It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Twenty years after his show ended, Mr. Rogers is back--two films on the big screen this year.
As Pam and I were watching "Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood"last night,  I noticed that we were both smiling most of the way though--with a few sniffles from her seat and one spontaneous sing-a-long from mine.

Children loved Mr. Rogers.  I mostly heard him from the kitchen. Day never wanted to miss Mr. Rogers.  Now I know why.

We need more men like Mr. Rogers.  Men who listen and talk slowly.  Men who see the whole world as a great big beautiful neighborhood.

Joy shared a story she'd read on Facebook with me: When Koko the gorilla was introduced to Mr. Rogers (her favorite TV star) she cuddled up beside him, signed love, and tied his shoes!

Mr. Rogers' producers knew that if he were in a conversation with a child who needed affection or attention, they could just postpone the opening of the show until he was done.  (Mr. Rogers refused to be hurried through human encounters.) The child could be any color, any nationality; could have disabilities; could come from poverty or wealth--and there was never any difference in how they were treated.  He was humble, and he never talked about himself.

Before he spoke, there were long pauses, so long you sometimes wondered if he was going to speak.  He was comfortable with silence.  He didn't need to fill every space with his own words.

Whatever Fred did, he had the magic sauce for children--and apparently one gorilla.  He exuded exactly what  people of all ages need: someone who, when you watch him, you find yourself open and smiling, not angry in response to anger and insults.

Pam and I went to Comfort today.  I used some of my birthday money to buy a unique little stove with a wood top.  Pam bought a beautiful leather handmade journal from the arts gallery.  We had a leisurely lunch at High Street and watched people walking by.  It was a peaceful day, and we both said we thought just being in the presence of Mr. Rogers last night contributed to our tranquility.

Mary Frances, my long-time yoga teacher, used to say, "Where your attention goes, your energy flows."

I think maybe I'll stop paying so much attention to the news.  I think I'll watch re-runs of Mr. Rogers, or maybe the adult equivalent: You Tube videos.  Maybe I'll stop talking so much and be more present in other ways.

Mary Frances's definition of love was: "Being fully present."

Mr. Rogers knew that.  So did Koko.

How much is enough?

https://www.aestheticsofjoy.com/2019/11/what-is-enough/

Rainy Monday

Well, it feels like Monday--and it's definitely wet out there in San Antonio, just enough to be soft and easy.

I had a good day yesterday on my solo Thanksgiving.  I marbled some papers and wrapped  family Christmas presents.  I made goulash (AKA "yoga stew"--because I always left it for my kids on yoga night.) Today I will make cornbread to go with it and take a nap and do a bit more marbling before meeting Pam to see the Mr. Rogers movie. It's a good day for movies and naps--but of course every day is good for those two pleasures.

I was thankful to have three invitations for Thanksgiving dinner yesterday, but I had my day all planned out so I stayed home and got a lot accomplished that I'd been saving for Thursday.

Linda is waiting for a new grandson to be born in Massachusetts, and Janet emailed me yesterday that her grand-daughter had been born in Chicago. Looks like Sage's Little Brother is coming on December 3rd, unless he has other plans and comes early.

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving Day!

The purpose of poetry is to remind us how difficult it is to remain just one person, for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will.

Czeslaw Milosz

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm thankful for writers, books, and lenders of books.

Pam shared  The Confession Club, by Elizabeth Berg--which I read in two short sittings this week: a novel about a group of friends who meet weekly to take turns confessing things they have never told anyone before.

(I was reminded of truth sessions in 8th grade, of writing groups, of conversations among my friends when one of us surprises even ourselves by what we reveal and how good it is when nobody is mortified.)

Joy shared The Black Widow Club by Mary Powell--the book I'm enjoying in the middle of the night instead of making turkey and pies. In this novel four friends leave Houston and travel to Ajijic, Mexico, to explore the possibility of buying a house together there.  Divorced and/or widowed, their plan is to have a "creative and courageous" last chapter of their lives and take care of each other if need be--quite an attractive alternative to assisted living in America if you ask me!

Both books are about women's friendships and taking some risks to create the lives they want--moving away, buying a house, falling in love, or taking on a new project in spite of the objections of other people.

As I read these two books, I'm thinking about the power of true friendships--the people with whom we can be totally honest--and about the choices that can make our final decades as vivid and creative as the ones of our youth, maybe more so.

While I may be here alone in my house reading in the middle of the night, I'm having some wonderful conversations--with Pam and Joy (who shared these books ); with Mary Powell and Elizabeth Berg (who wrote these books); and with the characters on their pages. 

Finding Christina

Tina and I were friends in our twenties and thirties--those Helotes decades of having small children.  After I moved from Helotes, I visited her occasionally in Grey Forest in the house she personally transformed from ragged to way cool. A woman who can do anything, she had even sided the house with stones--as well as structural changes to the interior!

She moved to Santa Fe for a while, then back, then as often happens even with people we love, we lost touch.  She changed her phone number, I changed mine, and neither of us were active on Facebook.

Lately, I've thought about her a lot and wondered where she was.  Turns out she re-joined Facebook and I found her there on one of my infrequent visits to the site.  She goes by the name Christina Nouveau (she gave herself a new last name after a divorce) and she posts her art there.

Well, of all things: yesterday was a chilly day with fall leaves all over the riverbank in Boerne where I sat for a while.

The traffic in Boerne was thick, so I drove on to Comfort, thinking I'd have breakfast at High Street Cafe, but it was closed. Right around the corner was Eighth Street Market--Coffee and 'Tiques so I went inside .   This store (many different vendors) is the best shopping place in Comfort and well worth the drive.

As I was looking for the restroom, I ran into Tina, my old friend from Helotes days.  We were so happy to see each other that we had tears in our eyes!

She was on her way to Boerne but changed her plans and took me home with her, and wow!  She and Ted are remodeling a farm house right on the Guadalupe River, just a four miles from Comfort, and I admired every room, especially her quintessentially-Tina art studio.

I'm so happy to have found my long lost friend!

A poem by Rachel Barrenblat--The Velveteen Rabbi

Recipe

---

The year your mother died I was in college, living off-campus for the first time. As Rosh Hashanah approached I called you for recipes. I didn't know how to cook, but I roasted cornish hens and honeyed carrot coins and assembled my housemates around a table covered with a bedsheet because I didn't own a white tablecloth. As this first Thanksgiving without you draws near, I'm emailing my sister and scouring the internet for a recipe that looks like the mango mousse you always made. It's a relic of the 1950s when your marriage was new. I don't think I've ever bought Jell-O or canned mango before, and I don't own a fluted ring mold but when my spoon slices through creamy sun-gold yellow it will taste for an instant like you were in my kitchen, like you're at my table, like you're still here.

Marta, Emily, and Hannah

When I want to watch a feel-good video, I like to watch a Marta video.     Not because of the art, per se, but because of the playfulness between mother, Marta, and her two little girls, Emma and Hannah, as they make things.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ox2WzvNuXQ4

We never see their faces, and Hannah is still an off-camera baby--but we watch Marta and Emma interacting with their hands and voices and laughter.  Sometimes Hannah will wake up from a nap, and Emily will go get her and put on some children's songs and Marta will sing along, sometimes in Polish, sometimes in English.

If you only listen only to the sound track, you can hear earmarks of excellent teaching:

Wow, Emma, that's really good!

Try this.

It will work better if you try it this way--add a little water, crush up that powder and wet it, press a little harder, try adding some blue to this color, see what happens.

You never know what will happen.  You don't have to have a plan.

I love it!  Beautiful!

Thank you, Emily, you're so helpful.

I love the colors you chose.  Now let's see what you can do with them.

Oh, I got blue splashes on your cheek, how funny!

Don't worry.  You can fix it.

Do you need some help over there?

I don't know, Emily, about this piece I'm making.  Do you like it?

Work your magic--because I know you can!

And from Emily, you can hear the enthusiasm of learning:

I think this is really pretty, Mom!

Do you need me to get you more water?

Yes, please, could you help me with this?

Why do you do it like that?

       The interaction of these two is pure pleasure to watch.  Little hands copying big hands.  Little voice with the same accents and tone as the mother voice.  No fear, no rules, no impatience.

Contagion

Even with the impeachment hearings going on in the background for parts of yesterday, I gave myself a day to do Nothing.  When I don't have a single thing on the calendar and no promises to keep, I actually do a lot--but all from the work table in the kitchen or the one beside my bed.

I have enough Posca pens and acrylic paint to last me  three decades, and I'm enjoying every drop, stroke, and scrape.  Writing comes naturally, but this?  Every day is a new day of exploring and discovering.

At midnight, I had watched tutorials by Robyn and another favorite, Nik The Booksmith.  I made myself go to sleep, but a couple of hours later I woke up and proceeded to try a few techniques I'd learned.  The last time I looked at the clock it was 4 a.m.!

What I was doing on paper were journal pages, but what I was experiencing was tranquility, punctuated by a series of "A-Ha"s.  Lacking the knowledge I have about writing, I am not tied to expectations, grades, or feedback--just plunging into this unfamiliar water for the fun of it.

I had shared some supplies (and an extra gel plate)  with Carlene--as she had expressed a desire to make greeting cards.  Then I began sending her links to videos I liked--videos for making collages and books. This morning I got a text that was so wonderful I'm sure she won't mind if I share it:

Found it!  Your secret!  Art journaling sans the compunction to "produce" something--as is my lifetime mantra.  Watching videos in lieu of news broadcasts, stashing ideas to use with my now-accumulated toys when I wake at night thinking about stuff I can't change and don't want to devote my years to!  In other words--create w/o intention or purpose!!!! Who cares if I never send a greeting card?  Just cut and paste and paint and stencil ad infinitum for fun and if/when/or share if ever so inclined!

Thanks!

Cards, Clues, Cottages, and Comfort

Yesterday I picked up Nathan and Elena after school, watched a dinosaur video game with Nathan, helped Elena set up her village, played Clue (Nathan loves that game!), won my first game with Mr. Plum's terrible murder with candlestick in the library, and watched the debates after the kiddos went to bed, and drove home about 11.

I had bought this pack of jumbo playing cards at Tuesday morning for paper crafts, but Elena claimed them as hers when she found them in the car while we waited for Nathan, and she did her best magic trick in mega-size cards.

Elena wanted her village on the trunk at the foot of her bed.
I loved watching her set up the building and Christmas trees! 

As happy as I've been to be invited to join them for a trip to Japan this summer, I've decided to decline.  Some things are better done when one is a decade or two younger.  I made my informed decision after talking to two friends who have visited or lived in Japan and learned more about the Asian toilet situation I'd encounter there.  I could just imagine myself falling into one of those squat toilets and having to dial the Japanese equivalent of 911!

Also, my knee situation would be counter to the active outdoor physical activities that this young family is planning.

I'm putting the invitation in the long positive side of the ledger of being a mom and grandmother and looking forward to hearing about all their adventures there! But as for me, I'm staying put (or traveling within North America) favoring comfort over certain adventurous moves.

In progress

A couple of you have asked me to post some of the things I'm making, so here goes:

You can see my little cardboard houses
beside these oh so very fragrant lilies. 

Here's my Mexican pastry baking pan
with its first coat of paint.

Houses up close--

Retro Secretaries

One of the things I made (actually just spiffed up and added jewels to) was a retro toy telephone.  Elena never walks past it without picking up the "thing" (the receiver) and talking into it.

Bob gave me a retro Tom Thumb typewriter for my birthday--and both kids love playing with it.

Elena said, holding the phone with one hand, her fingers on the keyboard of the typewriter with another: "I want to be one of those ladies who talks on the phone and writes down things."

So I found her a date stamp and stamp pad and gave her a little tablet for writing things down.

This morning, cleaning the casita, I found numerous notes and this accounts billable that was probably written by (or dictated by) Nathan:

John: owes $65.00 and $25.00 per day.

Zane: owes $75.00 and $35.00 per day.

Percilla: Owes $115.00 and $35.00 per day

Zach: Due on payment owes $250,000 to company.

Carmen: Kicked out today! 


Poor Carmen!  I wonder what she did to necessitate firing!

Playing with Paper and Ink

I rarely buy antiques anymore, but I love poking around in thrift and junk shops, especially the bins of paper and photographs, letters, maps, and postcards.  I've always preferred these sections, but until now, I would just put them in a box.  Now I am incorporating them into visual journals.

The old photographs find their ways onto both journals and old green Elk Club Bingo cards--I have a stash of these I recently found at Ironside Antiques.

In Georgia, I found a package of Blue Horse loose leaf filler paper.  From third grade on, this was the paper we used for our handwritten school work.  I used a refillable Schaffer fountain pen when pens were allowed and I almost always had ink-stained fingers.  When I finished my boring pencil math problems, I would use them as a cover sheet and write stories or draw maps of imaginary towns on the pages underneath.

Last night, after a full weekend with the kids, I put the Blue Horse blue wrapper in a journal.  You know the ones?  They advertised free prizes for kids, big prizes like bicycles.  I never sent in my wrappers toward a prize, but it was always exciting to imagine winning one.

Handwritten notes from friends and family are always keepers.  Years ago, before email, Linda Kot and I wrote long letters to each other from Cape Cod to Helotes.  We both resisted email as long as we could.  Linda said, "If we start using email, we won't write letters anymore."  She was right.  But this morning, I was happy to get a text from her saying:

"Just want to thank you for recommending Words in Pain.  I'm savoring every sentence and reading every paragraph slowly and rereading paragraphs to Steve....Letters truly are gifts to the world and windows to soul searching!  The art of the heart!  Thanks again, this is a treasure trove of true spirituality."

Handwriting on Blue Horse paper was the beginning of knowing what Linda expressed so well--that words committed to paper could become an art of the heart.

This is one reason it was such a thrill to me to see Nathan and Elena so engrossed in learning to write Japanese characters on graph paper and in a workbook for Japanese children.  Elena particularly loved it and worked on hers for hours.

If you want to give your grandchildren (or yourself) a gift that connects head and hands, these are the two books that sparked their imagination:

"Thanksgiving" Night

Our Thanksgiving was just exactly right--what with the help of Honey Baked turkey and a few side dishes from there--as well as roasted asparagus and buttermilk-jello-fruit salad I made in a mold that was a real hit with the adults.

I gave Nathan a book on Japanese language and a pen and ink and he and Elena had so much fun copying characters.

Will just got off 48 hours with no sleep and two major fires, but he was a champ and stayed awake for games of Clue and magic tricks in the casita--where Will and Veronica are now sleeping.

Early Thanksgiving

Tomorrow, Saturday, is Thanksgiving at my house.

After Elena, the bridesmaid, has breakfast with the bride, and after the family goes to The Alamo for Nathan's Texas History project, they will come over for whatever meal it's time for.

The table is set, the food is simple and can be put together after they arrive, and tonight my four little village houses with candles inside are flanked around a vase of lilies.

The plan is to have our meal, then go to the casita for games and crafts and talk about plans for their trip to Japan this summer--to which I have been invited.

I still remember my pen pal from Japan--Shigimi Matsuda.  We were twelve.  We sent each other little gifts and scrapbooks.  I thought of her today when I went to Jerry's Art O'Rama to buy a calligraphy pen (a wooden stick with a carved point) for Nathan to go along with a book I got him about writing Japanese characters.

I'm going to physical therapy to strengthen my right knee so that I can make a trip with them.  I'd rather prefer to look like a chic grandmother than a limping one for this vacation!

But first--we're ALL going to Virginia the day after Christmas to spend a few days--and to celebrate Tom's 50th birthday belatedly.  I'll fly to Georgia, spend Christmas with Carlene, Bob, and Jocelyn, then Carlene and I will have a road trip to Virginia, slow and easy.

Learning a new thing

"When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."

I've heard this for years, maybe read it somewhere, but I didn't know who said it, or that it had a second part:

According to the Tao Te Ching (thanks internet!): "When the student is ready the teacher will appear. When the student is truly ready...the teacher will disappear."

In my journey through the labyrinth of making things, I have been introduced to so many new techniques and I have been a ready student.

Whenever I've learned about something new (alcohol inks, gel plates, water color powders, acrylic inks, etc.) I've gone out and bought the materials to try it.  At first, my efforts were purely imitative.  I'm a good student and follow the rules--up to a point.

When I opened a folder called Screen Shots, I was struck by the fact that I no longer liked more than half the images in my folder, yet I don't regret a single class.  In every one, I've learned something that added to my understanding of materials and what they would do.  In every one, I've been inspired to get outside my comfort zone and try something new.

Various teachers have appeared: Denise Lush, Robin-Marie Smith, Mike Deakin, Kasha Avery and the entire team at Wanderlust, Cat Kerr, Carolyn Dube, Kim Dellow, Kate Crane, and Robyn McClendon, just to name a few! (Robyn McClendon's tutorials are now my favorites but they are much longer and talkier than the others.)

I'm not entirely ready for the teachers to disappear (I'm an avid student) but I'm now doing my own thing more and watching less.

Nellie's Christmas Animals

Look what Nellie made--a Christmas gathering of spray-painted animals:

Sorting

Sorting components of projects is as much fun as making them.  Today, while watching the impeachment hearings and while Express Bumper is repairing the back of my car at my house (I bumped into a telephone pole!), my bed is covered with travel brochures and maps and National Geographic magazines.

Replacing the pile of bulky magazines will be small plastic boxes filled with images divided by themes: the color blue, old photos of strangers, portions of maps and sheet music, napkins and origami, Chinese papers, handmade papers, stenciled patterns on tissue paper, etc.

It feels good to sort while watching the impeachment.

A wealth of images and maps can be found in brochures at welcome centers.  My favorites are art studio guide brochures.  While cutting images on these high-quality papers, I'm also studying the composition of paintings and collages by professional artists.

I have a folding table by my bed where I'm stacking components for collages.  Now, when I'm working on my journals and other collages, I won't have to search through mounds of books and magazines to find what I'm looking for.

Christmas in November

The wind is blowing tonight and the air is cold--in the low-30s. It's not even Thanksgiving yet, but I had a big yummy taste of Christmas today.

After school, I told Elena that I had built a miniature cardboard village and her mind went to work on it before she even saw it.  "We could put little candles inside and some Christmas trees and people and animals!" she said.

I gave her half the village (who else would be so excited about cardboard houses and a church and a fire tower?) and we bought a snow blanket and a few little trees and some glitter, so I'm sure she will make it into a lively Christmas town on their dining table, and that makes me so happy.

She plundered my drawers for Santa Clauses and other accessories for her town.  From the driver's seat, I could see the glow of her almost-eight-year-old eyes when she told me, "You know the elves are going to move them all around!"

It was early morning, Austin Highway.  She was wearing shorts and a short top, revealing her bare pregnant belly.

He was tall, big, wearing a grey hoodie.  He was holding her right arm behind her back.

I parked close enough to determine whether or not they were playing.  Close enough to see a look of fear on her face.

They stood there for several light changes, then they began to walk toward the nearby bus stop in the Target shopping center, he still squeezing her arm behind her back.

I followed at a distance while calling 911.  When the hoody man spotted me, he left her and came running toward the car screaming and cursing at me.  I pulled away but not before shouting back, "Leave her alone!"

I drove away and then back to see if the police had arrived.   When I saw the police talking to the young woman (by then the man had walked away in the opposite direction), I pulled into Valero to ask the police if she was okay.

"Yeah, she's fine," is all he said--after a one-minute interview with her through his window.

I wondered how many women are in situations in which they are covering for men--more afraid of the man than the police.  I wondered if he was the father of her baby. `  I wondered if she might be involved in trafficking.  I wondered, "Where is her mother?"  Does she have anyone to call?

I will never know.  But I do know--Jan just told me--that San Antonio has been named the "most dangerous" city in Texas for women.

That young woman may not even know there is a better way to live.  Her mother may have lived the same scenario.  It may seem normal to her.

All my inner alarms sounded, but there was nothing I could do. And unless she finds safety enough to admit what's going on, there is nothing anyone can do.

The old days

Sitting in the bleachers and hand-stitching a pillow, Elena said, "I'd like you to show me how to make really pretty stitches,"

Since I had folded the pillow together hastily on the bleachers--out of scraps she'd brought for that purpose, along with her entire sewing kit--I told her we'd do that next time she comes over and we can fold and iron it properly.

"Back in the old days (the days of Jane Austin) refined women were expected to do beautiful needlework, ride horses, speak two languages, and play a musical instrument."

"Well, I'm soon going to play a violin," she said.  "I'd be a perfect girl for the old days."

Saturday Rodeo

It's the season of deer in the Hill Country

Will and I drove to Llano to meet Veronica and Elena warming up Yancy, the horse.  It was a most unusual rodeo event.  Instead of roping and yelling, the riders very quietly herded cows from one pen to another in numerical order.  (If the riders yelled, they were disqualified.) Veronica herded--impressively--while the gatekeeper, her teammate, attempted to keep the wrong cows from getting into the pen too soon. I'm pretty sure this event is called Western Traditional.

Due to my current episode of "fibro" (and the steroid shots expired in my knees), I could only get onto the bleachers with Will's help.  But as we watched the horses and riders and cows, Elena made string art animals from a kit I'd brought her and we made a little pillow out of fabric scraps.  Since the rodeo went on for hours, Will and Elena and I took a break in the late afternoon and visited Llano River Park and watched geese line up on the water for flight and bass swimming, Will wishing he had his fishing pole.

I reminded him that Granddaddy was never without his pole.  We'd be riding around on a Sunday afternoon and he'd pull off beside a pond and say, "I'm just going to cast for a minute."  He'd get his pole and tackle from the trunk, and Carlene would begin reading or cross-stitching or crocheting.  We knew his minutes. An hour or so later, he'd come back to the car grinning, holding up a few bass on a string.

Will brought us good barbecue from Cooper's and we saw the lively little town of Llano, me for the first time.  I got home at eleven last night, and we were lucky not to add to the staggering population of dead deer on that long two-lane stretch between Llano and Fredricksburg.  Until meeting another car, we drove with high beams and had to slow several times to allow a deer to prance across the highway.  We breathed a sigh of relief when we missed each one.

My Town

I've just completed step one of my cardboard village--and it's been so much fun to make that I wanted to give you a link, should you decide you want to make your own:

https://www.amazon.com/Glitter-Houses-UNASSEMBLED-Corrugated-Cardboard/dp/B07CLM4NBP/ref=sr_1_4?keywords=glitter+putz+houses&qid=1573097707&sr=8-4

This set comes beautifully cut and packaged from Lithuania, and the instructions are easy to follow.

When I found these, I was looking for surfaces to gel print on.  The gel press gives a more aged and mottled look than painting directly on the cardboard would do.

Here's what a gel press looks like:

https://www.amazon.com/Gel-Press-10802-Plate-X10/dp/B01GOO7HL0/ref=sr_1_1_sspa?crid=3HMOTVI3KFLZE&keywords=gel+press+printing+plate&qid=1573097922&sprefix=gel+press%2Caps%2C168&sr=8-1-spons&psc=1&spLa=ZW5jcnlwdGVkUXVhbGlmaWVyPUExM09ZVElXUVE2VEVUJmVuY3J5cHRlZElkPUEwMjQ4NjMyTDI1Qlc0Sk0ySEhDJmVuY3J5cHRlZEFkSWQ9QTA5NDEwODBOSUFZQUlUUkFIMEEmd2lkZ2V0TmFtZT1zcF9hdGYmYWN0aW9uPWNsaWNrUmVkaXJlY3QmZG9Ob3RMb2dDbGljaz10cnVl

You can choose any size you like; I used the 8 x 10.

There are numerous videos on You Tube that will show you how to do Monoprinting: essentially, you just put a small amount of acrylic paint on the plate, brayer it, and then press the paper or cardboard onto it.  You can mix paints or layer them to get a look that resembles aging peeling paint.  You can use stencils or draw shapes on it to add more texture and dimension.

I now have a pink church with a brass steeple, a yellow house with a blue roof, a red tower, etc.  After they dry, I will decide whether or not to add more elements before coating them with Mod Podge sealer.

For holiday decor, you could put a battery-operated candle inside and lights would twinkle through the windows.  You could--as I plan to do--arrange them like a village and add miniature Christmas trees and snow.  You could add glitter or use little pieces of lace to make curtains.

I rarely clean my gel plate, but if you do want to clean your paint off, just let it dry and put strips of packing tape on it and the paint will lift right off.

Monday, November 4

Carlene left for Georgia today before the cracking of dawn.  It was her "virgin flight" since her accident, and she did it without a hitch, checking in her large bag at sidewalk check-in and carrying on one small bag and her brand new pink foldable cane.  After a non-stop flight, Alan met her at the Atlanta airport and took her home.  Now we know she's "good as new" and can fly just as she used to before her December accident.

We went to a party at Will and Veronica's yesterday, then came home and went to bed early--after making a few more houses for my gel-printed village of cardboard  houses.

I miss my travel companion!   We wound up staying in on Halloween and had only two trick-or-treaters.

Tonight I met with my one writing group.  There were only four of us present, but the writing was excellent all around.

I'm always jazzed after writing group, so I unwound by making a couple more houses for my holiday village.

Nana  (94) and two of her great-grands, Nathan (almost 13) and Elena (almost 8)