Leg Four - Washington D.C.

Don't you just love Washington D.C.?  It is one of my favorite cities on planet earth - and so much is free! God bless our tax dollars at work. It feels great to swing open the doors of a Smithsonian museum (in this case, American History) and enter MY museum, an American who has paid her taxes to help this institution flourish.

I love the sense of expectation in the air. It's like the energy I feel when walking in New York City. You just KNOW important things are happening here. My friends Barb and Jim (Gary taught with Barb in a high school in Connecticut) actually live in a suburb of Maryland, a 25-minute subway ride from Union Station where I arrived on Friday, but we have spent most of our time in D.C.

I love driving through the city - oh look, there is the Lincoln Memorial (my children remember how, on our trip in 1987, I missed the entrance to the Memorial and ended up crossing the bridge to Virginia - again and again and again), there is the White House and so on. Everywhere you look is something remarkable, somewhere significant, some reminder of recent or past history.  I truly love this place.

I unintentionally happened to be here on one of the two days a year that the White House gardens are open to the public. The weather was gorgeous as I strolled by the Rose Garden, Jackie's Garden and the newest addition - the vegetable garden that Michelle and school children planted. Their tomatoes look quite good for so late in the season.

The veggies are looking good!

We toured the South garden (the part that abuts the huge elipse out back, not the grounds in front of the White House) so had perfect views of the Washington Monument as well. I am glad that, whichever president is in power, he has such beautiful and surprisingly serene spaces at hand for possible relaxation. I mean anyone who has the power to set off a nuclear weapon should have the possibility of bits of serenity.

I am somewhat embarrassed that I have never visited Washinton's monument in all of my trips to DC so made up for this on this visit. My you get great views from way up there. We also visited the statue of Einstein that stands outside the American Academy of Science. Great sculpture - he looks so old and rumpled and approachable that you want to sit down and chat. Many people climb in his lap for a photo op and it is considered good luck to rub his nose.

Check out the nose!  I couldn't quite reach it myself so the cane came in quite handy.

One incident of my visit stands out. Each month local members of their church (meaning those who live closest to them) gather for a shared dinner and this month it was at Barb and Jim's house. Over dinner discussions I learned that one of the members who works for the Department of Agriculture has figured out a way to turn the trillions of chicken feathers from Maryland's chicken industry into biodegradable flower pots. The Econ teacher in me was delighted. A local resource, repurposed, providing jobs and it's biodegradable. Win, win, win. Who ever knew? I won't look at flower pots the same way.

And of course Barb and Jim and I talked, talked, talked as we caught up over long leisurely meals and glasses of wine.  It was indeed wonderful.

Next on to Chaleston via Amtrak.  I am finally entering states new to me.  I have never been in either of the Carolinas and I will be spending several days in each. Yippee!

Leg Three - Connecticut!

Oh Connecticut was wonderful. This time I stayed with Joan and David in their charming home in Middlebury. Joan met Gary when she volunteered at Fairfield's Connecticut Audubon Society. Our two sons, Lee and Jon, soon became best friends. Over the years we shared many cups of tea while watching our children play.

As always, the ten years since my last visit seemed to melt away as we talked and talked and talked. Our first outing was to the small cottage/cabin they inherited. I had heard about it over the years and was delighted to finally visit.

Actually, I was enchanted. It is small - one long room contains the kitchen and living room. A few steps up is a room with 2 single and 2 double beds plus a bathroom. Not big but every square inch was full of cabin charm. Wood walls, mismatched chairs tucked into corners, shelves filled to capacity with old books, and a bright red wood stove in the middle. I wanted the know the story behind each photo and painting, each dish and lamp - my eyes kept spying something else I wanted to discuss. Nothing was brand new, everything had a purpose and outdoor things were carefully stored away in nooks and crannies awaiting the warm days of next summer. I smiled when I saw the sails from a small boat hanging from the ceiling of the bedroom. Joan promised me I can spend a night during my next visit (assuming it is in warm weather). We dragged chairs out to the dock where we ate BLTs from a local store. Heavenly.

But what came next was astounding - a visit with her daughter and her triplets! Oh what a marvel - and how I honor Joan's daughter, Jackie. Do you know how hard it is to keep track of three 2-year olds? One would be on one swing, another on the other when the third decided to walk right in front of the swings. You find yourself grabbing the third while trying to stop the swings - and I only had two hands. At other times they went in three different directions. How does Jackie do it? And she looks and acts so calm. 

I, of course, could not get enough of them and their older brother, Finn.

Another day we made a trip to Hyde Park. After devouring the recent PBS series about the Roosevelts I was thrilled to get to spend almost 2 hours touring Val Kill where Eleanor lived in the later years of her life. The National Park Service ranger/guide said they were unprepared for the onslaught of visitors since the program aired. The place was hopping.

This is desert at that other CIA (Culinary Institute of America). To differentiate from
that other one, their logo is a whisk!

We had lunch at the Culinary Institute of America (yum!) and dinner at her son Jon's  (and wife Angie and 3 children) house. I loved seeing this boy who played at my house when he was young as husband and father. His children are at the tumbling age - tumbling over each other, the dog, the furniture and us. It was such fun.  

Other lovely drives through the spectacular autum leaves filled the rest of our time together. It appears that I nailed it - I was there for the height of the fall season. Magnificent trees of orange, red and yellow everywhere I looked.

Then, all too soon, it was time for my first Amtrak ride (of 6 I will be taking) out of New Haven. I must admit the quick glimpses of Yale that I spied on our way to the station made my heart clutch a bit remembering my husband's time there. On the train I sat among a group of orthodontic staff workers on their way to a conference. I stared out the train window, one ear listening to their chatter, while I watched towns that I used to know go by. My how Bridgeport, Norwalk (where I taught for 16 years) and Stamford (where Gary taught) have grown and changed. And then, before I knew it, I was at Union Station ready for my next adventure in Washington D.C. 

Leg Two - The Berkshires

It is hard to describe fall in New England without gushing. The leaves are indeed spectacular and I seem to have picked the best week to revel in their color.

My week in the Berkshires was magnificent - both visually and in time spent catching up with the lives of Stu and Jayne. Stu went to Yale with Gary and they were among the first friends I made when we moved to Connecticut after our marriage. The years fell away as we enjoyed the week in their cabin in Beckett, Massachusetts.

Ten years ago, on my last trip to New England, Jayne and I, with compass, map and can of red spray paint in hand, walked the 33 acres they had just purchased. Our goal was to tag trees along their borders. I called us either Hansel and Gretel or Lewis and Clark (Jayne and I remember differently) as we worked our way through the forested land.  When we came to the remains of a meandering stone wall we knew we were indeed along one of their boundaries. It is now forested but once must have marked the edge of a farmer's field. All those stones came from clearing the land.

Today we know that, although we were successful in marking some of the trees, we  mismarked many others. Oh well - the red paint is already wearing away so time will erase our mistakes.

It was great fun to be on the land again but now with a long driveway and cabin in its midst.  I was able to walk to the creek (these wonderful hosts had two walking sticks I could use when walking over uneven ground, around roots and over rocks). I didn't make it to the swampy area but have clear memories of the mud oozing over and into my boots as we marked the trees ten years ago.

And so the week passed in long conversations around the table, walks in the woods, wonderful meals and drives through the countryside. I loved the pumpkins and scarecrows, stone walls and the two-lane country roads. History smacks you in the face in New England. So many small villages from its colonial past. And have you ever had an apple cider doughnut?  I never had - delicious.

I laughed - getting ready for Halloween!

In one small town we came to the church that Arlo Guthrie bought and turned into a community support agency. It was closed but, luckily, a man happened to open the door and invited us in after we kind of begged. They were having a big fund raiser that evening and Arlo would perform - drat he wasn't there practicing - but we enjoyed chatting with folks who were getting the place ready.
All too soon it was time to go. I hated leaving Stu and Jayne, the cabin, the forest and that
meandering stone wall - it is now visible from their front porch - but the next leg of the trip awaits. Onward to Connecticut with all the memories associated with the first 16 years of my marriage.

Cape Cod: First leg of the Celebrate-The-End-Of-The-Year-Of-The-Knee Tour!

The last time I was at Cape Cod the children were in 2nd and 6th grade. It was May of 1987 and we spent a long glorious weekend at a rented home right on the beach at Brewster. Stephanie and Lee couldn't get enough of the water outside the back door and the candy shop a short bike ride away. Such wonderful memories.

Now, 27 years later, I am back but this time so much wiser. The cottage I stayed in belongs to great friends, Tom and Lynne, and is in the woods in Welfleet, a bit north of Brewster. This trip I luxuriated in the views of the woods, the ponds, the Bay and ocean, and the utter charm of the small towns of Cape Cod. No wonder artists flock here. I love all the cottages - especially the wee ones right along the beaches.

But I get ahead of myself. I arrived in Boston Thursday evening. Friday morning I went with Lynne to the writing class she teaches at Wellesley. Ah the young women were thoughtful as they discussed Supreme Court cases associated with their writing topics. They were cases I had lived through  - interesting to hear them discussed by people to whom they were history.

Wellesley was the first East coast school I had ever seen while on a trip when I was 16 and it is every bit as beautiful as I remember. While Lynne met with students after class I strolled around campus (and I am walking well these days - with my cane at my PT's insistence. It gets me lots of open doors so I appreciate it). Then off to visit the new Westwood Library that Tom, as head of the whole system, supervised - and it surpassed my expectations. Lovely, useful design. So airy. Makes one want to settle down in a corner with a good book.

Then off to the Cape for a long weekend. The cottage is gorgeous (imagine a gem with a beautiful   kitchen, open living area, 2 bedrooms, an over-the-top bathroom and a deck overlooking the woods behind the house). All with a seaside fragrance. My favorite spot was the entry. There is something about a red table that calls me.

Three days later, days filled with wonderful meals (oh the clam chowder! And the oysters! And lots of wine!), beautiful drives around the Cape, reading on the couch and deck and in my comfortable bed, and talks, talks, talks. We had lots to catch up on - and so we did.  I loved every minute.

Lynne dropped me off at the MTA ("oh he never returned, no, he never returned . . . ").  I took the train (my first of many on this trip) an hour east to Worcester (or Wis-tah by the natives) for the next  leg - a cabin in the Berkshires with Stu and Jayne.

Can You Believe It - I'm Home!

24 hours after my right knee was replaced I am home. Incredible. And you know what did it? My 4 months of "Rocky" behavior - 90 minutes of knee exercises in the pool every day. I passed every physical test with flying colors (the test you had to pass to be able to go to a rehab center and then home).

There was one funny moment. When the PT came to my room she was concerned when she saw my walker. You have probably seen both types of walkers out there - one is aluminum, has no seat and wraps around the front of the user. The other style has a seat but, because of the seat, you walk further back. She wanted me to have the first type, I brought the second. After voicing her concerns I answered with, "You don't understand. I have been using this walker for 4 months. I can win Olympic events in it. I can do twirlys (she was not impressed), stop on a dime, do quick corners, push it with the seat piled up with my stuff or my grandsons, run it down stairs when necessary (not with me using it for support, mind you) - I KNOW this walker." And then I proved it. I walked up and down the hall next to her, balanced, using the brakes properly, standing correctly, applying little pressure to the arms of the walker so my legs did the work.  I was quite perfect, I think,

She smiled and agreed.  I can use it.

Then we walked, did stairs, completed the 3 exercises she wants me to do each day (so easy after the 2 hours per day I now spend on them on my bed and in the pool). I can't get back in the pool for 6 weeks but that's okay.

The other reason I could come home (and not go to a rehab center as many people do) is that everything here is done for me. I don't have to fix meals, do the type of cleaning that is hard (washing floors etc), my Physical Therapist will come right to my room for treatments, etc.  Phew.  Thank goodness.

So I am sitting on my bed in my wee apartment typing this. My knee is covered with a pad connected to an ice machine to keep the swelling down (the hospital gave it to me). I have figured out how to have enough ice to keep it filled given that I have a tiny freezer. I am in business.

I can't quite believe that I am walking as well as I did before the surgery and can now progress further.  Apparently during the surgery the doctor bent my knee all the way back so that my heel touched the back of my thighs (kind of makes me queasy thinking about how VERY much that would have hurt if I had been awake) and with continued exercise I will be able to do that myself. A new goal.

So, it's over, my new life commences, I now know I CAN make my trip to the East.

Life is good.

The Year of the Knee

My knee replacement surgery is tomorrow. I'm calling 2014 "The Year of the Knee." It started in January with that cortisone shot that apparently introduced staph into my body (an absolutely freak occurrence according to all) and proceeded through many months of knee strengthening and learning to walk again.

So now I will go back a few steps - use a walker for a bit. However the knee will be stronger and the arthritis gone.

I hope to travel to the East coast, swing down South, back to the West and then up to Oregon for the months of October and November. I look forward to long, lazy conversations with good friends I have not seen in many years. It will be, by necessity, a physically easy trip and I plan to do a lot of it by train. See more of this wonderful country. It should be lovely.

I assume that by December my knee - and my life - will be back to normal.

I learned a lot about myself in this Year of the Knee. I am also glad the experience soon ends!

Wish me well.

Simple Pleasures

When I sold my house in Pacific Grove in early June I pretended I was rich - after all I just sold a house in California. In reality the money is needed for my retirement years but, for a week, I pretended this wasn't the case. I took anyone and everyone out to dinner, I bought clothes and shoes, and I certainly didn't think about the bills that would surely come due. Instead I luxuriated in the pretense.

Of course reality soon reared its ugly head and I am back to my usual budgeting but oh that week was glorious.

The single best thing I bought (and after using it at my cousin Pattie's house soon after my arrival in California I asked her to go to my amazon account and order the exact same thing for me) was my Nespresso machine.

I love it.

I bought their espresso machine - and the frother - and the the case to hold the little packets - and the large (200 total) sampler offering a variety of caffeinated and decaffeinated coffees. Yes, I went a bit hog wild. I am sure my financial advisor is glad I bought the least expensive model (well, actually I did not divulge the extent of my spree to him) and the whole works was waiting for me when I returned from California.

Then I watched the 60 Minutes episode about aging - and what appears to affect how long we live.  Who knew the regimen includes 2-3 cups of coffee a day and 1-2 glasses of alcohol?

And here sat my new Nespresso just waiting.

I am now in coffee heaven.

I enjoy a perfect cappuccino each morning (I equal the cappuccinos from my memories of Italy. The little cap of foam?  Yep, I create it every time.)

On these hot summer days in Portland (I know, I know - who knew summers were sunny and hot here?) I make at least one iced coffee - YUM.

And then, to combine the daily required intake of coffee with that of alcohol - what better way to end each day than with a hot decaffeinated coffee with a dollop of Bailey's?

Okay, I am not rich, not even in the slightest, but I am so glad I went on that short spending spree. In fact I toast myself each night, Baileys and espresso in hand.  Way to go, Donna!

Yosemite Again

What can I say? I am not sure there is anything more majestic or more breathtaking than Yosemite. Yes, I have stood in other majestic and breathtaking places on this planet but I don't think any are MORE so than Yosemite. Simply wonderful.

This year my cousin Pattie couldn't come. Drat those work commitments for the too-young-to-be-retired-set but her sister Loretta could join Stephanie, Dan, the two boys, Lee, Michelle and me (and the 30 plus other friends and family that make up this annual camping group). Although I have only come the past 8-10 years, this was the 30th year the group has camped at Yosemite.  

Our campsite was spectacular - the most beautiful of my experiences here at the Housekeeping Campground.

Okay, the actual tent cabin is NOT spectacular:

Yes, a tad rustic but look close - we ARE minimalist campers.  There is not a lot of stuff at the site.  Inside the tent flaps are a double bed and a set of bunk beds. We had two of these cabins - mine was to the left in this photo. 2 bear lockers (the two iron boxes stacked on top of each other) are provided at each site. You store EVERYTHING that has a scent - sunscreen, toothpaste as well as all food. No bears joined our site this year.

But look at the view we had from our cabin:

Our tent cabin was at the top of a bluff overlooking the Merced River.  Here was our view to the right..

Here was our view to the left.

Just down a bit we could cross a foot bridge:

To the wide beach on the opposite shore:

This is where we swam and the boys played in the sand.

I wasn't wearing my glasses when I saw this interesting sight at the beach.  I wondered what it was.  

A green man fleeing for his life?

Ah, a turtle raft, of course!

The child did have fun on it!

In the afternoon the river filled with rafts (including ours - the same ones from last year). 

And if I got bored, I could look up to the left from the beach and see:

Yosemite Falls

We made great camp meals (well we only had to make one dinner - for all 40 of us - and then were able to enjoy the dinners made by others in the group the remaining nights) but is there anything better than the smell of bacon and eggs cooking in the early morning chill air?

We hiked, swam, biked, saw ranger shows (Wesley learned a lot and was able to share what he learned), played baseball in an open space in the midst of the group's 10 cabins, caught up on reading, watched the ground squirrels and deer who strolled into our sites, heard campers yell "Elmer" from camp site to camp site as it got dark (a decades-old Yosemite tradition with several options for its origin), looked at the stars through Dan's telescope, caught up with each other's lives over the past year, read some more and enjoyed the beauty around us.

I did quite well with my cane over the uneven ground - no problems. Okay, I didn't hike or bike or play baseball but I did the rest. The one funny thing was the reaction of others on the beach as I walked into the water using my cane. I heard a few catches of breaths when I first started into the water (I guess they thought I wouldn't get in or wouldn't get the cane wet) but more gasps when I kept going until my shoulders were covered by water and the cane was completely submerged. It still supported me even in the shifting river bed sand. When I got out, I turned it upside down and watched the water drain out from the metal holes. Handy thing, a metal cane.

And yes, of course, I went to the Ahwahnee to have lunch and to pretend I was staying at the other end of the spectrum of lodgings at the park.  Wonderful, as always.

When Lee and Michelle (Titi to Wesley and Finn) arrived, Wesley was ready. He knew he was in for lots of tickles and loves from his beloved Titi.  Let's see what this looked like:

The first gentle little tickle to Wesley's side

Uh oh - so funny he is hopping about.

Even Titi's feet are elevated from mirth (who knew the rafts would make great chairs when not in the water?).

Complete convulsions of laughter.

Oh no, just so exhausting - can you do it again?

A wonderful week.  Wonderful memories.  Unfortunately, the day after we left, lightning strikes ignited a fire. Today, more than a week later, almost 5000 acres have burned. Thankfully it is 95% contained and did not affect the part of Yosemite Valley where we camped but any acreage burned is a loss to all. 

Even with the realities of forest fires, I already can't wait for next year's trip.

Another Birthday

I had a perfect birthday. Turning 66 was lovely. I always like double digit years. I remember 11, 22, 33, 44, and 55 so now I can add 66.

First it is summer in Portland - a whole different animal from the rest of the year. The rain disappears to be replaced by lovely blue skies, fluffy clouds and - get ready - sunshine. Today was in the high 70s, low 80s, just about perfect. Stephanie, Dan and the boys joined me in a round-trip, 2-hour river cruise from downtown Portland south to just a bit above where I now live. I have driven alongside the Willamette River - well parts of it - but now I got to see it from mid-stream. It was glorious to sip champagne (it was a Sunday champagne brunch tour) while watching the shoreline slip by. We sailed under 4 bridges and around small and large islands.

There were surprises. Things always look different when looking back at the shore. I found myself trying to figure out what all the riverside buildings were - their riversides looked so different from their street fronts. I also discovered several small neighborhoods of floating houses. I had no idea they existed because you can't see them from the shore. What fun it might be to live in a floating house. I'm sure there can be challenges but on this particular gorgeous day it seemed the perfect place to live.

The OFH (Old Folks Home, my irreverent name for the retirement community where I now joyously live) is right on the Willamette River, well we are at the top of a bluff overlooking the river. I can see across to lovely estates along the opposite shore. By the way, what a feast of fire works displays these riverside owners set off on the Fourth of July. I watched from an apartment on the 6th floor and was amazed as their fireworks exploded in front of me. When I looked north I could see, way in the distance, the fireworks from Portland and Vancouver and when I looked south, I could see ones set off by folks at Lake Oswego. I have never seen anything quite like the array of displays along the river.

One house, across the river a bit northward, has intrigued me since I moved here. It appears to be a combination of an old utility building (like an old water works) with an elaborate, multi-storied Mediterranean villa plopped on top of it but I couldn't be sure if it were one or two separate buildings because the river bends at that house.

Today I got my chance - I sailed right in front of it. I learned that the 8 bedroom villa IS built on top of an original pump station. I now saw that it also has a dock with 2 boats, a small boat house and its very own sea plane. As lovely as it all was I found myself thinking about the cost of upkeep. Phew. It is also a lot to dust.

The boys were perfect, the sun shone, the river glistened and, all too soon, we returned to where we departed. We went back to Stephanie and Dan's house and had a lovely time starting the list of what is needed for the annual trek to Yosemite. We leave in two weeks. This time the whole family will be there - Lee and Michelle as well (assuming their work schedules cooperate). I already can't wait. A week camping along the Merced River in sight of Half Dome and Yosemite Falls - can anything be more magnificent?

So thanks to all the family, friends and former students who wished me well today. Several called but I wasn't home - I was out on the river. Ah, it was lovely. 66 is going to be a great year.

Back Home Again

I am home and had a wonderful time but first, let's picture my entrance into the Golden State. How about arriving with - get ready - a walker, a cane, a raised toilet seat and a box of fiber cereal. Really? Could I be more geriatric?

In reality I did not arrive carrying the raised toilet seat but sent it, via Amazon, to the first home where I stayed. My beloved cousin Pattie experienced the embarrassment of greeting the UPS man who handed her a carton with RAISED TOILET SEAT stamped all over it. Given that she is so much younger than I am, she was brave; I thought it pretty hysterical.

The good news is that both flights (to and from Oregon) were simple thanks to the kindness of Alaska Airlines folks who wheeled me from the curb to the gate and then back to the curb on my arrival. It couldn't have been easier.

My first week in the San Francisco Bay Area flew by then off to the Monterey Peninsula to sell my house.

All went really well. My house looked beautiful. The new hardwood floors are gorgeous. Everything sparkled. Robin's minimal staging was perfect. Each morning I found time to read while sitting in the kitchen nook or out on the deck. And, somewhat surprising to me, there were no tears. It has been three years since I lived in the house and there were enough subtle differences that parting was a bit easier than I thought it would be. Standing in its emptiness, with all the walls painted white, made it not quite the house I had left. It will always be the best-house-of-my-life but the important memories are safely stored in my heart.

And, as always, amusing things happened. The first was the discovery that Robin had found the original screwdriver that held the garage door closed when I bought the house in 2002. I thought it was so funny at the time. A screwdriver? Filling the clasp that held the garage door closed? Really? I used it while I lived there (why change a tradition?) but the tenants apparently found something more appropriate. Bless Robin. She found it in the garage and replaced it. I smiled when I saw it and left it, with a note, for the new owners.

Then I walked around to the tiny side yard and had varied emotional reactions. My heart leapt when I saw the porcelain angel and old bathroom window I had hung on the fence - I had forgotten about both and was pleased that the tenants hadn't removed or damaged them. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the baby rose bush climbing up the side of the house.

Of course, this is my crappy photography. I failed to include the section of the fence with the angel and window but you can see the rose bush leaning over from the wall of the house.

Oh that bush was a major pain in the butt. I am responsible - I planted it. I wanted a rose and roses don't do well in Pacific Grove - summers are too foggy. The man at the nursery suggested a good ol' Cecile Bruner rose, given its hardiness. Well he was right - I couldn't kill that plant if I tried. It was under the fumigation tent and still managed to survive.

While I lived there I didn't often go in the side yard - there was nothing there of significance - but when I occasionally wandered in I was often amazed at how high the rose bush had grown. Sometimes tendrils grew through the casement of an upstairs bedroom window and on up to the roof. I would sigh, drag the hedge clippers upstairs, lean out the tiny bedroom window and start slashing. My arms got tangled in the thorns as I chopped my way through the mess and tossed clippings down to the ground below. I was only able to trim down about two feet from the window.

Back down on the ground I would use my long tree trimmer tool to pull down the branches to clip them to a height of maybe 7 feet - and it seemed like only a month or so later, the whole process had to be repeated. I grew to loathe that rose bush except when it bloomed. I will not miss it. I wondered if I should drag out the tools that were still in the garage and trim it back a bit for the new owners? No, I decided, let them get used to it.

Ah memories. Now new ones will be created when the Martins move in. Without a doubt it WAS the best house of my life. I hope it is for them and I thank Robin for all that she did to help me sell it.

I stayed four nights with Robin and Greg - across-the-street neighbors at our intersecting street corners - and then 3 nights with Sharon and Warren, kitty-corner from my house. Robin gave me a lovely gift - a copy of her photo of the area immediately inside my front door. She put the photo through an app that makes it look like a painting. I carried it with me for the rest of my trip - it sat on each succeeding bedside table and now sits next to my bed here in Portland. I love it.

This is on my bedside table at Sharon's house

The days flew by.  Sharon and another friend drove me down to Big Sur for breakfast at Deetjen's - those of you who have been there know how special and how very Big Sur it is. And who can resist French toast stuffed with raspberry cream? Under the redwoods? Certainly not me.

Lee and Michelle drove down from Oakland to pick me up on Lee's 35th birthday and the day was his. Guess where he wanted to go for breakfast? Deetjen's. I did not utter a word in protest. Who would turn town raspberry-stuffed French toast a second time? Off we went for the hour drive back down the coast to Big Sur. Again, simply lovely.

On the way back Lee suggested we drive the Old Coast Road. Yes, those who have been there know how rugged it can be. There was one section where it WAS a bit scary but Michelle drove it all with panache. What a girl! Here was one mild part:

I think it's about 15 miles, all dirt, through open areas like this (see the fog slipping in?), into redwood forests, steep hairpin turns - it took us about an hour.  You end up at the Bixby bridge.  Not for the faint of heart.

Eventually we made it back to Oakland where we had a great dinner and I spent the night with Michelle's moms. A lovely day in all ways. 

And then back home. 

I am no longer a home-owner and that is okay. Thankfully, I am happy where I am. Much love to the few friends I saw and apologies to the many I did not. I just wasn't quite strong enough but, look out, I warn you, next time I will be at your front doors.