Filling in the blanks

Most of the days I was away, I took a photo for this blog or made some weather and terrain notes. As I unpack and catch up laundry, I'm putting them up in order of date, so the blanks get filled in. This is to entice you to look back. You don't want to miss a single nail biting entry . . .

And the guest rats have gone back to the breeder they originally came from. The rat family felt they weren't devoting enough time to their pets. So far I have kept the news from Steve that there are people. Who. Breed. Rats. I didn't accept the offer to keep them. Dorm rooms are barely big enough for a couple of students let alone three rats and a rat penthouse. But oh they would have so much fun eating pizza and listening to hippie banter!

I am finding re-entry to home and work surprisingly easy. I didn't think I would, because one of the things that's hardest for me at the end of time lived mostly outside, is shoe horning myself into time lived inside. I like winter well enough, but I don't want to be sleeping out under the stars during it. This week at the end of the summer is so precious because it's rather my farewell to summer and sleeping under the stars and when I have to go back under a roof in preparation for winter, I resent it. But since the rain clouds obscured the stars and the new moon for most of the week, I was more grateful for the comforts of interior plumbing and double spring matresses than I usually am. It's nice to have a choice. A lot of people don't. And tonight it is crisp and autumnal and as my mother would say "good sleeping weather". Sleep well, all, whatever climate you're in.

Back to Work

Because somehow I don't believe that being on retreat/intensive is "work" I went to "work" "work" this morning. I like my job. Much better than my last job. It's not that hard to spend a morning with these people. And after my week in the mountains, getting in a car and driving somewhere, and then driving back afterward seemed downright luxurious. There's other work I have to do. The back at home and unpacking and setting things to rights kind. The laundry kind. After a week of wet, every thing, worn or not, smells swampy and musty,and I can no longer put it off, so to the underworld. . .

a.k.a. the basement

With laundry. Lots and lots of laundry.

And then sleep. As much as I can get.

Home again, home again

From the green mountains of Vermont. As of late this afternoon. It was a week full of rain, a week of questions and quests, of singing under the clouds, of wandering through the dark wet woods. It was a week full of wonderful food cooked by wonderful people, a week of outdoor life and a week with very little sleep. It was awful and wonderful and every time I think, I really can't do this up and down the mountain anymore. And then's there the emotional and spiritual work - the rip up my guts and inspect them part and then I think, I can't imagine giving this up.

This. Mountains. Lake. Woods. Humans.

Are you surprised?

Why do I have to be the grown up?

So one of the things I love and hate about this week is the people in it. The people I'm close to and love, love, love even when we bump into different opinions and then the people who remind me uncomfortably of what I was like in my thirties. Opinionated, know it all, self proclaimed expert at matters of the spirit. Humility? Not a bit. Then mercifully I grew up. I like to think I'm tolerable to be around and that I work hard to listen to, empower and mentor others. However, I bumped into an abrasive person big time today. In a fairly public setting she accused me (and other organizers) of bullying. While she went on I attempted to take in information, but mostly I sat there thinking to myself "I'm going to gaze at you with all the compassion I can muster, but what I really want to do is slap you up the side of the head - bitch!"

Grown up? Enough to not say what I was thinking. But not grown up enough to not think it.

Segue Week

It is ever thus, I leave home for this week in Vermont in high summer and when I return it's autumn. This year, I left home in tropical summer, warm and humid and lo and behold last night it got really cold, and tonight it promises to be cold again. I am better prepared for tonight, the warmest clothes and a hat and socks for sleeping, last night I did not dress for the chill that surprised me about 2 a.m.

In a lot of ways it's been an anomalous year up here. Unlike most other years I've seen a lot more bugs of the nasty biting and blood sucking variety. Their breeding pools never dried up. The foliage is less dusty and faded, but there's a lot more decay on leaves and ground cover. More ferns, and the wood aster is blooming everywhere. It's usually past peak by this time in August. But one truth of this week is the same, we've managed to move from summer to fall. Tomorrow when I get up I imagine I will see a few yellow leaves, where there where green ones a day ago, and that the maples by the lake will turn leaf by leaf for the next couple of days until an early branch of color waves goodbye to me for another year.

Sad

Away at retreat, we got the news that a member of the community, a woman who has played her harp and laughed and cried with the rest of us over the fifteen years of this summer intensive has lost her husband. I had heard about his illness and in the short time he was in intensive care, sent her all sorts of unasked for tips for managing life in critical care hospital rooms, waiting for our beloved mates to recover. I remember too well the hospital time with Steve. She did not get the happy ending Steve and I had, and I'm so sad for her. So sad for the grief she and her children will have to go through and so sad, knowing that no one can spare them any moment of hurt, only one hopes, make it easier to bear. I hope when those decisions and passages come to our own family, we can act with as much courage and compassion as she did.

Ammenties

I understand that my daughter is in a developing country and that the average citizen lives very simply and many times in abject poverty. In my western lifestyle, I am rarely without amenities for any significant length of time. Even when we camp, we generally manage to get to indoor plumbing every couple of days. This is my week without amenities. (well except for the extension cord - the very long extension cord -I run from one of the two places with electricity to my cabin for the darth vadar machine). There is one gravel road to the main buildings, the rest of the time we hike on goat trails through the woods. There's an outdoor shower platform. A two sided cabin for sleeping. A most uncomfortable mattress. And the kybos, a local version of pit toilets. Most years the kybos are fine. But in a wet year when everything already . . .umm. . .wet. . .gets wetter, they're pretty funky. But the farm here loves the results -every couple of years the kybo contents are composted down to rich manure. Elegant cycle of life stuff. Input to output to input to output for a concievable eternity. I just wish they didn't smell so bad. . .

Lakeside

There's nothing quite like lying on a dock while the water reflects the day (or moonlight for that matter) back at you. It's a little too early to swim, but if the rain holds off, perhaps later today when all the organizing meetings are done. Organizing means my days are always - full. But not full of swimming or quiet. I'll get there, but probably not until much later. Maybe not until tomorrow. Sigh. I do like organizing. Really. Sigh.

Summer Bookends

It appears that I have traversed summer vacation

from this

To This

Wild Night

Traffic, storms, tornado warnings (!!!!!!!) and torrential downpours and at last an arc of a rainbow over Quechee Vermont. I'm glad I made it. For two hours of the three hour trip I felt like my resolve was being tested. By heinous traffic, then wild weather. I hung in there and got my reward, which I gazed at in the parking lot of the Vermont Farm Diner (the one made famous in Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle for serving up diner style local food). It faded, and refused to be caught by camera, but there really is a rainbow there. I promise. And then onto Plymouth and my week of reflection, introspection and all the ridiculous contortions my emotions and mind will wrap themselves up in during this year's summer intensive retreat. Intensive is usually the operative word. Wouldn't it be lovely to have a calm peaceful retreat? It could happen. Really.

Dog - Ma

I've started packing and someone doesn't like it. That would be the small four legged who lives in this house. I'm not abandoning her on the curb, but you would think that's she had her last taste of kibble and suburban comforts the way she mopes and goes on whenever the suitcases and duffles come out. And the bigger the duffle, the bigger the mope. Since I'm packing for life outside, I have stuff for cold and dry, cold and wet, hot and dry, hot and wet. It's New England, you just never know. It's a big duffle and it's a doggy downer of monumental proportions. She's a little scary looking in this picture though. Doggy downer gone psycho?

So the Dog-ma in me is torn between amusement and compassion at the sight of Rascal stretched out, nose on her paws, watching me with those sad puppy eyes. She'll get over it. I left my bio-babies too. And they got over it. Right? You did, didn't you?

Office Personalities Do-over

And this is after. . .

Office Personalities

Along with the new job, the new people, the new commute, the new town to learn, comes the new office. It is absolutely NOT new, in a historic old stone New England building, but it's new to me. I am going to guess that it's last re-do, other than paint and rug took place in the late 50's or early 60's. Yawn.

So this is before. . .

It's Very Official. . .

We're in the middle of a very hot week. It's now being called a heatwave. I spent a very long day in my new very hot office, so I am writing very little tonight. It is some small consolation that it's probably hotter where you are, Sarah. But we don't have water buffalo to look at or pho on every street corner. In the absence of scenic water buffalo and local color, I'm about to look at the inside of my eyelids. Goodnight. . .

Flotsam and Jetsam

We are hot in New England, to which most people would say about time. At the same time that summer starts taking hold heat wise, pools are closing as kids start back to college, school sales are underway and the harvest is beginning to pick up steam. On the deck, the hops are perfuming the air with resin and they're ready to pick. I'll do that as soon as it cools down a bit from the 95 degrees it hit earlier this afternoon. I love how the hops smell and the slightly sticky paper feel of them as I pluck them from the vines. A homebrew session is on the horizon, but only if it cools off. Until then it's the freezer for the hops.

I started my new job today. I love it already. I've been waiting for two years to love my workplace again, so I'm one happy camper. And I got roses to celebrate. Delivered to my office by the admin. She hasn't met Steve, but he's already a contender for best spouse of the year award. Lucky, lucky, lucky me.

We have more rats. Only on a temporary basis. I agreed to rat sit for a family I met at my last workplace. When I say rats, I refer to pets, not an infestation. I love rats. Steve does not. I imagine many more people are in the Steve camp than are in the rat lover camp which probably makes it really difficult to find ratcare when the family - in this case - goes out of town. I like them, but I really like their house. It's the penthouse suite of rat habitats. Our poor country rat is a little less uptown . Oh to be born with a silver spoon in one's mouth. . . or between ones claws. . .

A Year Ago Today. . .

. . . This was what we were doing in the backyard. One year.

365 days to be grateful for my life. And for Steve's.

L'Chiam!

The heat is on - finally!

Most of us have has a wonderful Seattle summer, cool, foggy and wet - but we don't live in Seattle do we? Of course, in Seattle they've got temps in the 90's and 100's - usually unheard of. It's another episode of global weirding - I haven't checked today, but perhaps it's back to foggy and cold in Seattle. So Steve and I are back to being holed up in the house. Today we made it out to run errands in the am - which turned into this absolutely ridiculous driveathon of trying to find media shelves for Steve's CD collection instead of the nasty thing that we have in the family room now. It was a freecycle find, so it was never more than a holder until we could have a piece of furniture that we actually loved. But trying to get from place to place with Steve is always an adventure in "if I go this way" I'm not sure what he's trying to outwit, trafficwise, but I think that a map and a plan are probably much easier on the fuel gauge.

Anyhow, for my sins we had brunch at Mildred's corner cafe, this fun little corner diner on the Lynn Swampscott line that I've been trying to get him to for a couple of years. Finally did, and honestly since I can't imagine when, if ever I will be returning to Swampscott or the church out there, a rather nice way to book end those two years. Food was good, inexpensive and the ambience - Kiss me Kate playing on the tv's and movie memorabilia from the golden age of Hollywood (pre-sixties I think - no Doctor Zhivago at any rate) - was a lot of fun. We played trivial pursuit while we waited for our meals, first the Silver Screen version - at which we completely and totally sucked and then the more prosaic original version which saw a vast improvement. I guess we should watch more movies?

A day at the Beach

Todays Hike-Ku

first one, then hundreds
feasting, resting, summer birds
migration awaits

Since the weather forecast has high temps and hummidity in it for the next several days, Steve and I took advantage of the day and went off to the beach at Crane's. We also had (what is fast becoming) our trusty 60 hikes book with a hike described for the beach, estuary and dunes. We could go to the beach AND knock off one of the sixty in the same day. Good concept. Execution? A little warm.

The hike along the Atlantic side was glorious. Just the right temperature, lowish tide with the sand bars exposed and easy walking. Once we rounded the spit after 3 miles or so, we were out of the ocean breeze on the lee side and it was just . . .hot. . .and then we cut into the dunes trails. Even hotter. And walking up and down soft dune sand was surprisingly difficult. My body is certainly feeling the second half of our 6 mile workout. We earned our swim, and what's more important, actually enjoyed it - I usually do a baptismal dip because no matter how hot I am the water is never warm enough. Today, the water was downright hospitable, August being the only time we can spend more than a few minutes in the icy Atlantic without legs and arms going numb.

The really wonderful moments on the hike, and this relates to the Hike-Ku posted above was seeing all the shorebirds swooping and wheeling over us in the dunes. They were fairly scarce on the beach - it was a fairly populous spot, even the boat in people w,ere there en masse - but once we hit the dunes trail we were in another world entirely. A bird world. Hundreds of birds flying overhead. Steve insists they were piping plovers, but I think they were the little swallows that 'stage' for migration in late summer.

Wouldn't it be great if we had plovers in those numbers? Once nice thing about Crane's is that the trustees of the reservation are also working to preserve some serenity for the birds with a significant part of the beach made a 'no blanket zone' above high tide mark. You can walk through. You just can't plant yourselves there for the afternoon. You know those co-exist bumper stickers - the ones with symbols from many world religions? Can we get one with non humans on it? Plovers? Swallows? Bears? Coyotes? Come on people, move over. Co-exist.

PIE!

Guess what I did after a visit to the pick your own farm we've grown to love? That's right. Pie. With freshly picked blueberries inside and mystical runic symbols decorating the crust - because I don't start work until Monday. Steve will put chocolate ice cream on his because he is a heathen. And not in a good way when it comes to pie. Jon and I will stand for tradition (and good taste) with our vanilla.

Island Time

Today's Hike-Ku

Water, fog, waves
mist washed shores and bowers
timeless, timeless, sea



We just got back from the Harbor Islands of Boston's outer harbor. This is on one of my lists of "things I plan to do to keep me sane and get me out of Andover" if only for a day or two. Not every camping and hiking trip has to be epic, but this one certainly had elements of epic about it. Let me describe the route we took to get to the island, Bumpkin, that we camped on.

Pack tent, sleeping bags, sleeping pads (because we're middle aged and we creak). Pack clothing in case it's hot, cold or wet. Pack food. Not too much, but certainly not too little. Pack things to heat said food with. As an aside, I camped once many years ago and sacrificed fuel and stove weight to bring climbing gear. By night two of cold food and no coffee I was ready to pack it in and come home. Lesson learned. We compromised and didn't bring the french press for coffee , we made tea instead. Although, apparently there is not enough caffeine in tea to stave off the withdrawal headache I had by afternoon. And heaviest of all, water. None on the islands, and when hiking you can't go without. This fits into my frame pack and our tent duffle. Steve got the duffle and his day pack, I took the frame pack.

In the car, drive to Alewife. Park car. Get on subway - red line, wearing frame pack with trusty sherpa Steve bringing up the rear. Take red line to green line. Get on greenline. Take green line to blue line. Get on blue line. Take blue line to the Aquarium stop. Get off. Get odd looks from people at the Marriot (which we walked through to get from the T to Long Warf - I think they were puzzled because I was a little too clean to be homeless, but backpackers are usually not seen at the harbor. I speak only for myself. Steve was grubby enough to make small change sitting on top of his duffle). Get tickets to Georges Island. And tickets for water taxi for interisland shuttle. Make return reservations.

Get on ferry. Ride to Georges. Get off ferry. Wait. Walk around. Look at fort. Get on water taxi. Ride to Bumpkin Island. Watch fog roll in and obscure everything. Wonder what we're doing here.

It's a lot of hassle to get there, and the weather gods have their own plans. I checked the forecast and all agreed that it would be SUNNY and beautiful this week. NOT. But if we've learned nothing over the years, Steve and I have figured out how to entertain ourselves and make the best of what's out there or lower expectations or something. We had a beautiful bower of a campsite. Not too big, but big enough for the tent, a picnic table - provided by the park service, nice - and the two of us. And best of all, composting toilets, so we didn't have to carry out EVERY thing.

Bumpkin is small, and like most of the islands in the national park, have had or still have historic buildings and military installations. All this surrounded by a wild tangle of shrubs, vines, stunted trees and wildflowers. They maintain mown paths so you can get around, but it hasn't lost that wild feel. We hiked the one path around the island and found the foliage taking over an 18th century farm, a 19th century hospital for children, and a 20th century naval installation. Layers of civilization, but in the end, the trees and vines win. We came in just after an artist campout - where these artists camped on the island and made 'art'. With stones and found objects. And one of the park rangers had BIG weaving projects made from found materials placed around. A couple of wheelchairs made for a giant and her in process fifteen foot high 'traffic light'. Out of reeds and branches. I'm glad she was on her day off island when we were there. She sounds a little scary. And then it rained. Buckets. Thunder and lightening too. But at this point we'd eaten, toured, visited the beach, seen the art, watched the fog and gone to bed, so let the weather gods have their way. Oh, but wait, the dreaded wet tent. Yes. Because it wasn't perfect enough we woke up the next day with wet pads, wet bags and wet tent. It poured so hard everything came in over the ground tarp. And the rain fly was next to useless. Note to self. Complain to LL Bean LOUDLY.

After breakfast the next morning we made our way over to Peddocks - mostly because the friendly ranger had told us they filmed scenes for Shutter Island, a movie being made from a book we had both read earlier in the summer. It was creepy with these old gothic brick and wood buildings decaying in the overgrown woods. An old naval base, and quite a few buildings - at least 30 and all large. Peddocks is several drumlins attached by spits so it's kind of like round bump, spit, round bump spit, round bump, spit. Having lots of time, we walked the island perimeter which was something on the order of 7 miles. Not hilly hiking but definitely hard walking over shingle and up and down rocks. The fog rolled in, and in, and in, for most of the day. We got some views, but mostly we saw what was right in front of us, and lots of misty outlines of . . .something. Ironically once we got into Boston's inner harbor late that afternoon, the sun was out. Apparently had been most of the day.

We got home mid evening - after the ferry ride back, my beeline to the nearest starbucks for a fix and repeating our mass transit route in reverse - wet and tired, but with one of those "were we really only gone for two days?" kind of disconnects that you get after a really rich experience. And then it rained while I snuggled in a cozy DRY bed with the bathroom around the corner. Weather gods? So there!

Holed up

As much as I'd like to say we were out and about yesterday, the high humidity and heat drove us indoors early and there we stayed in spite of our earlier plans to go to Cranes beach. I had my helical CT early yesterday and since no one called in a hurry with dire results, I'm breathing a little easier ( pun intended) and looking forward to crossing one more nasty possible cause for this cough off the list. In spite of the fact that no local hospital can manage to get my name right, it was a pretty good experience, quick and fairly painless even with the funky reaction I get to contrast I.V.'s.

Back home, I am working my way, slowly, through Anathem and am determined to get it over with. So I can move onto something a little lighter than 900 pages of math monks in space. I like Neil Stephenson mind you, but. . . Favorite line in the whole book is "We're on our way to meet an alien spaceship capable of destroying everything. We have a protractor."

We're up early, (Steve wins with a 3:30 am wake up time) and I'm going to make short work of this post because we're on our way to an overnight camp out on the Boston Harbor Islands. Bumpkin Island to be specific. It's one of those things I've talked about doing for years and I am becoming profoundly aware that my last week before new job starts has the clock ticking on it. Now I have to figure how to pack everything we need to camp for the subway and ferry. We're going to look like homeless people.

Bandits!

So we're sitting in the family room with respective books when the dog goes into guard dog mode by the sliding screen onto the deck. This is what she saw. . .



Two teenagers out to party, or to pick the hops which are about a week away from home brewing 'ripeness'. We busted them on the deck railing and after a stare down contest watched them back climb down the deck and off into the woods. I have a strong suspicion that they'll be back.

What I like about Sundays off

Hike-Ku

the land meets the sea
the ocean begets the world
rise, ebb, rise again

Worlds End. Egrets. Kayaks in the water. Sailboats. Harbor Islands. Wilson Mountain. Wildflowers. Pine trails.

We got out early and deferred our beach day to later on when the sun is out and it's hot enough to warent the trek. Instead we covered a couple of the 60 hikes - (the theme for the year is emerging 60 hikes within 60 miles in 60 weeks) - one at Worlds End in Hingham, where we've gone before and the other at a DCR spot in Dedham, Wilson Mountain which was new to us. I particularly loved the wildflower meadow. It was no bigger than the acre our house sits on, but it was laden with late summer blooms, bee balm, echinacia, black eyed susans, sunchokes, fleabane, clover galore and a bunch of stuff I didn't get close enough to identify. One of the things I love best about the coast is that we have this kind of incredible scene and terrain change within a few short miles. First the genteel and manicured harbor walk at Worlds end as we wove our way over and around the twin drumlins, and then to the pine needles and granite outcrops at Wilson an hour later and some pretty quick climbs. I love the western mountains and the grand scope you get out there, but there's nothing quite like New England where the old basement rocks come to meet the sea.

After yesterday's punishment, we left the dog home because she's old and we added another 7 1/2 miles on our hikes which I'm not sure she would have been up for (although when we got back, she was ready to go). And then we came home and ate. Which I may love most of all about Sundays off. Epic meals. Although I showed more restraint than usual and used the high test choclate to make pudding instead of mousse or ganache - both of which call for large quantities of high fat dairy products. And now to bed to catch a few hours before a very early morning hospital visit for a CT scan. Wish me luck with that.

MY last days in Dogtown

Todays Hike-Ku

Nasty, Buggy Swamp
First and Last Day in Dogtown
better things to do

Dogtown Commons is a patch of grown over land that had been settled and later abandoned in the 17th century in what is now the town of Gloucester. Steve and I both read the book, "The Last Days of Dogtown" by Anita Diamant a few years ago but todays hike idea only emerged when I pulled one of the many # hikes book off the shelf. This one is 60 Hikes (within 60 miles) of Boston. Since we have never been able to repeat the success of Fifty Hikes in Massachusetts and the attendant Hike-ku of a few years ago, I keep picking up these books, hoping one will inspire us. This one seemed like a winner and with summer presenting us with an almost perfect day for hiking I was trolling for inspiration after my a.m. conference call. I picked Halibut Point. Steve demurred. I presented Dogtown and it was a sale. Since it was DOGtown we took the dog, got there a little after eleven and found the spot with no trouble. It's within earshot of highways, so it was kind of a shocker when we got lost. I think the half mile to the resevoir was straightforward, but from then on, we fumbled with an unintelligable set of directions, a map that looked great on paper, but none of the many turns and trails were marked so after bushwacking through swamp and brambles on what might have been a trail - oh and did I mention the ravenous mosquitoes? the ones who only blew off when we were moving at 10 miles an hour? - and having a couple of couple moments spatting over directions I did it Steve's way because he insisted he was right. I need to figure out why the girl who grew up in northern Maine WOODS deferred to the guy who grew up in the BRONX. This wasn't the first time - but clearly I have not learned from the past. . .

We ended up in Rockport on some residential lane where we got orientation from a couple who managed to (thinly) veil their amusement. They also offered to start the grill if we came back. I guess they had low expectations of our ability to make it back to the car.

I carried the dog back to Gloucester. On the railroad tracks, because at least they went in a predictable direction. I figure 8 miles for our 4 mile hike. Four hours. Up and Down on a goat track over glacial erratics before and after the tracks. What a nasty little hike. There was this really interesting trail - Babson Boulder trail - where a local nob hired a stoneworker to chisel words of wisdom (of the protestant capitalist sort) on a number of the erratics"Use Your Head" Be On Time" "Work" "Integrity" "Kindness" etc. but the mosquitoes chased us through at a racing clip and the rest of it was just briars and bugs. Dogtown Hike - FAIL.

We have exhasted the dog, which is not easy. She'll be doing tricks to score some ibupropen when she wakes up. And Steve and I are making the appropriate noises every time we move from a sitting position.

We do this because. . . ?????

Blueberries!

(I moved this here, from another spot, thinking what a lovely way to start the year's New England diary)

We went after the first fruits of the season this afternoon. Blueberries - loaded onto shrubs that looked far too insubstantial to hold them all. Most of them were unripe, white and green but every fourth or fifth berry was a perfect blue with the bloom they have only on the bush.

It was one of those accidental days that turns out to be quite lovely. Steve had a dead car this morning when he got himself together to head off to the dentist and since I had barely gotten myself together for work - I ended up driving him, waiting at the dentist and then he dropped me at work while he went off to contend with the dealer. I made it through a handful of emails and then I got cut off internet wise, so this being summer AND my last week of work at this job - I said the hell with it and went out to Popo for nasty hot dogs (we've been saying we're going to get a Popo dog for ages) and really good coleslaw, followed by a short lived effort to re-up our cell phones - fail - we were fifth in line, this on a weekday afternoon in a sour economy -go figure. With hours until dinner, Steve suggested Trader Joe's, I suggested picking blueberries at the mellow little U-Pick place in Georgetown. Hot and buggy, but not too of either and along with four luscious looking pints of blueberries I scored a pint of raspberries, not easy to come by, because while the blueberries are plant floozies letting it all hang out with very little foliage in the way, the raspberries are more retiring sorts, hiding behind brambles and lots and lots of leaves. Now I go scout out yummy recipes.

Sarah on my mind

Although I've been watching this date approach since earlier this summer, the fact that it's finally here put me in a pensive state of mind (which is why you have this picture of me in the Sawtooths - where I am clearly wondering if I really want to go UP that badly) wondering about how I'm going to stay in touch (mostly with Sarah during her year in Hanoi). I don't need to hear often from Sarah - just an occasional I'm alive will do nicely, but even today as we went out to a fun little place in JP for breakfast and had our day after dropping the girl off at Logan, I kept thinking, oh this would be a fun story, or this would be interesting or Sarah would get a charge out of this. So hence this blog. I figure I'll keep our family and seasonal diary on line and share what's up with the house and residents at 63 as the year passes swiftly for all of us.