which are growing almost visibly, but you can't do it when it's going to rain or with a lot of wind, and we've had both every weekend for weeks -- or have had other appointments that couldn't be postponed. It'll be waiting for us...

We've got a fire in the woodstove, a brisket in the crockpot, granola in the oven, and the dryer is full of clean clothes. Tonight is the season premier of The Tudors, another episode of The Pacific, a two-hour Brothers and Sisters. And the DVR holds several other goodies including the latest James Bond, Quantum of Solace.

Tony's taking a nap. So are the kitties. I just finished up one layout for a program I'm doing and caught up on some reading. Life is good.

I finished Martha Beck's Steering by Starlight last night and will ponder the book for some time to come, I think. It made me puddle up at the end even -- this is, I suppose, not the usual response to a self-help book.

She quotes Einstein as having said that there are two ways to look at life: as though nothing is a miracle or though everything is. And her example of waking up in the morning (miracle), drinking a cup of coffee (miracle: coming from a far distant place to my cup), going online (miracle!) are examples of gratitudes, of blessings we all have and rarely think twice about.

She quotes Mary Oliver: "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

And she says, after a whole book of exercises designed to help us find our Stargazer selves, "If you're afraid you've come to this question too late (the Mary Oliver one), you are wrong: ... The world is re-created in every instant of time, and this moment is always your life's beginning."

Beck ends with a poem that begins, "Live while you are alive..."

In something else I read in the past couple of days -- and it may have been referenced in this book too -- a teacher asked his class what they would do if they learned they had six months to live. Answers ranged from travel to eating whatever they wanted. As the teacher shortened the time, though, to one month to one week to one day, the answers became focused on relationships, on people, on love.

And then he asked the question again: What would you do if you knew you had six months to live? And how do you know you do?

Life is short. It is fragile, but it also is immensely strong and powerful, even when we have had hard things happen to us. But it is all we have, this one 'wild and precious life.'

Back to more normal fare

and off the politics, at least for now.

Yesterday I made a big pot of minestrone and another of chili in preparation for our brief return to cool, wet weather this week -- although the forecast indicated that the rain would begin yesterday afternoon and become heavy this morning.

Guess what. As of 9:30 a.m. local time, we have had barely a drop. Lots of wind going on now but no rain yet.

We'd planned to RoundUp the driveway and street frontage, but hated to see the expensive stuff literally washed away, so postponed it yet another week. Turns out we probably would have been fine -- but you go on forecasts. So we busied ourselves inside instead, with laundry, more paper pitching in the office, and finally putting together my new jewelry workbench.

But back to minestrone.

A few weeks ago the USA magazine that is in Sunday newspapers had a recipe for minestrone, and it sounded good and easy so I tried it. And it is both. Nearly any veggie will work; it is practically no fat (a little olive oil), and chock full of healthy stuff. Yesterday I used some frozen veggies including some of my frozen zucchini, the remainder of a head of cabbage, and the usual onion-celery-garlic trio. I used some chicken bouillion too since I didn't have two full quarts of vegetable broth. Served with a sprinkle of parmesan, it is a satisfying meal. And I love that it is so healthy.

Everyone makes chili differently. R uses canned spaghetti sauce in hers, so I tried it this week with a can of garlic/herb sauce, also adding a large can of diced tomatoes. It's thick and tomato-y, not very authentic, of course, but with plenty of garlic and onion and chili powder, plus kidney beans (from dried) and ground beef. Like the soup, it will get even better as the flavors blend. But with some fat-free saltines, carrots and celery sticks, it made a nice Sunday evening meal.

The trees are sporting vividly green leaves, daffodils are blooming, and spring has definitely come -- but I am not yet ready to let go completely of winter and really look forward to the cool and rainy weather that is supposed to be coming. We head into April this week, and we've already seen temperatures of 80+. I'm just not looking forward to those blazing blast-furnace days of 110 degrees that our summers always include. If we can ease into it over the next two months with cool temps at night, a bit of rain here and there, and nothing too far over 80, I'd love it.

Healing

I've been in physical therapy three times a week since my cast came off, and a sturdy brace when I leave the house (or overuse the wrist at home). It's definitely getting better and stronger. So am I, mentally and emotionally.

It amazes me how big an impact this injury had on me in every way, not just physically. I suppose that is part of the aging process, but I think it also is becoming more aware of how every part of your body and mind affects every other part: injury to body or spirit is injury to both.

I'm grateful that the wrist is healing well and that I have as much mobility as I do even now, and that is with much more therapy to come. I'm grateful for competent medical facilities and doctors and therapists, and grateful that we can afford healthcare.

I continue to be outraged at the struggle to get a healthcare bill passed in the Congress, however, and at the callous disregard of so many Congressional representatives for the "little" people in our country -- those who do not have insurance and who cannot afford it or who cannot qualify for it under the dictatorship of our insurance companies.

In e-mail, I received a missive titled 'How to Fix Congress,' and while I have respect for the elected office, I am more disillusioned about the ethics and simple humanity of the people who occupy Congressional seats. While the suggestions in this idea will never happen, it certainly might improve life for hundreds of thousands of Americans if it did -- not, however, Congress.

Spring begins officially on Saturday, but our harbinger tree started popping its leaves last week, even amid the copious hail that whitened the ground and collected in the hollows last Monday, and that dropped our temperatures abruptly to the upper 40s. We had bits of sunshine but cooler temperatures. This week we will have days in the 70s, which will pop out all the leaves. It's not the end of rain and cool here, but it likely will slow down. I'm not ready for warm again quite yet -- I really relish the woodstove fires and the cool, rainy days. At least we've had a lot of rain this winter, unlike the last several, which I hope will help cut down on the wildfires this summer.

Friends and family are still struggling with health or business issues, and it is hard to hear and to see because there really is nothing more that any of them can do than what they are already doing. I know economic recovery is supposed to be happening, but it sure hasn't hit people I care about yet, or at least it doesn't appear to be enough to turn around faltering businesses. I guess it is just one day at a time for all of us. What more can you do?

Easter is approaching too, and while it has been a long time since I was part of a church, it is still a time for new beginnings and second chances -- new life, renewal, rebirth.
Spring cleaning is no accident -- washing windows, cleaning closets and -- yes -- offices to sort through the old and broken and unused, cleaning out the clutter.

Works with life too -- that clutter and sorting. I'm deep into Martha Beck again, this time Steering By Starlight, and her words are all about finding your own stargazer, the part of you that is your true self. It is a challenge to read, but food for the mind and the soul.

Foggy, foggy morning

Thick, pea-soupy fog blankets everything this morning and Tony just called to caution me to leave extra time on my way to an appointment this morning. He said it's just as foggy in town as out.

I'm grateful it's not inches of white stuff as they've had on the East Coast. I can deal with fog better.

The Daily Om has an interesting perspective on fog: stopping to listen carefully, moving forward with caution, paying attention to what is around you even if you cannot see it clearly. Eventually it lifts, revealing what it has hidden and making plain the shadows and obstacles.

One thing I know for sure: nothing lasts. Everything, even fog, will change and lift and become more clear. Everything changes.

We photographed the funeral of a young man this weekend who had served in the military in Iraq and Afghanistan, and then in the Honor Guard on the East Coast. (His mother had asked for photographers to come, to document the ceremony.) He had begun a career after his honorable military discharge doing something he absolutely adored doing, and then, out of nowhere, came problems, big hairy ones, that dragged on and on, and eventually cost him his beloved jobs. Although the issues were finally resolved, there was a cloud that trailed him, and he killed himself.

So area veterans sent him to God with full military honors, a gun salute, and an extremely moving flag ceremony performed by two young men who had traveled to a tiny Tehama County cemetery to do this one last ritual for a fellow soldier who had done it for so many others.

There is no doubt that he was loved and cherished by his family and friends. But he didn't have the maturity, I think, to understand that everything changes, that nothing stays the same, that if he had made just another phone call, perhaps someone would have helped him to understand that, to see that even though his life was not the same, it could be good again in a direction a little differently than what he had planned.

I know it isn't that simple, of course. And I wasn't in his shoes, nor even an acquaintance. I know he left life too young. I know he left a mother who will forever have a hole in her heart, people who loved him dearly. I know he will never have a second chance.

Life throws us all curve balls now and then. But as long as we are breathing, we have a second chance. The path we thought we were on may swerve and go a different direction. It may be hard to see the way through the fog and the curves and the detritus that often accompany such change. But it WILL clear. It always, always does.

People around me, near and dear to me, are struggling with health issues and financial woes this year -- not because of mismanagement of money or neglect of health, but just because it was their turn, I guess. It's hard to feel so helpless, and also hard to feel very 'Christmas-y" in the midst of such life-changing moments. I guess part of that is how I've always felt about Christmas: a magical holiday where, for one brief period of time in a year, people get along, are happy, enjoy family and friends, and feel good about themselves and where they are, and grateful. I do feel grateful. I am immensely, hugely, tremendously, always grateful to be where I am and with Tony. That overrides everything else.

I wish the young man had been able to find just one thing to be grateful for in his life, just one reason not to do what he did. I wish he could have been able to find the inner assurance that his fog would indeed lift and that his path -- a new path -- would be revealed, one step at a time.

We live our lives day by day, not year by year. We do all we can today -- with all the tools we have right now -- to do what it is we think we must. But in so doing, we proceed knowing that as we journey we will see another part of the path, and that while it may go a direction we hadn't planned for, nor even want, we are only as alone as we choose to be. If we ask for help, someone may show us a part of the path we hadn't seen, or help us to walk out of the fog. Sometimes all we have to do is to extend a hand, reaching for someone, something, and we will connect.

I can't fix the health problems or money woes that my loved ones are having, but I am here to hold a hand, to cry with them, to just BE here so they are not alone in the fog. They do the same for me. And in the larger scheme of things, that is what matters most.

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....

Perfect

Our weather is simply perfect today: high projected at only about 83, humidity only around 25 percent, sunshine. Breezes, not wind.

Unusual for June. Last evening on our way to our final Steel Magnolias performance we ran into a deluge: water poured over the car and the Interstate. We ran out of it fortunately, but this June has been wetter than many, and also cooler. Next week we head upwards into the 100s -- far more typical summer pattern.

The garden likes it, though, and I cut a bunch of lettuces yesterday, including the arugula that is my current favorite. Soon as the temps head up, it'll all bolt, so we're enjoying fresh greens. The RB Farmers Market yesterday has cukes, zucchini, mounds of green beans, and melons -- I have blossoms but no fruit yet, although the tomatoes have clusters of little green orbs that will ripen nicely in the heat. If it gets too hot, however, the blossoms won't set...so I'm hoping for reasonable temps.

We're being very lazy today, this Father's Day. I'm thinking a nap might be good, maybe some steak on the barbecue later, a big salad, then watching our favorite Sunday night shows and even catching up on some of those we've DVR-ed and saved.

It's back to life as usual tomorrow. No rehearsals, no performances, no lines. It will seem odd, I know. And I've got a couple of deadlines, plus many areas that need sorting and cleaning out since I've put stuff off over this last three months.

But I will enjoy today -- the summer solstice, with the longest day of the year and the shortest night. I remember being in Sweden for the solstice many years ago, seeing Maypoles everywhere, sprigs of green adorning cars and boats and homes and even people, to celebrate the return of the sun.

Hope yours is good, wherever you are, whatever you are doing.

Living in gratitude

It's not that things are all rosy-posy and life is smooth. Rather the contrary.

But I am floating on a cushion of prayers and love that has just been amazing to me, and I am neither anxious nor immobilized. I'm doing what I need to do fairly effectively, I'm not spinning about things I neither caused nor can control. I'm asking for help when I need it.

And I'm grateful.

Today I had an out-of-town appointment and drove a couple hours down CA 99E -- a mostly two-lane road that is not a barrel of laughs when it's sunny and dry. It was raining most of the way, not torrential downpours, but rain.

It was actually very easy and very beautiful.

In the first place, I'm so grateful to see rain again and seasonable temps! We've had some good rain in the past couple of days, and the prospects for more stretch out for at least the next 10 days. Our highs and lows are where they should be, not in the 70s. It's wood stove time again, warm fuzzy sweats, sweaters. I love it.

And even though it's way too early, the orchards are starting to bloom, so there were little stars of pink and white sparkling through much of that drive. Further south, there were fields of a bright yellow flower -- not sure what it is, maybe mustard? -- that absolutely popped in the grey drizzle, especially against stark, dark trees that aren't ready to bloom.

I thought about how fortunate I have been to have the wonderful, supportive husband I do, who I love and cherish more than I'd ever dreamed I could. I thought about how lucky I am to be the mother of two daughters who, despite all their difficult issues and heartaches, give me great joy. I got to raise one of them from birth; the other since she was 16. Yeah, they drive me nuts sometimes and I want to shake them until their teeth rattle, but I wouldn't have missed it.

I am grateful that I live in this beautiful state, that I get to experience living so close to the land and the seasons. On the drive back home, the sun came out and through the clouds over the eastern mountains, little pockets opened up here and there and I could see snowy slopes that were almost pink from the sun's reflection. (And I wondered WHY oh why I don't always travel with my camera~!)

I love coming back to our house and its familiar warmth, not just from the stove, but because it is a place we created, that we filled with love and memories of our families. I love that our kitties miss us and are all over each of us as we browse through e-mails and read blogs and news. I like knowing that in a few minutes I'll head for bed, and they'll be right there, ready to cuddle down and guard us while we sleep.

I'm grateful for people who offer unanticipated support and caring words, for people who want to help others get better, for understanding. I'm grateful that so many people in this world are truly good people.

I'm very much living in the moment, doing what needs doing, taking care of business, but not going into the what-ifs and potential ice weasel territory. Tony says I'm compartmentalizing; I'm not sure that is it exactly -- it's just the way I'm living my life, all parts of it, for right now.

May you find blessings wherever you look, no matter what's going on around you.

Getting sucked in

I'm tired of reading the many posts on this blog that deal with our daughters and their respective issues. I'm tired of seeing the same behaviors in them over and over and over. I'm tired of seeing the same behaviors in ME, over and over.

I resent that I worry about them, each of them, at different times. That they tell me about issues, either their own or the other's, and then leave it hanging, so that I am fretting over stupidity or health or stability or money.

I want to stop that.

I don't want to get sucked in to their drama anymore.

I'm not quite sure how to accomplish that and make it stick. Ignoring it doesn't make it go away. I love them and don't want them to feel that I'm deserting them, but I'm not sure how to maintain some balance here.

Actually, I've been doing pretty well at doing things I love to do and meeting my commitments, but I worry nonetheless, and I know it isn't good for me.

I guess I just need to remember, yet again, that I am powerless over people, places and things, and that they will do what they will. But....I do believe that my words can make a difference to them....I've seen that happen.

Either that, or they're blowing sunshine at me, and I'm falling for it, yet again...

Eh.

So let me talk about rain. It's not a lot, but it is nice to have gray skies and even occasional raindrops. It's good to have a fire in the woodstove to take off the chill: it is not particularly cold, just chilly. I did see trees in bloom downtown yesterday, though, and that is not good. We have had such unseasonably warm weather that things are waking up, and they need to stay put a little longer.

I'm longing for the ocean these days, to hear that deep, calming heartbeat thrumming through my whole body, to feel the cold sting of the water on my feet, to watch the endless series of waves, and the shorebirds running to meet each new ruffle as it breaks on the beach. To see pelicans swooping and diving in perfect formation. To smell the salt-fresh air and take it deep into my lungs. We need a trip, even a day trip.

I'm reading eclectically: right now it's Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser, who I saw on Oprah. I'm barely into it, but like what she's saying and agree that in our breaking open our pain and silence that we become who we are, even if we can't even see the possibility of happiness when we're so caught up in the pain of the moment.

But I also have read the latest of Diane Mott Davidson's cooking murder books, Sweet Revenge -- just a fun read, although I get hungry when I read her very rich recipes. I read Anne Rivers Siddons' new one, Off Season, set in Maine of course, and loved it until the ending, which I did not love at all (unusual for her books). I finished the latest Nora Roberts trilogy, truly a beach-read-style book and just plain escape. And I also read one titled I'm Still Your Mother, which was okay, but doesn't really speak to how to parent grown children who have 'issues'.

That's in addition to the various O magazines -- still a great read for the money -- Newsweeks, Business Weeks, various blogs, two daily newspapers, and assorted others that come in here.

It's been good to really read again. I always read something before I turn out the light, but often I have very little time during the day to read. One day over Christmas that was all I did, other than fix a few meals. It was wonderful.

I'm feeling the need to move -- to get some exercise of some kind, just because I'm so aware of diminished strength in my body and legs from doing so much sedentary work! I finally settled on a pair of good athletic shoes and they offer good support, so that excuse is gone. I just wish I liked something physical well enough to want to do it often.

It's already February. I am determined to make the most of every day, every month, and not spend useless time in worry or fear. I can change only one person -- me. And I'm working on that.

October's transitions

It's October 1 -- the beginning of the all-too-rapid slide down to the new year. And it appears that our summer weather may be over, with a forecast of highs on Friday and Saturday only in the 60s. Looks like we may well go from swamp cooler to wood stove in the same week once more.

And I'm so glad. I am so tired of hot weather, of dry, dusty roads and ground and air, of fire threats with every lightning strike. I'm tired of hot weather food and clothing. It's been a very long summer this year.

Change is all around us today, and we're truly at a crossroads with the economy. Our lives, what we buy, what we eat, how we work depends on what happens with the economy in the next few days. While we must take personal responsibility for our own choices and deal with those consequences, much of this mess is fallout from the decisions of big business. And yes, what happens to these big companies impacts our ability to purchase ANYTHING. Our economy revolves around credit.

October is one of my favorite months. The weather is cooler, days are often spectacularly bright blue, local festivals are nearly every weekend, gardens yield up the last veggies, trees turn brilliant colors.

My little brother was born this month and celebrates a birthday next week. Not that big 6-o, but he's not far away either. *snicker*

Mind you, when he was born, I wasn't particularly thrilled about it. I was not quite three -- two years and 11 months older than him, he'd tell people throughout our school days -- and rather enjoyed being the only child. I remember the day we brought him and my mother home from the hospital. I think my dad's mother had come to help out, because I remember being in the back seat of our car with her when we picked up my mother from the hospital, and peering over her shoulder to see this squawky red thing that looked not at ALL like my cute babydolls.

I'm told, although I don't remember it, that I used to pop him and then go helpfully tell my mother that "Jimmy has a bloody nose!" He has blamed me all his life for his propensity toward bloody noses, although *I* think it has much more to do with the blood vessels in his nose being very close to the skin's surface. (I never get bloody noses.)

But he was my playmate. We'd play house. We'd play dolls. We'd play trucks and cars sometimes, and conduct pretend orchestras with chopstick batons while we listened to LPs that our parents had, and our own "Lemmerlemmer Street" and others. We knew all the words to "Oklahoma." We could recite and sing the whole monologue from "It's in the Book." And sang gibberish German with some boys' choir recording -- can't remember the name. We knew the all the Smothers Brothers routines from their recordings too.

And we fought. I remember chasing him around and around the house, angry about something or other, and trying to hit him but only rarely succeeding. I took a slug at the neighborhood bully when he was in first grade and I was in fourth, and the bully was trying to beat up on MY BROTHER. *I* could beat up on him, but nobody else was gonna, by god. I got a chipped front tooth for my efforts, and we moved out of that neighborhood shortly thereafter, but I'd protected my little brother. By the time I was in high school he was pretty much of a pest.

And we've been friends for years now. When our dad died, we were in a mind-meld about what needed to be done for our mother. When our mother was failing and died -- three years ago at the end of this month -- we spent time together, just us, for the first time in many years, and were reminded just how much we treasure each other. We did what we needed to do, and we leaned on each other for strength to do it.

October is a transition month: you'll remember the Greek story of Persephone, where she prepares to return to the underworld for four months. When she and her mother Demeter are reunited, the earth flourishes with growth, but when she returns to Hades, it becomes barren. It's the myth explaining the changing of the seasons. We have this month yet of life, and then the barren time comes.

Only partly, of course, in northern California, where the hills and fields green up with the rains. But hey, it's a good story.

It's a transition month for the elections too, where all the candidates make their platforms clear (we hope), and campaigns and publicity heat up, and the fireworks and mudslinging start (yuk). By the end of the month we'll all be sick of hearing it and ready to vote.

Be sure to watch Palin and Biden go at it tomorrow night, by the way. It should be on all the networks as well as CNN, and on radio. Doesn't matter who you're for -- just be informed.


Anyway, happy almost fall. I know the calendar shows that fall began more than a week ago, but for me, this is its beginning. And days are getting so short -- barely 12 hours of light these days, with the sun setting by 7 p.m. Remember that daylight savings time doesn't change (fall back) until Nov. 2.

A quick weather whine

I can't help it. I just HAVE to whine about the weather. If you don't want to hear it, don't read this.

It's been over 100 degrees on our front porch, regardless of what the "official" temps were, for days and days, and the expected high is 100. Yeah, yeah, it is supposed to drop down into the 80s and low 90s later this week, and temps hovering around 60 at night.

But I am.
SO.
TIRED.

of this. I don't want to wear shorts and tees and sweat whenever I go outside -- and sweat like a pig whenever I dry my hair, for pete's sake! -- I don't want more dust and baking heat and crispy grass that disintegrates under your feet. Yeah, we use the swamp cooler daily, and AC when it is too humid to use the swamp cooler, or when the forecast is for much hotter temps, like 106 and up. But still...

I want the crisp days of fall with temps barely reaching 70, maybe a touch higher, but where longer pants and a sweater feel good if it's breezy. I want crunchy fresh apples to bite into, and cold apple cider, unfiltered, and gingerbread. And stew and chili. I'm tired of salads and hot weather food, trying to think of things to fix that won't heat up the kitchen.

I want the wheel to turn just a bit into fall, into harvest. The moon last night was stunning in the sky, lighting up everything. It's a harvest moon, a fall moon. Not a late summer moon!

I want cool, cloudy days with rain every few days -- enough slow, fat drops to really sink into the scorched earth and feed the roots of the oaks -- which have been losing leaves since early this summer and dropped their acorns fully a month early, which means the deer are very hungry right now. I want things washed and fresh instead of dusty and worn out.

No, I'm not ready for wood stove. That can wait at least another month. I just want to have windows open and cool breezes blowing through the house, and to wear capri pants and longer sleeved shirts, and maybe some socks during the day instead of putting on things that touch only at the shoulders because it's too hot to wear anything else.

I don't want to sweat while I'm trying to put on foundation and have it slide right off my face.

Yuk. Double yuk

I knew it would get hot when we decided to move here, and mostly I tolderate it well. But, as my honey has patiently pointed out, I get like this EVERY fall. Well, this one is no exception.

Okay, back to your regularly scheduled blog. Thanks for indulging me.

Snippets here and there

Those of you who are observant will note the addition of my photo at the top of this blog. My honey was actually the catalyst for this: his photo now adorns his blog, and I figured if he was gonna put it out there, then I could too.

It's not like I'm not already visible: the photo also appears in Enjoy magazine, a wonderful north state glossy magazine for which I've had the privilege of writing for more than a year, and a similar shot also has appeared with my some-time real estate column in the Redding Record Searchlight's Sunday Homes section, although the column hasn't been in there lately for various reasons.

But it's a decent photo of me, taken by Tony on our back porch, before the wonderful ivy geraniums got nibbled to nubbins by the deer, and before the scorching north winds of a couple of weeks ago blew down the other plant that was hanging from our porch roof.

"Why no -- there hasn't been ANY retouching," she said guilelessly.

So now you know the face behind the words.

**************

September 11 came and went although not without ceremonies of remembrance. I wrote about our experiences on that horrible day a few years ago.

I don't believe we've ever recovered from it, although I think that our collective attitudes have reverted back to the largely self-centered ones that preceded it. I so clearly remember the connectedness that pervaded the country in the days and months after the tragedy. I wish there was some way to regain that without another disaster.

*******************

And I re-read last year's September posts: it was not a particularly fun month, and this hasn't been either. I always am interested to note the changes, however.

• We are happily communicating with daughter #3, and in fact, have a 3-month-old grandson who is a charmer. She is in a better place, I think, although this year has been hard for her health-wise. She and her boyfriend are in the process of making some changes to their lives -- again -- and we hope it will be better for all concerned. She has matured tremendously over this past year, and it is indeed gratifying to see her emerge into a mostly sensible young mother -- she even described herself the other day as a "soccer mom" -- she also is "stepmom" to his three children, a huge undertaking all by itself. We're proud of her and grateful for the improvement in communication.

• No change as far as communication with daughter #2, and we only hope that she is okay. One day, perhaps, we'll know more. Until then, she is in our prayers and has our love around her, even if she doesn't choose to acknowledge it.

• The biggest change is that daughter #1 is living with us after a difficult year and some very scary events. She is trying to adapt to small town life after living all her adult life in a substantially-sized city; she is enduring medication changes and subsequent side effects that have mostly sapped her natural energy; and she is adjusting to living with mom again after being independent for years. We're in a one-day-at-a-time existence, all of us. I am so grateful to have her where I can touch her and talk to her, and to know that she is safe, fed, and that she has resources to help her. Mostly those ice weasels have gone quiet, but I'd sure like to help her find some friends around her age who share some of her interests. It's just a huge, hard life change for her, on top of all the other issues.
  

We've just completed a couple of major projects for our property -- a start on some landscaping with a beautifully engineered and finished retaining wall, and an enormous shop-garage that will shelter not only the vehicles but also provide lots of work room and storage. It's being wired at this writing, but with all the lights and outlets, I'm sure you'll be able to see it from space -- sort of like "Deck the Halls," the Danny Devito movie of a couple of years ago. I'm told it's a "guy" thing. Whatever.

I'm still working on getting back into the full writing swing though -- the cross-country trip and settling in took a lot of energy and time, and I'm just now beginning to come back up to something like normal. I'm trying to get enough sleep and take a little time for me, but so far what that's involved is eating a lot more candy than I have eaten in months. I'm going to Bunco this month, however, and that will give me a really great girlfriend fix. I'm also hoping the Cowgirls will get together again soon -- I miss that connection.

This is our surgery month, too -- both Tony and I get cataracts removed and new lenses implanted -- he on one eye, me on both. We're both looking forward to better eyesight and easy recovery from this very simple procedure. That's coming up...

Last year's note about 57 degrees and rain on Sept. 22 gives me hope: it's been over 100 for days, although nights are cooling to lower 60s-upper 50s, and we keep windows open then. But I'm so tired of dust and heat and sweat and crispy crunchy grass, and the garden is just pathetic -- fruit doesn't set well with very hot temps, so the tomatoes look worn out and ready for the compost heap on top, although there's green at the roots. We're nearly at mid-September though, and it won't last too much longer.

We all long for change, don't we, at this time of year: the bountiful harvest of our hard labors in our homes, our jobs, our gardens. We long for new opportunities and fresh starts, for cooler days and renewing rains, and for the feeling that the great wheel is indeed turning as it should. It doesn't feel like that yet -- it feels stuck in place, like a little pebble is preventing the wheel from moving much -- but yet I know that it soon will move on. Life is short enough -- I don't want to waste my days and wish them away -- and yet, I am ready for something to change for the better.