I had great hopes for keeping up my blog while on my trip. Somehow, though, our hosts and friends kept us busy and the 10:30 pm dinners didn’t leave time for writing at the end of the day! Instead of trying to recall details, which are already becoming fuzzy in my mind, I thought I’d give a few memorable snapshots of our time. Continue reading
I don’t bother taking all the decorative pillows off the bed anymore before I go to sleep. I leave the ones on Peter’s side intact. Maybe I’m being lazy or maybe it’s that those pillows fill that side of the bed in a way that makes me less lonely. There’s less empty space. In any case, bedtime is painful. I’m reminded that I no longer have my life partner with me. My dog curls up next to me, which is nice, but he can’t talk to me about my day or give me a hug. Peter’s been gone a long time now and I’m still not used to it. Continue reading
As I wrote a few blogs back, I am spending a fair amount of time in Tiburon these days, enjoying the company of my parents and the serenity of my childhood home. Being back here rekindles many childhood memories and the connection I had with this hillside on Mt. Tiburon. I spent hours playing on our hill and down by our creek. This was my world as a child and I’m thankful to have grown up so close to a big city yet surrounded by natural beauty. Continue reading
It struck me today how little control we have over our lives. I was traveling on I-580, in the fast lane, just after the Richmond Bridge, going about 65 mph. Suddenly I came upon a stopped truck in my lane, with flashing lights and a sign that said “lane closed.” In seconds I had to change lanes, right in between two larger trucks, a car carrier and an 18-wheeler. Had these trucks been closer together, without a gap between them, I would have crashed. I was shaken up at my close call. Maybe, I thought, God had protected me in that moment. How else could I explain it? Continue reading
I’ve just spent the last 10 days in Tiburon, my hometown. Everyone else in my house was away, so I decided to get away myself and spend time with my parents. I had a wonderful time, getting to know my town again. Continue reading
Bold! Courageous! Creative! Articulate! Passionate! Artistic! Energetic!
Those are just a few of the things I felt in hypomania the first few months of this year. But even that list seems too tame. I felt all of that and even more. I could do anything! I heard God talking to me constantly and saw miracles by the hour! I was on fire with ideas and actions! The fire burned brightly day and night. Even at night I would wake up remembering vivid dreams. Everything, every word, seemed to have importance. Continue reading
I don’t really have a bucket list. If I did though, one of the items at the top would be walking the Camino de Santiago, the ancient pilgrimage route that runs through Northern Spain. I have always dreamed of taking a month off to walk the route and perhaps discover what draws people from around the world to make the journey every year. I’m getting my chance now to do the Camino, only this one is virtual. It’s not the same as going to Spain by any stretch of the imagination, but during this Covid time it’s the closest I can get. Continue reading
There’s a scene in Stir Crazy, the 1980 comedy about two men running from the law, when Gene Wilder’s introspective character is about to be let out of solitary confinement.
“One more day, one more day,” he says to the guard in front of him. “I was just beginning to get into myself.” Continue reading
Romeo’s fluffy white beard is matted with clumps of sticky peanut butter and his breath smells of Pupperoni dog treats. As soon as Sara leaves, he runs to his water bowl in the kitchen and drains it. Then he lays down in his spot in the living room for a nap. He’s just finished an hour-long session of dog obedience training. Continue reading
This was our second week of dog obedience training. I say “our” because it’s training both for Romeo and me. It’s still early in this process, but I am hopeful that I can teach Romeo—not exactly an old dog at age 7, but not a young one either—new tricks. Continue reading