Lonely Rivers

Love

2012-02-15T14:37:00.000-08:00

I love my yoga classes! Just saying.

Hearts and Paste - Sweet Memory

2012-02-14T08:54:00.000-08:00

Valentines! Years and years ago, Mrs. Cunningham the most famous second grade teacher in upstate New York dipped her ruler into the big jar of paste and delievered each of us a generous dab of white, creamy almost candy paste on a piece of scrap paper - and the fun began. Foils and doilies and ribbons and lace - sweet thoughts and not a little ingested paste. The result was ONE BIG BEAUTIFUL valentine for mom. Fancy as could be and full of the passionate love of a chubby second grader. My mom, who never got around to send Christmas cards LOVED Valentine's Day - and she loved ME especially on on Valentine's day in second grade. Mom lived to 91 and never missed sending everyone she knew a Valentine. Thinking of her (and Mrs. Cunningham) today.

Three Little Words x Two

2012-02-11T00:28:00.000-08:00

My colleague has joined the six word life story kick! As a matter of fact, she has now written six word life stories for a variety of pop artists, her entire family, and every book of the bible. I am impressed. Having just spent several days editing down I should be good at coming up with my own six words that tell the story of my life.. Off the top of my head I am at a loss.

I GUESS I'LL SLEEP ON IT

Lesson Learned Late

2012-02-08T18:37:00.001-08:00

So the first review went really well except word count was high. I am now editing down - finding the fewest precise words for big complex ideas. It turns out that the section requirements were 500 characters counting spaces. I missed the part about counting spaces. Did I tell you I hate reading directions? Did I tell you that I have probably wasted years of my life because I usually don't read or try to comprehend directions? Wouldn't you think I would learn from the years lost?

This new challenge (paring down) will not be supported by cookies or driving miles to buy cookies. This is more like a cup of tea and a set timer. I will give myself no more than 45 minutes of editing time on each section. I will actually challenge myself to finish each section before the timer decides to tell me I have failed.

Done. Because.

2012-02-06T16:04:00.001-08:00

Because I needed to finish my writing project, I invited friends for dinner last night.
Because I invited friends for dinner, I cleaned my house before beginning to cook.
Because I cleaned my house - I changed the sheets and towels and did laundry.
Because my house was clean and laundry done, I decided to cook new recipes.
Because I made new recipes, I had to shop and study the recipes.
Because I wanted everything to turn out right I spent most of yesterday making Ina Garton's Portabello Mushroom Lasagna and also her Pear Calfouti. Both excellent!!
Because wanted everything to look nice, I spent some time making the table pretty.
Because I really enjoy my friends we had a great dinner and evening.
Because I did all of this, I was tired and went to bed.
Because I was tired and went to bed, I didn't really work on the writing project.

So of course I was up early this morning so I could experience enough last minute pressure to finish and make the deadline for first review. Done.
Did I mention I am a writing procrastinator?

Words and Cookies

2012-02-04T18:46:00.000-08:00

I thought the guidelines said 1500 words for the first section. Well, that was enough to paralyze me right off. I don't have 1500 words on that subject. I could probably say the same 500 words three times. Better take a break, I could eat something...like maybe one of those big cookies they have a Whole Foods. But wait, Whole foods is four miles away. Well I could drive there I would feel better with the cookie. Maybe the writing would come easier. But I still only have about 500 words even with a cookie four miles later. Read the guidelines again - 1500 characters in the first section - that would be about 300 words... Oh glad I read that. Hmm 300 words..but I have 500 words. I need to edit down before going on..but which 200 words will I delete? Better take a break. I need a cookie. Four miles away.

On a roll...not

2012-02-03T21:13:00.001-08:00

When there is a big writing project, I say "I'd like to roll it around in my head for awhile" - what I really mean is, I am a serious writing procrastinator. The bigger the project, the longer I wait. I always get it done on time, and it is usually good. But I wonder how much better it would be if I could just begin early and work away at if over time. Do those sitdownanddoitrightnowers do a better job, do they get more satisfaction? Do they have less stress in their lives? I really don't know - but I do wonder if my last three weeks would have been happier if I hadn't been "rolling it around in my head" (more like hanging it over my head) and had instead just started typing. So it is due on Monday for first review and I was going to begin tonight. But I think I will roll it around in my head until tomorrow morning. Which means I will toss and turn. Stay tuned.

With a little help from

2012-01-19T16:08:00.000-08:00

Hiking sticks! Ski poles for walking! Best invention since before the wheel!

I Loved taking a walk today through the snow and ice feeling stable and supported and ready for anything! The biggest challenge was holdng on to my heart as kids came flying down the hilly streets on sleds and boards into potential traffic lanes and cross streets. Granted, there were very few vehicles (mostly UPS trucks probably delivering hiking sticks and winter gear ordered yesterday from Amazon.com!) and granted, parents were standing at the bottom of the hills to "catch" their kids - but it was still unnerving to me. What fun they were having!

There's a bit of a controversy brewing in response to an LA Times writer who charged that Seattle drivers are winter wimps. I am happy to be a wimpy woman who is smart enough to use my two feet(and my walking sticks) to get around during this weather event. My car sits happily wimpily parked.

Snow Day Today

2012-01-18T14:21:00.000-08:00

Before I "retired" a snow day was a magical gift - an unexpected day off - nothing scheduled, nothing planned and sometimes not much in the pantry. Snow days meant a chance to play or stay in bed or make soup from whatever was in the refrigerator, a creative catch up day. Kids were out of their minds happy and usually up way before dawn to wait for the announcement, and the adults on the street got busy calling each other to offer or arrange childcare, shoveling or rides. Throughout the day everyone in the neighborhood was in touch with everyone else to learn who needed something, who had chains and would be making a run to the store. Returning to work when the roads cleared was usually bittersweet - glad to return to routine, but missing the idea of being home.

I realized today that retiredsnowday is a little like retiredmostdays with two exceptions: there is relief that I do not have to be the one making the decision to call a snow day, and two it still feels like a good day to make soup from whatever is in the refrigerator.

Senior In Seattle

2011-09-25T17:19:00.001-07:00

I volunteered to docent at today's Seattle Architecture Ravenna Bungalow tours. First, let me say I LOVE the Seattle Architecture Foundation!! http://seattlearchitecture.org/ Their programming includes something for everyone who is interested in or already loves this glorious city. There are walking tours in different neighborhoods almost every day - and the guides are knowledgeable and charming. This is my city...but I have only begun to know it.

Last spring I was a docent at a tour of fabulous downtown condos and it was more fun than I ever expected. We loved showing off the young architect's beautiful renovation of a waterside property. The "tourists" in this case were mostly Seattleites like myself who marveled at the angled walls, perfectly placed windows and skylights and lifestyle kitchen. Meeting interesting people and sharing ideas about art and architecture was a wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Today's Ravenna tour promised to be a lovely day too. This neighborhood is rich with Craftsman work. I had participated in the tour a few years ago and looked forward to helping out at this year's event.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten that the President would be in town today. You may know that Seattle is full of extremely polite drivers...and terrible traffic jams. We are also surrounded by lakes and bridges that must be crossed to get from my home to Ravenna. And when the President comes to town, most things shut down. Like bridges and freeways and polite drivers - everything but the traffic jams.

End of story: I waited in stop-and-go traffic for over a half hour. When my gas warning light came on, I waited another fifteen minutes inching toward the bridge. And then, dear friends, I joined others in making a right turn. Away from the bridge, the architecturally beautiful bridge, and headed for a gas station..and my home.

Please don't blame this on our President. He has enough troubles right now.

Senior In Seattle

2011-09-24T17:14:00.000-07:00

Though I love reading so many blogs and have continued to read my favorites daily, I haven't added comments or let you know that I still think of you as neighbors and friends. I haven't had much motivation to write at all lately, but I am hoping that will change.

Mostly my life has been filled with adjusting to some health challenges and navigating the complexities of the medical world. Add to that the reality of retirement, the maze of medicare and insurance decisions and the bewilderment about why this should be so confusing.

On the flip side I now have the time to practice yoga three times a week, walk regularly and take advantage of all things "Senior" in my wonderful city and the Pacific Northwest.

For Instance:
Tuesdays are Senior Day at OakTree Cinema - first run movies for $5.
* Every day is a discount day at Crest Theater - older movies for $3.
* Seniors can buy a Lifetime National Park Pass for next to nothing!! Spent three days at Paradise Lodge on Mt. Rainier with friends who don't acknowledge they are Senior in any way...but definitely took advantage of the pass.
*Love having friends who don't need a special occasion to have ice cream, though I haven't found a senior discount for ice cream cones.

It's Cherry Pink...

2011-04-08T20:47:00.001-07:00

Whoo Hoo for Friday April 8,2011!! Seattle was treated to a full day of SUNSHINE!! It seems we can't remember the last time that happened. A week ago we turned out with most of our neighbors to breathe in the blossoms - a First Friday tradition,and we felt fortunate that the sun blessed us for a full 22 minutes before the rain returned. Today, however, was pure bliss - there is nothing, I mean nothing, more wonderful than a sunny day in Seattle. They say the clouds will roll back in tomorrow.

Happy Happy Birthday, Baby!

2011-04-02T09:54:00.000-07:00

Today is Baby Rivers 36th birthday! How could this be when I think I'm not a day over 40?

Let the Music Wash Your Soul

2011-03-26T20:50:00.000-07:00

Today I attended the memorial service for Kumi. She was an amazing and adventurous soul - wife, mom, artist, cook, party giver, bank vice president, world traveler, school board president, university board member, peace corps volunteer at 65, and what a grandmother! Each of her five grandchildren received the gift of a lifetime on his/her tenth birthday: a trip of their choosing - anywhere in the world with grandma. Wow!

The service was lovely, beginning with each grandchild lighting a candle. Her very closest friends and family spoke and we all watched a montage of her life. Two incredible pianists, young relatives, filled the room with Beethoven, Liszt, and Bach. Kumi,of course, had planned the entire service - everything down to the color of the flowers and the food to be served after. I'm pretty sure she designed the program and picked the photos for the cover. It was easy to know that she was very much present.

Words from her memoir:

"I do not feel afraid. I live with no fear lurking around my psyche. I am aware and awake to the beauty of each moment. My orientation each day is to know what would give me pleasure that day and to choose to do it. It is to enjoy whatever it is that I am physically able to do that day. I don't find myself wishing I could be doing something else. I am genuinely living a good life, living it fully and living it in gratitude. I feel as though I am living in a state of grace, in a place I characterize as heaven. To die having consiciously experienced LIFE is a gift beyond measure. I believe this was the gift of my cancer.

Years ago I spent lots of time at Kumi's beach house. It was filled with art from around the world, shelves and shelves of books, music, food, friends and Kumi. We figured out how to make sweetpeas grow on string frames. I haven't tried to grow sweetpeas in a long, long time. This year I will. It will be my pleasure.

Round toes of the High Shoes of Old Friends

2011-02-02T17:17:00.000-08:00

On Sunday my newspaper carrier made a mistake. Instead of leaving me the Sunday Seattle Times, he left the Sunday NEW YORK TIMES!! I did not call to inform him of his mistake.

Instead, I sat down with the same glorious anticipation I experience before a meal at a gourmet restaurant or when dreaming about Kaiden’s celebrated coconut cake. I read something fabulous from every page, marveled at the headlines, the bylines and the photo taglines. Oh the travel section, book reviews, crossword puzzle, theater arts and museums. The society brides, "Coppel Snopple Durham-Grinder" CEO of thus and such. I scoured the ads for couture, jewelry and retirement homes.
While my eyes greedily scanned each section I became vaguely aware that my mind and senses were being transported back through the decades to a time when New York City was a brief train ride away and The New York Times was my daily bread. I could smell the street vendors, hear the cacophony of cabs competing with the disharmony of musicians tuning up for the overture, I could see and feel the steam rising from the streets and sidewalks. Lovely memories of another me in another time. For a few hours on Sunday I felt very smart and cosmopolitan. Thank you delivery guy for making my Sunday! Next week bring me The Economist.

Saving Face

2011-01-29T09:24:00.000-08:00

Brenda from The Big Fresh passed on the following from The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp:

"A Manhattan writer I know never leaves his apartment without reminding himself to "come back with a face." Whether he's walking down the street or sitting on a park bench or riding the subway or standing on a checkout line, he looks for a compelling face and works up a rich description of it in his mind. When he has a moment, he writes it all down in his notebook. Not only does the exercise warm up his descriptive powers, but studying the crags, lines, and bumps of a stranger's face forces him to imagine the individual's life." (The Creative Habit, p. 30)

I love this. It is the sort of exercise that challenges one to be disciplined and intentional while wandering through life. It asks us to really see the people around us, to think of individuals with empathy and compassion. Maybe it asks us to think of walking in another's shoes. Coming home with a face might eventually inspire more right actions in the world. Think I'll give it a try.

Memory Brushes the Same Years

2011-01-25T11:47:00.000-08:00

Girls weekend!
It came at the right time, right price and right place. A quick Friday morning flight to Spokane with three good friends to spend the weekend at D.'s beautiful waterfront home. We each had our own bedroom, rainshower bath and view deck - lovely posh linens, sauna and soaking tub. What a luxury to get up early with a freshly brewed cup of (not Folgers) coffee and step out on the deck for that Folger's moment! What a gift to stay up late with good friends sharing stories, joys and sorrows over wine, limoncello and bubble water. We cooked, snacked, hiked, read, watched movies, meditated, stared off into space, enjoyed the fabulous original William Papas art on every wall and napped at will. We giggled like school girls and retold old stories just for the fun of remembering together. The cab driver on my way to the airport had joked: "lucky girl you are off to sing and dance and make merry with your pals, huh?" Yes sir. You're right on. Just can't say it enough. I am so blessed.

Like Rain in a Drought

2011-01-13T21:19:00.000-08:00

A good friend and CEO of a large organization sent a newletter to her staff today and shared her thoughts about the recent shootings. Her words were profoundly sad. But she ended her message as she often does with an action item:

"Perhaps you are feeling helpless and that the world is spinning out of control. I urge you to change your thinking right now. Each of us has the power to do some small thing to set things right. I urge you to do one totally unpredictable act of kindness in the next twenty four hours and show someone that the world is a little better than they thought it was going to be. I give you permission to do this on company time."

I commit to doing one totally unpredictable act of kindness in the next twenty four hours. Won't you join me?

Freedom is a dark road when you're walking it alone!

2011-01-09T15:29:00.001-08:00

What does it take to be truly happy?

According to Dr. Kathianne Lewis: Relatedness, Competence and Autonomy

To be truly happy we "connect" with others maybe in a loving relationship, maybe in a friendship, maybe just meeting the eyes of a stranger. (Definitely through sustained communication with other bloggers.)

To be truly happy we experience our activities with a sense of confidence and accomplishment in one or more areas. And - we continually renew our competence by taking on new challenges, trying new things, refining something we already do well.

To be truly happy we are autonomous - retaining our personal strength, power and choice. To be truly happy, an autonomous person gets to CHOOSE relatedness and competence.

One might think relatedness and autonomy are opposites - until the rugged I can do it myself individual understands that life could be richer when exercising the right to choose connection and competence.

Sometimes in my life I have let go of relationships and chosen isolation when what I needed was to maintain the connections and provide for the needed solitude - and I have thought that I couldn't risk trying something (like painting or dancing)until I had (privately) established competence - and then given up or not shown up because I was indeed not good at it.

What do you think?

We Are The World

2011-01-05T18:37:00.000-08:00

You are walking down the street and a young person asks you for money to catch a bus. What do you think? What do you do? Does it make a difference if it is Christmas? or cold? or night? Does it make a difference if it is a man or a woman? Would it be different if there was a child involved? Would it be different if the person asked for money for food? a cup of coffee? drugs? health care? a decent place to live? an education? Does it make a difference if the person is ringing a bell and standing next to a red pot? Does it make a difference?

I am sick to death of you Lorraine!

2010-12-15T19:41:00.001-08:00

Visited my doc because I was feeling sick. She faxed in three prescriptions- two generic and one for which there was no generic. My pharmacy just called and said that my insurance won't pay for the non-generic right now, they need more information from my doc and it will take ten days for a decision. TEN DAYS. My choices: pay out of pocket $120 instead of the usual $40 copay or go without. Can this really happen? My heretofore "very good" insurance has paid for this drug in the past...but now they want more info from my doc. Like what do they want to know? Is this something like increased airport screening..do they want to know what's going on inside me? Do they want to know if I will die in the next ten days without that med? Well I won't - but shouldn't this be an issue? Would there have been anything different if I had also had medicare? Anyone? Ralph? I am so ticked off.

Sad Memory on a rainy night

2010-12-13T20:35:00.000-08:00

This is not ordinary Seattle Rain. Think monsoon. Rivers are on flood alert, or flooding, trees are falling and the landslides have begun. Basements and garages are taking on water. Pumps are in high demand. City crews are out dealing with trees and urban flooding - water pooled on the road carried a car away in one part of the region. Neighbors are vigilant about keeping storm drains clear. A bizzare accident a few years ago is on our minds. It was during a rain like this that Kate Fleming, concerned about water damage, went down to her Seattle Madison Valley basement to check on her recording equipment. There was a flash flood, the storm drains gave way, the water rushed down her hill, smashing the foundation of her home and she was trapped. She drowned in her basement December 14, 2006.

The First time I heard Peggy Sue

2010-12-09T12:19:00.000-08:00

Getting old. If you know about Medicare, please leave me a comment. Since I am still working (half time) I have not applied for social security. But I will soon be age- eligible for SS regardless of my work. I have heard that if you take SS, you MUST also have medicare. I have heard that medicare doesn't really cover everything. How does that work if you have other (really good) health insurance? If you know this from experience or can point me to some good clear answers, I would be grateful.

Like Breadcrumbs in a Fairy Tale Forest

2010-12-04T12:35:00.000-08:00

A few words of kindness and comfort stopped me in my tracks today. Gentle comforting words from another brought tears to my eyes. Running from place to place, checking things off the list, getting things done I thought I was doing fine. I WAS doing fine. I just hadn't realized that my heart was yearning for connection, recognition, validation. Kind eyes and gentle words, from out of the blue, released tears I didn't know were welling - and lifted my spirits that I hadn't realized were sagging. Today is my day to pay it forward.

Home, where my music's playing

2010-12-02T20:06:00.000-08:00

My city stay will be extended until June 30 and then I will be homeward bound. I have mixed feelings about returning. I love my cottage, but there was a reason I wanted to try out the city. Living here has been such a fun adventure. I do like being a city girl, bus pass in hand. I have been blessed with the perfect space in the perfect location at the perfect price. Perfect except for one thing. I miss my washer and dryer! The coin operated machines in the basement here are beautiful, state of the art. Brand new. Clean. They are shared by only six apartments..and the neighbors who live in the other five apartments appear to be clean and responsible launderers. Still I realize that I have taken the whole laundry thing for granted in all of my past lives. The only time I used coin-ops was back in college and at that time it was fun to socialize in the steamy, sudsy, noisy laundry room. Didn't really count. But I have been there, done that - I look forward to returning to the luxury of laundry on demand in my own home. I look forward to the day when I stop searching for quarters. I look forward to being able to forget that I left clothes in the dryer. My dryer.

Just finished: Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri ****(I have never liked reading short stories - till now!)

About to start: The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng

Maybe I Think Too Much!

2010-11-29T17:44:00.000-08:00

Cranberry sauce: Boil up some sugar and water, add some fresh cranberries, heat till they pop. Add other stuff if you want. Cool, serve. Who knew? Yum. Amazing. Years ago when I could still influence my kids, I made sure that they agreed with me that cranberry sauce was meant to be jiggly, and smooth and slip with a satisfying "slurp" from a can. None of that sour grandma stuff with lumps. Not at Thanksgiving, not ever. Well folks, I have been enlightened. Ocean spray go away. Come again another day. Or not.

Just Finished: Room *** A unique and unusual voice, fascinating story!
Currently Reading: Unaccustomed Earth - Jhumpa Lahiri

I Love you madly madly

2010-11-27T19:02:00.000-08:00

My love for libraries began in junior high when I got my very first job as a "Page" in the Schenectady County Carnegie Library. Wearing a dusty brownish smock that seemed to acknowledge my importance as an "official" of the library, I pushed a heavy cart about, shelving books and answering questions like "where is the restroom?"The job blended my passion for books with my growing need for independence and offered me the opportunity to control and put things in order. The fact that every book had its own perfect and unique place was supremely satisfying to a girl who grew up in a sometimes chaotic house. The pay was eighty cents an hour - an astounding thirty cents more than an hour of babysitting.

Back then folks signed out books on cards bearing the full names and dates of every previous borrower. At check out the circulation librarian filed the card in a long tray and stamped the due date in the back of book. A reference librarian kept a list of questions from patrons and spent her time frowning and looking up answers. Silence was strictly enforced by all senior library staff who regularly walked between the old wooden tables and chairs glaring sternly at anyone whose voice lifted above whisper.

Today I walked to my neighborhood library to return books and pick up one that I had reserved on line. On line! In the space of a few minutes I can hear about a book on NPR, go to my home computer and reserve it at the library. My computer tells me how many copies there are in the system, how many people are also waiting and what my place in line is. I can decide which of the many library branches will be most convenient for pick up and then know that my email box will light up with a message when my turn comes. Soon the book is waiting on the shelf just for me. I type in my card number at the desk and the computer tells me to place books for sign out on the scan tablet. Amazingly the tablet quickly reads the bar codes of up to four books at a time and prints me a date due slip. Incredible!
I love my library!
Another change with the times - My local library is NOT a quiet brown smock frowny kind of place - It is a cheerfully respectful inviting space with quiet nooks and comfortable easy chairs, window seats and bright tables. It is a bustling active place of great community, tutoring corners, adult classes, computers, children's story hours, and author readings. The librarians smile and speak in a voice you can hear.
Tax dollars doing some of their best work.

Currently reading: Room

After Winter's Silence

2010-11-24T11:50:00.000-08:00

Every school in the area is on weather closure.

Yesterday was a silent day in my corner of the city as Metro buses gave up and cars stayed parked. Families with kids used the streets for great sledding adventures. Lots of walkers about and more than a few have dusted off their cross country skis for street travel. The silence was quite lovely.

This morning the main roads seemed a bit better (I even saw a brave biker negotiating the ice and snow - Seattle has a powerful biking community - we will soon have bike lanes on all major streets - and by the way did you ever notice how "real" bikers look like insects?)

Just noticed - the buses are running again! This is a very good sign in a city that was silenced and paralyzed by three inches of snow and freezing winds. Though I loved the quiet, i am glad that my beloved city is valiantly returning to its noisy on-the-move self.

Time to bundle up my temporarily housebound self and bus to Trader Joe's for a pound of butter. What would Thanksgiving be without enough butter?

Snow Place Like Home!

2010-11-22T17:00:00.000-08:00

Brr...it's freezing in the Northwest! The snow that looked so pretty this morning is now blowing in all directions. Up north in my cottage, my tenant has not been able to get out to go to work. Here, the few cars on the road are limping along, or going too fast and spinning their wheels. I am huddled in my city home glad to have heat and a couple of good books. I ventured out earlier for a walk to the coffee shop. It was yummy to be on the inside of the steamy windows sipping Starbucks with other hearty coffee city neighbors. I loved watching people walk in, stomp off the snow, embracing the warm chatter and community of this lively gathering place. Later, walking home, the wind came up, the footing became slick, the flakes became chunks and my face began to sting. I could feel the temperature drop with each step. Tonight will be icey and windy. So glad I don't have a reason to go anywhere. Seattle is not a snow city. Everyone knows we are experts at RAIN. We are a city of Rain Dears. Tonight I am red-nosed and snow weary, I am ready for warmer temperatures and rain. Not until Thursday they say.

UPDATE 11PM - serious wind and freezing temperatures - the freeways have been blocked for up to six hours - people who left work early are still not home! They must be so cold! I vividly remember the nightmare winter driving in my years of commuting to work. This is one day I am very very glad to be retired.

Just finished: Cutting For Stone ***** (Five stars!! Best book of my reading year)
Major Pettigrew's Last Stand *** (A good read with charming characters)

Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left to Lose

2010-11-19T15:17:00.001-08:00

A year or two after my husband died I realized I really didn't mind being single. My kids, my job and my friends were enough. I loved solitary walks, the freedom to choose how I would spend my days off and the opportunity to just "BE." That was then. This is now. BEing semi-retired and single, is, well, lonely. My friends say their retired husbands drive them crazy. Sounds really good to me.

Like Emptiness In Harmony

2010-11-18T18:04:00.000-08:00

My cooking gene kicks in with daylight savings time. When the fall fog rolls in I want to chop, saute, stew and roast things while listening to NPR. Is it the early darkness? Maybe the cooler weather? Who knows what makes me absolutely NEED to cook something savory, bake something pumpkiny, and sip something cidery? When I was a kid I hated the chore of starting dinner for the family before my mother got home from work. When I was a young wife, I was filled with anxiety and dread whenever I had to cook for anyone with the title "in-law." When my kids were at home, cooking dinner was what I had to do after I had worked all day. In the autumn of my life I cook because I want to.

Hawaii Five OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

2010-10-22T15:02:00.000-07:00

Six days in Hawaii. Five of the six days the hotel workers were on strike. Five nights at $300 per night and do it yourself housekeeping - "the sheets are on a cart in the hall." Five days with no on-site restaurants, no pool service, no sweet ukulele music playing throughout the resort and no refund, no offer to move us to another hotel, no perks whatsoever. Five days and nights of exhausted managers listening to thousands of complaints. Day two cookies and juice in the lobby, small consolation for being awakened (each of the five days) at six am by strikers on bullhorns, picketers banging drums, pots and pans and chanting at the top of their voices. Two days of listening to ugly yelling every hour - "We're Local Five.Go home! Go home!" - Day five finally becoming crazed and joining the thousands of complainers. Day six, the strike is over. Clean sheets, sweet music, all restaurants open, silence in the morning. Alas our day to go home. I don't think I will ever stay at a Hilton again. The tired managers credited our bill with a token $250 - for the inconvenience of staying in a luxury resort without even the basics. Today I made my own bed in my non-luxurious home, put on a CD and danced the Hula.

Ya Can't Win for Losing

2010-10-02T10:52:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to help a young man who has made just about every mistake a guy could make. I am stunned by the incredible obstacles the "system" puts in the path of a person who wants to change his life. I am embarrassed by judges who sit in their robes and insult young people with their sarcasm and jibes. I am incensed by probation officers so jaded by their clients that they believe nothing, acknowledge nothing, offer no hope, no encouragement and no support. I am enraged by landlords who charge outrageous rents for roach infested rooms - because folks with records can't get anything else. I am dumbfounded by courts that impose fines that people can't pay and then send them to collections who compound them with maximum interest. I am dumbfounded by a jail sentence for not paying fines. I am furious with a system that asks a guy with no drivers license and no money to travel 200 miles from his home twice a month to "report" and then return 200 miles within 24 hours to "report" again to his probation officer in his home city. You can't win for losing.

Loves You Like a Rock

2010-08-07T12:20:00.001-07:00

I am sorry I have been away. I am still reading your blogs if we have connected in the past, just haven't had a chance to write much.
The Northwest Summer has arrived (and disappeared momentarily ) I almost missed it. They say it will return.
This week I made several trips back and forth to Portland to help out my son and his family. Each trip I quietly blessed my ten year old Honda Civic. You may remember that I have never felt any affection for this reliable but unremarkable car. For the very first time in our long relationship I felt some respect and admiration for this little vehicle who in car years must be nearly as old as I am. Though we have traveled together for 125,000 miles it has definitely been a love/hate relationship and I have very much been looking forward to saying good-bye for good as I purchase a new car. Each trip up and down the highway this week I wondered whether the two of us could do it again - And after each round trip I was stiff and tired, silver civic just old and worn. Neither of us complained too much, but by Thursday night at 11:27 PM both of us were glad to be off the road after hundreds of miles of togetherness over the past four days. Yesterday I had a massage and then slept sixteen hours. SC just sat, quietly resting by the curb. Today I will treat her to some lovely high grade oil and a carwash. I guess I should admit publicly that we have become friends.

Sit Down, Shut Up, Think about God

2010-06-27T17:38:00.000-07:00

So today I was attacked by a crow. There he was: sitting all black and shiny and huge and evil on a fence as I walked by ON THE WAY OUT OF CHURCH!!!! I swear we made eye contact. HE (aren't all crow's male?) snarled something at me in badbird vocabulary. Really, I mean it, the critter snarled and curled his lips before screeching a menacing crowish growl...well it looked like curled lips. He flew straight up and away all nonchalant. I sputtered a silent message of gratitude. A few seconds passed. Without warning crowmonster popped a sly and speedy turn back and dive-bombed my head. What's that about? I said more than a few non church words. A dark rainbow reason to stay home on a Sunday morning.

I barely learned the tune....

2010-06-25T19:04:00.000-07:00

Lonely Rivers was almost retired.
That was last week. Returning from a professional conference on the east coast, I was asked to consider an "interim" - with a nice pay check. With guarantees that the search and selection of the perfect real and permanent director will be swift, I've agreed to help out. The plan is to re-tire in a few months, maybe less.

We'd like to help you learn about yourself.......

2010-05-31T09:53:00.000-07:00

From my senior citizen perspective looking back through the haze of decades, I am suddenly wondering what was real and what has been romanticized. Stories over years of telling take on a life of their own. For example, Camp Kowaunkami. Though I say I loved camp - I am now remembering a piteous week of punishment and humiliation when the counselors forced me to sit on the beach and "watch but not participate" because as a clumsy camper I had steered my rowboat into a canoe full of counselors (mature women of 17 and 18)) who screamed insults at me once they came up, recovered from the dunk and got the canoe righted. Looking back, hazy or not, they were cruel. Still I say I loved camp. I think I did. I guess I wasn't scarred for life - I went back the next year without incident (that I can remember!) and lived all these years thinking I loved camp.

I hear the drizzle of the rain...like a memory it falls

2010-05-27T06:39:00.000-07:00

Walking to work in spring rain is pure joy! I love stepping out, pulling up my hood, opening my umbrella and inhaling the sweetness of the neighborhood gardens. Raindrops on my umbrella chant a delicate meditation carrying me back to my childhood GS camping experiences when I loved the rain on the tent while drifting off to sleep. Picture this old lady yesterday blissfully dancing in the rain singing "K-O-W-A-U-N-K-A-M-I - we're girl scouts at Kowaunkami!" - thumbing her nose at the years and years of driving white knuckled down greasy rainy freeways.

Gonna Paint A Sign...So You'll Always Know

2010-05-23T18:55:00.000-07:00

My sister gets the cool award in the department of MOM. When her kids were little she let them choose the new color for the shutters on their stately home. The boys argued and couldn't agree on the color. Wise as the ancient Solomon, sis bought the paint and the grumbly painter grimly followed her directions and grumbled and grunted, sputtered and spat. For the next decade the neighbors to the south enjoyed the red shutters - while the neighbors to the north had their own view: blue shutters. Every kid need needs a mom like my sister.

Like a Window In Your Heart

2010-05-15T06:58:00.000-07:00

Life Choices.

J. is leaving Seattle to return to the Northeast. The Northeast of cold blustery winters, hot sticky mosquitos and grandchildren. At sixty-seven and after fifteen years of loving everything Northwest she has chosen to head east to spend her remaining years getting to know the grandchildren she has only seen three or four times a year since they were born. She chose a vibrant college town - two hours in different directions from each of her three kids and six grandchildren. Her kids lead busy lives. She doesn't want to be on top of them - just in the same time zone.

Life Choices. J is leaving her life partner whose Northwest business is thriving, who can't justify leaving this timezone to be near J's children and grandchildren who leads a busy life and likes this timezone just fine. They say it will be a long distance relationship.

Or not.
Life Choices.

And Follow Your Memory Upstream.....

2010-05-10T07:24:00.001-07:00

A quick trip from Seattle to DC to spend Mother's Day with my siblings and my mom. Since she fell in October, mom has been wheelchair bound and less able to fully track some conversations. She is still bright and alert and sooo gracious. At ninety she is tiny and frail and needs the assistance of a caregiver eighteen hours a day. We three - her "kids" 2/3 of us gray, 1/3 of us about to retire ourselves, 3/3 of us confronting the reality of aging - took her on a memory tour which included a drive by Hickory Hill, the Bobby Kennedy compound, and then all of the DC sights by car - with the addition of Hillary's DC digs - ending our tour at the hotel that used to be the Sheraton Park.
This still beautiful and luxurious hotel is a treasured family memory - It was 1962. My young father had died after a long illness. My mom even in her own grief understood that her three kids needed something fresh in our minds - something wonderful and happy. We traveled to DC and spent a week together at the Sheraton Park - our twelve year old cousin Steve came along too because he was always funny and she said he would make us laugh. He did. Yesterday on our Mother's Day tour we called Cousin Steve (in Alaska) from the SP to remember together. It was day to say a very special thank you to our Mom.

You Better Start Swimming or You'll Sink Like A Stone - The Times They are a Changing!

2010-05-04T18:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I took the day off to pretend I was retired.

I went swimming: Daytime Adult and Senior Swim

The pool was divided into three sections: 1) Arthritis Underwater (catchy, right?) 2) Lap Swim (Three separate lanes: Plodders, Splashers, and Killers (my labels, not theirs) 3) Adult free swim. I chose adult free swim.

My companions in this area were:
1) a very nice looking younger man who held on the side of the pool for a full sixty minutes 2) A very large lady who used a snorkel and swam up and down the pool for an hour without ever once taking her face out of the water, 3) A very slim and annoyed athletic woman who should have been over with the splashers and killers 4) A lovely grandma who reminded me of SophiaGoldenGirl (without the purse!) - who told me she used to be in the Arthritis class but had graduated to Adult Swim. Maybe one day I will graduate to plodder or splasher - I promise I will never join the killers - If you are a lap swimmer, you know what I'm talking about. The best part of my pretend retired day was in the locker room/showers with the Arthritis Ladies. Lots of talking and laughing about dropped this and that, aches and pains and IRA's, Social Security and Medicare. I joined right in. Not one person guessed I was just pretending!

Just Drop off the Key, Lee

2010-05-03T08:17:00.001-07:00

As soon as I announced my retirement my email lit up. "Ah," thought I, "they want to say something nice, thank me, wish me well.." And of course they did - lovely lavish thoughts, thanks and good wishes. And then they asked for letters of reference -just in case we lose touch. Though the list of letters to be written is daunting, I will take great pleasure in thinking over my years of association with each member of my staff, as I outline their strengths and contributions for a future employer. Not sure I will ever capture on paper the times we stayed late to finish a project, laughed ourselves silly when something fell apart or discovered together a great AH HA that took us all forward. There's no room in a letter of reference for the life events we've seen each other through, the highs and lows of spending our workdays together these may years. Writing a sincere letter of reference for each of these folks gives me one more chance to remember that I have worked with fabulous people. Just in case we lose touch.

Slip out the Back, Jack

2010-04-27T18:59:00.000-07:00

Someone figured out that I now have 33 days left to work before my retirement day. After 40 years, I am happy to step out of a high pressure but very rewarding leadership position. I am thrilled that a person I have mentored for seventeen years in two different settings is next in line for my job. I am proud of the employees I hired and have watched them grow into amazing and productive leaders, themselves. I am blessed to have worked with a group that believes in honesty, compassion, integrity and effort. I am pleased that our organization has undergone significant changes, is thriving and focused, and is ready for new, young vigorous leadership. We are all pointed in the right direction. I feel good about the work I have done over the years and know that the time is exactly right for me to move on. I am looking forward to my next endeavor - whatever that may be . I will miss the big salary, but I am intrigued by the challenge of living simply on less. I didn't expect to feel nostalgic or a bit sad at this juncture - but I do.

In Restless Dreams I Walked Alone

2010-04-20T21:13:00.000-07:00

J and I walked around Greenlake yesterday. She had just returned from a wonderful long vacation. They stayed in a fabulous house at the trail head. They hiked in the desert and she took 200 pictures of wild things. She climbed rocks and scrambled canyons. They visited family, sailed a bit, ate port marinated figs with dark chocolate. They went into SanDiego for a few days. She didn't want to come home. Maybe they will go to Puerto Rico, or maybe they will go to Australia. Now she is looking forward to getting the boat in the water for evening sails and so they can cruise this summer, that is if the kids don't need her to babysit. Three miles we walked and for three miles she talked. And talked . And talked more. Nonstop. My few lines were strategically placed: "oh my" "wow!" or "hmmm..." She is my absolute best walking partner. She has never noticed that I can't talk and walk at the same time.

...And with All Your Soul

2010-04-17T07:55:00.000-07:00

B's father called her at work. A lot. "My darling daughter, how are you?" "Daddy! I am so glad to hear your voice - I hope you are having a fine day." A few hours later, he would call again. "Daddy I am so glad to hear your voice! I will see you for dinner ."

Recently I stood outside with other mourners as B's son shared a quiet eulogy for his Zayde, a brilliant scholar and leader. Throughout his life Zayde wrote several books, hundreds of articles, held a PHD and was a respected and honored religious leader for decades. And then he started to forget things.
Throughout Zayde's life with Alzheimer's his family cherished their time with him and never allowed anyone to compromise his dignity. Like the broken tablets, Zayde in his last years, remained the honored elder. His caregivers were relentless in preserving for him a quality of life, no matter what the state of his mind. He was included in every event, every celebration, every outing until it was clear that it wasn't pleasant for him. His grown grandchildren came regularly to visit, to take him on outings, or to just sit with him. B read to him daily from his own scholarly works, The New York Times, and the same sweet children's books that he had once shared with her.
The family said the traditional Jewish prayers daily. While Zayde might forget family names and faces, he never forgot the words and tunes of these ancient prayers. His soul never lost its memory.

******* From a commentary: "The purpose of wisdom is the performance of good deeds. The elderly individual while engaging in Torah study in the past, also acquired knowledge resulting from good deeds throughout his life, and for this reason a residue will always remain in his soul of righteousness and correctness.

Even if he has forgotten his learning, this only means that he has lost the details, but the pure encompassing concepts that are collected within the soul as a result of the great quantity of his former study, can never be forgotten. Similarly, even while one is in full possession of his learning, he can never verbalize the entirety of what he knows; it is only a person’s inner spirit that recognizes the truth of the pleasantness of the principles corresponding to his accomplishments.

The residue, the aura of holiness and goodness continue to be associated with a person as well as an inanimate object, regardless of the ravages of time and circumstance, and therefore continued reverence for such people and things is appropriate. "

Springtime of My Life

2010-04-11T03:28:00.001-07:00

I love the new blogroll on the right - just a few of the places I go almost everyday for nourishment, inspiration and connection. I love that blogs roll to the top when something new has been added. The very last tab "Dancing in the Light" doesn't roll up often - But I hope you will click on it to see a beautiful slide show of my friend Jan's photos - (make sure your speakers are on!) That girl sure knows how to enjoy retirement!

In anticipation of own my rapidly approaching retirement (June 30)I have added a few other blogging goals to my yellow notebook. Lonely Rivers began as a simple place to capture and record small moments. Little did I know that there was a "blogworld" and that I would find myself connecting with others and cherishing the thoughts of new friends.

Because I may soon have lots more time devote to writing and blogging, I am going to play around with the format a bit and continue to try out some of the things that I've noticed and appreciated in other blogs. One goal has already been accomplished: I figured out how to add a photo - at least to the header..time will tell whether I will remember how to change it!

....Sat on their park bench like bookends

2010-04-06T07:29:00.000-07:00

Book club tonight at my house. I love these gatherings of food, years and years of shared friendship and fabulous conversation. This month our group read The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie - A Flavia DeLuce Mystery. It was a fun read. To be truthful, this is just not my kind of book. Try as I might, I am just not enchanted with English Mysteries,even when the sleuth is a charming, witty, precocious,quirky eleven year old. I prefer novels that stir my soul, pique my curiosity about life, challenge my understanding of human nature, and open up new vistas. I love details and metaphors, and characters vivid enough to accompany me on my morning walk. Though I predict that several of my dear friends will have loved the book, I did not. When I finished this book I was done. I like books that linger.

Mr. Cellophane

2010-04-04T17:14:00.000-07:00

My temporary home in the city is a beautiful apartment in an block of mansions. A hundred years ago the early and newly rich of Seattle built these homes and lined the street with trees. They preserved vistas of lakes and mountains. I am thrilled that on most days the sidewalks are alive with adults and children who love being in this neighborhood. I never tire of watching the bikers and strollers from the six windows of my living room. I know that I am blessed to be able to walk to work, coffee shops, great restaurants and a bus to anywhere from this wonderful spot.

I am also struggling and miserably conflicted - because recently an older van/suv has been parked on the street near my building, and clearly it is a man's home. He keeps the van clean, and he appears himself to be clean though a bit ragged. He talks to himself and sputters and coughs a bit. He is gone most of the day, and returns to sleep each night. He moves the van a few inches a day to avoid parking fines. I wonder if he is down on his luck, out of work and homeless, or working nearby and saving his money, or if he is a psychopath.

I feel like I should do something but I do nothing. I wish I wasn't a little afraid. I want to live in a country where people are not forced to live in their cars or in tents or cardboard boxes. I feel guilty that I have two homes at the moment and this guy has just a car to sleep in. I want to feel safe and at the same time I want to be a compassionate and generous human being. I wish this guy (some mother's son) would move on. I wish I was Mother Teresa.

Filling up and spilling over

2010-03-26T06:40:00.000-07:00

LR loves the music at FO's shop!

Market studies must say that Norah Jones sells stuff. Why else would every retail establishment and most elevators play constant Norah Jones? There must be a connection between the impulse to buy and Norah's Noises. LR was one of the first fans...an early Norah adopter of sorts. But face it: it's just like the salivating dog, play Come Away With Me.. and LR begins itching with primal retail longing. Too bad Norah..no longer the dark divine diva- you are now the musical muse of merchandising.

Fierce Business Owner Friend has her own approach. No market studies for her! Nope. FO personally picks all the music for her shop. Every single tune. A little bit blind opera singer, a little bit country Sara kicking Evans and a little bit Kate Smith Climbing Every Mountain. A little bit God Bless America on any day the congress passes healthcare reform. Throw in a very little bit Norah Jones and some YMCA and you have a very happy FO, and customers who are buying like crazy! Once she gets them shopping FO lets loose: KD Lang,some very old Chris Williamson and then latterday Joan Baez. Amazing. Amazing. Grace. LR likes it all. FO's music Rocks!
LR loves helping out at the shop. And she gets paid! To listen to music. By the hour.
Wake Me Up Before you Go Go.

No Catchy Title for This One.

2010-03-22T21:22:00.000-07:00

I need to be writing about health care. Instead I am fooling around with adding things to my blog in honor of having a birthday that qualifies me for a senior citizen bus pass and Medicare. I did not sign up for medicare because right now I have excellent health insurance and fairly good health. Others I know are not so fortunate. I want to believe that the battle has been won and now no one will go without the treatment and services they need. The ugliness around this issue hurts my heart.

Dappled and Drowsy and Ready to Sleep.....

2010-03-19T22:21:00.000-07:00

Without that yellow notebook LR would be listless.

My Erica of the Windy Yellow Hair

2010-03-16T18:34:00.000-07:00

A blustery day in Seattle. LR drew the short straw. Get the balloon bouquet. Sure. No problem. Except for the gusty breeze. Picture LR...holding her hat to her flying hair with one hand, skirt dragging in the puddles..floating Mary Poppins style up fifteenth following a herd of wayward balloons. Picture LR. Stuffing balloons into the backseat of silver civic, looking like a very bad day at the Macy's parade with muddy skirt blowing in the wind. Picture LR punching at one balloon after another as each struggles independently to escape its silver civic backseat fate. Picture LR driving one handed and blindly through Capitol Hill, peering through a sea of ornery balloons and swatting them down with her free hand. Picture the relief as destination is reached with no human or balloon casualties. Lonely Rivers battled balloons today. And won.

The Clock Don't Jump Off the Wall, Thelma

2010-03-15T21:05:00.000-07:00

Lonely Rivers is not in favor of clock changing. She keeps her mind agile and her friends frustrated. Look at her clocks and know instantly: either add or subtract one hour...or trust the hour. Then add or subtract a range of 10 to 17 minutes. No problem.

Makeanewplan, Stan

2010-03-13T07:26:00.000-08:00

Lonely Rivers has a list.

Not a bucket list or a SarahLulu list, just a list of everything she wants or needs to do. A new list begins every January 1.

List 2010 lives in a yellow spiral notebook now held together by a wooden pinch clothespin. Lonely Rivers will write one day of the virtues of the two essentials in life: a wooden pinch clothespin and a fondue fork. LR believes that success in life, business,friendship, parenting,and marriage depend heavily on having these two critters on hand. That is for another day.

Lonely mistakenly thought the list existed for the giddy delight of crossing things off. To some degree it's true - the garbage would go out whether it was on the list or not. More pleasurable to take out the garbage AND cross it off the list. The list however annoys the brain and encourages the heart.

Be careful what you write on the list! You may find yourself really really enjoying third row center seats at the opera. Be still my heart.

Fifty Ways to Lose Your Liver

2010-03-06T22:09:00.000-08:00

.
Lonely Rivers will not soon be quitting her day job.
The one with health insurance!

Gall: irritate, annoy, vex,madden, provoke
Bladder: bodily sac for liquid or gas
Gallbladder: musclar organ that serves as a reservoir for bile

So one day LR took a day off from her real job to help out at the consignment store so that Fierce Owner could have her gall bladder removed.
Fierce Owner is a strong and powerful woman. A stalwart and passionate woman. Sometimes even a tough woman. She loves her store. She never misses a day of work.
FO went to the hospital early that morning for a day surgery. We all thought she'd probably try to stop at the store on her way home from the hospital that night.

Shortly after noon, however, we got a call from fierce owner's partner who said FO wasn't doing well. FO was in horrific pain. By closing time it hadn't gotten better. She was unable to leave the hospital as planned.

Let it be said that LR was unsettled. Yours truly has only experienced the pain of childbirth...(the kind you forget as soon as you see the baby!)...never the pain of having your gall bladder sucked out!

FO was told that the pain was intense because they put a lot of gas in your system to enlarge everything before the liposucking begins...and then you have to endure the gas and enlargement for several hours after the suckery.
WHO KNEW??
The rest of the story:
FO did not come to the store that day or the next. In fact she was in the hospital near death for several weeks due a badly botched surgery. Now many months later she is returning to the hospital to repair hernias in the incision.

Ok, so I think if it's not too late God, I will begin to take better care of my gall bladder. Lonely Rivers reconsiders healthy eating.

Sunshine Almost Always Makes Me High

2010-02-21T19:50:00.000-08:00

When we were kids mom told us to listen to the elves dancing on the roof whenever it rained. To this day I love the sound of rain. I like everything about rain. I like watching and listening to the rain. I like being inside when it rains and I love walking to work in the rain. So it is good that I live in Seattle where one gets wet many days of the year. Truth be told however, walking in the rain with hood up and head down is not very neighborly. We walk fast to our destinations, rarely connecting with others who are doing the same thing.

But give us a sunny day or the promise of a sunny hour and the streets fill with friendly happy Seattlites strolling cheerfully and greeting friends and strangers. One of the greatest benefits of living in this rainy place is the absolute joy that fills the city when the sun does actually shine. Rainlovers have a deep deep appreciation for the sun...and today was APPRECIATION DAY!

Store Bought Food for the Mean-eyed Cat

2010-02-07T23:08:00.000-08:00

Big city grocery shopping is all wrong.
Walkerchick knows it's just wrong to drive to any store.
Multiply the wrongness by ten since the nearest market doesn't carry buttermilk or caraway seeds.
And while she's at the drive-to grocery store looking for caraway seeds, she loses her personal parking place down the block. The one that her neighbor covets and her loyal car usually protects while she WALKS everywhere.
Behind the wheel,she stalks her city neighborhood searching out a new spot that meets her criteria: 8.5 or better on the mature woman's parallel parkability scale.
Round and round she goes.(Repeat chorus!)
Her previously petite carbon footprint now scares Sasquatch.
It's just wrong.

Deep in my heart..........I do believe

2010-01-29T19:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Ralph,

I wanted to answer your question about whether I felt even a little uneasy years ago when we paid a lady only ten dollars a day to come to our house to make biscuits, iron our clothes, clean our home and care for our child while we went off to work determined to raise issues of civil rights and save the world from Mississippi Racism. And I have pondered that question for months and months wondering if I had a better, deeper more PC answer than the simple uncomfortable truth. The answer is, the irony is,I can't remember feeling uneasy. Mostly I remember how grateful she was that we paid her cash and how good the biscuits were. Mostly I remember that we could barely afford the $50.00 a week that made it possible for both of us to have jobs. Looking back I do know that we treated her with great respect, trusted her with our treasured child and showered her with gratitude. I wish I could tell you that I was more awake and aware! Mostly I was a young white yankee liberal trying figure out how to live in the south without getting killed by rednecks or snakes. I don't know where she is today. I don't even know her name. I do know that I am glad you asked the question.

Seeing Angels In the Architecture - Lunch Conversations with mom and her friends

2010-01-03T09:49:00.000-08:00

"I have a toothache and that's a bad thing and a good thing."
"What's good about a toothache?"
"What's good about a toothache? The good thing is it means I don't have to go to the physical terrorist for my backache!"

*********************
"Sarah you're all dressed up!"
"Going to my son's for Christmas Dinner"
"Well you look like Doris Day!"
"Aren't you the most DAH-LING CHALD"
**************************************
"Did I tell you that the chef here used to cook at the white house?"
"No! Which president?
"Well I think it was sometime after Truman.
"Hmm"
"Did I tell you that the chef here used to cook at the white house?"

*************************************
"So you're here from Seattle? Isn't that nice for your mom!"
"Yes! Have you been to Seattle?"
"Oh yes - I visited there in '40 just before all Hell broke loose."
*********************************************************************
"I am so happy to be here near my kids and grandkids. And a special surprise has been the food. Did I tell you that the chef here used to cook at the white house?"
***********************************************
"Being ninety and stuck in a wheelchair is tough - but having wonderful friends and wonderful food sure does make life easier!"

Just like the ones I used to know

2009-12-20T10:38:00.001-08:00

One year ago I was SNOWED in SEATTLE for days and days and days. Today it is rainy and warmish. Guess where I'm going tomorrow (maybe) - Washington D.C.

Her Eyes as Clear as Centuries

2009-11-29T18:17:00.000-08:00

Long term care insurance.
We take care of ourselves.
Until we can't.
Anymore.

Like A Poem I Meant to Write

2009-11-19T20:22:00.000-08:00

Heading to DC to spend time with my mother. She isn't bouncing back - at ninety it's hard to bounce after a hip fracture/surgery/time in a pt rehab facility/ a grueling trip from Delhi N.Y. to Falls Church, VA /12 hours in an emergency room/hospitalization and a return to her home with the support of two nurse's aides. She is tired out, losing weight and has to force herself to eat.
My sibs and I have learned more than we ever want to know about how old,frail people become low priority in busy hospitals - and how critical it is for a family member or advocate to be present for everything that happens. My mother's children live miles apart and have grown even more distant over the years. We have come crashing together determined to make this time in mom's life the very best it can be. We realize we have never in our lives communicated with one another on this deep close- to-the-heart,this-is-what-I-really-think-about-life-and-death level. I am awed by them, my brother and sister, a hippy democrat and a bush republican. Grownups who bring just the right measure of intelligence, compassion, diplomacy, humor and inyourfaceassertiveness to get the job done. Why am I surprised that I like them so much? At 58,59, and 64 we have some catching up to do. We don't call ourselves children. But my mom does. Proudly.

One Way to lose...these walking blues

2009-11-07T08:04:00.000-08:00

Walking to work update: Love it love it love it.
Walking home from work update: Uphill all the way.
Living in the city update: Why didn't I do this years ago?
Quality of life update: Two extra hours in every day.
She's got diamonds on the soles of her shoes!

Days Falling Backward into Velvet Night

2009-10-31T08:12:00.000-07:00

Turning ninety in August was a milestone for my mother, in fact for an entire family blessed and cursed by both the longlife and shortlife genes. Turning ninety with all of her charm and intellect intact was an accomplishment she cherished and we celebrated. My once tall mother is now tiny, and fragile with skin so thin the blood pools at every touch. She is lively, strong-willed and determined most days. She has scores of friends and always makes sure others are included and supported. In her Independent Living community she writes and edits a monthly newsletter, makes lively contributions to her book group, and attends the opera. She refuses to be assigned a regular place in the dining room, insisting that she will "eat around" because life is more interesting if one meets and connects with all of her neighbors. A week ago she took a spill, broke her hip, went into surgery and woke up confused and disoriented. Her mind, more precious than her mobility began to slip into other times and places. The docs said this is not unusual as there has been a combination of trauma, anesthesia, painkillers, oxygen levels, and dehydration. Glad to report that time and Gator Aid seem to be making things a bit better.

Mourning Rain

2009-10-25T07:31:00.000-07:00

Sam Owen was twelve and full of hopes and dreams.
In March his pink cheeks turned gray.
All the love and support and medicine in the world couldn't make those cheeks pink again.
Sam Owen turned thirteen last week in a hospital bed.
His best friend read Sam's Bar Mitzvah while his dad held his hand.
Days later the motorcade that made the somber trip along the blue you can live forever lakes stretched for devastated wretched mournful miles and miles.
Sam Owen was a beautiful beloved boy.

Stayed in Mississippi a day too long

2009-10-03T19:22:00.000-07:00

We did some time in Mississippi. He had a a pretty neat University job and Lonely Rivers thought that her job would change the world. Baby Rivers celebrated her second birthday in a house that flooded everytime it rained. A woman came to our house every day before we woke up. She made biscuits from scratch and then she ironed our clothes and cleaned our house. She wasn't afraid of the spiders and killed snakes without a blink. She made us blackeyed peas and greens and cornbread. Her laugh came from deep deep in her belly,but she never called me by my first name. Not once. She loved Baby Rivers who loved her right back. She charged ten dollars a day, cash. It pains me to say that try as I might, I just can't remember her name. First or last. But I sure do remember those biscuits.

How the heart approaches what it yearns....

2009-09-30T20:57:00.000-07:00

I am tired of driving to work. I am tired of sitting in traffic, or wondering in winter if I can get home because of the snow and ice. So I am moving. I signed a short term lease on a city apartment. I am not selling my house. I am probably crazy. I just don't want to drive to work anymore. So for the next several months I will live in the city. I will walk to work. In the rain. I will take the bus or I will walk. Maybe I will write a book about being a crazy old lady who is tired of driving. In the rain. Who moves to the city. To walk to work. In the rain. And in the sunshine. Just walking in the rain. Getting soaking wet. I am not retiring. My car is.

Seniorita With a Necklace of Tears

2009-09-29T20:47:00.000-07:00

She is a nattering nabob of negativism. A safire in the rough, rough world of my work. She complains no matter what. I can count on a regular phone call or an email (cc'd to everyone she can think of) with her opinion of why something we did or said or didn't do or didn't say is wrong. Usually I say "I am deeply sorry you are feeling that way." I have kept a file of her emails over the past five years. My fantasy: to flood her mailbox with all of her own complaints - backatcha baby.

Moonlight Sleeping on a Midnight Lake

2009-09-28T20:37:00.000-07:00

He came to our family when he was three.. skinny arms and hopeful brown eyes. A mind of his own. We told him he was perfect and showed him his new room. In the middle of the night he got up and made a pot of coffee..a three year old with a mind of his own. Who had been on his skinny own. Too long. Long twenty seven year story short. I'm pretty sure I saw him today, I think it was him. Brown homeless eyes and a mind of his own. Lonely lonely rivers.

One man's ceiling is another man's floor

2009-09-22T20:55:00.000-07:00

My neighbor's blackberries have climbed the fence, slithered into my trees and are lunging toward the hydrangeas. Feisty and mean these aggressive critters grow taller, bending,winding and grabbing. Kudzu with teeth. Cutting them back is dicey. I am left nursing jagged scratches. Fighting blackberries anywhere in the Northwest is a never ending battle, but one I have tried to fight over the years, hacking here and there and being a good neighbor at the same time. Clipping, hacking, not really admitting that my gentle soul is bent on killing. Minimal and fleeting success, a day or two, before the monster roars bigger and bolder. My yard erupts in blackberry laughter at my feeble violence. I read an article "brutalizing a blackberry only serves to invigorate it's determination." My property would soon be swallowed. I headed to the neighbor's house with forced resolve. I would smile. I would be friendly. I would carefully suggest that we consider just a tiny drop of blackberry getridder from a bottle with a skull and crossbones. Just a tiny drop. Not something I would ever want to do,but...... At the door wiping her hands on her apron, she smiled, she even hugged me. "Why hello neighbor! Come on in and join us," she gushed, "we're making blackberry crepes!" War postponed. Indefinitely.

I Want to be POP-ular

2009-09-21T06:50:00.000-07:00

Blessed I am. I get to see good theater regularly. Sunday I sat with hundreds of others enthralled with the sights and sounds of Wicked. The music has been in my life for a few years now, I had read the book, so Sunday was like the magic moment when butter and sugar stop being butter and sugar in the mixing bowl...the minute you know that everything has come together perfectly for a delicious treat. A treat made more lovely by the charming eight year old in blue tulle and tierra who sang every lyric as she clutched her mom's shoulder througout the production. Thrilled she was. Blessed I am.

One Day She Left Without A Word

2009-09-20T20:51:00.000-07:00

She took away the sun. Blogging is a wintersport. I guess I'm back and the lemon flower is sweet.

Like a Beautiful Child, Growing up Free and Wild

2009-05-17T18:45:00.000-07:00

Spring Sunshine Sunday in Seattle. We've got the bluest skies you've ever seen, the greenest hills, two giant lakes, white beaches, and ferries crisscrossing the waters of Puget Sound! Throw in a couple of snow capped purple,silver,pink,mountain ranges on either horizon and you've spelled Seattle. This rainy town turned inside out, sunny side up today, gardening, street festivaling, cheese festivaling, Norwegian festivaling, farmers marketing, and soaking up the sun at Greenlake, Golden Gardens,and Alki Beach. Sunday special: PC Lattes one dollar - no Styrofoam anywhere in our little town! Strolling Queen Anne cradling compostable coffee cup, smelling the lilacs and loving life. Sail on silver girl.

You Make the Weeping Willow Tree Smile

2009-05-03T08:15:00.001-07:00

Though her house was full of her own children, barking dogs, slamming screen doors, neighbors in for coffee, and endless cooking, there was always room and time for the cousins. Interested and excited by the details of our lives, she was the Queen of Questions: "What are you reading? What do you think of it? Was that pretty sad? Did you just feel so happy when you heard that? What is your favorite....? How did you decide that?"

The Queen of Questions was also the Duchess of Delight: "Let's build a swimming pool in the back yard. Get a shovel. Maybe we could use the long picnic table for a game of Billy Goats Gruff...who wants to be the Troll? I bet there's a way to make Chocolate Popsicles. Better yet, let's all march down the hill for ice cream cones. And on the way back let's throw a few m&m's in the creek for good luck!"

Or the Mistress of Mischief..packing the younger kids in the slightly cracked trunk of the car to sneak into the fair after teaching the older kids how to cross the creek and sneak in on foot. Or the Wizard of Wonder, waking us up in the middle of the night to stand at the window to watch the flames against the distant horizon as the Oneida Market burned to the ground.

Everyone's favorite English Teacher, she loves good books, the theater and edgy movies: "LR - I think we should see this movie - it's just out, not really reviewed yet- but let's be the first- it's called - The Graduate!" She loves parades parties, fireworks, marching bands and airshows. She put a bit of glitter on every minute of every day. She has been our very own Auntie Mame.

Making memories has been her vocation, her magic, her gift. And she gave it all she had. All she had. At eighty five, my always lovely, once lively Aunt now struggles to remember. She cries out with fear and frustration. She can't grasp that she has created a precious and treasured legacy. She doesn't know that she can't lose my memories.

Pour Myself a Cup of Ambition

2009-04-30T20:24:00.000-07:00

Lonely Rivers is rapidly growing tired of being in charge. Challenges inspire creativity, there are no problems, just opportunities. Hire great people, treat them well, teach them well, celebrate their success, keep building the team. And let them know that the the buck always stops here. Bring on an earthquake, a flood, three weeks of too much snow, a recession, or the swine flu and LR begins thinking about giving up the "big bucks" for a nice job as a follower, a taker of directions, a passive recipient of the decisions of others. Oh to be able to sit around and criticize the boss, complain about the lack of plastic spoons in the lounge, and second guess most anything. Pass the buck. Dream on.

Slip Sliding Away...

2009-04-16T14:13:00.000-07:00

Lonely Rivers walked five miles and in the final stretch took a spill. Good thing she had walked five miles ... everything all warmed up and ready to fly ...splitsecond trip over a crack in the sidewalk. Loss of contact with earth, brief instant of amazement that this is happening, maybe it's not happening, oh for sure it is.. the smash, the crash, the glasses flying..the thirty something kind as could be dad out with his two kids running to the rescue, the "No, no, I'm all right. Really, I'm all right!" The short limp to the car. testing truth..no real damage, scraped knees and hands. When sixty four falls, it hurts.

Death of a Salesman

2009-04-14T16:37:00.000-07:00

When we were seven we were inseparable. My cousin was my best friend. He had blond curls and a sweet, sweet smile. He was brave and smart, afraid only of garbage men, but reckoned he could ride his bike faster than they could drive the truck. Together we dreamed up skits and performed miracles. We dressed as Dagwood and Blondie in the fourth of July parade and won first prize. We played "office" taking turns being boss. He was great at typing receipts and ordering parts. Our premier enterprise was the Cousins Custom made Potholder Caper. Our business plan: hit every house in our little town. Everyone needs potholders, no one would resist the sales pitch of Dagwood and Blondie. We spent months and months weaving loops on looms creating amazing color combinations and patterns. We plotted and schemed. We stockpiled our product in a huge suitcase and dragged it with us everywhere. Eventually we pitched every house in town..potholders twenty five cents each, five for a dollar. We made a fortune. We grew up. We lost touch. He and a friend fell off the face of the earth. No forwarding address. Just disappeared. He died. In Florida. Maybe of Aids. He could have told us. We loved him. We would buy any story he wanted to tell. He didn't want to tell.

When Johnny Comes Marching Home.........

2009-04-14T08:55:00.000-07:00

Corner stores, the 7 Elevens of my childhood, were owned by real people. My people. My grandfather started the little market after he retired from banking and happily turned it over to my father and uncle when they returned from the war. As kids we helped out on slow days,sweeping, stocking shelves, taking out the bottles, filling the cooler and cleaning up the produce. On busy days we mostly ate popcicles and stayed out of the way. My grandfather could slice cheese from the big wheel to the ounce. My dad could charm any customer into buying bananas, mustard, and white bread. My uncle made a mean sliced meat and cheese sandwich and he effortlessly handpainted news of the week's specials on the windows every Monday. Neighbors had good credit at our store, and just about everyone in town ran a bill. People came just to hang out and share stories. June, July and August were BUSY when the tourists were in town. Summer Sundays were banner days and the place filled up after each of the Catholic church services. The store was the center of the universe, an endless supply of double bubble gum, and malted balls two for a penny. A perfect place for two wartorn soldiers to do something they never dreamed for their lives. After a few years the men got their real dream jobs in the city, and my mom reluctantly took over the store. The days of the handpainted windows were over. Mom mostly read books and waited for us to come home from school.

Dolly Will Never Go Away...

2009-03-28T07:40:00.000-07:00

Dolly is at the Fifth Avenue. Lonely treated recently divorced daughter to GREAT seats! LR loves to hear the orchestra tuning up...the signal for the beginning of a magical experience. Even bad shows have one great song, one great dancer, one great line. Lonely loves them all! Grandma and Grandpa loved the theater. They traveled to NYC a couple of times a year to "do the shows." Though they lived in a tiny town in upstate, they were influential in bringing professional summer theater to the village. As a kid Lucky Lonely spent many a Wednesday afternoon ushering the tourists to their seats and seeing Broadway shows and stars for free. The actors loved being upstate, the tourists loved the quaint venue, and Lonely sang along. One summer a famous alcoholic director ventured upstate to "dry up" and Lonely's mom was employed as his private nurse for the six week season. He never did really "dry up" but mom's stories became part of the family folklore, and drunk director became a friend and fan. Lonely's dad was involved in community theater, making sure that our love and lust for the stage didn't dry up over the cold upstate winter. Lonely helped him learn his lines and gave lots of unsolicited kid advice about his acting. The whole family would cringe in our seats if he missed a cue. Dolly was corny and fun, the dancers were amazing, the sets and costumes fabulous. We sang all the way home. We all need more musicals in our lives.

A-wimoweh, a-wimoweh..

2009-03-15T20:11:00.000-07:00

If you are not wearing a sweater or wrapped in a blanket with your teeth chattering, you are probably not in Seattle. It has been a crazy, crazy winter in the Northwest, but we had a couple of almost nice days. Lonely Rivers entertained the idea of spring .... for about five minutes. The snowflakes this morning were as big as feathers...not little bitty bits of down, mind you, but FEATHERS! The skylight above was covered in less than a minute...and it stayed cold enough to keep it that way until about noon. It warmed a bit and then it rained buckets. And then the sun came out until it rained again. And now the wind is blowing the porch furniture around. It will be a blustery and cold night. March came in like a lion and continues to roar.

Jeremiah Was Bullfrog

2009-03-11T18:34:00.000-07:00

The book is called EAT THAT FROG! It is one of those time management books that made someone a million dollars. It's all about procrastinating. How not to.

The author says, if you have a lot of frogs to eat, you should eat the biggest one first. Get right up in the morning and EAT THAT FROG. He says you should clear off your workspace so that you have room to eat one frog at a time. You should push yourself to be the best and most efficient frog eater, a model for others. Keep a list of the Frogs you need to eat and check them off after each meal. Lonely Rivers sees the remains of her retirement croaking the last feeble croaks. She waited too long to EAT THAT FROG.

Will You Still Love Me....

2009-03-09T19:30:00.000-07:00

....when I'm sixty-four...which will be in exactly 10 days.
Time goes by so quickly...and time... I was 22. It was 1967. They sang. I listened. Sixty-four seemed a long way off. I was 42. It was 1987. Little did I know that twenty two years would fly by and I would be singing solo at sixty-four. Regrets I've had a few.

No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems

2009-02-22T11:50:00.000-08:00

Lonely Rivers is posting today from a lovely little spot in Mexico! Six days of pure relaxation at Petit Lafitte..a very small hotel with amazing food, fabulous service and a stretch of white beach near Playa del Carmen. The only drawback of remote location is the non-road leading to it ( actually a few miles of something that may someday become a road, through brambles and brush and what looks like construction leftovers. It twists and turns and bumps and folds and cab drivers appreciate the big tips they garner from grateful passengers who realize they have been most fortunate to find a driver who will suffer the trip. Our fellow guests are all very charming and friendly, and from every corner of the world. And did I say that the food is authentic and fabulous? Lonely Rivers has always loved a beach vacation...ah the SEA!!

Thank you Melissa and Mike for choosing to have a sweet and intimate beach wedding at the HUGE resort up the well paved and civilized highway. None of us counted on the hundreds of bikini clad sunworshippers who lined up snapping pictures and taking videos as you came down the beach aisle... These folks stood witness to your vows along with the sixteen invited guests...and will no doubt recall vividly the delightfully personal event...May you enjoy many wonderful memories in your long and happy future!

Howd-ya-do, Howd-ya-do,Howd-ya-do

2009-01-10T08:00:00.000-08:00

As a young wife and mother, Lonely Rivers was not adventurous in the kitchen. She was married to a regular meat and potatoes guy. Three meals on the table seven, twelve, and six. No pasta, no sauces, no rice, fish, seafood, or puddings. No fancy salads. Russian dressing striped over iceberg lettuce the way his mother did it. No mayonnaise and no foo foo oils or vinegars. No cake. Ever. She dreamed of a Steamy Vivaldi pasta pot in any of the Four Seasons.
After the funeral she made a chocolate cake. The way her mother did.
It didn't taste that good.

Hey There Georgie Girl!

2009-01-03T18:39:00.000-08:00

Today being Saturday, I will begin telling you about my Saturday gig.

As I was trying to get used to the idea of of retiring, I quickly realized that I would have to eaaaase into it (retirement). My career has spanned almost four decades..and I just couldn't imagine not going to work every single day. So, I got a Saturday job - which meant that I now work six days a week instead of five. I realize this does not sound or look like retirement.

However, the part time job, it turns out, is really fun!
Since April, Lonely Rivers has been spending her Saturdays as a "shop girl" in a consignment store for lovely larger ladies. The owner of said shop is a smart businesswoman with a conscience who sets the stage for inexpensive fashion transformation. She takes in flattering, gently worn, stylish clothes, and (re)sells them at reasonable prices. Now here's the fun part - I can be the transformer! I get to encourage and help our customers put together fabulous outfits for every occasion. I love it when they leave the store feeling great about themselves, their bargains, and looking super sassy! It is so much fun!

Working six days a week has not yet caused retirement...but it has let me know that I can find great joy in doing something that is 100% unlike my day job!

This is our Once A Year Day!

2009-01-02T13:03:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!
There are so many reasons to be hopeful today – not the least being the new administration to be come official in a few short weeks. We end our year looking over our past, and begin anew with vision and determination. We eat right, exercise, floss and remember to send birthday cards. We start over – fresh and ready. And at the moment, the dow is up!
A New Year’s Day party at a friend’s home was the evidence – everyone buzzing with ideas for the economy, healthcare, and peace. And the food table laden with dips, fats and sugar went untouched while the vegetables disappeared. We are all getting fit for the new deal.
I am full of good intentions! The snow events and the isolation of the holiday weeks have begun to wear on me and I am ready to return to work and human face to face interaction on a regular basis. I have read a bazillion blogs and I am grateful to all of the funny, smart people who have been my company over the past couple of weeks. I love reading your thoughts, ideas and stories…had no idea there was such a community out there!

A Hazy Shade of Winter

2008-12-26T19:21:00.000-08:00

The metro driver announced he would go no further, pulled to a stop and wished them all a happy holiday. Just like that. Powerless and without recourse, she stepped into the blizzard, eighteen frigid blocks from home. Snowbanks, sidewalks, yards and street merged recklessly and disappeared altogether as she trudged on, balancing precariously in the rutted and iced tire tracks. Blinded by sideways snow, she cursed the weather, the driver, her shallow breath and her waning stamina. Lawrence of Arabia gone Zhivago, Match Girl gone Engine that Could and Miles to go before I sleep. A few years ago, maybe a few minutes ago, a winter trek seemed an invigorating challenge, a magical adventure. Today in her sixties, she thought first of dying for trying, and finally ....... the Theme from Rocky!

When I'm Worried and I Can't Sleep......

2008-12-23T07:35:00.000-08:00

There had been talk about not decorating this year. No one will be visiting, no Christmas Tree. No one will be here, why bother? The girl raised her eyebrows. "But you will be here!" she said. "Who is the only person who has been present at every single Christmas of your life? Don't you deserve a Christmas Tree?" She smiles at the memory of the conversation and the strength of that girl, her beautiful, strong, smart daughter. Snowed in, alone, she wanders from room to room, taking quiet pleasure in the lights, the ornaments,the tree.

Sha Boom Sha Boom

2008-12-22T10:41:00.000-08:00

She met him on her first day of college. He was a tall enough upperclassman. A smart enough fraternity guy. A conservative in hippyland. She typed his papers, ironed his shirts. He watched football. She read books. She didn't know she could dream.

Only The Lonely

2008-12-20T17:04:00.000-08:00

Her eight year old cheeks burned with humiliation as the tiny wooden horse carts revolved on their track carrying her and five chunky toddlers each seatbelted into their own carts in a never ending circle. Her parents, standing nearby, tried to know whether to wave or just not notice while toddler parents gazed, gooed, cheered and snapped pictures for scrapbooks and grandma. She stared down at the fake reins in her hands, the too small seatbelt at her sides, unwilling, unable to meet their kind and troubled eyes. The baby ride continued traveling in agonizingly slow circles. Only child, only parents, only carnival in town.

Pardon Me Boys

2008-11-28T20:38:00.000-08:00

They lived in a mansion on Lake Ontario. A cold drafty, underfurnished, stately "summer place" with four fireplaces, a butler's kitchen and a second story veranda over the water. The driveway was a quarter of a mile long. He was a very sweet man. She didn't know she should feel lucky to have found him. He filled the house with expensive Christmas gifts from well known stores. She could have seemed more grateful. She could have known there would only be so many Christmases. She could have smiled on his extravagance, wrapped her arms around him and said the right thing. What ever that was.

Over The River

2008-11-27T11:21:00.000-08:00

Through the woods to bran muffins and sparkling crystal water glasses, "spills don't matter" see-through-plastic over white linen. Flawlessly smooth cylinder cranberries on a saucer or the chunky sort-of -sour homemade ones in cutglass handed down from ancestors. You choose. Grandchildren most welcome. Dwight Eisenhower courtesy Cloverine Salve presided regally over Grandmother's perfect Thanksgiving table.

Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard

2008-11-25T06:45:00.000-08:00

When she was eleven she was second in line for the playground drinking fountain. In front of her, Michael Alter leaned forward to get a drink. She loved Michael Alter, worshipped at the Michael Alter daily. She moved closer, heart pounding, focused only on the red and black plaid of his twelve year old back. The bell rang. End of recess. There was jostling and shoving. She felt herself propelled forward. Her face disappeared deep into the checkered wool of Michael Alter's back. Be still my heart. In slow, slow motion, Michael Alter's handsome face slammed into the metal spigot. There was blood.

Ain't That A Shame

2008-11-24T20:45:00.000-08:00

We moved to a little bungalow on Baker Avenue and we met the nice single lady next door. It turned out she had a lover. He was old, had a big car and a fat ass. He came each night and left by seven in the morning. It turned out that he was someone my parents knew...because he was married to one of their friends. So we kept our shades closed on that side of the house.. and the nice lady never ever met our eyes. And my parents only whispered as if they were ashamed of themselves for knowing.

The Ants Go Marching

2008-11-23T21:50:00.000-08:00

Connie was sly and sarcastic and mean. She considered herself an in-tel-lec-tual... her parents were en-gin-eers and lived in a messy house in the best part of town. She had an older sister Victoria who was a certified genius, and a big slobbery dog. She was a Unitarian, maybe the first Unitarian. Her house was lit-er-ary. The rest of us were ig-nor- ants.

One Is The Loneliest Number

2008-11-15T09:49:00.000-08:00

Fat Girls Playing Basketball..

On the brink of Junior High the family moved to a flat in new, big city. From her window she could see the driveway basketball court and the two fat girls shooting hoops. She went outside and smiled across the street. The two fat girls played in their driveway for seven more years - never smiling back, not even once.