if it ain't one thing, it's another

I should be writing about the Halloween Fun Run, which was fun, but my photos are in the other room so I'm going to forego that topic for now.

Many reasons not to watch the news, or television for that matter. It's nice this year, not to be subjected to constant political ads, since we ripped our cable out after the last election. Not literally, but it went missing. Do people really make up their minds based on that drivel? Someone posted a link to an awful crime and punishment story on Facebook and I had to read it. Very, very sad. No reason I had to know about that.

Now, I'm reading about Hurricane Sandy. I would have been long ago gone from that path. What the hell. An 11 foot wall of water? It sounds like one of those apocalypse movies and you know what a fan I am of those.

I was driving to Mankato the other day on 169. I happened to be by the regional treatment center where the speed limit is 45. I was going 45 mph when a woman came barreling up behind me, got right on my bumper, then passed me giving me the finger as she went. What the hell. It was that important to her to get where she was going a few minutes earlier? How uncivilized. I stared straight ahead but Regis, Philly driver that he is, responded in kind.

Regis turned 60 in July and I'm turning 60 on Wednesday. Life in the months before 60 has been fraught with peril for both of us. Some of it could be funny, I think, depending on your view of things and we usually take a dark comedic view which helps us get through the bullshit.

Since last May, we have been diagnosed with atrial fibrillation, bladder cancer, cataracts, osteoporosis, breast cancer, and we've had two knees replaced. It's not so important who got what...it's a medical shit storm. Someone from the insurance company is going to come out and shoot us.

We're managing quite well and hope by the end of the year, the worst of it will be behind us. (It could be quite a Christmas letter. Haha! Not, really. Don't be afraid to open it when it comes.) Seriously, all in all, things are good. Regis fairly skipped down the front steps the other day and I ran a 5k on Saturday. Not fast, mind you, but faster than the folks on the couch.

Bob and Marilyn, we'll be thinking about you both on Wednesday.

I found the pictures so here's the scoop on the Fun Run.

I'm an artificial knee.

Every time I get one of these pictures taken, I'm walking. Hmmm... 

Joanne and I have done the Halloween Fun Run together for four years. The first year, during the reconstruction of 169, was the worst because we were on the hill and the wind was fierce. This year was perfect, crisp and cool, no wind. There were 1,400 people registered. The Fun Run Facebook page has tons of pictures. Some of the costumes were great! The headless boy was very creepy. I didn't win any prizes but I got a lot of laughs.

It will be a busy week. PT three times, working out at the Pulse, working at River Rock, party at the Paw on Tuesday night (I'm a costume judge, believe that or not!), and my birthday on Wednesday. It will be the party what started out as dancin' around!

soggy afternoon and everybody gots the blues

We are not complaining about the rain. At all. It's the first time we've had a decent rain in months.

We are only complaining about the gloom that seems to have descended on everyone. We are hunkered down, sighing heavily, speaking in hushed tones. Our spirits have been hung out to dry...in the rain. Woe is us.

We are lacking in gumption. Even to do the simple things like the dishes and picking up of stuff. Damp jackets hang limply from the backs of chairs. Junk mail is piled on the table, probably hiding today's to-do list. Even the dog is without ambition.

A rational and thinking person would turn on the radio and make some cookies or invite a friend over for a glass of wine. But who can think rationally in the blue funk of this day? So, here we sit, lamps unlit, dinner not made, quiet in every corner.

I'm going to grab the reins and drive this horse down a different road. Radio will be turned on and jazzy music will be heard. Something will be cooked. Candles will be lit and old friends will be called.

Ta da!

restless night and sleepy morning

We were up and down all night, first one then the other. Bed, couch, chair. Even the dog couldn't settle down. Must have been one of those nights my doctor used to describe as "forces in the universe at work".

Regis has therapy at 8 so we're up and moving in the right direction. All is well when that's true.

We're expecting rain today which is a welcome weather event. It hasn't rained enough all summer to even get the ground completely wet. Tomorrow will be colder.

There must have been a football game somewhere last night. I heard the muffled voice of an announcer and the cheers of a crowd. It was kind of a sweet sound for a fall night but the distant noise is as far as my interest goes. As for who and what sport and the final score, I don't care.

I went to a coffee training at work last night. I walked downtown in my new boots... a mistake. They're very comfortable but not for long distances and I almost wore holes in my toes. The coffee training is fascinating because the art and science of coffee, which these folks know...is complex. They did explain why some coffee tastes good and some tastes like cigar ash. Small growers, attention to detail, hand-picking and sorting, careful processing. They are turning me into a coffee snob.

Usually when we pick up prescriptions, we use the drive-up at Walgreen's. Yesterday, I went into the store. Fifty dollars later, I had a sack of unnecessary junk. I rationalized that it was Halloween stuff for the little kids but the truth is, it's probably not anything they want either.

Regis has been having some vivid dreams which we attribute to Percoset. The other night his dream was about the ice bag belonging to the dowager countess but since someone had taken that one, we had to use the lesser ice bag of the footman. Last night he had a dream that our friend Emily had rented out our couch to Eli and the recliner to Dave so Regis had no place to go in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep.

Chauffeur duty calls.

this getting old shit is for the birds

I just wrote a paragraph about our continuing medical woes and then I promptly deleted it. I have vowed not to talk about medical stuff so remind me if I go off on a tangent about it. Enough already.

I'm warming up my writing brain to do about four blog posts for River Rock this afternoon. They are in varying stages of completion in a notebook written in pencil and on my computer. I write spasmodically, if that's the word for it. I rarely write in long-hand anymore and can hardly compose an address unless I'm at the keyboard. Writing on cards can be a challenge.

I looked at the marathon coverage in the paper this morning and had a brief moment of regret for not committing to that until I read about the folks who were vomiting and in need of IVs by the end. Nah. I don't think so. As I have said before, my right brain, the side that avoids pain and seeks pleasure is too well-developed. My mantra usually goes something like this, "If I walk for a while, I will feel better and I won't break any bones. This will be over soon. What in the hell made me think this would be fun?"

We had a very busy day yesterday. I picked Elliot up in the morning, Ella and Alex came for lunch, Emily took Gus to the park then came back for pizza and we watched Downton Abbey. A fun Sunday!

One more cup of coffee, one more paragraph...then I have to hit it.

I'm reading Major Pettigrew's Last Stand. I can't remember who recommended it to me but I like it. It's a love story about an English man and a Pakistani woman. Sort of a gentle tea and crumpets story which I don't mind as I'm not much for murder and mayhem in my reading material.

My new boots just came via UPS and that means Zappos is a modern miracle. I order boots on Saturday afternoon and they are delivered to me by Monday. Ah, the smell of new leather.

Here I go.

feelin' pretty cocky so early in the morning

I just reread yesterday's post. I was being optimistic when I wrote it, apparently. The truth of it is that we spent the day trudging slowly from task to task and from couch to recliner. I did the dishes, made two meals, and got my Halloween Fun Run costume ready but that's about it. My brain was resting a good part of the day.

Today will be different. I'm picking Elliot up at 9:30 and Ella and Alex are coming about 10 o'clock to play. There will not be much resting today, believe me.

The sky was clear when I was out with Gus at 6 but now it looks cloudy again. I don't mind...I still love these fall days. Our birch tree is raining yellow leaves, slowly slowly slowly. It's beautiful.

Regis is still sleeping, Gus is taking his first nap of the day, and I am going to the kitchen to make coffee. There you go.

saturday in slow motion

Regis and I are slowly getting our wheels back on the tracks. We woke up this morning at 4, got up and drank coffee in the dark, then went back to sleep for an hour. It's a strange kind of timeless feeling.

The good news is that my sleeping patterns have been better knock on wood. No long periods of wakefulness for three days.

I think we're going to take Gus to the dog park for a while this morning. Regis is itching to get out and so is Gus. I can drive and Regis can park it on a bench. His butt...not the car.

I just ordered myself a new pair of boots. I have been so frugal with clothes lately that I decided I could splurge. Yesterday I washed my three favorite sweaters from the thrift and consignment stores. Two of them should have been hand washed but I'm not a believer in that monkey business so I tossed them in the washer on the delicate cycle.

One had red wine stains on the front from the time I apparently had suffered an unfortunate head-on collision with a glass of wine. It happens. I found a tip online: Mix a teaspoon of dish soap with a cup (about) of hydrogen peroxide. Squirt it on the stain. Ha! Amazing! I guess this works on carpet and upholstery stains, too, so if you're a red wine drinker, tuck this information in your memory bank.

Kind of a western look, right? I bet I can kick some serious ass in these boots.

Back to caring for the patient who is a rock star. He is showered, dressed, and sitting in his chair. No long periods of convalescence for this cat. He's on the move. Staples come out Wednesday and he'd like to be off the Percoset as soon as possible.

end o' the week

It's Friday finally...or already...depending on a couple of things. Surgery was a roaring success so we have that out of the way, just physical therapy for the next month.

The hospital has been a good experience except for the food. I won't say where Regis had his surgery because you know my paranoia about google searches. The hospital gets it's patient food from a nursing home. It's an abomination that old people and sick people and folks recovering from surgery (who ought to have the very best nutrition) have to eat that highly processed tasteless food. Fake butter. Fake coffee creamer. English muffins that look like they came with a play kitchen set. If I ever have to spend time in the hospital, please bring food.

Regis sent me a dream story by text sometime in the middle of the night. He was sleeping in the recliner in his room and woke to hear some noise in the hall. In his Percocet-induced slumber, he thought he was in a motel room but realized I was not there. A while later, he woke and saw me writing on the melamine board so he croaks out, "Where the f*#* have you been?" and of course, it is the sweet and pretty, twenty-something nurse who is writing on the board, not me. I hope she has a sense of humor.

Gus and I have slept well the past two nights, only waking once. He was very agitated the first day of Regis's absence but seems to have adjusted now. Yesterday, Emily took him to the dog park to play with his dog pals and Young Reg and Amber took him for a walk and over to their house to play with their cats. He had a full day.

Two pictures from my mostly pathetic garden this summer. I'm still making the transition to shade plants since any sun I used to have has been usurped by the trees. I'm not much for watering so it was simply a matter of survival of the fittest. A man I know in town who is a wonderful gardener came into River Rock yesterday. I'm embarrassed to talk gardens with him. He has rotating plants so his garden is blooming all summer. It's very artistically arranged and he takes meticulous care of it. My garden is random and wild, like me. Ha!

spending my time

This is how I like to spend my time. Sitting, drinking coffee, eating something little and tasty like a blueberry tart, riding my bike, watching traffic.

This will not be how I spend my time this week. This week my calendar is full. I don't even like to look at it now and there are some things I haven't written down. I wonder how I had time to work full time and keep up with my life before I retired. There must have been a lot of things I didn't do...or maybe I had more gumption.

We had such a nice Sunday yesterday. I put out the Halloween decorations (of which there are a ton), cleaned up the house a bit, bought a take and bake pizza, and our friend, Emily came over for dinner and a movie. Such a nice way to end the weekend and begin a busy week.

I slept fitfully last night. Awake until almost midnight, awake several times over the next few hours, awake at 5 am. I have decided to just put it out of my mind. There doesn't seem to be any fixing it and you can't really catch up on sleep so I'll just muddle along. Maybe my worry about not sleeping is contributing to my insomnia. Bummer.

Spending time. It's important how I decide to spend my time. Everybody gets a limited amount of time and I don't want to spend a lot of my allotment vacuuming spider webs in the basement or obsessing about the state of my lawn. That's trivial shit. I want to spend my time standing in the yard looking at the stars in the morning or drinking coffee and pondering my existence. Ha! 

Hey, that guy jumped out of the balloon and his eyes didn't explode. Hurray! Crazy stuff people do.

Regis had a dream the other night that involved Marlys, Vern, and their daughter Hermione. Where does he get this stuff? If he had been writing it down all along, we'd have the material for a book. A very strange book, but a book.

On to Monday. The week will be busy but I'll check in because this is where I collect my brain cells. I'll check in with a cup of coffee, a little bite to eat, and an open curtain so I can see the stars.

scarecrow tour and more

We went to Canby to visit Mom on Friday afternoon. We had a good time doing what we usually do which is sitting around and visiting over wine and pizza. Saturday morning, Mom and I did a little looking around downtown. They have a new coffee shop and bakery so we popped in there. Busy place! When we got home, Mom took a nap and Regis and I did the scarecrow tour. There are a few pics in the slide show that are not scarecrows...some interesting homes (love the one with Big Bird on the porch), some tombstones in the cemetery, and some of the dog. Gus loved Mom's yard...especially the wild turkeys.

We're going to spend today getting ready for a busy week. I am hoping that after October, things will slow down some. I don't like to be quite this busy. I'm more of a sitting around kind of girl.

That's my Dad's cowboy hat I'm wearing. Mom gave it to Regis but I claimed it when we got home. It's a good look.

Regis is wearing a shirt Peter left behind. Southpole is favored by hip and young urbanites who frequently cut thumb holes in the cuffs of their shirts. Regis just likes the soft thermal knit. He is not a hip or a young urbanite.

We got home about 5:30 yesterday. Regis took Gus to the dog park for a run while I unpacked the stuff. When they got back, Regis and I went to Patrick's for a cheeseburger which was a minor mistake. It was GAC homecoming weekend and the place was rocking. They had a bouncer at the door at 6 o'clock and it was a good thing. There was an old dude in the next booth who was loud and obnoxious. I don't know how the people sitting next to him could stand it...we barely could. We ate and left quickly.

I'm going to finally get my Halloween decorations out today. I don't know what has made me so slow this year. Emily, and maybe David (brother from St. Paul) are coming late afternoon for pizza and Downton Abbey.

Regis is having knee replacement surgery on Wednesday. We have to be at the hospital by 5 am so he should be out of surgery before the sun comes up. The hospital here does not have a cafeteria so they get their food from the nursing home. That doesn't sound very appealing. I'll have to plan ahead.

On to Sunday.

a journey without a goat

I love the things I misread. I looked at one of my favorite zen blogs this morning and the title was "a journey without a goal", which I read as "a journey without a goat". I like that.

My friend, Steve Schipp, used to say that the world is made up of two kinds of people, those who can drive a forklift and those who cannot. He was right.

I've been in a very philosophical mood lately and I think it comes with turning 60 the end of the month. And it comes from spending so much time in doctor's offices lately. I have vowed not to spend so much time recounting our current woes (which are not really woes, but maintenance) because, for one thing, it's hard to keep them straight, and for another, it leads to no good.

So, my philosophical state of mind. I'm reading a book about habits. How to change the bad ones and fortify the good ones. It makes it seem so simple, changing the habits of your life.

I've never been much for philosophy. I took a class in college and left after the first day. I didn't want to debate if a chair was really a chair or if it was a dream. That's a journey without a goat, right there. I suppose the whole point of philosophy is to examine your own life by pondering the thoughts of others. Hmmm.

Part of my current mission to rid myself of junk. I have another pile of bags and boxes by the door for pick-up tomorrow. I regularly get rid of stuff by giving it to Jan. Unclutter the house, unclutter the mind.

If I had more boxes, I'd be in better shape to continue.

What do you do with photo albums from your early twenties? I never look at them anymore and certainly nobody else wants to look at them. High school year books? Old vinyl records? A set of three martini glasses that I haven't used in five years? Gone. Gone. Gone.

I read this article in the Tribune a couple Sundays ago. I'm going to paste the whole thing in here because I love it and I know it will disappear from the internets eventually and I will never be able to keep track of a newspaper clipping. This is my virtual scrapbook.

Autumn blues: loss into life
David McGrath
We have begun the season of heartbreak. Fall in the north woods, like Shakespeare's Ophelia, is a tragic beauty.
The weather cool and paradisiacal. No insects. None of the heat and humidity of July. No ice, no snow, nor the slashing winds of February. A cornucopia of color.
Yet fall evokes loss. Tourists are gone. Children off to school. Loons flown south. Hummingbird feeders desolate.
I am haunted, still, by an owl from last night, its lonely wail waking me at 3 a.m.
Dr. John Sharp, writing in Psychology Today ("Autumn Now") describes autumn as the most emotional time of year, for the many memories it stirs of childhood and of change, triggered by "sights and smells and sounds that remind us of what we might have experienced."
Like recent losses in my own life. My good gold dog. All that's left is a photo on the refrigerator -- Frank escaping with my wife's flip-flop.
Now I watch the crows and squirrels he chased, and I beckon to them with an absurd, unspoken question: Is Frank OK?
And then I scold myself, a rational being, and try to adapt to his absence. He remains as a thought, a wavelength between a proton and an electron in my brain.
My father's been gone for decades, but I felt a fresh pang down by our lake. Fifty years ago, the two of us sat in a boat as he rowed seemingly effortlessly, not both oars at once, but the left and then the right in perfect syncopation, propelling us straight.
Toward the end, I had begun reading a story to him in the hospital, got halfway through when visiting hours were over. He died before I could return the next evening to finish.
His picture is in an 8-by-10-inch frame on the coffee table, a black-and-white mugshot of the old man in a suit, his mirthful smile. His life still sending current through me, my siblings, my children. Would his relevance vanish if unremembered?
My friend Joe and I began first grade together in the fall, stayed friends through school, through discoveries, successes, travails. He was instrumental in my meeting the woman who would become my wife. Since his death in January, how long can I preserve the sound of his laughter in my head? Should I?
And in another cruel trick played on us humanoids, we also suffer the loss of that which technically does not even exist. I look in the yard and see an image of my children in colorful hooded ski jackets, playing with a balloon in the yard. Their voices tinkling like a wind chime. And though they are grown up and on their own journeys of memory-making, the imagined picture fades to today's empty yard, overgrown and mottled with dead leaves, making me sad.
But they're still present in this world, so what exactly am I missing? The feeling? A dream? A segment of time that has passed?
Are time segments even real?
Sorry for all the questions. A column should not be all questions. It should have a resolution. Therefore, I offer two.
The first is that the pain of loss -- the litany of losses we start and never stop accumulating from middle age -- teaches us that we should live in the moment, clinging with bare hands to the high-voltage wire of life.
It's the theme of Thornton Wilder's play "Our Town," in which a character returned from the dead wants to shake the daylights out of family members still living, make them realize they should never take even a split-second for granted -- not the briefest conversation with a sibling, not an embrace from their father, certainly not an "I love you" from a spouse. Grasp and stare into their eyes, soul to soul.
Years ago, I callously advised my wife to get rid of everything -- the faded baby bonnet, the discolored photograph -- since they only reminded her of what was lost.
I was wrong. For anything that encapsulates a memory, enhances the present and future. There is something good in a remembrance that is spiked with sadness, because loss and regret compel us to change, to live better, more intensely, more hungrily, more generously.
The second resolution is that memories of the people and things we have lost, though painful, are therapeutic. They keep us connected to a story that, though invisible, is real, vibrating through those photos, bonnets, smells, sounds, letters, thoughts and dreams.
And as long as we can recall and relate that story, we will never be lonely -- even if we are alone.
I walk to the fridge and Frank's picture, recollecting that sunny noisy afternoon. Maybe I'll get a rescue dog from the shelter. Doesn't even have to be gold.
----------------
David McGrath, an emeritus English professor at the College of DuPage, lives in Hayward, Wis., and is the author of "The Territory."

And so, to conclude my Wednesday morning ramble, this picture, which I have published before but which seems to sum it all up...bear on a bicycle.

Keep pedaling, my friends.

coming out of the versed fog

I had a couple of very good naps yesterday, then slept well last night. What a gift a good night's sleep can be. I woke up several times but when I tried to read, my eyes closed and I drifted back to sleep. Ah, so nice.

Versed is a good drug if you have to have a medical procedure but it seems to leave me foggy-headed. Of course, with my sleeping patterns this past week, it could be that, too.

King Karl and Queen Silvia of Sweden were in St. Peter yesterday. I don't recall all the official reasons for the trip but I am sorry to have missed the pomp. Ella attended with her elementary school class so I'm sure she'll give me the full report, although I think she will be as disappointed as I was that they were not wearing royal robes and crowns.

The forecast was for snow flurries this morning between 3 o'clock and 5 o'clock. I didn't stick my head out the door to to see if that transpired because I think there should be more than a week between sandals and winter boots. Truth is, I have been wearing boots and socks for a couple weeks now. I hate cold feet.

I'm actually thinking about not putting out all my Halloween stuff this year. It's a considerable amount and with Regis's surgery right in the middle of the month, I'm worried that suddenly it will be December 1st and we'll be sitting in a roomful of ghosts and witches. I'll probably succumb tomorrow when Peter is here to tote the bins out of the basement for me.

Gus and I just went to the back yard and there were no snow flurries.

The other day on a trip to the thrift store, I found a vintage red swing coat for $9. A few years ago, I was in a lather to find one and spent a lot of time on the internet looking. And here it was, right there. I'm not sure it's vintage. I asked the woman working there what vintage meant and she said, older than the young women doing the pricing. (I took it to be cleaned, Deb!) It will be a hoot to wear.

I've been vintage fur coat shopping on Etsy. I know, I know. I haven't bought anything but I've done a lot of reading and research.

Here's what vintage means, according to the interwebs: Vintage clothing is defined as previously-owned clothing, that with age, looks better and maintains style. Time is not the only criteria used to define vintage, but rather other elements such as enduring style, perceived quality and accrued value. Vintage clothing usually comes from a different era, but the definition should not be confined only in years.

I'm not sure all the stuff hanging on that rack fits this definition. I think polyester pull-over blouses are not examples of enduring style.

Moving on into the day. Happy Saturday!

ahhhh....what day is it?

I haven't slept well for several days. Tuesday night I was awake by 3am. Wednesday night, I was awake between midnight and 6am when I fell asleep for another hour and missed my workout appointment. Thursday night I fell asleep at 3am and woke up to the alarm at 6am.

The sort of good news is that I had to go in for an endoscopy this morning. It's only what the doc calls surveillance so no need for concern. I've had these before and they make it pretty painless. And so the good news part of this is that the Versed and Fentanyl they gave me were a great gift of relaxation, then sleep.

I can be a bit of a handful as a patient since I had a bad experience with an endoscopy without sedation once. The medical people who recommended that should try it themselves and see how they like it. The next time, memories of that led me to grip the handrails of the gurney on the way to the procedure room and tell everyone in a panicked voice that I am a nervous patient and they shouldn't let me choke. I burst into tears the time after that when told that the doctor I expected to do the procedure had been in surgery all night so there was a substitution. A substitute surgeon. Oh, no.

They must have called him and explained because shortly after, the real doctor showed up looking like he was prepared to deal with a recalcitrant child instead of a 55 year old woman. He was making a pinched face. I told him that the notion of having a garden hose put in my throat by a stranger was distressing. He said they always try to use an endoscope but he was patient and kind and in the end, I was sorry for being such a pain in the ass.

We stopped at Guenther's for a bite of breakfast because I was instantly hungry when I woke up since I hadn't eaten since last night. A nice omelet and toast...comfort food.

I came home, crawled back into my bed and went to sleep for almost two hours. Bliss. I just asked Regis when he thought my marbles would come back and he said two weeks. Ah, no.

The wind has been torturous the past two days. It howled all night giving me dreams of parties gone awry, dust bunny sweeping, and wild fires. I've said before that Regis dreams in detail with plots and names. I dream in amorphous blobs and images.

Elliot went to the park this week with his other grandma and grandpa. It's been a trying fall for him with the changes in daycare. Sweet boy.

I have to go lie down again. Thanks for listening!

warming up and getting control

I'm sitting in front of my computer, thinking about River Rock's blog. I have to get the wheels going here to I'll hammer out the contents of my brain on this blog first.

Thinking about writing. I rarely write with a pen anymore. At least not more than signing my name or writing on a card. I am fairly fast at writing on a full keyboard, but NOT on a phone. Not text messages. Regis said I give myself away as a person of the older generation (like this would be a surprise) when I text with one finger. Really? I cannot manage to write anything intelligible with my thumbs.

When I was in high school, my grandma really encouraged me to take typing so I would have something to fall back on. Boy, that's a different time, eh? I wonder if they even teach keyboarding, or whatever the hell you call it, these days.

I am going to watch my online cussing because I read some research that said a lot of online cussing is a sign of sociopathy. It's not the only sign, obviously, but it's one. Hahaha! Not like using the F word is going to cause it.

If you look up sashay in the dictionary, this is the picture.

Two guys taking a nap at the Rock Bend music festival.

This is the photo I was looking for but I got distracted by the other two. I'm not sure I agree completely with this sentiment although I try not to cuss around small children or people who it offensive. I don't cuss loudly in public places but I do find a well-placed F bomb to be healthy for my mind.

I started reading State of Wonder by Ann Patchett this morning. I can feel it calling me....

Back to work. Oh, yeah. The control part of the subject line refers to all the appointments we have in October. What the hell.

happy birthday buns of stone!

On October 1st, 2006, Regis and I started this blog. It had a different purpose when it started than the purpose to which it seems to have evolved. It started as a way to document our 500 miles walk but once we abandoned that adventure, it became mostly a documentation of our imperfect lives...cooking, eating, entertaining, books, Gus, grandchildren, and other miscellaneous observations and commentary. So, happy birthday to my blog!

I think it should be Sunday today as I am not quite ready to take on Monday. Let's just do that, shall we?