Pouring rain outside, quiet and dark inside. Nice…
Here’s a page from my COVID diary.
“What I Did This Summer” …
15 Sep 2026 Leave a comment
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Once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary day, a creative muse joins the chat, a plan is born, and takes on a life of its own. John and I were texting a few weeks ago when we both alluded to the fact that it had been a while since we’d laid eyes and hugs on each other. His life as an oncology RN keeps him either working 12-hour shifts, traveling to conferences, taking much-needed days off, or escaping the country altogether for a few days of decompression. My life as a retiree keeps me doing the usual, as little of it as possible, eating well, and surviving in my own bubble. Time to shake it up a little. He said “Why don’t you come down here for your birthday?” And then, “As it turns out I have the 3rd through the 7th off.” Well, there we go, who could doubt the stars were aligning?
It was all a little spur-of-the-moment, so Kim and I didn’t sweat the details. He bought a couple of shirts and a pair of jeans, shopping done, ready to go. I ordered a few things online, some of which at this point may or may not arrive before Christmas, but no problem.
It’s said that getting there is half the battle, and that’s certainly true of air travel. With things as they currently exist in the greater world, we weren’t entirely cranked about the thought of flying, so we looked into taking Amtrak just for grins. Watch the countryside go by, get up and walk around, all that. Long story to a screeching halt, it’s ten times the cost of two round-trip plane tickets, and that particular trip takes 52 hours because it goes first to Chicago, then Virginia, THEN Atlanta, changing trains at each stop.
We hadn’t flown anywhere since before COVID but we quickly understood that the experience hasn’t evolved upward in that time. We’d done all the preliminaries from home and weren’t checking any bags, so the process in Kansas City’s shiny new airport was seamless. But ah, my sweet summer child, we were just getting started. I walk around with the perpetual sense that I’ve lost ten years somewhere, which turns out to be a true statement, all facts considered, and never have I been so validated in that misperception as when we stepped onto our outbound plane. It seemed half as wide as I remembered, with just enough room to get through the aisle. Every seat was eventually occupied, which may be the only way they fly now, and that long skinny cylinder looked ponderously full of humanity. I don’t recall planes roaring like wind tunnels throughout the flight. On the other hand, there are likely MANY things I don’t recall. It’s a fact, though, that the seats are being evermore squished together from every angle, and on this plane they didn’t recline by so much as an inch. However, there’s always a good side: It’s less than a 2-hour flight.
And then there’s the REALLY happy stuff… the rest of the trip was a little piece of heaven. John was there to meet us at Hartsfield-Jackson at the top of the giant escalator and we picked up where we left off last time we saw him, which was here in Lawrence. His place and his presence are both very soothing and just what this mom needed. And those hugs are lifegiving. We love his neighborhood and Kim enjoys his early-morning walks there. It always feels sweet to be back in the gentle Southern air and eavesdrop a little on the hum of conversation with its softer cadences and easy flow.
John drove us around his part of the metro area to show us what’s new since last time we were there, and he took us to a gigantic farmers market that, counting the parking lot, takes up a city block, with more building expansion planned. The comprehensive variety of foodstuffs is staggering. There isn’t an official accounting of all the various ethnic and cultural groups represented in the Atlanta Metro area, but they seem to be well-served by the market, which is open seven days a week. It’s housed in an enormous metal building, with people constantly restocking the shelves and long tables with every kind of meat, fish, poultry, seafood, vegetable, fruit, seed, nut, spice, and bread you can imagine from around the world, and many things you may not have known existed. It was an experience that will stay with us for all the reasons, all of them positive.
Since one thing every city has is restaurants, we had fun going with John to a tiny handful of his favorites, including Mellow Mushroom across the street from his place, and his favorite neighborhood Waffle House, staffed by terrific women who call him by name when he comes in. We were able to share food and drink with several different friends, some of whom we’ve known ALmost as long as he has, some new, and each one helped me celebrate my birthday by adding to the goodness of it. To one friend who will likely see this… the soft pink throw saved my life on the flight home. Thx to you I didn’t freeze to death, love you!!
The best day was the one before we came home because the three of us spent the whole day just hanging out in John’s loft, being slugs while we talked about the “trivial” to the momentous and back again. NOTE TO SELF: Always include enough time. Always.
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In a world of Type A’s, be like Kim, who has yet to meet an electric bike he didn’t like…
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And then it was time to do the whole thing in reverse, which involves goodbyes, of course. John graciously delivered us back to Hartsfield-Jackson before dawn’s butt-crack, thus leaving him the rest of the day to himself. I need to ask him if he went to see his ladies at Waffle House, who, by the way, serve a wicked breakfast and coffee that rivals Kim’s. And they kinda make you feel loved in the process.
Two words: Pre Coffee
I’ll keep this brief. Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport covers 4,700 acres and it’s entirely possible that we walked every one of them, as our gate seemed to be at the farthest end from the center point you could go. Next time I’ll put in a request for one of their spiffy wheelchairs with the warning flag attached. I could have used it. On the other hand, I proved to myself that I’m not done yet, hopefully not by a long shot. Onward.
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So now we’re home and everything survived without us. It rained enough to keep the plants going and the mourning doves are hatching another pair of chicks. It took 24 hours for word to get around, but the wrens, finches, and sparrows are back in droves, loading up at the feeder. I’ve had a week to let my bones and other parts recover and I’d do it all over again next week… because it seems like a dream!
Since we’re here for the foreseeable, I’m sayin’ …
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And this is still my mantra all week…
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A closing thought influenced by our recent Southern sojourn…
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Oh, those archives…
05 Aug 2026 Leave a comment
*** Uncanny how life from a year ago mirrors today, only different!
Housekeeping…
14 Jul 2026 1 Comment
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I opened my eyes this morning and found myself, in the immortal words of Ulla Inka Hansen Benson Yansen Tallen Hallen Swadon Swanson, in the mood to “tidy-oop” a little. And if you’ve somehow missed The Producers in your lifetime, watch it posthaste, you’ll thank me for the reference.
Speaking of tidying accumulated detritus, what I’ve observed about computer files over time is that they are faithful to their calling which is to fill themselves to capacity with things no one will ever need again. Ever. But MIGHT just… so therein lies the dilemma. I can’t simply let them go, despite an experienced knowledge of how this works, so I’m tossing this batch into your court, do with it as you may. I’ll yield to the inner compunction to share it, then immediately throw it in the bin. Heartlessly, I assure you.
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And a couple from the realists…
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Sadness and anger are cousins and can exist simultaneously with all the other human emotions. There are no Get Out of (Existential) Jail Free cards.
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There’s so much sadness and anger intermingled in this one it’s hard to process. Incredibly, this is what a massive part of The People’s House looks like now, before it gets even worse. And no one bothered to get clearance for ANY of it.
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My heart hurts for everybody younger than 60 (as well as everyone older than 60), because every generation since the Boomers (mine) has believed deep down that there’s no rosy future for anyone of any age anymore. That’s a bleak outlook to base a lifetime on, and not fair… but I’ve never heard anyone say life’s designed to be fair. I do especially feel for the kids coming out of high school this year, the college grads, the people who need to be ready to take over from us, the certified elderly, and steer the country away from the cliffs. Again. Some more. The youthful ones who traditionally lace up their boots and implement plans formulated by old men in windowless rooms who are basically immune to the downsides. And those old men and women have to get a clue and retire because for the most part they’ve lost the plot and aren’t keeping up with what time inevitably delivers. Life is entirely about change. That’s an immutable fact and it’s pointless to laugh in the face of reality.
Meanwhile, those high school and college “kids,” what ABOUT them? Who and what are they supposed to believe and internalize? What kind of society is being built via all these mixed messages? What sort of adults are under construction as we speak? And who shoulders responsibility if it all turns to quicksand under our feet?
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Which brings us full circle to an important truth…
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It’s a beautiful day.
Find someone to be nice to.
Smile a little or a lot.
Keep your powder dry
and work with what ya’ got.
[I may have just written a pome.]
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Hmm, what IS this?
09 Jul 2026 Leave a comment
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It’s a balmy 79° out this morning, the sun’s shining, the trees are overwhelmingly green, the tiny wrens and sparrows are loving the feeders, and the wind isn’t blowing. The house is clean, the laundry’s caught up for a bit, the plants have been watered and encouraged, and my wonderment as I sit here is… what is this feeling? It feels suspiciously like contentment, with a welcome absence of dread and concern. Given the opportunity, I could get used to this, but for now, even an hour or two of “it’s not my problem, man” is sweetly healing. Constant uncertainty and threat are damaging to the psyche, so there’s no reluctance on my part to say “I don’t care. I’ll care later, after I consort with my better angels for a while. Today I’m in my happy place. Do not screw it up.” Also, I encourage everybody to consider whether you, too, might need to make room for a day of solitude.
Really weary of my own schtick lately, so Hello Sunshine!
Dawson, a thoughtful northern neighbor, encouraged me yesterday with this…
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So our assignment, should we choose to accept it …
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Jay the Hawk and other friends…
29 Jun 2026 4 Comments
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It was a wet spring and now summer’s here, with more rain in the long-range forecast. That’s a GOOD thing, as Eastern Kansas temps and humidity can turn on a dime and cook us right out of our flip-flops. With all the water, the trees and other vegetation are so green and dense we’re genuinely living in a forest and I have to wonder how many birds and other critters dwell here with us. It would be a big number. No dove couples have nested on our balcony yet this season, so when Kim mentioned putting out bird-food and water I was an instant fan. We’ve resisted in the past, thinking the mess might be too much but it’s turning out not to be an actual problem, and the entertainment is well worth a little extra sweeping up. It took less than 24 hours for word to get out that “There’s FOOD up there, guys! They even have black-oil sunflower seeds, c’mon!”
So now every day sees a fresh gathering of birds, from tiny to bigger/fatter/rounder/quieter. That would be the mourning doves, who’ve gravitated to us several spring seasons in a row, and who make for the best possible feathered renters. We still hope they’ll decide to move in and raise a clutch or two here this summer.
The small bird varieties, like house wrens, finches, sparrows, black & white warblers and others, are highly skittish and hard to photograph, although I have a plan: the next not-windy morning or evening we get, I’ll open the door wide and wait to capture a few shots when they come in for their regular feeding times in the morning and late afternoon. Otherwise, they sense every movement behind the glass and they’re gone in an instant. Until I can pull that off, here are a few stock photos for reference.
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At least twice now, we’ve had a brief visit from this guy, who’s delicate-looking and stunningly crimson.
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And then there’s THIS new friend who sits quietly on the balcony rail whenever he feels like it, and since he hasn’t harassed any of the littles or the sweet doves we’re happy to have him hang out with us. For those who don’t know, we live in the town that’s home to the KU Jayhawks, so his name is… yeah, Jay the Hawk. Rock Chalk!
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Our fascination with the world of birds may indicate that we’re growing old and soft. Not a bad thing at all, but it feels more like THIS:
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” …where the earth is respected, and where life is valued above all else.”
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This is for the birds…
04 Jun 2026 3 Comments
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For the first time in several summers we don’t have a pair of nesting doves keeping us company on the balcony, so Kim decided to feed the East Lawrence forest instead. The treats were out for less than a day before word got around the neighborhood, “Hey, guys, they have black sunflower seeds up there!” so it’s working out swimmingly. Kim adds seed mix to the saucer repeatedly throughout the day, and he’s been patiently sweeping the deck every evening. Yesterday he let the saucer run empty and then we watched as the regulars came in and picked the floor almost clean as well, so yeah, even better. They make the same mess whether the saucer is on the table or the floor, so letting them police themselves in the name of sustenance seems only right.
A question for whatever hive mind may exist: Is it a law of the universe that once a person passes the 75-year line in the sand, they are hormonally required to develop a sudden awareness of and connection with the bird world? There are two of us here, one as absorbed and engrossed as the other, so it isn’t just a little old lady thing. I have theories but I’d rather see some feedback from anyone reading. Why this particular interest during this particular decade? What draws us to these small creatures? What is this sweet love we feel for them and their utterly helpless offspring?
We get an amazing number of visitors in a day’s time, comin’ in hungry. Then they likely all fly home to fill the craws of waiting babies, back and forth endlessly until they kick the progeny out to fend for themselves. We see doves, house wrens, sparrows, and other tiny feathered guys we haven’t ID’d from images yet. So far, the wrens and other littles are too skittish for pictures – they dart away the instant they detect motion – but Kim’s gotten other good shots.
A mourning dove getting right to the business at hand.
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None of them have any table manners to speak of but at least there have been no gang fights.
There’s water as well, and they drink a lot of it some days.
And then there’s THIS guy, whom we’d never seen up close and personal before. He’s likely a Swainson’s hawk, and he’s several times bigger than any of our regulars. By which I mean he’s 18 to 20″ long and has a 46 to 54″ wingspan when fully grown. Google paints him as somewhat benevolent concerning baby birds, but I’d trust that assessment only so far. Fun to see him this close, though.
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There’s a lot to like.
I MAY have thoughts…
24 May 2026 4 Comments
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Boys and girls, time rushes on and in one more month we’ll be at the midpoint of a year we couldn’t envision starting in the first place. Much against our hopes and dreams it’s been a ride that never stops, so we just keep hanging on, because what else?
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To my great sorrow, the writing has dried up to just a thought or two here and there, without the energy to capture any of it. Either everything that can be said has been said, or there’s no way to say it. Small talk feels phony in light of daily reality, even if I were to think of worthwhile things to share with you.
Oh, but here’s something! Yesterday I got to spend a few minutes with two of the most amazing little girls I’ve ever met. Sisters, very close in age, and full of life in a way I needed to sit with at that moment. The BIG sister, at all of two & a half, quietly recognizes all the letters of the alphabet and can count to ten or twenty (my brain was buzzing so I’m not sure), and I found myself wishing I could ask her for a little advice on living a joy-filled existence!
Other than that…
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A total lifesaver at this juncture is my trainer, Shannon. The more we work on strength, balance, and simply moving, the better life feels. With the weather MAYBE settling in, my future days should feature a whole bunch of walking. Watch this space.
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We could all give it a try and compare notes!
I’m deliberately refraining from bringing up anything TOO controversial, except here’s something that seems applicable on this sunny Sunday morning…
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The day happened around me and I slipped away, but I’m back now with a positive and colorful word for all of us. It’s the little things.
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It’s February, bring on the love…
12 Feb 2026 2 Comments
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Everybody who’s still awake and keeping track of such things knows we did finally make it through all 365 days of January, only to find that February had decided to follow that same template. Thus we find ourselves not even halfway through the month when New Year’s Eve was eons ago, how does that work?
Journey will forever exhort us “(To NOT) Stop Believin'” but I confess that my inner Pollyanna finally sat down last week and thought briefly about hanging up the fight, letting it all crumble around me, and quitting all the stupid caring so much. Journey, as they say, would be so disappointed in me.
It’s been a slog any way we want to look at it, while at the same time parts of society are coming unraveled at warp speed. Every day I think about writing something in this space, and every day I wander off again without having typed a single word because where, really, does one even start? Some things are both too ridiculous and too true for words. So just to keep the lines open between you and me, and to preserve a thread of history as it happens, I’m resorting to sign language again to help me say what I can’t say. If our (the country’s) history becomes as disposable and ephemeral as a thread, at least I will have given it a small shot at preservation. And maybe we’ll both feel better for a little while. I know I could use the therapy.
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It was a really good dream.
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Let’s just say it. We’re in a dark place, a place we’ve never been before. Something will eventually happen to set our future course, and at some point one side or the other in the conflict will “win.” It’s yet to be determined just how all of that will happen and what a victory might look like, but somebody always gets declared winner. And so far, through every similar conflict, the planet has survived. Stay tuned, we haven’t seen the hard parts of this one yet.
Just as in the Civil War but without as much firepower so far, we’re brother against brother again, neighbor against neighbor. Uncle Ralph at Christmas dinner against the rest of the clan. E’erbody against e’erbody, just mix it up and get it over with. Sounds like a relief but I do not think it means what we think it means.
Put this in present tense and here we are:
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
A hard thing about life is that we have trouble hearing each other. It’s a universal problem, unique to the human race. The animal kingdom has no such problem, they can hear and locate each other through anything. It’s beyond impressive. I have opinions as to why we can’t manage some of that, but I’ll spare us all for today.
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A thing this era is teaching me is how truly hard genuine communication is, for all the reasons, and that some people honestly can’t hear us… just as we aren’t hearing them. The filters are invisible but industrial-strength and hard to break through. Choices available to us include playing dumb, trying to listen, deciding not to care, growing a hard heart, feeling stupid, feeling like we’ve lost the plot, wondering where it all went south, wondering if relationships and the world in general will ever feel real again. If you have others, share them here in comments! None of it feels GOOD.
In closing, dearly beloved, let me just quote my grandma: “This too shall pass.” Knowing exactly when and how would help immensely, but since we’re not privy to that information we can only do that thing where you hang in and hope for the best. Glad I could be of help, call again any time, I’m in the book.
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I promise you this is true.
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Grateful for you on Valentine’s Day…
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Playing for Time 
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