Summer has arrived here.
I remember when summer meant running around the neighborhood barefoot, finding other kids and playing games, running home quickly to grab change when the ice cream truck rang out its tune in the late afternoon… time spent curled up in my room with a book or running through the sprinkler… drinking from the garden hose, selling Kool-aid on the shaded front porch…
Now summer means that there are teenage and young adult men hanging about the house on computers. At least one of those young men must be reminded to shower with soap and shampoo — he is not “fresh as a daisy” nor does he smell like a rose. My house smells like it is lived in by adolescent males. Dirty dishes pile up on the countertops and in the sink while I am at work. (If I think hard enough about it, there were probably dirty dishes piling up in my childhood summer days, but it never really mattered to me because I was a child.)
Last week, I drove across the state to pick H-J from college. I delivered his packing boxes to him on Wednesday and then backtracked across the lake to spend the night at Mrs. G’s house. It had been over a year since we had spent time together and it was a lovely evening (we took our conversation into the wee hours of the morning) and an equally lovely but short morning. My derfwad cup runneth over.
Then I was back in the insane traffic that belongs to Seattle, where my son was ready to load his boxes into the minivan and close out his first year of college. We drove past the rental house where he will live in the fall and I showed him the house where I lived in my late teens. But enough lollygagging — it was time to get back to our own home.
In the past 8 days I’ve driven 600+ miles, grieved the tragic death of a three-year-old, and noted the 4th anniversary of my mother’s death mere days after learning that another member of our extended family has been diagnosed with cancer. I suppose this helps explain my melancholy mood and lack of blogging.
We’ve got two more cross-state trips to make this month and a special visitor coming from Virginia, so I’m confident that there will be some good blog fodder coming soon.
I had amnesia once — maybe twice.
I went to San Francisco .
I found someone’s heart. Now what?
Protons have mass?
I didn’t even know they were Catholic.
All I ask is a chance to prove that
money can’t make me happy.
If the world were a logical place,
men would be the ones who
ride horses sidesaddle.
What is a “free” gift?
Aren’t all gifts free?
They told me I was gullible
and I believed them.
Teach a child to be polite and
courteous in the home and,
when he grows up, he’ll never be able
to merge his car onto the freeway.
Experience is the thing you have left
when everything else is gone.
One nice thing about egotists:
they don’t talk about other people.
I used to be indecisive.
Now I’m not sure.
How can there be self-help “groups”?
If swimming is so good for your figure,
how do you explain whales?
Show me a man with both feet firmly on the ground,
and I’ll show you a man who can’t get his pants off.
Is it me — or
do buffalo wings taste like chicken?
Last weekend, I was with friends on our annual girls’ getaway which occasionally looked like Tuscany.
Before heading out to wine country, my BFF was our family chef who willingly cooked up a dish of Chicken Provençal, from Idiot’s Kitchen. My family members were the happy, satisfied guinea pigs. Claudia‘s new-to-me recipe was a winner!
From Europe to Central America in today’s virtual travel experience…
Other friends of mine are working to improve the lives of the indigenous people of Guatemala. While home for a visit, Debbie brought me a thumb drive of some pictures she wanted made into cards. These are 4 of the 6 different cards made (with a total of 55 cards in all) for the order on its way to Guatemala.
And a few weeks ago, while delivering event flyers to local businesses, I took a break and paused to enjoy a Mexican Mocha at a coffee shop.
How have you traveled lately? We can’t always physically go somewhere else, but there are other senses — sight, taste, and even your imagination — that can do the traveling.
Where would you like to go, if time, money, or circumstance wasn’t holding you back?
Fifty thousand people took part in a race today. Bloomsday is a 12-km course with some beautiful vistas and challenging hills, including Doomsday Hill.
I like to station myself near the bottom of Doomsday Hill to applaud the athletes and take pictures. Mile post 5 is at the top of this hill (off to the right of where the above photo ends). I’ve run up this hill (back in 1994) but I even in my best days of running I could not make it to the top without dismounting from my bicycle; it feels like the uphill climb goes on forever.
It is a race for all ages. During the time I was stationed near the bottom of the hill, I saw elite racers and some of the faster participants.
I cheered on racers for about 90 minutes, during which the serious runners mixed in with those who were running for the fun of it. After all, 50,000 people does tend to bring on a party atmosphere.
My guys were participants but I never caught sight of them.
EB said he passed the banana in the first mile, so by this point he had passed me several minutes before I snapped this picture.
Apparently EB, SuperDad, and SnakeMaster all passed by me unnoticed. We didn’t see each other, despite my looking for them. I’ve carefully looked through all of my pictures, but they aren’t there. Oh, well.
The road does fill up with runners, nearly shoulder to shoulder when the walkers reach this point, but by then I was on my way to church. As it turns out, so was EB…