1. We had a hum-dinger of a storm come through Wednesday night. During the day, it was breezy with brief spats of rain filled wind gusts, followed by relative calm. That all changed in the evening. The wind began howling through the trees, whistling around the corners of the house, and shaking the windows. At 8pm, we lost power. I lit some candles and sat on the couch with my iPad, playing solitaire in the dark. I did not light the wood-stove because I didn't want sparks flying out the chimney - even with a spark arrester, I wasn't taking chances. So, I sat under two blankets. Brett sat in his recliner and worried, with no TV to distract him. The wind died down an hour later and then the skies opened and buckets of water were dumped over us. Kersey refused to go outside and pee before bed -- and she's a lab, she loves water. No power meant no well pump and no water. Fortunately, we had already taken our showers but we worried about the horses getting water in the barn since they have automatic waterers there. There were about 4500 residences that lost power so we were not alone. We woke up 3am when the lights came on.
2. Someone left a comment asking how tall Tex is. Good question. I looked at his papers but they don't give his height. We have never measured him. My guess is that he is about 16h. Flash and Jackson are both 15.3 and Tex is definitely taller than both of them.
3. I'm feeling a little blue today. My mom died on this day in 2014. I think about her all the time; I miss being able to tell her about this-or-that. Some days are harder than others. Today is a hard one. FB did a flash back yesterday; you know... the ones that start with "here are some memories from this date in past years"... and there it was, a post from 2.18.14, the day before mom died. I had posted a status of how she was doing and seeing the post took me straight back to that hospital room and the yo-yo, up-and-down of rallying and failing that happened that week. I'm going to take Kersey for a long walk when I get home tonight (if it isn't raining too hard) and that should help.
4. We do have a good weekend on tap. Kyle and Ana are coming up tonight so they can ski in Tahoe tomorrow. We will have Brett's birthday dinner tomorrow night and are going to a wine-pairing dinner Sunday. In less than a week, we will be at Alisal for our annual vacation there.
5. I've been thinking about bucket-lists lately. You know, that list of things you want to do or accomplish before you die. Brett and I have been working on our respective lists over the years and we don't really have much "big" left to accomplish. I would like to complete the training to become a master gardener but I'm guessing that won't happen until I retire -- since it is a large time commitment. The two activities that bring me the most peace, that put me in a place where I completely lose track of time, are riding and gardening. What's on your bucket list? Where do you find solace?
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Friday, February 19, 2016
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Good Riddance
...to 2014. I'm hoping for a quiet 2015.
2014 was a year of loss for me. The largest, most overwhelming, loss was that of my mom in February. I am still haunted by the memory of the days in the hospital with her that last week, of wrestling with her wishes to go - against my want of her to stay, in the quiet nights while I sat in the room alone with her. I find my eyes welling with tears, still, on my evening commute home when my mind drifts to thoughts normally shared in our frequent phone calls. Camille and I have a whole new understanding of pelicans flying close by -- Grandma is with us in spirit.
We lost Sedona in the summer after her battle with cancer. Sedona lived a long happy life and her final demise was sudden and clear. We did not have to wonder about whether it was time; one morning she couldn't walk and her eyes told us it was time. She was a great dog and part of our family fabric.
There was also the loss of Winston. It was difficult for me to accept that I was not the rider he needed. We lost confidence in each other and we couldn't find our way back. Selling him to a brave young rider was the right thing to do but it wasn't an easy decision to make.
Thanksgiving was difficult. There was hurt and, hopefully, some healing. It was painful regardless. That's all I'm gonna say on that subject.
The year wasn't all bad, of course. Lucy and I found each other and we bonded immediately. She fixed my tendency to curl and lean forward in a matter of weeks; something that years of lessons failed to do. If I lean, at all, she rushes. If I'm straight and balanced, so is she. The reward for both of us is huge. When I ride Lucy, I am in a place of relaxed joyfulness. She is truly a gift (thank you Victoria and Sandy).
Brett underwent successful knee replacement surgery. The recovery was very different from the time he had his first knee done. He had much less pain, greater range of motion almost immediately and healed in record time. I can hardly keep up with him now.
Kyle graduated from college and started working in San Francisco. I have successfully launched my eldest child -- and it feels great. I'm very proud of both of my children; of who they have become and how they live their lives. Camille is on her way and I expect a successful launch, in a few years, with her as well.
Here's a big raspberry to 2014 and a hearty welcome to 2015.
2014 was a year of loss for me. The largest, most overwhelming, loss was that of my mom in February. I am still haunted by the memory of the days in the hospital with her that last week, of wrestling with her wishes to go - against my want of her to stay, in the quiet nights while I sat in the room alone with her. I find my eyes welling with tears, still, on my evening commute home when my mind drifts to thoughts normally shared in our frequent phone calls. Camille and I have a whole new understanding of pelicans flying close by -- Grandma is with us in spirit.
We lost Sedona in the summer after her battle with cancer. Sedona lived a long happy life and her final demise was sudden and clear. We did not have to wonder about whether it was time; one morning she couldn't walk and her eyes told us it was time. She was a great dog and part of our family fabric.
There was also the loss of Winston. It was difficult for me to accept that I was not the rider he needed. We lost confidence in each other and we couldn't find our way back. Selling him to a brave young rider was the right thing to do but it wasn't an easy decision to make.
Thanksgiving was difficult. There was hurt and, hopefully, some healing. It was painful regardless. That's all I'm gonna say on that subject.
The year wasn't all bad, of course. Lucy and I found each other and we bonded immediately. She fixed my tendency to curl and lean forward in a matter of weeks; something that years of lessons failed to do. If I lean, at all, she rushes. If I'm straight and balanced, so is she. The reward for both of us is huge. When I ride Lucy, I am in a place of relaxed joyfulness. She is truly a gift (thank you Victoria and Sandy).
Brett underwent successful knee replacement surgery. The recovery was very different from the time he had his first knee done. He had much less pain, greater range of motion almost immediately and healed in record time. I can hardly keep up with him now.
Kyle graduated from college and started working in San Francisco. I have successfully launched my eldest child -- and it feels great. I'm very proud of both of my children; of who they have become and how they live their lives. Camille is on her way and I expect a successful launch, in a few years, with her as well.
Here's a big raspberry to 2014 and a hearty welcome to 2015.
 |
| Kersey misses Sedona but being an inside dog in the winter has definite benefits. |
Friday, August 15, 2014
Quilts, Africa and Mom
Yes, they are all linked. I will explain.
When I was young, seven years old, we lived in Tanzania for two years. My dad was working there, helping the newly independent country set up its university. My mom was a bit apprehensive about taking three small children (my brother was three, my sister six) but once there fell in love with the country. Those two years were magical for me; I was fortunate to be old enough to understand and remember our time there. My mother always sewed our clothes and that did not change while we were overseas. She bought local fabrics and made dresses for herself and shirts for my dad.
When my mother died, my sister found some of the fabric buried in my mom's closet where she kept her yarn for knitting and her fabric for sewing. Marie may have mentioned the fabric to me; I vaguely remember a conversation with her. She wasn't sure what to do with the fabric but she wanted to do something special. I forgot all about it.
When we were up at Shaver Lake last month she brought out a big gift bag while we were sitting around the kitchen table. "It's an early Christmas!" she announced. Then she presented me, my brother and my dad with quilts made from the fabric. I cried. Of course. They are perfect.
I hung mine from the upstairs landing so it is visible as soon as you come in the front door. My dad has his on his bed. I'm not sure where my brother put his but I know that he treasures it.
The quilts are all a bit different in color and the backing fabric was picked, by Marie, to match our personalities and the primary color. The backing on mine is a blue print and the quilting pattern resembles a wave -- perfect. My dad has a green quilt with a leopard print backing. We all got a laugh out of that -- and it is perfect.
A short update on Brett: he continues to do well. He took a walk this morning out to the chicken pen and back by himself and then again with the physical therapist. I think he'll be on the couch for the rest of the afternoon.
When I was young, seven years old, we lived in Tanzania for two years. My dad was working there, helping the newly independent country set up its university. My mom was a bit apprehensive about taking three small children (my brother was three, my sister six) but once there fell in love with the country. Those two years were magical for me; I was fortunate to be old enough to understand and remember our time there. My mother always sewed our clothes and that did not change while we were overseas. She bought local fabrics and made dresses for herself and shirts for my dad.
When my mother died, my sister found some of the fabric buried in my mom's closet where she kept her yarn for knitting and her fabric for sewing. Marie may have mentioned the fabric to me; I vaguely remember a conversation with her. She wasn't sure what to do with the fabric but she wanted to do something special. I forgot all about it.
When we were up at Shaver Lake last month she brought out a big gift bag while we were sitting around the kitchen table. "It's an early Christmas!" she announced. Then she presented me, my brother and my dad with quilts made from the fabric. I cried. Of course. They are perfect.
I hung mine from the upstairs landing so it is visible as soon as you come in the front door. My dad has his on his bed. I'm not sure where my brother put his but I know that he treasures it.
The quilts are all a bit different in color and the backing fabric was picked, by Marie, to match our personalities and the primary color. The backing on mine is a blue print and the quilting pattern resembles a wave -- perfect. My dad has a green quilt with a leopard print backing. We all got a laugh out of that -- and it is perfect.
A short update on Brett: he continues to do well. He took a walk this morning out to the chicken pen and back by himself and then again with the physical therapist. I think he'll be on the couch for the rest of the afternoon.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Ashes to Ashes
Today I didn't go to work. I took the day off to recover from the weekend. It was a long, hard weekend. Saturday we arrived late morning. Bickering ensued. Difficult. I love my family but sometimes the dynamics are difficult challenging. Camille, Kyle and my sister's daughter, Kristin, went surfing in the afternoon. It was fun watching them -- Camille trying to surf for the first time, Kyle swimming along between them, Kristin trying to stay up, and them all battling the wonky surf which was pulling everyone towards the pier.
Saturday night, I couldn't sleep. My mind was filled with images of my mother's ashes swirling around the boat. We were scheduled to go out on my brother's boat Sunday morning. When I woke, I texted my sister and told her I didn't think I could go out on the boat. I cried while I got dressed and I cried over my coffee. My sister asked me to try and I knew she was right. We all needed to be together to support each other as we carried out my mom's wishes. My sister tried to explain to my dad that I am moved by images and this was why I struggled so much more with the scattering than I did with the memorial.
After breakfast, we piled onto my brother's boat. The grand kids all sat up by the prow of the boat with the cold wind blowing in their faces. My sister, dad, Brett and I sat in the back with my brother as he steered us out of the harbor and into the open sea. The sun was out and the wind was up so my brother put up the main sail to stabilize the boat in the swells. My brother sprinkled the ashes into the ocean, where it swirled in an iridescent cloud dipping deep in the clear turquoise sea before floating away on its jade blanket. We tossed roses and watched them coast over the swells, following mom's ashes, on their final journey. My father poured a glass of wine and poured it over the side, to mingle with the salt water, roses and swirling particles. It was very beautiful and very sad.
On the way back in, we were escorted by flocks of pelicans; some flying in formation and some swooping low to skim the water next to us. Pelicans were my mother's favorite bird; her favorite animal. She was with us and I think they felt her spirit.
As we re-entered the harbor, we passed seals sleeping on buoys. My brother, Ted, took the boat as close as he could so the kids could all get pictures.
We took the last flight home Sunday night and arrived home after 1 am. I'm exhausted.
 |
| Headed to the beach |
 |
| Camille, Kyle and Kristin |
 |
| Kristin explaining to Camille how to lay on your board and then pop up to standing. |
Saturday night, I couldn't sleep. My mind was filled with images of my mother's ashes swirling around the boat. We were scheduled to go out on my brother's boat Sunday morning. When I woke, I texted my sister and told her I didn't think I could go out on the boat. I cried while I got dressed and I cried over my coffee. My sister asked me to try and I knew she was right. We all needed to be together to support each other as we carried out my mom's wishes. My sister tried to explain to my dad that I am moved by images and this was why I struggled so much more with the scattering than I did with the memorial.
After breakfast, we piled onto my brother's boat. The grand kids all sat up by the prow of the boat with the cold wind blowing in their faces. My sister, dad, Brett and I sat in the back with my brother as he steered us out of the harbor and into the open sea. The sun was out and the wind was up so my brother put up the main sail to stabilize the boat in the swells. My brother sprinkled the ashes into the ocean, where it swirled in an iridescent cloud dipping deep in the clear turquoise sea before floating away on its jade blanket. We tossed roses and watched them coast over the swells, following mom's ashes, on their final journey. My father poured a glass of wine and poured it over the side, to mingle with the salt water, roses and swirling particles. It was very beautiful and very sad.
On the way back in, we were escorted by flocks of pelicans; some flying in formation and some swooping low to skim the water next to us. Pelicans were my mother's favorite bird; her favorite animal. She was with us and I think they felt her spirit.
As we re-entered the harbor, we passed seals sleeping on buoys. My brother, Ted, took the boat as close as he could so the kids could all get pictures.
We took the last flight home Sunday night and arrived home after 1 am. I'm exhausted.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
We're All Doing Better
My mom's memorial celebration went very well. I brought a couple hams and a sliced turkey breast, my brother brought champagne (my mom's favorite kind), and my sister brought plates, coffee and cookies. Saturday morning we made a CostCo run and picked up enough food to feed an army. We pulled out all my mom's pretty platters and arranged a beautiful buffet. At 3:00 the house was crammed full of friends and family. My father said a few words and talked a bit about my mom's cousin John who couldn't come in person but was with us in spirit - and who had sent a wonderful tribute FedEx. My brother-in-law spoke next, about how my mom accepted him for who he was from the time he first started dating my sister -- more than 30 years ago. I was up next. I made it through, talking about my relationship with my mom as a child, teenager and adult. I was a bit, er, challenging as a child and teenager. But, through it all she was a tremendous positive influence in my life and we became very close friends. My little brother spoke last -- reading a letter he wrote her after her death. It was a wonderfully warm and intimate celebration, in the home she loved. My dad's sister Elsie and my cousin Nancy made the drive and stayed late into the evening, talking and reminiscing while the kids all congregated up on the rooftop patio with the remains of the bottles of wine that had been opened in the course of the afternoon. The evening was loud and boisterous and filled with laughter. My mom would have loved it.
Saturday morning, Sandy sent me a text. Remember how Winston was being uber naughty? Well, when she rode him Friday he was well behaved and she was very pleased with his work. She thought I would be happy to have some good news on a difficult day. She was right.
This afternoon, we drove back home. We pulled in the driveway and a very welcome site met my eyes. Jackson was standing square on all four feet.
He couldn't figure out what all the fuss was about.
I checked his foot and there was a big hole in bottom of the heel, still oozing a bit. I gave him a quick grooming with the shedding blade -- he is dropping hair like crazy; losing his heavy winter coat and getting ready for summer.
I did a walk around the garden and snapped a few pictures for Lori. She is still getting snow and needs flowers to keep her spirits up.
We ended the day on the front porch with a glass of wine and the dogs at our feet. No more stress about memorial speeches for me and no more abscess for Jackson; a big ham bone for each of the dogs for dinner and our own bed to sleep in tonight. Its good to be home.
Saturday morning, Sandy sent me a text. Remember how Winston was being uber naughty? Well, when she rode him Friday he was well behaved and she was very pleased with his work. She thought I would be happy to have some good news on a difficult day. She was right.
This afternoon, we drove back home. We pulled in the driveway and a very welcome site met my eyes. Jackson was standing square on all four feet.
He couldn't figure out what all the fuss was about.
I checked his foot and there was a big hole in bottom of the heel, still oozing a bit. I gave him a quick grooming with the shedding blade -- he is dropping hair like crazy; losing his heavy winter coat and getting ready for summer.
I did a walk around the garden and snapped a few pictures for Lori. She is still getting snow and needs flowers to keep her spirits up.
We ended the day on the front porch with a glass of wine and the dogs at our feet. No more stress about memorial speeches for me and no more abscess for Jackson; a big ham bone for each of the dogs for dinner and our own bed to sleep in tonight. Its good to be home.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Random Five Friday
1. The blog will be quiet this weekend. My mom's memorial is Saturday. I will be celebrating her life with my family and with her friends. I want to talk about her at the gathering; to share a bit about our relationship and what she meant to me. I want to but I'm not sure I'll make it through. I'm going to give it my best shot though. Wish me strength.
2. We do not plan to put a cover on the chicken run to protect them from hawks. We'll see how it goes. They will have a large oak tree and the hen house for cover. If hawks start raiding our flock, I'm sure Brett will come up with some kind of cover. He is putting chicken wire all along the bottom. We don't need raccoons pulling chicken heads through the fence. Yes, they do that and it's gruesome.
3. There has been some discussion in the comments about Jackson and his metabolic syndrome; about his supplements and about the wisdom of letting him eat grass. We don't believe that he has a metabolic condition after all. We had him tested six ways to Sunday and all the tests came back negative. I did put him on Cushings medication for a year since metabolic conditions can throw false negative lab tests -- it didn't make any difference. Our vet up here thinks Jackson just has crappy feet. His laminitis isn't progressing and he shows no other symptoms of metabolic imbalance. His soles are super thin, they get soft when the ground is wet and voila, abscess city. He gets a vitamin supplement to balance his hay. Other than his feet, he's very healthy. He's got a boot on -- a diaper and epsom salt poultice covered with bandage tape and a duct tape sole.
4. I bought a bird feeder and hung it on a pole in my garden. I can see it from the breakfast table and my kitchen window. I have a pair of binoculars and a book on birds in the Sierras sitting close by. Brett thinks I've gone off the deep end, constantly looking up birds. I saw a mountain bluebird the other day so it must be spring.
5. Sandy called and cancelled my lesson on Winston. It seems he's taken naughty to a whole new level. She felt it best (and I agree) that I not ride him until he gets past this tantrum stage. She likened his behavior to a two year old; I don't want to do it! I don't! I don't! But instead of banging his head on the floor (my little brother excelled at that one), he throws himself around the arena. Sandy rides with a lot of tact and sensitivity so if he's pulling this with her, it's all about him. We don't think its pain related since he's good as gold when the work is easy and only protests when she's asking for a bit more. I'm sure he's sore; boot camp is hard work. That isn't an excuse for bad behavior. I have asked that the body work person give him a treatment (massage, acupressure) and we'll see if she feels anything especially ouchy. In the meantime, I'm very thankful for Sandy and for her working with Winston. She believes he can do the work and he can be a good partner; he just needs to do some growing up in the attitude division first.
2. We do not plan to put a cover on the chicken run to protect them from hawks. We'll see how it goes. They will have a large oak tree and the hen house for cover. If hawks start raiding our flock, I'm sure Brett will come up with some kind of cover. He is putting chicken wire all along the bottom. We don't need raccoons pulling chicken heads through the fence. Yes, they do that and it's gruesome.
3. There has been some discussion in the comments about Jackson and his metabolic syndrome; about his supplements and about the wisdom of letting him eat grass. We don't believe that he has a metabolic condition after all. We had him tested six ways to Sunday and all the tests came back negative. I did put him on Cushings medication for a year since metabolic conditions can throw false negative lab tests -- it didn't make any difference. Our vet up here thinks Jackson just has crappy feet. His laminitis isn't progressing and he shows no other symptoms of metabolic imbalance. His soles are super thin, they get soft when the ground is wet and voila, abscess city. He gets a vitamin supplement to balance his hay. Other than his feet, he's very healthy. He's got a boot on -- a diaper and epsom salt poultice covered with bandage tape and a duct tape sole.
4. I bought a bird feeder and hung it on a pole in my garden. I can see it from the breakfast table and my kitchen window. I have a pair of binoculars and a book on birds in the Sierras sitting close by. Brett thinks I've gone off the deep end, constantly looking up birds. I saw a mountain bluebird the other day so it must be spring.
5. Sandy called and cancelled my lesson on Winston. It seems he's taken naughty to a whole new level. She felt it best (and I agree) that I not ride him until he gets past this tantrum stage. She likened his behavior to a two year old; I don't want to do it! I don't! I don't! But instead of banging his head on the floor (my little brother excelled at that one), he throws himself around the arena. Sandy rides with a lot of tact and sensitivity so if he's pulling this with her, it's all about him. We don't think its pain related since he's good as gold when the work is easy and only protests when she's asking for a bit more. I'm sure he's sore; boot camp is hard work. That isn't an excuse for bad behavior. I have asked that the body work person give him a treatment (massage, acupressure) and we'll see if she feels anything especially ouchy. In the meantime, I'm very thankful for Sandy and for her working with Winston. She believes he can do the work and he can be a good partner; he just needs to do some growing up in the attitude division first.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Tribute
On Wednesday, February 19th, I lost my mom. I am at peace with her passing but miss her terribly already. She didn't suffer, she was surrounded by family, and we were able to say goodbye. I don't think you can ask for more than that -- although a miraculous recovery would have been nice.
My mom was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She played the flute, sewed her own clothes, and had a pet rooster. After high school, she went off to university. There she met, and fell in love with, my dad.
They were married in 1955, at her parents' home. Her mother and aunts felt that the wedding dress she loved, which was off-the-shoulder, was too scandalous. She said that if she couldn't wear the dress she wanted, she wouldn't wear a wedding dress. She always had a sense of style and she was strong willed. She told us that she hated the suit she wore in her wedding but I'm including the pictures because she looks so happy. My father always reminded her that the lilacs were in bloom and the air was richly fragrant on their wedding day.
My dad was still in the Air Force when they married so they moved from base-to-base, and ultimately settled in California where I was born. My sister and brother followed. My mom loved the beach. We made day trips to the local Southern California beaches and camping trips to all the rest of the beaches between San Diego and Santa Barbara.
Mom loved clothes and she loved feeling pretty. It wasn't hard. She was beautiful. I was a source of frustration to her on that front. I preferred blue jeans and horse slobber covered sweat shirts. I did learn to appreciate well tailored clothes and I can put together a nice outfit, complete with tastefully applied make-up. She helped me create a professional wardrobe. We spent hours in Dior, looking at fabrics and lines. Then she would sew me something similar. My favorite suits were sewn by mom.
In the early 70s, wigs were all the rage. I thought she was the most glamorous thing ever. My dad gave me her mink jacket. I don't approve of fur coats and doubt I'll ever wear it, but I feel like I have a piece of mom's glamour in my closet now.
Mom was not just a pretty face or a clothes horse; she had a degree in English literature and always had a book going. She loved music, all kinds of music, from jazz to Frank Sinatra to the Beatles to Elton John. I learned to be an adventurous cook from watching her. She raised her children to be independent and strong; she instilled in us determination and drive; a love of sports and of the beach; the importance of champagne on holidays and marshmallows on hot chocolate.
Rest in peace, Mom. You are on an eternal beach now with no oxygen tank, no sun sensitivity and no arthritic limbs. Soak up the sun. You earned it.
My mom was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She played the flute, sewed her own clothes, and had a pet rooster. After high school, she went off to university. There she met, and fell in love with, my dad.
They were married in 1955, at her parents' home. Her mother and aunts felt that the wedding dress she loved, which was off-the-shoulder, was too scandalous. She said that if she couldn't wear the dress she wanted, she wouldn't wear a wedding dress. She always had a sense of style and she was strong willed. She told us that she hated the suit she wore in her wedding but I'm including the pictures because she looks so happy. My father always reminded her that the lilacs were in bloom and the air was richly fragrant on their wedding day.
My dad was still in the Air Force when they married so they moved from base-to-base, and ultimately settled in California where I was born. My sister and brother followed. My mom loved the beach. We made day trips to the local Southern California beaches and camping trips to all the rest of the beaches between San Diego and Santa Barbara.
 |
| Me and Mom |
 |
| Ted, Mom. me, Dad, Marie |
Mom loved clothes and she loved feeling pretty. It wasn't hard. She was beautiful. I was a source of frustration to her on that front. I preferred blue jeans and horse slobber covered sweat shirts. I did learn to appreciate well tailored clothes and I can put together a nice outfit, complete with tastefully applied make-up. She helped me create a professional wardrobe. We spent hours in Dior, looking at fabrics and lines. Then she would sew me something similar. My favorite suits were sewn by mom.
 |
| Me, Marie, Mom, Ted |
In the early 70s, wigs were all the rage. I thought she was the most glamorous thing ever. My dad gave me her mink jacket. I don't approve of fur coats and doubt I'll ever wear it, but I feel like I have a piece of mom's glamour in my closet now.
Mom was not just a pretty face or a clothes horse; she had a degree in English literature and always had a book going. She loved music, all kinds of music, from jazz to Frank Sinatra to the Beatles to Elton John. I learned to be an adventurous cook from watching her. She raised her children to be independent and strong; she instilled in us determination and drive; a love of sports and of the beach; the importance of champagne on holidays and marshmallows on hot chocolate.
Rest in peace, Mom. You are on an eternal beach now with no oxygen tank, no sun sensitivity and no arthritic limbs. Soak up the sun. You earned it.
 |
| Dad, Kristin (granddaugher), Mom at Kristin's graduation a few months ago. |
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Hangin' in the Hammocks
Yesterday morning was quiet. Camille tried out all the hammocks.
The small single:
The double (careful your butt doesn't hit the ground):
Camille's favorite (the pea in a pod):
My favorite - I like to sit here, looking at the creek, and thinking about writing poetry. I haven't done more than think as I tend to drift away into a contented lazy place.
Before lunch, Camille and I walked down to the creek. My dad joined us a few minutes later. It was steep and I wasn't sure how it was going to be with my foot but I really wanted to see the creek up close, at least once.
It was a long, steep and difficult walk back to the house. I paid for it the rest of the day with my foot burning like there was a fire in my boot. I won't be going down there again.
When I finally made it back onto the back deck, I flopped in a chair and put my foot up. Brett brought me a beer. I spent most of the afternoon in that same spot.
In the afternoon, my parents sat for awhile looking at the creek before my sister arrived and all the happy chaos of eleven people.
After dinner, we watched the opening ceremony of the Olympics. I always enjoy the march of the athletes, the dizzy-making number of countries, the joy and pride on the faces of the athletes and their camaraderie. The rest of it doesn't do much for me and, no offense to my English readers, but that business of the queen parachuting in with James Bond was undignified -- and I find the Queen to be a very dignified person.
The small single:
The double (careful your butt doesn't hit the ground):
Camille's favorite (the pea in a pod):
My favorite - I like to sit here, looking at the creek, and thinking about writing poetry. I haven't done more than think as I tend to drift away into a contented lazy place.
Before lunch, Camille and I walked down to the creek. My dad joined us a few minutes later. It was steep and I wasn't sure how it was going to be with my foot but I really wanted to see the creek up close, at least once.
It was a long, steep and difficult walk back to the house. I paid for it the rest of the day with my foot burning like there was a fire in my boot. I won't be going down there again.
When I finally made it back onto the back deck, I flopped in a chair and put my foot up. Brett brought me a beer. I spent most of the afternoon in that same spot.
In the afternoon, my parents sat for awhile looking at the creek before my sister arrived and all the happy chaos of eleven people.
After dinner, we watched the opening ceremony of the Olympics. I always enjoy the march of the athletes, the dizzy-making number of countries, the joy and pride on the faces of the athletes and their camaraderie. The rest of it doesn't do much for me and, no offense to my English readers, but that business of the queen parachuting in with James Bond was undignified -- and I find the Queen to be a very dignified person.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)