Getting out of the bubble

On Thursday, Freda went with Luci and me to a livestock show on the Southside to see Elena show her two lambs.  It was a beautiful dusty day and we were immersed in the sounds and smells of animals. 

"This is like another world," Freda said.  It was, we agreed, fun to get out of our bubble for a day. 

Elena stood in a row of kids waiting for their lambs to be judged.  Whether their lamb won or lost, the kids smiled and shook the judge's hand.  Our girl got 7th place on one of her lambs, which qualifies her for the auction in January.  

Listening to the judge explain his reasoning (broad here, narrow there, muscular or not so much) I was glad to be sitting beside Nathan who interpreted the qualities of lambdom.  Who knew there was so much to know about a lamb?  To the uninitiated, they all look pretty much the same. 

Here's Papi, Elena, Veronica, Will, Nathan, and me:

Papi, the Pritchetts, and me

Mateo and Elena 

  

Two Lambs Destined for an Auction in January
With Freda and me

Today I got out of the bubble again, driving solo to the rodeo, where Elena competed in barrel racing.  

Her ride was flawless, smooth and beautiful.  She's such a natural on horseback she makes it all look easy. 

These are 4H events.  I loved listening to the parents talking about all the events their kids were competing in.   

One man told us that his daughter competed in rodeo, livestock, cooking (pies) and chicken.  To make the winning chicken recipe, she grilled chicken in a Green Egg and won first place.  

Another family announced that their dog had just had puppies, and Elena is now hot on that trail!

"Please please, Daddy!  I will give you all my Christmas money if you'll let me have one!"

The positivity and freshness of these nature-loving kids was an inspiration.  The support of their parents was even more so.  What a beautiful bubble, kids loving their animals, their competitions, and each other. 

Here's Elena, kissing her horse Yancy, thanking him for a great rodeo ride: 

Christmas Week

The Hill Country Herb Farm in Fredricksburg--a place not to be missed whether you're a Texas dweller or a visitor.  Our meal there last night was super--as was the drive to Johnson City to see the blue and white lights....

While in Fredricksburg, we stopped in at the original James Avery store and I added a horse charm

to the horseshoe charm and bracelet she picked out Wednesday night when she visited. 

Wednesday night, we saw WONKA and she picked out her first charm bracelet for an early 12th birthday present, January 16th.

She gave me a private violin concert and loved the little red radio I gave her. 

Luci on the nature trails, half a block from our house. 

The Leary pictures from their week in Savannah and Tybee Island--

the four Learys and Jackson's girlfriend, Deanna

"Always carry a plant. Always be rooted to somewhere."

Pam forwarded this story by San Antonio's beloved poet, Naomi Shihab Nye, published in her book Honeybee.  I'd read it years ago, but never has it been more timely:

Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation From the Center for Action and Contemplation     Week Fifty: Moving Toward Greater Love   Becoming Agents of Change   Arab-American poet Naomi Shihab Nye recalls a transformative, unexpected occasion of generous acceptance: Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal … I heard an announcement: “If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.” Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. “Help,” said the flight service person. “Talk to her.… We told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.” I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke to her haltingly. “Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment.… I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just later, who is picking you up? Let’s call him.” We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother … and would ride next to her.… She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought … why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her? This all took up about two hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life, patting my knee, answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie. And then the airline broke out free beverages … and two little girls from our flight ran around serving us all apple juice and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.

Sawasdee Adventure

Sawasdee's is, in mine and Luci's opinions, the best Thai restaurant in town.  (They are closing and later moving in late January--so if you've not tried it, it's on Blanco Road near 410.)

First of all, the food is unfailingly delicious.  

Second, the owners welcome Luci.  Sometimes one of the sister-owners lays her apron on the floor for Luci to lie on.  "It's too cold on that floor for Luci Lou," they say.  Sometimes they bring her a little bowl of cooked chicken.  Always they tell her, "I love you, Luci Lou."  

As I was paying for my late lunch there today, a man asked me, "What kind of dog is that?"--and I told him a few of my guesses.  "I just had to ask you because I have her twin," he said. 

Josh drives all the way from Medina Lake at least once a month to eat at Sawasdee's.  He didn't bring Dolly (Luci's twin) along, but we had a long conversation about the two.  When he showed me her pictures, it was obvious that these two could have been litter mates--both have big fluffy tails, both have one ear up one ear down, and their faces are remarkably similar.  Dolly is a tad heavier than Luci, and her coloring is different, but their resemblance is striking.

When Luci jumped onto Josh's leg to stretch, Josh said, "Wow, Dolly does that all the time."

So he took a picture of Luci and showed me how Google can guess the breed of a dog from a picture.  For both dogs, the Greek breed KOKONI came up; second-runner up was DORGI--a combination of Corgi and Dachshund.  

We traded phone numbers.  Next time he comes in for his curry, we're going to share lunch--and dogs.  

The History of Jell-O

Today I did something I haven't done in decades. I made a congealed salad.  

I used a faded recipe from Carlene: peach Jell-O, buttermilk, a can of crushed pineapple, chopped pecans, and Cool Whip.  

I'm waiting patiently for it to jell.  But in the meanwhile, I'm licking the bowl.  It is so delicious! 

In the fifties, our mothers made congealed salads for luncheons and company fare.  Sometimes it was as simple as adding a can of fruit cocktail and some banana slices to the partially jelled mix. But for a company meal, it usually included a milky addition, like whipped cream, cream cheese, Cool Whip or buttermilk, along with fruit and nuts.  

It's more like a dessert than a salad really.  Since Will, Veronica and Elena are coming for dinner tomorrow night, I wanted to make it ahead of time, so I'll only need to make the chicken piccata and roasted vegetables tomorrow night. 

I wondered: how long has Jell-O been around? According to Wikipedia: 

In 1897, a man in Leroy, New York, mixed up some gelatin (patented in 1845) with oranges and lemons and berries, attempting to create a cough syrup.  I'm guessing it sat on a cold counter a while and jelled.  His wife loved the taste so much they decided to create a dessert and call it Jell-O. 

For a few years, it was marketed under the name Mr. Wiggly, but later it returned to the name we've known it by all these years. 

Growing up, I loved choosing my favorite flavors from the row of colorful boxes in the grocery store.  When we went to S&S Cafeteria in Macon, I'd chose orange, lemon or strawberry Jell-O as dessert.  

One year, the manufacturers tried coffee flavor, but it was discontinued within the year.  Same with white grapes--"the champagne of Jell-Os."  

Tomorrow night's dish is called "Buttermilk Salad"--though I had to substitute orange for peach, the flavor options fewer than what I remember.  

In her own word, Judy Dench

 "Don’t prioritise your looks my friend, as they won’t last the journey.

Your sense of humor though, will only get better with age.

Your intuition will grow and expand like a majestic cloak of wisdom.

Your ability to choose your battles, will be fine-tuned to perfection.

Your capacity for stillness, for living in the moment, will blossom.

Your desire to live each and every moment will transcend all other wants.

Your instinct for knowing what (and who) is worth your time, will grow and flourish like ivy on a castle wall.

Don’t prioritise your looks, my friend,

they will change forevermore, that pursuit is one of much sadness and disappointment.

Prioritise the uniqueness that make you you, and the invisible magnet that draws in other like-minded souls to dance in your orbit.

These are the things which will only get better."

Banned Books

The ABCs of Book Banning, now showing on Paramount Plus, was produced and directed by a woman in her eighties, Sheila Nevins, winner of  32 Prime Time Emmys.

In an interview with Scott Simon on NPR this morning, Nevins said something like this: 

 "If you want your children to grow up to  be just like you and you have a narrow world view, you may want to be sure your children have the exact same world view you do, not to encounter anything that challenges it...."

Nevens was inspired by a hundred-year-old woman who's fighting to stop book banning.  In a very clear and powerful voice, this centenarian activist tells about her late husband who died in WWII.  "He fought and died for the Constitution and freedom.  One of the freedoms he fought for is the freedom freedom to read what we want to read, including these books that are now being banned." 

Children featured in The ABCs of Book Banning  are incredibly articulate in expressing their anger and confusion,  that books they want to read are no longer available in their Florida school libraries--books like The Kite Runner, Diary of Anne Frank, The Handmaid's Tale, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Life of Rosa Parks.  (Over 2000 books have been banned in classrooms and libraries in Florida and other states.) 

Here's the interview: https://www.npr.org/programs/weekend-edition-saturday/

So what are some of  the narrow world views that many adults do not want to disrupt or challenge?

That all our ancestors were good and noble people?  Nothing evil was ever done by them? That they played no part in slavery? 

That our amiable ancestors sat down with the Native Americans for a friendly Thanksgiving feast?

That America is a Christian nation, and Christianity the only viable religion?

That reading about gay or trans people will influence their children to be gay or trans?

That the Holocaust never happened?

As a former English teacher, I remember so many lively conversations with high school and college students about books that are now on the banned books list. I am shocked and infuriated that current students will be denied these mind-expanding books. 

Gratitudes

A few days ago, Luci and I went on adventure--a walk through North Star Mall, from one end to the other and down the Penney's wing.  I was shopping for a shower curtain, but also testing the ability of my feet to do the whole mall. 

The first half was fun, seeing the stores and kiosks I hadn't seen since before COVID and knee surgery.  Build a Bear and the Lego store gave me a bit of a pang: those pre-Christmas and pre-birthday shopping  days are over, now the kids want money for dates and clothes and car parts. 

The second half was painful and I wondered if we'd make it all the way back from Dillards to Macy's.  Luci sensed the exact moment the fire in my feet flared and started licking them vigorously. Even though it doesn't help, I am grateful for a furry little healer who thinks it will.  She slowed her pace to match mine, glancing up every few steps as if to say, "Are you okay?" 

At that exact moment, Jocelyn called and accompanied me by phone, as I hobbled back to the car vowing that this would be my last mall adventure.   I was grateful for the company of both, Jocelyn and Luci. 

I am grateful to Janet for finding Luci for me at SNIPSA--and for her willingness, along with Will's family, to keep her when I need to travel sans doggie. 

I am grateful for online shopping.  Any minute. now, I'm expecting Amazon to deliver my pre-let birch tree, two books, and a bath mat. 

In my newly painted bathroom, the only pictures on the wall are gifts from Betty and Nellie.  Nellie and I met our junior year of high school when my family moved to Lawrenceville.  Betty and I met in kindergarten in Cochran.  

Three little framed cards, watercolored houses, remind of a trip with Betty when she saw me looking at the cards and bought them.  The print of Nellie's painting reminds me of a trip when she visited Texas, 2016.  

It's kind of ironic that my bathroom is adorned with gifts from two of my oldest friends, the only two in two high schools combined who are still friends. 

I'm grateful for the unseen technology that brings us AC, heat, electricity, telephones, internet, and hot water. For toothpaste, tape, books, Thai food, and reliable cars.  For memories, art supplies, and warm socks.

I'm thankful for what sanity, intelligence, and kindness remain in this world's insanity. 

And for the play house in which I live, I'm so grateful to my parents who gave it to me as a Christmas present 25 years ago. 

As my daddy always said, "Keep the main thing the main thing." The people in my life, blood-related or otherwise-- are always the main things.  

Whenever anyone asks Carlene how she's lived such a long and healthy life, her answer is, "Gratitude."  She has lost so many beloved people, including her parents, all three of her brothers, one of them when he was only ten, her oldest grandson Canaan in March, almost all her same-age friends, and the love of her life, my daddy.  From Carlene, I've learned many things.  Here are two that I think about every day:

1. Gratitude for those with whom you've shared  many years and memories--including those who are no longer physically present. 

2. "Everything is tuition"--closely akin to gratitude. No mistake or regret escapes this net--as we learn from every single thing that happens. 

Paying Attention

In the last five years, I have learned so much about various arts and crafts:  

I can now read the color wheel and know the difference between cool and warm colors.  I know that mixing cools and warms can make muddy brown. 

Transferring botanicals to the gel plate has wowed me-- the tendrils and veins of leaves. Feathers.  Grasses.  

Turning color photos into high contrast black and white photos has reminded me of the skills I learned in photography classes, editing to increase or decrease contrast, shadows, and exposure.  I will soon show you how this relates to gel printing images captured in a photograph. 

I now know how to fold signatures to make a book--and so many ways to bind books with threads and string and tapes.  

I love the way water colors move around on the wet page and bleed playfully into other colors.

The light on houses and trees and people in early morning and late afternoon (the golden hours) has inspired me to take pictures again.

This list could go on and on and on.  While the actual products made are few and far between, it's a pleasure to play as often as I can.

What I'm learning is of absolutely no value to anyone but myself.  

Occasionally I make something I deem worthy of a gift or hanging on my walls.  But for the most part, it's learning that enriches my days.  I am free to explore, to poke around, and to try new things, just for the joy of it.

It's a thrill to master anything. Occasionally, that happens. 

Nurturing creativity just makes life way more fun, more interesting.  It connects me with other people who do the same.  And it changes how I pay attention--and to what I pay attention.  

The poet Mary Oliver wrote:

Instructions for living a life: 

Pay attention,

Be astonished.

Tell about it. 

This morning, I was walking Luci around the block, when she suddenly pulled me in a different direction.  It was as if she were saying, "You're not the boss of me; we're going that way...." I followed her lead.

Since I was gathering leaves for mono printing, it turned out her route had different leaves than the ones I'd seen on the usual walk.  Maybe she knew what I was doing and wanted to point out some good leaves?

Up comes the scruffy little black dog who roams freely around the neighborhood.  They gave each other the canine version of Namaste, then Luci continued leashed and the black dog trotted away. 

I wished Luci could have that freedom.  I try to give her as much freedom as I can and watch her noticing smells and strangers. 

I've spent the morning pressing leaves and feathers into the gel plate.  Some of the results were muddy messes.  Some were almost astonishing.  I'm telling you about it. 

Grandmotherly tidbits

My friend Edward's painting and repairing a few things.  A week or so ago, I sat down on the bathroom floor and started to do the painting myself and realized that painting is now clearly outside my wheel house.  

Anticipating company in January has inspired me to finish up a string of never-ending  house and yard projects. 

Meanwhile, in Virginia, Lovebirds Day and Tom, empty nesters, dating again while their boys are away at college.  

In Helotes, Elena--who loves all living things, big and small, human and otherwise, adores her baby cousin, Tru:

Pam and I are going tomorrow night to see Nathan inducted into the National Honor Society. He's been pretty mum about his girlfriend, but I'm hoping to get a chance to meet her during the holidays.

Big Magic

Day sent Carlene and me copies of Liz Gilbert's (of Eat, Pray, Love fame) book on creativity--it's called Big Magic. 

I'm early into it this beautiful Sunday afternoon, but already it's prompting me to get moving in the direction of "what calls to my heart."

What separates a "mundane" from an "enchanted" life, she says, is the courage to seek for the hidden gems buried in our psyches.  

Joy creates wonderful scenes on canvases, many of which become illustrations for children's books.  What a powerful thing it is to enrich the minds and hearts of children with whimsical  animals, people, plants, trees and moons!  We've all been shaped in some way by the pictures we "read" long before we could read the actual words beside them. 

Several of  my friends have published books and exhibited their work--also their "play." What a grand thing that is!    

Liz Gilbert asks, "What is a creative life?"  

She answers that question like this: It's the "relationship between a human being and the mysteries of inspiration." 

While fear is all around (and within) us in these turbulent times, so are countless things to be amazed by, dazzled and delighted by.  It's our job to find them.

The DNA of a snob

I may have tracked down a few clues to Luci's genetic composition.  After a conversation with a young man at the nail salon today, I feel pretty sure she's part dachshund.

But first, the back story:

Sometimes when Carma comes to visit, Luci is extraordinarily rude: she hides behind me and refuses to acknowledge her exuberant tail-wagging guest.  Carma  kisses her friend and begs her to play, but Luci refuses. Sometimes she can't resist kissing her back, but it's a quick go-away-now kiss, then she returns to her solitude behind me, or worse: she jumps into Jan's lap. 

Jan and I are mystified.  Does Luci need therapy? Jan wonders. Is she perhaps a tiny bit neurotic?

I feel like a bad mama on those days.  Have I raised an ill-mannered dog?  IS she neurotic?  

For me, voted "friendliest" in my senior year of high school, I'm not sure what to do when Luci finds it beneath her to be friendly! 

Everywhere she goes, she charms the humans who meet her.  Everyone, even Carma, loves her.  So why does she pointedly refuse to show Carma some love?

The young man at the nail salon raises dachshunds.  He told me it's the sweetest of breeds, "But they can be snobs, especially to other dogs.  They act like they think they're better than other canines."  

Someone has finally named Luci's snobby behavior Snubbing other dogs is a characteristic of otherwise-lovely dachshunds.  As a dog mama, I feel vindicated!  It's in her blood! 

I could hardly wait to text Jan with this news....

To which Jan replied: "Carma says, Harrumph. But what can a dog expect in Alamo Heights but to live next to a snob next door? Nevertheless, she's inviting Luci for a walk in a few minutes if she's interested."

In the course of this day, strangers have guessed her breed as (1) a miniature Collie, (2) "one of them dogs like the queen likes, oh yeah, a Corgie," (3) a Sheltie, and (4) "a weenie dog."   Turns out she's still a mutt, a mutt with a strain of 09er dachshund.  

Going off to school!

You might not have met a nonagenarian who says, "I love being 98!" 

But this is what Nana said to Day--in spite of a few physical challenges that began four years ago when she totaled her car:

"One foot points to Lawrenceville, the other toward Buford," she says of her crooked leg that has gradually turned outward since the crash.  

Before, and even for a while after the accident, she continued to walk--three miles a day in her early nineties. Now she needs a cane or an arm to walk steadily.  She rides her bike on the porch twenty minutes a day. 

Due to circulation issues in her feet and legs, she's getting used to support hose.

She still drives to the beauty shop, church, and nearby stores.  She says to me, "This is your car, but you can't have it until I'm through with it." She wonders if she can still get her drivers' license when she's 100.

I always call her when I first get up.  This morning, she said, "I'm so excited I feel like I'm going off to school." Her sense of humor isn't going anywhere. 

She even laughs about her feet.  Showing Day and me her hammer toes one night, she said, "Let's play 'This Little Piggy Went to Market' and look at these toes!  These little piggies went to market and got all beat up!"

So if you haven't met a nonagenarian who loves being one, let me introduce you to my amazing mama as she makes the kind of move we might all be lucky enough to make if we live into our nineties. The body may play tricks on us, but--if can keep our minds intact--we can still be who we are, just needing a little help with the inconvenient physical changes!  

As I tell her every day, she is modeling for all us younger people accepting the changes when they come.

Here we are at the Presbyterian Village in Watkinsville looking at one of the apartments and talking to Edward, the chef there.  All we have to do now is await an opening on the third floor. 

Speaking of grace....

Carlene, at 98, has decided to get in the queue for an assisted living home just a few miles from Bob and Jocelyn.  While I was in Georgia last week, we toured the place she's chosen and were impressed with all it has to offer.

All these years she's been taking care of her three-bedroom house and beautiful yard, and she's ready for a change.  Moving will free her from home maintenance and give her time to write, listen to music and meet new friends--while still being close enough for her Lawrenceville friends to visit.

I'm always amazed at how gracefully she makes decisions.  She knows that "when the time is right," she'll know.  On Friday night she wrote, "If and when God takes me, I don't want to have dishwater on my hands; I just want to hand Him my gratitude journal." 

Seeing her sister's homey apartment inspired her, too.  With her own furniture and decor, she will make her new space  feel like home, too. 

 Now we just have to wait for an opening and I'll be going back more often to help with the transition. 

Grace

Mary Locke, Freda, and Bonnie treated me to a delicious lunch at Cappy's for my October birthday that stretched out until everyone was home at the same time. 

I want to share this poem Freda gave me by San Antonio poet, Martha Grant.  She self-published a book of her poems for her friends on her 75th birthday.  

Grace

Grace has no manners and she isn't choosy.

When she decides it's time for a visit

she stops what she is doing

and expects you to do the same. 

She never calls first to ask if it's convenient.

When she arrives at your doorstep,

She doesn't care that you might be

on the toilet or in the shower

or on a ladder changing lightbulbs.

What she lacks in manners and consideration,

she makes up for in enthusiasm.

It is hard not to appreciate her good intentions,

But that comes later. Much later.

After you've fallen off the ladder, say,

spent months sidelined with a broken leg,

reading, writing, learning to knit,

maybe even to meditate. Only then

might you think thank her for

her visitation upon you, for

loosening the middle rung of the ladder

when your back was turned. 

November, Here You Come

What a Halloween I've had--a morning call from Jocelyn, an amazing-as-always Cecelia massage followed by a lunch at my favorite (and pet friendly) Thai place where Belle and Kitty bring aprons for Luci to sit on while they kneel down all the way to the floor and speak softly to her: "Concrete floor is too cold and hard for our Luci, need something soft and warm." 

Then a long afternoon nap, a phone call with Carlene, a snuggle with my Trickster dog, three trick-or-treaters (I hope those snack-sized Snickers I found in the pantry were not stale!), a  trip to an actual mall for the first time since pre-Covid, and a late night phone call from my all time favorite ex-boyfriend Mike who recommended a George Carlin video that made me laugh so hard Luci looked at me with genuine concern: "You've turned into somebody else or what?"  

Jon Stewart, former host of The Daily Show, was the emcee of Forty Years of George Carlin.  I rarely like stand-up, but these guys take comedy into a whole other place, an irreverent blend of jazz, truth telling, philosophy and drama. 

So now it's time to wind down and wake up to November.  It's already out there, my phone tells me, gonna be 39 at sunrise.  

Where's Waldo? And what's up, Bersatto?

 

Jackson, at 22, posing as Waldo, is easy to spot in Richmond, Virginia.

Marcus, whose favorite holiday has always been Halloween,  is Carmen Berzatto, the brilliant chef of the 2022 movie, The Bear.

Homecoming to a cold front

Flying into Texas yesterday, 

Luci in her carrier stuffed under the seat, calm as could be, 

I wanted to stay suspended above the thick white blanket of clouds a little longer. 

Leaving is always sad.  When Day was a two-year-old--crying when Nana and Granddaddy left, she said, "I got dirty water in my eyes." 

Day arrived on Thursday and we shared a ride to the Atlanta Airport yesterday, so it was a double whammy, tears in Lawrenceville, then again in Atlanta. 

I'm still not ready to land, but here I am, met by cold weather and a too-quiet house, feeling blue and lonesome and not entirely at home yet. 

Day drove us to Elijay on Sunday, one of our favorite mountain towns.  We had pizza in a little Italian cafe there, one we discovered on our last threesome retreat in the North Georgia mountains two years ago.

On Saturday, we visited Carlene's sister Dot in Warner Robins in her new assisted living apartment.  I'd planned to leave Luci for the day with a young woman I'd met on Rover.com....

Carlene and I drove there, planning to pick up Day and go to Starbucks, then on to see Dot.

I met the woman, walked up a flight of stairs, down another,  and took some convoluted path to her basement apartment.  I hoped Luci would be okay with the other three dogs and the stranger, but didn't feel entirely comfortable. 

By the time I'd gotten back to the car, started it, and set my GPS for home, I saw the woman in the parking lot waving her arms and calling Luci. I was horrified that she was alone in a large parking lot and already lost to the woman I'd trusted to keep her for twelve hours!

"She's in your car!" the woman shouted.

Sure enough, and unbeknownst to me until that moment, Luci has a super power: she can turn invisible.  She had somehow scooted out of the stranger's apartment, taken a different route, and jumped into the car without either of us even seeing her!

How had I not seen her fly into the car when I opened the door?   She's tiny, very fast when she wants to be, and stubbornly loyal.  Long story short, it was the four of us who visited Dot that day. 

We enjoyed seeing Dot in her new space and seeing how much she loves it there. Though she's six years younger than Carlene, she acted like the big sister, sternly cautioning Carlene to use her cane all the time.  "I see it every day," she said, "And I can't stand the thought of you falling."

Neither can I. 

Luci and I want our whole pack together, everybody safe. 

Back Where I Was Born

Athens, Georgia

Photos mostly by Bob Harris

Trials and Trails

We all know our own quirky stoves and faucets and kitchen appliances. I know, for instance, that if you turn on the hot water in my kitchen it takes a full minute to heat up, then it gets scorching hot fast.  

Last night Carlene and I went to Walmart to get three of the mini-Bundt cake pans I use at home, along with cream, butter,  eggs and candles.  While there, Carlene and I got separated for a long hour in the huge store filled with crying kids and babies.  She didn't have her phone, so we both walked miles of aisles looking for each other.  I asked a nice couple to help me look for her, and we were finally relieved to be reunited.

So this morning the butter was soft and the eggs room temperature and I set out to make three little birthday cakes for Jocelyn.  After putting them into the oven and walking Luci, I came home to  the distinctive smell of cake batter burning. Three cakes were running over the rims onto the bottom of the oven.  

I quickly poured the wet batter into the trash and vowed to avoid cooking in anyone else's kitchen.  

Otherwise, we had a beautiful day.  We went to the Harris Greenway Trails, named for my daddy.  It was packed with people walking, riding bikes, and playing games.  Bob said it is the most used park in the state of Georgia.  There could be no better legacy for a man who spent his career as a soil conservationist planting trees and planning parks for recreation. 

Quilts for a Suffering World

 On the last day before Luci and I flew to Georgia, Jan took me to her church, Christ Lutheran, to see some of the quilts made by the women of the church.  Every one was beautiful, and I wished that many more people had been there for the silent auction on these works of art!

Today all the quilts were displayed on the pews of the church before they are sent to people in need all over the world.  Hours and hours went into the construction of these quilts and the women will then start over for next year's quilt show.

Jan said it best in a letter of appreciation to the quilters:

"These kind and thoughtful ladies sew love into every stitch, they spend hours together and hours at home making these colorful masterpieces that will go to sisters and brothers around the world who are suffering – from war, poverty, natural disasters, and other casualties of life.  For many years, quilts from the hands of these CLCAH servants have brought joy, hope, warmth and love to the hearts, minds, and bodies of their recipients."

I only saw and bid on two small quilts, but look at the ones being sent to people in need.  It's an awesome project, a collective work of love, a collective work of art. 

Under-Standing

Once upon a time in writing group, Kate introduced Cecelia as "everybody's fairy godmother."  Kate was right. After a long absence, going from doctor to doctor, therapist to therapist, I have returned to Fairy Godmother Cecelia.  She's more than a massage therapist; she's a teacher.  "Bodies talk to me," she said.

Not only is her work helping my neuropathy, but she considers the whole body and mind. Today she asked me three key questions, all with a foot-related issue:What am I not understanding?  In what ways do I not stand up for myself?  What can I not stand?

On the scale of woo-woo, Cecelia is about as far to the high end as it gets. I'm re-finding advantages to unconventional ways of dealing with pain.  

Astrology, trusting one's own guidance, palm reading, meditating, mysticism, finding out what we're here for "in our wisdom years"--these may or may not speak to you, but some of these supernatural pathways may be just what the doctor ordered--though a real doc might look at them with raised eyebrows. 

Scar tissue and neuropathy are real, as are cancer, arthritis, and all the ailments that befall humans.  But the medical community's job is to provide relief (usually with pharmaceuticals), not overall healing.  Maybe, according to woo-woo thinking, the pain has shown up "to show us something" about ourselves.  

Folk and herbal remedies can go a long way toward healing the body and mind.  From here on out, having tried every conventional therapy I know of, I'm putting all my eggs in the basket of the Fairy Godmother! 

The following is related, but I'll save the thread that connects them for another post--when I don't have an Uber coming before the crack of dawn:

Just last night I watched Season 2 of World on Fire (PBS).  

Sir James, who's staying in Robina's house during the war, asks her to marry him.  They are both in their sixties, very strong-willed and attractive people for whom responsibility seems a higher currency than happiness. While it's clear that she has feelings for him, she refuses his proposal.

James: "I think you're afraid to be happy."

Robina: "But I have to choose between my happiness and my greater responsibilities."

This is the take away line, spoken by Sir James: "Your happiness IS your greatest responsibility."

I offer you this line as a ponderable! 

"Nature is Intelligent"

If you haven't watched it yet, check out Fantastic Fungi on Netflix, a beautifully made film about the health benefits of mushrooms.  Amazing time-lapse photography about fungi and what they do for us.  

Día de los Muertos--November 2

When I first moved to San Antonio in 1967, I was wide-eyed at the tradition of skeletons dressed up like brides and grooms, skeletons posed on porches. I thought it was creepy. 

Since then, I've learned a lot more about the tradition and I think it's wonderful.  Today I'm making my first día de los Meuertos altar.

The first step has taken most of the day--gathering pictures of loved ones no longer physically present. 

It all started with my daddy's watch.  Then I found lots of pictures of him throughout his life, pictures of his parents (Mama Jim and Daddy Jim) and his four siblings.  Bob sent me this photo of my daddy's mother, the grandmother I knew less well than Mimi.  She had five children and died in her sixties when I was 12. 

Rose Harris

My nephew Canaan, who died of a very aggressive cancer on March 13th this year, was a pastor in Colorado, a husband, and father of two.   Here he is at Nana and Granddaddy's the year I made clown costumes for all the cousins.  

Others will join these: my friend Gary who died ten years ago; two daughters of two of my closest friends, both of whom died three years ago;  Mary Frances Weathersby, a vibrant yoga teacher and friend for many years; my mother's three brothers and my daddy's four siblings; my great-grandmother Cana so beloved by Carlene, though she died before I was born.

Altars also include items enjoyed by the deceased loved ones--fruit, candy, ornaments, jewelry, books, poems, teddy bears, etc. 

I've included a beautiful red wooden heart covered with Milagros--a birthday present from Charlotte; a garland of orange paper flowers from Mary Locke; an orange ceramic pumpkin and candles and a garland of orange flowers.

The final piece is a strand of twinkly lights or candles, reminders of the lights of friends and family members.

October 15th

My birthday week has been great!

Starting with the coast trip, staying with two of my oldest and dearest friends in Mary Locke's beach house. 

Continuing with dinner at PF Chang's with Carolyn whom I've known and loved since we were SAC faculty wives in the early 70s. 

Watching the eclipse with Kate and Charlotte before going to a wonderful Italian "hole in the wall" cafe called La Sorrenta.  (Charlotte prefers no pictures-- it's hard for me to resist, but I do.) 

Kate and her son, Jakey
with shadows of the eclipse on his green shirt.

The grand finale tonight: Jan hosting Pam and L'Indy and me for a knock-your-socks-off shrimp dish, along with fruit tart and asparagus with pesto

L'Indy (Linda from Indiana)
and Luci

Pam admiring Jan's table
and flowers from Lorraine

Jan is "the hostess with the mostest" 
 who knows how to put together 
a memorable party!

Delivering a birthday tart
with only one candle, enough
to make lots of wishes on.

So happyand grateful
for ALL of you (here and far away)
 who have made Turning 75 so much fun! 

***

       Today is Day's 53rd birthday.  On my 23rd birthday I was in labor all day, but she held off showing up until after midnight so she'd have a birthday of her own, evidence of her independent spirit from day one.

     After a weekend in Richmond with the boys, she and Tom celebrated tonight watching a Buffalo Bill's game and drinking mocktails. 

Two pictures from her first few months as a little "You are my sunshine" Texas girl...

Lloyd and Carlene's first grandchild--
when we lived on Beckmann Hill in Helotes