Da Count-Lime and Lecram and Lisa in Da House

I haven't posted in well over a year, in blog years that's a small eternity.  About a month ago, Susie asked me to come back.  Life has been a little bit of a wild ride since then, 99% good stuff but it's kept me hopping.  Then I got a call from my old pal Lecram Sinun saying he was going to be traveling across the continent to my coast and asking if I might have some time to get together.  You're damn right I would have some time!

First Jimmy and Janita met for drinks at a local jazz club. They have an 11 year history and Janita was glad to meet her good pal Jimmy who cheered her on  and even named her when she was first born.  Eleven years, how the hell is that even possible?  Lecram's comment about meeting bloggy buddies is each one comes across as themselves on their blogs and then when we meet they are just more obviously...themselves.  I have to say that holds true for me too.  Meeting Lecram was no different.  No surprises in his persona, just meeting a beloved old pal face-to-face for the first time.  It's great fun to finally be able to look someone in the eye, see mannerisms, hear a voice, and feel it all come together to finally flesh out a person fully and to realize it all adds up to everything you expected and more.  Starting out with a level of comfort and familiarity makes it so easy to dive in without any real hesitance.  Lecram is one of those deeply reflective people too so reading his blog for the past decade or more and having a strong sense of who he is made the ability to connect in person even easier.  The conversation flowed effortlessly, so much so I didn't realize we'd all be cleaned up around at the end of the evening and were those patrons...the ones who close a place down....until he pointed it out.






The next morning Lisa and Lecram returned for a tour of local cemeteries, because I am just that exciting a host and my hometown is just that thrilling a place that people are dying to come here. (Ba-dum-DUM)  Truth be told, Lecram and I share a certain affection for the peace and the craftsmanship and history cemeteries contain.  Not a lot of people dig that so of course we had to celebrate our strange attraction to them with a little tour. Here he was greeting the town's founding fathers.

Lisa graciously provided paparazzi services upon request when we found a setting we liked either in the graveyards or between the three we visited. Yes, I took them to three different cemeteries in town.  Listen, if you want to go throw your money away at the casino, be my guest.  Lecram and I prefer dead people.  Don't judge.











We got Lisa in on the action when we found a nice big headstone to use as a tripod....either that or it was one of the zombies we found lurking among the graves. (insert maniacal cackle here). She was such a great sport not only about bringing Lecram out to my neck of the woods but in staging some of our shots and she was a lovely person to meet as well, insightful, interesting, and open to wherever the ride took us.

 After a bit of discussion we agreed we share a preference for the very old, very simple headstones as opposed to the obelisks which seem to be demanding we pay attention to them.  I think they seem to say, "I'm dead but still potent!" Which seems a silly and futile argument when you're worm food.

On the way back to the car I asked if they were familiar with the PA phenomenon that is Wawa?  They were not so I hipped them to it.  After having a yummy bit to eat at a far groovier local mom and pop establishment Wawa was anti-climactic at best but they could put a marker on their travelogue bingo card.  It's an important PA ritual.  Next visit (and I hope there is a next one, both here and on the west coast) we'll cover other important PA sites and rituals like fire hall wedding receptions.





From there we hit the grocery store to get ingredients for a curry fest at Chez Lime.  After years of trading food posts and some private exchanges about food which got us both sweating like we'd just eaten a hot curry it was obvious this had to happen. Lecram prepared a Malay Hot Chili Curry #1 with four, count 'em, four serrano peppers. (Four is hot, but 5 or six is local hot) I was anxious to enjoy my first Malay curry. Lecram is an awesome cook and excellent guide to a new recipe and way of making a different kind of curry. It was a joy to be at his elbow as he showed me all the ways to make this authentic. And man did it smell and taste fabulous. I love me a good Trini or Indian curry.  I make and enjoy a Kenyan curry (more later).  I like Thai curry. I was delighted to taste Lecram's Malay curry, which was wonderfully distinctive from all the rest.

While Hot Chili Curry #1 sat on a back burner doing its thing it was time for me to get started on my pot. I made Kenyan curried venison because Lecram expressed a great longing for venison.  I actually learned this dish from a Kenyan friend about 20 years ago after she expressed a great longing for venison and I shared some of our bounty with her. I also fried up some roti and made Kenyan ugali to go with the stew.  A lovely bottle of Pinot Noir from Lecram complemented it all well.

 Lecram, Lisa, and I filled our bellies but for me at least I felt my heart and soul filling up.  With now adult children working on all different schedules and having their own busy social lives, and my new job (more about that later) often putting me on an opposite shift from Mr. Lime there are darn few family meals here any more and even less frequent are times in the kitchen with people I care about.  This day gave me the joy of sharing cooking time with a dear old friend and making a new friend.  I got to stand at  Lecram's elbow and learn his tips and tricks for making a proper Malay curry. I had a chance to prepare a couple dishes for some hungry pals who were anxious to enjoy them.  We all sat together trading stories, sipping wine, sopping up two different curry gravies with fresh roti and ugali.  (Oh and if there is any doubt, Malay curry and Kenyan curry go reeeeeeally well together even though the flavor profiles are noticeably different.  Super yum!) Sharing this culinary time made me realize how deeply I've missed having appreciative people to cook for and with.  It fed a long felt hunger to spend kitchen time with other people who derive joy from preparing and sharing food together.

Every moment together felt like a special gift to me.  I shared how when I first stumbled across Lecram's blog I felt unworthy to even comment because I was so blown away by his creativity and talent, that when he "noticed" and commented warmly on my blog I felt as if the exalted artist had blessed me with some tiny bit of esteem.  We all had a good chuckle over that. Though I will always have tremendous admiration for Lecram's talent and ability to make things happen and sustain himself as he continues to produce works, over the years we became friends and this time just confirmed that.

Way back up in that picture where Lecram is holding up four fingers there is a plaque that hangs over the door in the background.  It hung over my grandmother's kitchen door and I claimed it when she passed.  It is the girl scout motto, "Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver.  The other, gold."  It was pure joy to finally meet my old friend face to face and to make a new friend in Lisa.  Our time together filled my soul, heart, and belly to bursting! Thank you, Marcel, for letting me know you'd be passing this way.  Thank you, Lisa, for being so graciously willing to chauffeur and stage shots.

As we chatted we spoke of the power of blogging to help us form connections all over the world and the greater depth and intimacy if promoted when compared to Facebook or Twitter.  It's been a long absence and I don't know how regularly I'll post here but it's good to be back.  I'm hoping to keep up with the old friends who also seem to miss the circles we had here, and who knows what new friends wait to be made...Well, there are some stories from 3-D life, we'll see if they make the blog...

Cheers!

Radiant Threads

Last May I joined a yoga teacher training program.  I had only been practicing yoga for about a year and a half at that point.  There were, and still are, many poses which I was unable to do at all.  Part of me thought I had no business thinking I could be a teacher.  Fortunately, my studio is full of teachers who believe in empowering their students and who are faithful to impart the idea that yoga is not a destination in which both feet are behind your ears, rather it's a journey which, though partially physical, is largely between the ears.  As the Yoga Sutras tell us, the purpose of yoga is to calm the fluctuations of the mind, to quiet the chatter, to embrace stillness.  All our movement and sweat and physical effort is really to tame the mind and prepare us to physically endure meditation long enough to find the stillness.

Still I had doubts.  I was blessed to have people I respected tell me that I definitely had something to offer in this realm.  I had little comments here and there from fellow students which made me dare.  I had a therapist who, after three years of sitting quietly and neutrally when I expressed various things, blurted out emphatically, "I don't think there is any question that you should do this."  I asked where the carefully neutral therapist went and why she would so strongly advocate for this particular path.  She said it was a no-brainer because yoga had proven enormously beneficial to me physically and emotionally and when I expressed the possibility of joining the teacher training program it was the first time in three years I had said I was going to make a major investment of time and money in something just for me.  She had a point.

Thus, I plunked down my deposit on the last day they would be accepted.  I bought a dozen books.  I rolled up my mat and prepared for my first weekend of two ten hour days back to back spent listening to lectures, engaging in a physical practice and, cramming my brain full of anatomy, philosophy, and the names of ten other women, only a couple of whom I knew.

It would be fair to say our group of eleven ended that first weekend wondering just exactly what the hell we had gotten ourselves into.  And already personalities were emerging.  We had the shy, the sassy, the seasoned, the serene, and the silly.  Our age range spans four decades. Our cultures are diverse.  Most of us were fairly local but a couple came from considerable distance.

Over the months there were some major life transitions experienced by members of our group.  One made a move of over a hundred miles right at the time when we needed to begin teaching community classes.  She had to scramble to find a new studio in which to practice and which would provide space for that aspect of her training.  One broke an engagement.  One culminated hers in marriage.  One had a husband and child move to a different state in order to separate her child from a very destructive situation.  One buried an only child.  When one member rejoiced or mourned the entire group stood with her.

As the months passed and trust grew, histories were revealed.  Wounds were exposed, sometimes for the first time. Stories one might never have expected bubbled to the surface.  Sometimes they filled gently and floated aloft like a balloon as the person holding the history realized she could let go, that it no longer had power over her.  Sometimes the stories erupted like lava from the belly of the earth. When the mountain trembled and a woman feared it might destroy her there was a circle of support to provide safety.

Our group of eleven went from being acquaintances to being sisters. We shared laughter, tears, joy, frustration, exhaustion, delight, wonder, anger, discovery, insight, and boredom.  In the last weeks we all wondered how we might do on our final exam.  We spent one study session not so much studying as reminiscing over the last ten months, quelling anxiety, and laughing our asses off.  This past Saturday we took our exam.

Sunday morning we received the news that we had all passed with A's. Sunday afternoon we gathered for a simple graduation ceremony in which our head teacher spoke to each of us about what she respected and appreciated most in each of us.  She then handed us a small lit candle and our diploma.  During the party immediately following, the student who is an Indian woman presented each of us with a saree she had chosen especially for us.  She said, "We read the Yoga Sutras for our training.  Sutra means thread.  These sarees represent the beautiful threads of our friendships.  When you look at them remember how much I love you and all the love we have shared and will continue to share no matter where life carries us."

And then we shed a few more tears and hugs and laughter as she wrapped us up in her love just before we prepare to go out and share our light.

Friday 55 & Da Count-RIP G-man

FRIDAY 55X2  

(Two because sometimes it's necessary)

You are loyalty and kindness personified, a devoted dad, a fabulous cook, an avid fisherman, the kickass host of Friday 55, Mr Knowitall in the best sense, a lover of all things Michigan and Harley Davidson, the glue in any circle of friends, the love who helped his friends smile in the darkest of times.

I was honored by your friendship, blessed by your kindness, cheered by your humor, encouraged by your patience, exhorted by your gentle wisdom. I already miss your laugh and the way you said my nickname.  I'll never forget your smile, your eyes, or your hug.  Rest in peace, ride on in glory. Love, Trini.

DA COUNT

 I cannot believe he is gone.  I am gutted.  We first became acquainted when he began blogging and I commented in a case of mistaken identity.  I thought he was someone else I knew and had finally started a blog.  We emailed back and forth a couple times before I realized I was totally mistaken.  It could have been completely awkward but Galen thought it was hilarious and was so gracious.  We became fast friends....for real.  We had fun trading trivia.  He tried to trip me up on cultural references from his own childhood and was surprised that I could keep up.  He said I was an old soul and he forgot to grow up was why we got along so well in spite of the age difference.  

We talked about how much fun it would be to meet but never much thought it might happen since I had no cause to go to Michigan and he had no cause to come to Pennsylvania.  In 2007 I went to Texas for a wedding and noticed several of the flights had layovers in Detroit.  I thought, "Hey, this could happen!"  Respective work schedules conspired against being able to spend a day or two there but I planned a layover of several hours when Galen and Signgurl said they could manage to get to Metro for a quick visit.  Bonus!  I'd get to meet both of them.  They brought Roxi Moon and Frogger along for the ride.  The four of us had a little party in some area where non-passengers could go and where I wouldn't have to go through security again.  Signgurl had awesome food for us as we all chatted away.  Galen sat there grinning ear to ear the whole time.  When it was time to go he wrapped me up in the biggest hug of my life.  Somewhere there is a picture of that moment but sadly I can't find it.

We shared confidences.  I was honored that he'd trust me with some of his deep hurts.  I was blessed that he helped me bear some of mine.  He certainly helped me endure the year Calypso was sick.  He always wanted to know how my kids were and often talked of his own.  He'd share about his lifelong friends and his concerns for them.  He  didn't describe himself as such but I could tell he was the driving force behind a lot of social activity whether it was among friends, family, or coworkers. He was a big clown but he was also incredibly intelligent.  He was just too humble to toot his own horn though he'd be happy to fart the alphabet for you if you asked. He had purchased a fishing cabin within the last year and since giving up season tickets for U of Michigan had taken great joy in spending weekends there with friends or his son.  He told me a few times that retirement was beginning to look attractive.  I knew he loved his job and worked hard at it.  I also knew he was deserving of some leisure after his own terrifying health scare a couple years ago and a lifetime of hard work.  I anticipated a happy retirement for him spent fishing and riding his Harley.  Sadly, his great big heart gave out at work this week.  What I wouldn't give for it to still beat strong in his chest and to share another hug.

G-man, I am so grateful you were my friend.  Rest in well-earned peace, ride on in glory.  Love you always, Trini.

Life Moves Pretty Fast....

So a lot has been going on in the last month or so that has been keeping me from the blog.  Let me explain...no there is too much...let me sum up.  First, Calypso turned 21.  After a family dinner during which a pitcher of sangria was enjoyed by all except Isaac there was a pub crawl.  Further details of the evening beyond letting you all know I was the designated driver for later festivities I am prohibited from sharing.  So as not to cramp the celebrant's style I dropped her off with older sister and a friend telling them to call me when they were done.  I also told them I'd be picking them up in the celebrant's car not my own so they may want to consider the lingering effects of vomit on car upholstery before embarking for the ride home.  I ain't no dummy.










Then there was the high school graduation of Isaac.  We thought it might never arrive, not because of any academic deficiency on his part but due to delayed dates after a harsh winter with an abundance of snow days.  Arrive it did and there was much gladness.
















Then a couple weeks later there was an official East Coast meeting of The Freaks in the Box Club (aka blogger meet-up) during which Calypso was introduced to her very first freaks in the box and inducted into the club.  Susie, her hubby Ratburn, AndyT13, and his lovely wife, along with Calypso and myself all converged on New Brunswick, NJ to watch Talented Freak Progeny and many others compete in a west coast swing dance competition.  A good time was had by all and Calypso seemed to fit in well with the Freaks.  It may have helped that she found my blog a couple months ago and has excavated it heavily.  Her extensive research into the care and feeding of Freaks in the Box permitted for effective communication with such.


Other goings on have included expansion of the bird sanctuary that is our backyard, continued slow work on the bathroom, undertaking a decrapification process for Chez Lime, yoga teacher training weekends, a week-long vacation in Maryland, and a trip to Fox Chase Cancer Center wherein two out of three medical tests confirm I have officially been cancer-free for a year.  Yay!!!! The final test is to be performed next month after another lovely round of dietary purgatory during which the list of what I may eat is considerably shorter than what I may not eat.  This will take place just after we move Diana to Georgia.  Oh, and I hope to find a new job and visit Boston as well before summer is through.  Busy, busy, busy!

Da Count-Friday 55

FRIDAY 55

The dinosaurs have died.

The first written record appears.

Rome falls.

The New World is discovered.

The colonies win independence.

Production lines begin.

The sun begins to set on the British Empire.

Nuclear bombs are used in war.

A man walks on the moon.

 

It's the end of an era,

G-man is passing the torch.

DA COUNT

It's been quite a while since I have regularly participated in Friday 55, in which players write a story or poem in 55 words.  Any regular reader here though knows I contributed most weeks for a long time.  Once upon a time, before G-man hosted the Friday 55, Susie was the host.  About seven years ago she passed that responsibility to G-man, who has been the host with the most from coast to coast all this time.  He has decided it is time to pass the torch on to some new hosts.

I want to take this week to thank G-man for being a great host.  He wrote some hilarious 55s over the years and not a few poignant ones.  He consistently turned out something fun to read and graciously visited every single participant each week.  He cultivated a creative corner of the blogosphere that meant a lot to me.  Although I wrote poetry for years before I blogged I kept it very private, believing I had no real skill.  When Susie, began Friday 55 I started in the original intent which was to create a complete story in 55 words.  I eventually found I liked a more poetic form for many of my compositions.  When G-man began hosting he built the audience quickly and I gained a lot of positive feedback which encouraged me to believe I wasn't a terrible poet.  Though I have no delusions of literary genius it has been fun to find a place to share my works where they are enjoyed.  I gained confidence in my writing even as I explored different concepts.  Thanks again, G-man for the years of fun.

Casting Off

Lines straining between dock and boat,
my heart aches to keep you tethered to my side of the shore.
Do not go where I cannot yet follow.
I am not ready.
My breathing heaves in heavy sobs.

Plastic tubes and wires lash you to this world,
your body tenses against the artificial rhythms
You are ready and I must learn to be.
Your breath mechanically forced in 
then out.

I can not change your destination,
cannot join you for the full journey.
I can only send you gently on your way.
We are ready.
I inhale memories,
wisdom,
peace....
exhale sighing,
each breath 
a breeze
to propel you
safely,
lovingly
to the other shore.

Feelin' Groovy

My dad and stepmom are off on a cruise floating through the Panama Canal.  They also subscribe to the Philly Pops.  Unfortunately for them but fortunately for me the most recent concert coincided with their cruise.  I was offered the tickets, complete with prepaid parking.  Did I mention the concert was to celebrate the works of Simon and Garfunkel, one of my favorites?  Yeah, I had to think about that for a nanosecond before saying, "YES!"

The original plan was for me to take Mr. Lime.  He was willing but not terribly enthused.  Then he decided to re-plumb the entire house this weekend...when the concert was scheduled.  I needed another date so I asked my dear pal Gwen.  She needed perhaps two nanoseconds to make her decision because she had to factor in care for a preschool-aged child and her spouse's schedule but since she has a sense of fun which celebrates 60s folk duos over PEX plumbing pipes she ultimately accepted the invitation.

I spent Saturday night at her house and a good time was had by all.  Sunday after lunch we were off to Philly.  We arrived, found the parking and the Kimmel Center easily and were ushered to our seats.  There was a folk duo who provided vocals for many of the songs and captured the spirit of Simon and Garfunkel nicely.  There was a lady a row ahead of us providing great entertainment value in that her head was bobbing vigorously as she was knitting furiously. I never expected to see that.  Behind the orchestra in a balcony there was another attendee who was swaying with great enthusiasm.  She was also fun to watch.  In the top tier was one woman who was acting like she had never left the 60s.  We were a little afraid she was going to fly over the railing. 

We were having as much fun watching the other concert-goers as we were enjoying the music.  Then intermission rolled around.  We stood up to stretch our legs and two women behind us chided, "Do you young girls even have any idea what you're listening to here, what's going on here?"  Gwen and I looked at each other and laughed before we told the ladies that although S & G's first album for Columbia Records had been released before we were born we've each been fans since we were children and we had been singing every word of every song played.  Nonetheless, given the ever-expanding swath of undyed salt encroaching on my previously pepper locks I was amused to be referred to as "young girl."  The ladies were relieved when we said we swiped our parents' vinyl as opposed to our grandparents' so everybody was happy.

The trip home was....less relaxing....We left the city around 7pm.  The trip back to Gwen's should have taken about 90 minutes.  Instead it took three and a half hours...thanks to the most recent winter storm.  I would have had another "90 minutes" back to my house from hers in more storm, later at night.  Thank you, no.  It took me another nanosecond to accept the invitation to stay a second, unplanned night at go to work from her house.  I figured recycling socks and underwear was preferable to a horrible wreck at worst or several more hours on the road at best.

The best surprise from staying an extra night was how pleasant getting ready for work on Monday morning can be when there it involves the following:

• a 2 hour delay so I can sleep in a bit
• waking up to my BFF packing my lunch and making my breakfast
• having her husband clean the snow off my car and ask for my keys so he can start it up and get it warm for me 

Wow....just wow.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.  I even had a hot shower without having to chase anyone out of the bathroom.  It was all disorienting in the most relaxing way.  It got better.  The commute from my house involves two highways under construction and full of angry lunatics.  The commute from Gwen's house, though no shorter than my regular drive, involved two roads that meandered along a river flanked by snow covered trees on a blue sky morning.  It was lovely....and not a lunatic was to be found.  I had no idea it was possible to spend 45-60 minutes in the car going to work and not arrive with a BP approaching stroke range. 

I asked Gwen if I could move in.  Though Gwen may be understandably hesitant because their house is small and their preschooler wound up in their bed so I could have hers I think her wee one gave the answer when Gwen shared what she said during the ride home from preschool.

Getting home with her this afternoon, she asked if Auntie Michelle would be here. I said no. She asked why, so I told her that Auntie went home to be with her family. She, looking thoughtful and confused said, "But we are Auntie Michelle's family tooooo!"

Good music, good friends, good words.....yep, I'm feelin' groovy.

Da Count-Happy Thanksgivukkah!

Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday because the focus is on being together with loved ones and considering gratitude rather than how much stuff can we buy.  It's quieter and more contemplative.  The older I get the more I like that.  This year all my children are living at home once again and for the second year we actually won't be headed down to the big extended family holiday.  I'll miss my aunts, uncles, and cousins but we also have the chance to take things at our preferred speed.

Though we are not Jewish we have some friends with whom we have frequently celebrated Hannukkah.  It's always been a rich and lovely time together.  Often even when we are not together our family lights a menorah and enjoys a meal of latkes at least one night of the eight.

Today is a once in a lifetime convergence of Thanksgiving and the First Night of Hanukkah.  I think the next convergence will be in something like 10,000 years or something.  What's a millennia here or there?

My friends, you all know it's been a hell of a year with some intensely scary times.  It's also been a year of blessings.  I've found support in new places from new people.  I've been able to retain supportive ties from old friends in old places.  I've seen a new community for myself assembled from such divergent groups of people I never could have imagined it.  I received a new level of support and love from two people in my life who I long ago stopped expecting it from.  It's unlikely I'd have seen it all so clearly without the great struggle which necessitated such help.  So for that I give thanks.

On this once in a lifetime night though I think one of the First Night blessings sums up the biggest count-worthy thing of all, one for which we can all give thanks.

Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam shehecheyanu v'kiyimanu v'higi'anu laz'man hazeh. (Amein)

Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe, who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season. Amen.

My friends, I count you among those whom God has used to sustain me and I give thanks for you.  May you each be blessed tonight and all nights for the love you have given.

Trying to Cure the Crankies

It's been a helluva week.  That last post is the tip of the iceberg.  Yes, even with its vast detail of my work activities, it's just a hint.  Work has been thoroughly frustrating.  I could rant at length but I'm trying to get out of rant mode.

More aggravating than being at work and dealing with the fools determined to send the school district crashing into the iceberg like the Titanic, is sitting at home unable to do much more than alternate ice bags and heat packs on my lower back and sacroiliac. It's been such a joy what with the intense pain every damn time I try to move and not being able to get outside in the gorgeous fall weather to enjoy a hike....or even just stay in my own back yard and do some yoga to help myself chill the heck out...or hell, just SIT and not feel like my lumbar spine is going to erupt.  Unrelenting pain is just such a joy.

I'm not a happy girl this week.  I'm throwing myself quite the pity party, aren't I?  Wah wah wah...

Ok, so I'll share what I was doing last weekend because it was a pretty swell time for the most part.  Last weekend I was busy turning 45.  Woohoo!  My dear pal, Gwennie, had reserved two spots for us, on my actual birthday, at a chocolate cooking class at some wellness center she goes to.  I was admittedly just a teeny bit suspect at the venue for such decadence but she knows me well enough to know I can't resist chocolate.

Last Saturday we were off to class.  After introductions it was explained that all the recipes were designed to be gluten free and mostly dairy free as well as organic and other forms of nutritional goodness that generally translate into food being less than fabulous.  I looked over the packet of recipes and found avocado figuring prominently in a couple of recipes.  Avocado is not my favorite.  There were chocolate mint smoothies with spinach.  Now I love spinach...but in smoothies?  I dunno.

After some briefing on the ingredients we were split into teams of two to produce various recipes.  At the end of the morning we'd all taste each other's handiwork.  Since it was my birthday it was determined that Gwen and I should make the cake recipe.  They were also kind enough to adapt one of the smoothie recipes to substitute avocado and apple for the banana since banana has this habit of making my tongue swell until I can't breathe.  It was very thoughtful of them not to want me dead.

Now you have to understand Gwen and me.  She and I are very different in many ways.  One venue in which this is quite evident is the kitchen.   She has participated in my annual Christmas cookie insanity and has alternated between calling me the Cookie Nazi and the Cookie Goddess.  I'm not a Nazi or a Goddess but there is some need for efficiency when producing between 75-100 dozen cookies within 2 or 3 days.  Also, with regard to the Christmas cookies, I am making recipes that are family favorites so I don't muck around with the ingredients.  I know what works.  Other recipes I muck with, not my cookies.  Gwen, on the other hand figures as long as most of the listed ingredients wind up in the same bowl and get mixed together it's all good. 

We were to bake a cake together, using a new recipe with far from traditional ingredients, after being told to halve the recipe as it was printed.  Ladies and gentlemen of the blogosphere, I submit to you, this is the sort of thing that could further cement our love or end the relationship.  Fortunately we were able to breathe and laugh at each other through this particular challenge.  Imagine if you will, me measuring the dry ingredients into one bowl while Gwen measured the wet into another....well measured the original amounts then fished half of the partially mixed wet ingredients out since we were supposed to halve the recipe.  She's got degrees in psychology.  I suspect she may have been setting me up to see how well I coped with this on turf other than my own.  I went to the microwave to heat some water is how I coped. 

Once we got the batter all mixed it became apparent that we had still managed to get twice the amount of fats into the otherwise halved recipe.  I wondered how this recipe was going to turn out since it was made with some bizarre flour I've never used before and the proportions were off.  Into the oven it went while we made the filling and the frosting.  Oh, and I licked all the bowls.  Gwen loves me and it was my birthday so she said I got the beaters and scrapers all to myself if I wanted.  She is indulgent of what child-like behavior I cling to. 

I indulged her own child-like glee in a high-tech ionizing squirt bottle that allegedly makes water a disinfectant. She was enamored of the gadget so I found things for her to spritz and wipe up.  She was happy. The place was clean.  The teacher was happy.  The cake needed to be removed from its pan but was sticking.  She asked what to do.  I said let it cool more and her inner child was displeased by having to wait.  When a few more minutes passed and it turned out of the pan with ease she said, "I told you all that was needed was a little patience."  I almost spritzed her but instead we laughed at our respective kitchen personalities.

Finally it was time to taste everything.  I have to tell you I was truly surprised in the best way.  the cake was yummy and I would not have thought it was made from anything strange.  There was an equally tasty cookie recipe.  The smoothie, although it was kind of a sickening shade of drab green, was one I would make again.  There was fudge that was edible but not impressive to me.  The recipe that was truly stunning was a chocolate "pudding."  Instead of milk thickened by cooking it was made with pureed avocado.  It was one of the recipes I found revolting to read but I have to say...it was DELICIOUS!  Color me pleasantly surprised.

Since we started with dessert, Gwen and I followed with a lunch of veggies at a cute little place nearby.  Then I went home and was welcomed by Mr. Lime, the Limelets, and a house ready for more birthday celebration.  The table had been set with the nice china.  Diana surprised me with my favorite wine and a birthday hat I was required to wear.  Calypso made a fabulous veggie lasagna and chocolate chip cake (of the traditional variety).  Mr. Lime and Isaac had exchanged the old fridge in the basement with the one formerly in the kitchen as I had been asking for some time since the door shelves kept falling off the kitchen fridge unless the door was opened VERY carefully, in spite of significant reinforcement by duct tape. (We are classy folks here.)

It was a happy day with gorgeous weather, good food, and loving friends and family.  I was feeling the love and basking in the glow. For the drive home I took the scenic side roads to enjoy the fall foliage and enjoy some quiet time.  I'm pretty sure Hugh Jackman and I were sending each other good vibes on our shared birthday too.

And it was the 8th anniversary of this blog.  I never imagined where this thing would go 8 years ago.  I reflected on the amazing friends I've been blessed with both in 3-D life and through this crazy little world of ours, friends who carried me through some dark days over those 8 years.  It was a very good day all the way around and I was grateful.

Got My Dye On

 I'm a bit behind in both getting around to visit you all and in posting myself.  Here though is some of what's been keeping me busy.  Last weekend I broke out the dyes and shirts.  I wound up making over two dozen shirts.  I have some other stuff I want to get done as well but that took me two days. 





 This is what motivated me to get dyeing.  It's a pattern designed to approximate the Trinidadian flag.  I had a specific request for it from Van over at Furiousball.  He has run several marathons in order to raise both awareness and money for Epilepsy research and for Leukemia and Lymphoma research.  He has run to honor his wife Abbe, who has epilepsy (and who is amazing for many reasons but not the least of which is that she herself ran a half marathon a day after having a severe seizure) a cousin fighting leukemia, other friends fighting cancer, and in memory of my own Aunt who lost her battle with Lymphoma.  He's running another marathon soon and asked me to make a tie dye incorporating the Trini flag somehow to wear it during the race as a way to show support for me since I had my own fight with cancer (and it still feels bizarre to type that out).  I was touched by his gesture.  If any of you are able and willing to donate to his support raising for Epilepsy and Cancer research I'd be grateful if you'd pay him a visit here to do so.  If you're not able to at this time, just a word of encouragement in his training might be appreciated.

In addition to making Van's shirt I played around with some new colors I found.  One of the reasons I hadn't dyed in a long time was I had run out of some important colors and needed to find a new place to get them.  I could have ordered the  dyes online but I was kind of appalled by the shipping charges for small and very lightweight jars.  Anyway, I rather like how this shirt turned out with two shades each of purples and pinks.











This is one of several I did in some earth tones I picked up.  I wasn't sure I was too crazy with the colors themselves but some other people saw the results in their sizes and begged for some new shirts.














The funny thing is they both refused to wear tie dye for many years because they felt I had caused them to OD on it.  They were hardly able to wait for me to finish with these two shirts though before grabbing them up and putting them on.  As you can see, Diana was less enthused about modeling but Calypso helped get a smile out of her.

And We Are Lonelier For His Loss

God sets the lonely in families... Psalm 68:6a

Jerry, his wife, and all his kids

I've lost family members before.  I've lost friends before.  Last night I lost another.  I was awakened by a text from Mr. Lime who had gotten word while he was at an early morning race, that our beloved friend Jerry was gone.  I am stunned beyond belief.  He was 66 and generally healthy.  He was suddenly struck by a massive heart attack while out fishing with his son-in-law.  There is some comfort in knowing he was with a family member and enjoying himself and that we are told he did not suffer.  The suffering is left to his wife and step-children and their children, and we his friends (of which he had so very many).

I met Jerry in a weekly prayer meeting nineteen years ago when I had recently returned from Trinidad.  He had recently been left by his wife at the time, losing, so he thought, her three children whom he adored as if they were his own.  He had lived a hard life and he began to see the need to make some changes in his life.  His wife viewed that as rain on her parade and opted to continue a life of partying.  He was devastated.  He came to tears easily.  I was deeply saddened by my own loss of Trinidad and the fears that my relationships there would fall apart due to distance but I felt my reasons for sadness paled in comparison to his.  Still, even in his sorrow he was sensitive to mine.  

I could remember being the child who was pulled away from stability.  I encouraged Jerry not to give up on the kids he loved even though custody was obviously out of the question as their step-father.  I told him from experience it could mean the world to them to have him continue to express his love for them.  I can't take credit for his choice to do so but I was happy that he did.

Over the years our friendship deepened.  Jerry and our family came to be a part of the same close circle of five families who are friends.  I watched him move from grief to being a great encourager of others who were struggling in some way.  He had a heart for teens and was a youth group leader for our girls.  Although he was no longer involved in the youth group he reached out to our son later on.  Jerry and I continued to look out for each other.  

I think friendships begun under adverse conditions but which grow beyond that can be especially tender.  He and Mr. Lime were good friends too.  He exhorted us to be better partners to each other during times of real difficulty in our marriage.  He exhorted the other husbands in our circle of close friends as well.  His advice was given gently and often with the caution, "Learn from my mistakes."

It was with great joy that we were all able to celebrate when love came into his life again several years ago.  He remarried and was welcomed with boisterous affection into a big, loving family.  His step-children this time were already grown.  It is testament not only to their welcoming love but his character in how he loved them that his younger step-daughter asked him to escort her down the aisle along with her father.

For his 65th birthday, his wife and current step-children arranged to fly his previous step-children and their children up from Texas as a surprise "unwrappable" birthday present.  This time his tears over those children were ones of joy, that they had sustained a caring relationship all these years, that they loved him enough to want to surprise him for his special day, that his current family cared enough to include them.  A crowd of friends showed up to celebrate with him and shower him with the same love he showed all of us.  

Jerry may have had a misspent and selfish youth by his own admission but the last two decades were marked by gentle and giving love, by quiet service to those around him, by kindness and compassion that endeared him to everyone he knew.  The man who once thought he'd never be blessed with a true family found a vast and varied one pieced together in unlikely ways.  That family is utterly devastated today after his sudden death.

Jerry, I miss you more than any of these words can convey.  I will miss your smile and laugh, your kindness and compassion, your hugs and encouragement.  Mr. Lime is barely able to allow himself to think of your absence.  Our children have shed tears for you. Keep an eye on us all, if you don't mind.

Adventures in Low-Iodine Life (or Theo Take Me Away!)

As you know, the first night of the diet Calypso brought home forbidden desserts.  There have been other "fun" moments.

A few days later she brought me penne a la vodka.  Also forbidden due to the butter and cream involved, though I can have all the booze I want on this diet and may soon start drinking heavily.

I decided to keep busy by going through old magazines to get rid of.  May I just say Cooking Light is the new porn when on a restrictive diet.

The next morning I woke up in a cold sweat because I thought I'd sabotaged my treatment after dreaming of eating salty french fries topped with crumbled bacon followed by peaches covered with a very buttery streusel.  It was the yummiest nightmare I've ever had though.

Lest you think Calypso is the only family member hoping to be choked with dry matzo crackers (which are permissible to me) allow me to correct you.  During the planning stages of the menu I asked Mr. Lime and Isaac for dinner recipes they were hungry for in terms of trying to figure out whether or not they were recipes I could easily adapt.  After Mr. Lime suggested about a dozen things with dairy as the main component I asked him if he had been present during the extended instruction the doctor gave about this diet.  He admitted he had zoned out intentionally "because it was too complicated."

The tacos in question with hella good pico

Then Diana came home to visit for the weekend.  She and Isaac decided they wanted to go out to eat rather than stay home and partake in low iodine food....this after I gave them the last of the black bean tacos with pico de gallo I had made for dinner the night before...the tacos that took me ridiculous amounts of effort to prepare thus leaving me none for lunch the next day.  My darling children went to a restaurant where I could not hope to find something suitable to eat.  Then Diana came buzzing back into the house and asked for money out of MY wallet to finish paying their bill because Isaac took his wallet but not money and she had some cash but not enough and had left her debit card at home (how convenient).  Let me get this right, you're going to eat the last of the food I can safely eat, then go out to a place where I can't possibly eat, THEN ask for MY money to pay for part of it?  She nodded sheepishly.  You so owe me, kid.


This past weekend we had unexpected house guests.  They were dear friends from Trinidad we hadn't seen in many years so we welcomed the chance to see them even though the circumstances leading to their extended stay were, shall we say, less than optimal and the original hosts for them need to be flogged.  They brought along with them their own dietary restrictions in the form of a diabetic and a celiac patient.  Yes, I managed to cook tasty meals which met EVERYONE'S requirements...And then we had a 10 hour power outage so we went out to eat.  My dietary low point came when I sat with everyone at the restaurant as various table mates ate eggs, pancakes, and buttered toast.  My plate contained applesauce and fried potatoes with nothing but pepper because that's all the menu had that met my requirements.  Trust me, I read the entire menu.  NOTHING else would have been permissible.  It was depressing.

Now I've done a fair bit of complaining about food in this post but it's to set you up to understand my happiness over the one bit of dietary joy I have been able to indulge in during this period of frustration.  I mentioned before that I have found exactly one brand of chocolate bar I am allowed to enjoy because it contains no dairy and no soy lecithin.  Read your labels.  Soy lecithin is in every other freaking brand of chocolate I've looked at and I've looked at a LOT of chocolate.  Maybe there are some other brands out there but if so they aren't available in my area.

So I bought myself some bars of Theo chocolate to sustain myself for the weeks of deprivation while I prepare to nuke any remaining cancer cells and burn them into oblivion so cancer is a thing that I will hereafter refer to in the past tense.  I've had Theo before and it's yummy stuff.  I was also aware that it was non-GMO (because I don't need my chocolate to have some weird gene splicing going on and exposing me to other crazy health risks, cancer is quite enough, thanks), organic (ditto the previous comment), fair-trade (so I don't have to worry that some little kid in Africa was slaving away involuntarily rather than going to school so I can get my cacao fix), and as chocolate goes it's pretty low in sugar (so you can eat the dark varieties and tell yourself it's health food...trust me...I've read all sorts of studies about the benefits of dark chocolate).  It made me happy that an ethical and tasty product was still available during my dietary exile from the land of yum.  It made me happy enough that I left a comment on the company website telling them how much I appreciated this bit of joy their product allows me.

This is the part where they won me as a loyal customer for the rest of what I intend to be a long life.  Within a day I received separate emails from two different employees telling me how much they appreciated my message and how glad they were I was a satisfied customer.  They were personal notes which included the offer of some coupons to keep my stash supplied AND kind wishes for my well-being.   A few days later the coupons arrived, not with a form letter but with a nice old-fashioned, hand-written, personal letter. Check it out.  So Tiffany, Becca, and anyone else from Theo, if you're reading, thanks again for being an all around terrific company which provides a great product and treats its customers well.

For the sake of my friends and loyal readers here, who have seen a reference to a particular actor being covered in a particular confection innumerable times, I guess the next question is....do you guys have any pull with Hugh Jackman?  Could you convince him to show up at my house wearing some melted Theo? No?  Ok, well I'm off to savor a bit of 85% dark and some daydreams...

Da Count-Da Love

Friday was my last day at school before taking leave in order to deal with my health (hoping to have a date for surgery finally scheduled within the next couple of days).  The school year was already well under way when I began there and I was shared between two buildings.  Wherever I was, I was off in the library generally working alone, except the last few weeks when the librarians who circulated to four schools for a mere nine weeks at each one.  Those circumstances made building rapport a challenge. 

Ending my year before everyone else made me feel like I was playing hooky.  I've been a little concerned how that might be perceived.  Fortunately, one of  my principals seemed very supportive and the other, though hard to read, was not making things difficult.  I worked hard the last couple of weeks to get loose ends tied up and set some things up for next year.  And then Friday arrived...

It was strange enough jumping in the deep end five months ago and trying to catch up with everyone else.  It was weirder to be ending my year a couple of weeks before everyone else.  I felt like I was cheating on a test.  I love what I do.  I wish I could actually make a living wage at it and  not have a ridiculous commute to get there but once I am there I do love what I am doing.  In spite of the challenges of the urban setting and an appalling lack of resources I even like where I am doing it.  There will always be people clamoring to work in cushy suburban school districts where there are resources and well behaved kids with involved parents.  There are fewer folks excited about our setting, understandably so.  That doesn't reduce the need for capable, motivated people to work there.

I have been so blessed to work alongside some amazing people.  Some have helped me navigate, others have inspired me, still others have made me feel like I am part of the team.  I wrote some notes to some of the people who meant the most.  It's an urban district where we all are just trying to get through the day.  There aren't many pats on the back being passed around.  There is a lot of weariness.  There is also fear since the district has decided to furlough nearly 150 teachers without a corresponding drop in enrollment.  For whatever it's worth I want the people I respect and appreciate to know so.

The most hard-boiled teacher in the building, the one who is cowed by no one and will not suffer fools at all, let alone gladly, came up to me and whispered my name quietly with tears in her eyes.  She told me to keep fighting, I'm going to be fine, she's going to call me....and I better stop making her cry.

The two paras who have been there longer than almost anyone else in the building told me I better come back next year.  One couldn't stop giving me hugs. She said I kept her calm and the kids better look out because how was she going to find her chill now.  The other one who takes the most pride in what she does and who has helped me sort out some administrative complexities beamed when I assured her I like this school.  That I prefer it to the other school I am at, that I am anxious to come back next year.  Usually she hears that people hate being in this school.

When I spoke to my principal to make sure we had things settled for the end of the year and so I could offer some ideas for next year she listened intently and gave me encouraging feedback.  Then she looked me in the eye, smiled warmly, and told me she felt the school was lucky to have me.  I was just plain stunned by that.  I've never been observed and I am not supervised so I wasn't sure I was even on her radar.

I went to say goodbye to my favorite class, the English as a Second Language group.  When their teacher said it was my last day they had looks of horror.  When I assured them I would be back next year they cheered.  Then they started pulling candy out of their bags from a birthday party for a classmate so they could give me pieces.

Going in to the day my goal was to make sure I had things as organized and as complete as possible with some key things set in motion for next year and to make sure the people who meant something to me knew what I thought of them.  I had no expectation of anything in return or even that my absence would register.  Part of that is my wiring.  Part of it is conditioning from childhood events.  Part of it comes from the nasty way I was let go at my last job.  I found out that a number of people had things they wanted to say to me as well and that I will be missed even if it's just for the last two weeks of the year.  Laughter may be good medicine but feeling the love was quite a nice dose of something to do me good as well.

I'm grateful.

Snow Day

I can never help thinking of you on a snow day. How long ago was that snow day we shared? Nine? Ten years? You were snowed in alone, missing your family. Mine was out playing in the snow but I was stuck inside with crippling back pain. Neither of us was very happy.

We made a connection in spite of the distance.

I listened to your sadness. You listened to my pain. Neither of us wanted to stay in that place and we found a way to laugh...a lot. We shared the good to forget the bad. We made each other's frustration and loneliness melt away far sooner than the snow would that day. In the end you asked me if I knew Lisa Loeb's Snow Day. I didn't. You said I needed to find it and hear it. I did.

You left this world just a couple short years later.  I still think of you, still miss you.  The snow days always get me.  I feel your absence but then I wrap an afghan around my shoulders, settle in on the couch in front of the fire, and watch the snow fall softly as I sip a warm drink and give thanks that we could be each other's medicine on a snow day so long ago.

White Christmas

You may remember we had dear friends from Trinidad visit us for Christmas last year. It was a very special time that we still treasure.  Our friends had hoped to have a white Christmas when they visited.  It came a year late for them but when I woke up and saw the dusting of snow I had to take a few pictures to send to them.  Since my family was anxious to open gifts I had only a minute or two before they were going to mutiny.  Here are the three best I was able to capture for my friends in the tropics.

γιαγιά

It's been nine years since we moved to the house we are in now.  Before that we lived right in the heart of a small town.  There's a certain culture that comes with small backyards all emptying toward a commonly shared alley.  The kids all know that even though their own yard is small they have the alley and they have all the yards in the neighborhood where they have playmates.  For the grownups, there is a sharing of responsibility and of communication.  Of course, every neighborhood has the one family who causes trouble or imposes on the other families.  We had ours too.  For the most part though, everyone was together in the sense of community. 

The neighborhood was made up of generations too.  We had everything from young married couples to elderly retirees who could tell us the history of our houses and their inhabitants. We had large families and we had widows.  Yes, there were one or two gossips who had nothing better to do than pry for information and share the findings.  Again, that was the exception, not the rule.

One neighbor, in particular, was brought to my mind recently.  We knew her first and last name but to us she was known as Yia-yia, Greek for grandmother.

In the years we were neighbors we watched Yia-yia deteriorate physically but she always had a quick smile and sweet demeanor.  She often invited Calypso over as a playmate for the granddaughter who visited frequently.  Initially, it was to give the little girl some companionship, later she admitted it was because Calypso had a calming effect on the granddaughter and it made watching her a bit easier.  I also offered to have the girls over at our house frequently as well.  Plenty of times I'd come over to check on things and make sure the girls weren't wearing out Yia-yia too badly.  I'd always wind up sitting down to a cup of tea and some sweets or fruit.  I was visiting a Greek grandmother after all....and she was glad for the company...who needed to be fed.

Many of you know the names I use for my kids on this blog are not their real names.  Their real names are Greek, partly as a nod to my own heritage.  Yia-yia, of course, recognized the names and very early on needed to do a bit of gentle investigating of my pedigree. Now understand, since I am adopted, I did not grow up in Greek culture.  I have met a number of other Greeks who let me know it is not even worth calling myself Greek when they find out I am not Orthodox, do not speak the language, and know no one in Greece.  Ah, but growing up surrounded by Germans the question always was, "Why don't you look like us?  Where are you from?"  You see how it goes.

In any event, I'd encountered enough folks with narrow ideas that I was a bit reluctant to offer too much information.  With Yia-yia, I found quickly that I had no need to be concerned.  She was quite open-minded about it all.  It was actually a doorway to innumerable conversations with real depth.  She was Greek in all the ways a "true Greek" would say it mattered and she was proud of it, but she had her own ideas as well, ideas the other "true Greeks" found disturbing enough that Yia-yia had learned to keep those thoughts to herself.  So we understood each other and were safe with each other.  We didn't agree on everything but we had a level of respect that allowed us to have wonderful exchanges of ideas and learn from each other.

I found that once all the kids were in school and there weren't little girls to be monitoring I missed seeing Yia-yia as frequently as before.  I knew from conversations that she struggled with loneliness, especially as her health failed.  I'd make solo visits so we could share a cup of tea.  She was a very well-educated woman with a wealth of experiences and I so enjoyed hearing the stories of her life.  I think she enjoyed having someone to tell them to.  She was full of encouragement for a young mother too....and for a fumbling gardener.

Anyone who knows me knows I possess the black thumb of death where green things are concerned.  I kill plants with a cruel efficiency.  Each spring, I always got some baskets to hang off the porch though.  One year I got it in my head to attempt a flower garden on the side of the house facing Yia-yia's.  Mr. Lime turned the ground for me and fertilized it all.  I got flats of annuals and planted them.  They thrived for a brief period of time.  Of course, the year I had this flash of brilliance we had such a bad drought we were under severe restrictions.  Watering was only allowed with grey water.  I'd dutifully carry the kids' bathwater out to water my garden.  The sad blooms were withering.  What few were left then got chewed off by rabbits.  It was the most pathetic excuse for a garden ever seen.  I was resolved not to go through this exercise in futility the next year.

One hot August day I sat with Yia-yia on her back porch.  We sweated out the lemonade as fast as we drank it.  We bemoaned the extreme heat and I mentioned how demoralizing the garden experiment had been.  She brightened as she said, "Oh but it was so nice to see your flowers! Since my legs have been so bad this summer I haven't been able to get out of this house.  Your garden gives me something pretty to look at."  And thus, my resolve was gone.  I knew I'd be attempting again the next year so Yia-yia would have something other than the siding on my house to look at if she was confined to her own house and porch again.  She wasn't asking me to keep it up but I knew her world was becoming smaller and it frustrated her tremendously.  If my sad little flowers could give her some smiles, it would be worth it to keep trying.  I did manage to find a few that I didn't kill as quickly as others...as long as the rabbits weren't thinking it was their personal buffet.  Yia-yia even asked me to plant a couple little flowers someone had brought by for her.  In that following non-drought year the garden did only marginally better under my special brand of incompetence but Yia-yia was happy.  When I did have a few small successes she beamed like the sun to see it.

I'm just glad our friendship blossomed more heartily than those flowers.  By this time my own grandmother had passed and Yia-Yia had filled the void with her own gentle wisdom, humor, and sweetness.  Our family moved a couple years later but I continued to visit Yia-yia on occasion, though not as often as either of us would have liked.  I sent her cards at Christmas.  A couple of years ago I received a letter from her daughter informing me Yia-yia had been moved to a nursing home and no longer recognized people even in her own family.  She had requested no visitors.  I was truly saddened to hear that.

A few days ago I ran into another former neighbor who told me Yia-yia left this life rather a while ago.  I was sad to hear so long after the fact. I miss her and her smile and her giggle.  I miss our little visits on the porch.  May she rest in peace and may the flowers in heaven bloom gloriously for her.

Αιώνια να είναι μνήμη σας, O αδελφή μας, οι οποίοι είναι άξιοι της μακαριότητα και αιώνια μνήμη.

γιαγιά, μου λείπεις.

Bike Trip Reunion-The People

Here is our crew from 25 years ago during a stop in Michigan.  When we reached Yellowstone National Park, three of us (Mr. Lime, Gus, and I) had to leave the rest of the group and take a more direct route to our destination.  Just after we left another guy (Gerry) joined the group, thus he is not in this picture.  Over the years we've had limited contact with most folks in the group.  Happily though, for the reunion all but two of us were able to attend. Missing from the reunion were Kristen, on the far left, and Gus, in the black shirt next to me.

Twenty-five years ago my job in the group, since I didn't do the pedaling, was to drive the car carrying supplies, cook the meals, do the laundry, and find a place to stay each night.  The first morning at the reunion I sort of fell into one of my old jobs again.  Back in the day I did the cooking with virtually no help.  This time around several folks worked together to get the meals on the table.  That was a nice change.  Although we were a single group in theory, there were two subgroups based on half the crew starting the trip in New Jersey and later meeting the other half in Pennsylvania.  The NJ crew was a bit more independent in some ways and relied less on the support vehicle.  All these years later several of them said they had no idea how much I had actually done at the time.  I wasn't looking for it in any way and was surprised when it came, but I got a belated thank-you for being "the mom" from the NJ group.  I appreciated it.

Back in 1986 we had lots of laughs with a measuring tape.  This time around it was a bottle of ketchup providing the chuckles.  Yes, we know how to make our own fun with some of the strangest items.

When we made our cross-country trek we had flat tires.  This time around, even during a comparatively short ride to tour the local microbreweries we had a tire with a slow leak which required several stops to pump it up.  Once we got to the first pub we were able to repair it properly.  It was really wonderful that our host was able to organize borrowing enough bicycles to give us each one to be able to have a commemorative ride together.

All those years ago we were all single and without children.  However, two marriages occurred within the group and most of us have children. What was interesting to note is the common theme of adventure and unconventional choices and deliberate lifestyles among  the group members.  I suppose that shouldn't be surprising given that a 4000-5000 mile bicycle tour of the US is what brought us all together in the first place but that it was sustained to greater or lesser degrees by all of us was kind of reaffirming to me.  There was extended wandering for some before settling down.  Others settled down early but in unusual settings (overseas, in tents, or intentionally small homes so there was money for extensive travel).  There's been a lot of heartbreak and adversity faced by the members of our group, and yet there has been perseverance and endurance as well.  I can't help but think perhaps those qualities that were necessary to carry us across a continent were what helped us each find a way to carry on through trials.

Last week in Colorado we convened from all over the US and UK.  We decided to recreate one of our old pictures that was used in a newspaper article (the first one in this post is almost the same as the newspaper shot, I just don't have a scanner to be able to reproduce that).  Gerry replaces Gus.  Gerry's and Trish's daughter replaces Kristen. We relived memories, shared perspectives, and caught up with so much that has gone on with each other over the years.  We laughed and cried together, we got on each others nerves and we worked together for the well-being of the group.  Folks drifted in and out of the gathering at different times and in different ways, much like we did 25 years ago but the 10 out of 12 of us who showed up all recognized that over the decades and over the the great distances we are all grateful to be a part of this group.