Creating place, finding spaces

So far this year,  I've been in my house for two and a half months and I leave again in mid- October.  I hope to return in February for some real winter, maybe even skiing.  I'm regularly asked, "So why do you even have a house here?"  Besides the snarky answer of "It's where I stash my stuff," it is also my home.  But home ownership also means maintenance of log structures and dealing with cluster flies, destructive woodpeckers, and pesky deer, and a pasture with invasive weeds and broken fences.  My sister and I got the bathroom "refreshing" almost finished (she does all the painting around here; I hang the art),  All the old yellow light bulbs have been replaced by white LEDs- a huge difference in a log interior. Plus the normal weeding, cleaning and fussing.  All the tasks that make a house a home.  I recognize as much as I love my home and it's become a sanctuary for others, it's also a chore list for me.  And I'm fine with that part of home ownership- especially if stretched over time.

But today I went to St. Martin's Monastery in Rapid City and as we sat in companionable silence, I realized this small Benedictine home for a few dozen nuns has become my sanctuary, my grounding space. I have no responsibilities other than showing up and enjoying my friends. We affirm one another and each express our love and appreciation for the beloved ninety-four year old nun who leads us.  We each start to stand she struggles and  glance at each other when she waves off our help. We speak slowly and loudly after her hearing aid falls and the batteries are lost.  The love flowing toward her and from her fills the small space.
http://www.blackhillsbenedictine.com/
https://goo.gl/images/VQ9GOK

The plan was for a full day workshop on centering prayer but our time is amended due to low attendance and her frailty.  After our time together,  I head up the hill behind the adjoining retreat center and walk the labyrinth.  My friend, Sandy, built it and I hadn't seen her since my return.  She'll end her summer in Yellowstone just before I leave for Ohio.  But this space she has created links us. And here's Sandy walking the prayer space.

http://rapidcityjournal.com/lifestyles/labyrinths-guide-worshipers-to-god/article_773cd125-ecfc-5ad5-82f8-eb911ff47b07.html
https://goo.gl/images/VQ9GOK

Today I walk barefoot in the soft grass and wonder about the rocks that line my path. Where did they come from? What did it take to create them-heat, time, weathering?  Now they form the boundaries of a space for slowing down, breathing slow, creating space for thought—space for the sacred.

In my home, I've created a place for myself and for others. One of the nicest things anyone has ever said was, "I feel safe here. This is my safe space."  What a blessing to have those words spoken out loud. We sometimes hesitate to say what is touching our hearts, it's too much of a risk.  Well, this labyrinth is worth my words.  For me, the space Sandy created is life giving and soul expanding. 

 Safe and stretching. 

What are your soul stretching spaces?  Where are your safe, relax and be-at-peace places?  Have you created them for yourself and others?  Are others creating for you?

Community is the junction of communication within a particular space;

 meaningful, loving words in a secure place.  

These sacred expanses, no matter the size, feed our souls and fill us,

expanding us to go out 

and be who we are called to be. 

Stay and create...

and go and find.

Both will bring you life. 

A decade and a life

It's been a decade, ten years, yesterday and a lifetime ago....my children lost their father, I lost my spouse/life partner/ husband; I became a widow.

I can say the word without flinching; the memories are comforting, not painful; and I'm grateful beyond words I wasn't born into a culture that expected widows to throw themselves on the flames of a husband's funeral pyre and go up in smoke.

I'm in Seattle this week and I've seen my youngest for some sweet bits and snatches of time- he and I survived his tumultuous teen years which were, in several ways, defined by death and loss.  He's becoming a fine young man and looking with logic and wisdom at his future.

He rides a motorcycle around Seattle and I'm not afraid.


His oldest brother finished his terminal degree and got a real job in real academia- against some odds. Not an easy career market. He and his brilliant wife are blessed with children and a warm, inviting home and I chose to see their blessings as the fruit of their choices early in their marriage. Instead of returning directly to grad school, they came home to nurse Bill and hold me up during the last three months of his life and the three months after.

I see God's hand providing for them and I'm thankful.


Another son is finishing up seminary and I was blessed to hear him preach this summer. He's good but the pulpit isn't his goal.  He has goals of collaboration and supporting pastors to transform the church's view of work. He's a good writer and uses words well.

He's using his quick mind to be a part of a cultural change and I'm proud of him.


My one baby girl is no longer a baby. She saw her beloved at the end of the church aisle and gained the courage to overcome her unbidden tears and her heart ache for her dad on her wedding day.  She's been marching forward ever since, loving her life as a military wife and a mother.  Bill would have loved our grandchildren and my heart ached the first time I held a new babe with our DNA.

I see her and her husband doing the hard work of loving well and I'm confident of their future.



I didn't know any of these things a decade ago, let alone forty years ago. I have no pictures of us on this computer- a photo project for the next decade. But this one photo made its way over to Mac world from the old PC. I love that this picture doesn't even hint at the years to come.

It was the era of ginormous glasses and polyester double knit plaid jackets- trust me, it looks way better in black and white.  He was being commissioned into the USMC (with uniforms to follow), we had been married almost six months and life was a piece of cake.

It has been cake- complete with life expectations being shredded- like the carrots in a favorite spice cake, and the shells of hard times to crack your teeth or your protective hard layer. There was a thick coating of sticky stuff we had to cut through to get to the essence of marriage and life.  We had surprises, sorrows and unmet expectations.  And in the end, there was death.

And I do it all over again.

These past ten years have stretched me and changed me more than almost any other.  But perhaps all those previous one—the decades of young marriage, and then parenting, of hormones and struggles, of lean times and hard won abundance,  all prepared him for heaven and me for my current life.

I'm missing you today, Bill Cleveland.

But I'm not afraid....of the future. I'm choosing to be thankful...for the blessings of the present.  

I'm proud... of the hard work the children and I have done. 

I'm confident...that he who began a good work in us with see it to completion. 

In a blink of an eye,
Love, me

A decade and a life

It's been a decade, ten years, yesterday and a lifetime ago....my children lost their father, I lost my spouse/life partner/ husband; I became a widow.

I can say the word without flinching; the memories are comforting, not painful; and I'm grateful beyond words I wasn't born into a culture that expected widows to throw themselves on the flames of a husband's funeral pyre and go up in smoke.

I'm in Seattle this week and I've seen my youngest for some sweet bits and snatches of time- he and I survived his tumultuous teen years which were, in several ways, defined by death and loss.  He's becoming a fine young man and looking with logic and wisdom at his future.

He rides a motorcycle around Seattle and I'm not afraid.


His oldest brother finished his terminal degree and got a real job in real academia- against some odds. Not an easy career market. He and his brilliant wife are blessed with children and a warm, inviting home and I chose to see their blessings as the fruit of their choices early in their marriage. Instead of returning directly to grad school, they came home to nurse Bill and hold me up during the last three months of his life and the three months after.

I see God's hand providing for them and I'm thankful.


Another son is finishing up seminary and I was blessed to hear him preach this summer. He's good but the pulpit isn't his goal.  He has goals of collaboration and supporting pastors to transform the church's view of work. He's a good writer and uses words well.

He's using his quick mind to be a part of a cultural change and I'm proud of him.


My one baby girl is no longer a baby. She saw her beloved at the end of the church aisle and gained the courage to overcome her unbidden tears and her heart ache for her dad on her wedding day.  She's been marching forward ever since, loving her life as a military wife and a mother.  Bill would have loved our grandchildren and my heart ached the first time I held a new babe with our DNA.

I see her and her husband doing the hard work of loving well and I'm confident of their future.



I didn't know any of these things a decade ago, let alone forty years ago. I have no pictures of us on this computer- a photo project for the next decade. But this one photo made its way over to Mac world from the old PC. I love that this picture doesn't even hint at the years to come.

It was the era of ginormous glasses and polyester double knit plaid jackets- trust me, it looks way better in black and white.  He was being commissioned into the USMC (with uniforms to follow), we had been married almost six months and life was a piece of cake.

It has been cake- complete with life expectations being shredded- like the carrots in a favorite spice cake, and the shells of hard times to crack your teeth or your protective hard layer. There was a thick coating of sticky stuff we had to cut through to get to the essence of marriage and life.  We had surprises, sorrows and unmet expectations.  And in the end, there was death.

And I do it all over again.

These past ten years have stretched me and changed me more than almost any other.  But perhaps all those previous one—the decades of young marriage, and then parenting, of hormones and struggles, of lean times and hard won abundance,  all prepared him for heaven and me for my current life.

I'm missing you today, Bill Cleveland.

But I'm not afraid....of the future. I'm choosing to be thankful...for the blessings of the present.  

I'm proud... of the hard work the children and I have done. 

I'm confident...that he who began a good work in us with see it to completion. 

In a blink of an eye,
Love, me

A decade and a life

It's been a decade, ten years, yesterday and a lifetime ago....my children lost their father, I lost my spouse/life partner/ husband; I became a widow.

I can say the word without flinching; the memories are comforting, not painful; and I'm grateful beyond words I wasn't born into a culture that expected widows to throw themselves on the flames of a husband's funeral pyre and go up in smoke.

I'm in Seattle this week and I've seen my youngest for some sweet bits and snatches of time- he and I survived his tumultuous teen years which were, in several ways, defined by death and loss.  He's becoming a fine young man and looking with logic and wisdom at his future.

He rides a motorcycle around Seattle and I'm not afraid.


His oldest brother finished his terminal degree and got a real job in real academia- against some odds. Not an easy career market. He and his brilliant wife are blessed with children and a warm, inviting home and I chose to see their blessings as the fruit of their choices early in their marriage. Instead of returning directly to grad school, they came home to nurse Bill and hold me up during the last three months of his life and the three months after.

I see God's hand providing for them and I'm thankful.


Another son is finishing up seminary and I was blessed to hear him preach this summer. He's good but the pulpit isn't his goal.  He has goals of collaboration and supporting pastors to transform the church's view of work. He's a good writer and uses words well.

He's using his quick mind to be a part of a cultural change and I'm proud of him.


My one baby girl is no longer a baby. She saw her beloved at the end of the church aisle and gained the courage to overcome her unbidden tears and her heart ache for her dad on her wedding day.  She's been marching forward ever since, loving her life as a military wife and a mother.  Bill would have loved our grandchildren and my heart ached the first time I held a new babe with our DNA.

I see her and her husband doing the hard work of loving well and I'm confident of their future.



I didn't know any of these things a decade ago, let alone forty years ago. I have no pictures of us on this computer- a photo project for the next decade. But this one photo made its way over to Mac world from the old PC. I love that this picture doesn't even hint at the years to come.

It was the era of ginormous glasses and polyester double knit plaid jackets- trust me, it looks way better in black and white.  He was being commissioned into the USMC (with uniforms to follow), we had been married almost six months and life was a piece of cake.

It has been cake- complete with life expectations being shredded- like the carrots in a favorite spice cake, and the shells of hard times to crack your teeth or your protective hard layer. There was a thick coating of sticky stuff we had to cut through to get to the essence of marriage and life.  We had surprises, sorrows and unmet expectations.  And in the end, there was death.

And I do it all over again.

These past ten years have stretched me and changed me more than almost any other.  But perhaps all those previous one—the decades of young marriage, and then parenting, of hormones and struggles, of lean times and hard won abundance,  all prepared him for heaven and me for my current life.

I'm missing you today, Bill Cleveland.

But I'm not afraid....of the future. I'm choosing to be thankful...for the blessings of the present.  

I'm proud... of the hard work the children and I have done. 

I'm confident...that he who began a good work in us with see it to completion. 

In a blink of an eye,
Love, me

Life is.... being alive!

Life

LIFE - the temptation is always to reduce it to size. A bowl of cherries. A rat race. Amino acids. Even to call it a mystery smacks of reductionism. It is the mystery. As far as anybody seems to know, the vast majority of things in the universe do not have whatever life is. Sticks, stones, stars, space - they simply are. A few things are and are somehow alive to it. They have broken through into Something, or Something has broken through into them. Even a jellyfish, a butternut squash. They're in it with us. We're all in it together, or it in us. Life is it. Life is with. After lecturing learnedly on miracles, a great theologian was asked to give a specific example of one. "There is only one miracle," he answered. "It is life." Have you wept at anything during the past year? Has your heart beat faster at the sight of young beauty? Have you thought seriously about the fact that someday you are going to die? More often than not, do you really listen when people are speaking to you instead of just waiting for your turn to speak? Is there anybody you know in whose place, if one of you had to suffer great pain, you would volunteer yourself? If your answer to all or most of these questions is no, the chances are that you're dead. ~originally published in Wishful Thinking and later in Beyond Words

This year I went to the Frederick Buechner Writer's Workshop. I didn't learn to write like this but I did learn a deeper appreciation for Mr. Buechner, who did write the piece I used.  Each day I receive a small snippet from him and like some of us, I look at the abundance in my inbox and delete things without reading.

 I'm glad I stopped today and read this one. 

I woke this morning in the seventeenth bed of this trip. I left my home and bed in April. I've been with beloved children and grandchildren, a reconnected cousin, a friend of a friend,  old friends and family with shared history and new friends to create story with.  I've stayed in a 1904 foursquare in Bismarck, a mid-century Seattle split foyer, a Virginian ranch with chickens running free, a brick cottage in Georgia with a wedding in the back yard and a house in the suburbs. I enjoyed a DC mansion and a Connecticut beach cottage, a rambling Pennsylvania home with almost newly weds and a Pittsburgh rowhouse with an seasoned married couple! 

As I sit here remembering, I didn't count the second stay in Ohio where I have my own room with some history but did add in the Milwaukee Air BnB and now...the bedroom of a dear friend's child. I feel loved and connected with people in each place. Even in the one hotel because I shared it with one of my dearest friends in the world. In thirty-six years of friendship, sharing a hotel room alone may be a first.  She'll remember. 

But all this would be just an extended sightseeing vacation if I hadn't been loved and tried to show love along the way. I sat at the bedside of a man I have loved since we were children and prayed for his life. I hugged his wife with gratitude. I embraced my daughter and felt the new life forming in her.  I listened to a friend's confession of unforgiveness and we cried together for shared losses. 

If I hadn't rejoiced in the birth of the baby in Milwaukee and been present with the grands, if I hadn't wept with my friend over the success of her transplant and with another over the pain in her marriage, if I hadn't listened; all this would be just passing through.  

I don't want to pass through on my trips and I don't want to pass through life.  

I don't want to reduce it or dismiss the Mystery. 

I want to be alive; 

fully alive,

pain and strange beds and all.

A heart full of gratitude to all who have welcomed me in this summer. 

Super grandma hits a wall

I'm amazing. Abby's friends have been telling me when I saw them at the library, the preschool open play day, the pool, etc. Hey, I'm just like them- getting "my" kids out of the house to burn off all that energy with some other munchkins.

My daughter and her husband have been enjoying alone time and I've been the chief cook/ bottle washer/ and all around referee.  We've had splinters (removed the old fashion way with my teeth), temper tantrums (followed by the SWEETEST chat with my favorite youngest grandchild) and the same food for four days (if it ain't broke, don't fix it).

Don't know why they are so energetic?
Ice cream anyone? 

So many choices.....

Noelle is a hoot- she's two and a half going on thirteen. "I can't wear those shoes, Bebe. They aren't cute." Imagine the inflection. She doesn't have the eye roll down but it's coming.  I hate all the princess crap on little girl's clothing. Why encourage THAT attitude... until this adorable blonde bats her big brown eyes and declares, "Bebe, I'm a princess."  Yes, darling, you certainly are. And this is a minimal Disney household- where does that gene come from?

She also changes her clothes about three times...an hour.  She's pretty good at taking stuff off and I insist she puts them back in the drawer. I don't insist on folding.  And honestly, she almost always matches. Purple with purple prints,  the right shade of pink with the cute top- nice outfits. Oops, off she goes again. When she's mad, she insists on wearing pajamas. Whatever. She wears pajamas a lot.

 When she's not changing clothes she wants to paint. Finger paint- mostly on her body and lots of water color pages. And my daughter has sacrificed her nice clean water color palette. She's not into messy toddler crafts anymore than I was at her age— this is the stuff for grandmothers to do.

Josiah is the four year old firstborn- "but Bebe, ..... is how you're supposed to do....."  Always knows the right way to turn, where put shoes after a walk, how to buckle seat belts correctly.  It's amazing his mother made it to adulthood as incompetent as I seem to be.

 He's also fun to talk to- I've been waiting for this verbal leap and it's great to chat about why the lions didn't eat Daniel.  Or how time works (there's sunshine on Ohio but Nevada is  still dark, so we can't call Mom and Dad at 6am EST). He's precise, a little nervous about water and darn helpful.



He and I built ramps with the leftover lumber in the garage, watched some Bob the Builder and washed all the Little Tikes toys in the sunroom.

They had just taken off their swim suits so of course,
we HAD to turn on the sprinkler.

This week, I have discovered the secret to happy children. Ready for my wisdom, young moms? Undivided attention. That's all it takes.  I've checked my email twice, Facebook once and actually lost my iPhone twice.  They are the center of my world and they are so content. (For whole moments at a time)

I love making forts! There's a shy lion hiding in the cave. 

I also have accomplished squat. Nada. Zilch.  No doctor appointments, no significant cooking or cleaning and I got by on two showers (no shaving).  I haven't talked to an insurance person or the cable company. I did get two loads of laundry done- all that clothes changing and messy finger painting.  I talked to the next door neighbor once.  The lawn needs mowing and my car needs an oil change. I'm a bit stir crazy but, hey—it's four days of my life!  God bless young moms and dads and thank you Jesus, for my GROWN UP children!


So today we clipped our final link in the paper chain- Mommy and Daddy will be here tomorrow! This morning I'm feeling pretty good about our time together.  We all returned from the swimming pool alive. The kids have all their appendages although some toes are a bit smashed.   We weren't exposed to DEET since I forgot bug spray and Calamine lotion does help with itchy bites.  I didn't actually get heat stroke from playing soccer and chase in the afternoon sun  No one ran away, disappeared into a mall or talked to strangers and there was only had one serious meltdown.  I already apologized to the kids.

So come home, Mom and Dad.  The toilet's clogged, there's no milk, the nervous dog is chewing on his foot.... and I'm tired. After all, it's been FOUR whole days.






HURRAH! They are home!

Transparent, beautiful , fragile

I'm a blessed woman. This has been a whirlwind of friends and food, a writer's workshop and a wedding.  All wild and wonderful.  There's all the Ws for today!

One more- wise friends asked me to come up to their house on Long Island Sound in East New Haven, CT.  It's a luxury to have a quiet space to process all I learned at the workshop and reflect on the wedding. And write.

With all this travel this year, I haven't done the writing I'd like to be doing so this few days is so worth the drive up through New York City.  The house is full of windows and light and the water crashes ever so gently on the sand outside the patio doors. I see lots of shutters for the winter so clearly the water isn't always sedate but this is the gentle season.

I love to walk along water, especially water with seashells. As a family, we lived near beaches for many years. I have seashells I've collected—tiny, perfect specimens of Pacific shells from Okinawa and sea glass from the Isle of Capri.  But today I found something new- fragile, translucent mollusks. They have the official name of Anomia simplex but the author I read called them "jingle shells". They are used in jewelry making and wind chimes.  I just loved their colors of peach and yellow and gold and orange.

      As the sun set, the sea reminded me of the bowl of a peachy jingle shell. 

Why did my eye go to jingle shells? Why not sturdy clam shells or curled up whelks?

As I walked, I reflected on the last few weeks- visits with old friends, creative time with new ones. The many meals and gifts I've been given and kind words spoken.
I'm feeling loved and affirmed.  And a little fragile.

Why do I, perhaps that can be a we—why do we doubt our strengths, distrust satisfaction and contentment?  Why do I look over my shoulder and wonder when the next crisis will crash into my tender world?

I think I want to stride through this good, green earth with confident stomps and howl with big belly laughs of joy. But instead, I tiptoe with awe and wonder but also with a touch of trepidation. How long can this bliss last?

These shells are created thin and fragile.

This morning's find is sea glass, trashed bottles sandblasted by the sea into smooth, safe bits of beauty. Their function long gone, their sharp edges ground down, their only role now is to be delightful and continue to return to the sand they were made from.

Perhaps that's what a crisis does to me- grinds down another sharp edge, reminds me to bring a little light into the world,  returns me to the stuff I was made from.  Not a bad lesson from sea glass or from life. 

Looking At the Underside

I'm at the Frederick Buechner Writer's Workshop at Princeton Seminary.  New Jersey is green, lush and not too hot yet. Today I optimistically put on my walking short/skirt with plans to hike to the train station to check my route for Friday's departure.  It was a lovely morning but by lunch it was pouring rain. I had left my umbrella in the car. and was soaked by the time I got to my lodging.  I had that feeling—"Tuck it into your purse," but the sun was shining.

My son attends Princeton Seminary (he's in Denver on his internship...of course. I'm here, he's out west) but even without him, I enjoy wandering the beautiful campus.

I imagine him here at the Miller Chapel and wonder which is his dorm.  Yes, seminary has dorms. He'll not miss that part.


And dogwoods. The campus has such lovely dogwoods. I haven't seen dogwoods like these for years. Many of the wild dogwoods I remember from the '80's in North Carolina and Virginia have succumbed to some dogwood blight. These are domesticated- shorter, stockier and loaded with blossoms.  Vivid green ladened with white perfection.

As I leave another stimulating session with my head full of questions and ideas, I pass close enough to a dogwood to see up into the branches and for the first time notice the underside.  Each pale, four-lobed blossom rests delicately on a three or four inch stem.  The fragile supports tremble in the breeze, they sway and bend. I admired the full tree but it was the view of the fragile stalk that held up those perfect white blooms that caught my breath.



Being with writers and thinking of writing and reading my own writing in public (gasp)— this is the fragile underside  of the words I put out into the world.  These times reinforce the wobbly pole that holds my call to write when my own fears and insecurities tell me to take up knitting instead.

Sometimes in my search for a writer's life, I ignore my intuition and end up wet and chagrined. Other times, I listen carefully and well to my heart and am rewarded with times of growth.  My emotional self and my writerly soul are nourished.  Once again I lift up the fragile words of my thoughts and musings, my fears and hopes.  This has been a day of richness.  And I trust it will bring forth beauty, like the dogwoods.

Empty halls and a healing wind

I'm spending my last day with my cousin here at Harborview Hospital, Seattle, Washington.  Tomorrow I'm flying back to Bismarck and on to the East coast.  Jim will remain here in the West Hospital, Floor 3W- Neuroscience.  Neuro ICU is below me, where he was, and Intensive Rehab, above me, is the goal for this week.   We're giving him more choices- do you want to get up now or rest in bed ten more minutes?  Grape juice or V-8? Ready to stand now or wait a minute?  He's getting to control a tiny piece of his life again.  It's hard work.

 But today it is Sunday and the hospital is quiet. No therapists come and go.



I wrote a blog about an empty airport one time.  Not sure why but I'm intrigued by empty spaces.




The wide walls and multiple elevators are made for many bodies..




... but feel too many, too wide,
too quiet in the stillness of the weekend.
We expect a hospital to bustle with people.

I roam halls while he sleeps and find new ways to get from point A to point B.

I check out paintings and  art on the walls.  All in the rare hush of a major trauma center.

Even the helicopters seem to fly less.





But in the deceptive silence, there is the undercurrent of movement  toward life—the never-ending insistence on life and the urgent demand for its continuation. Patients still cry out into the dark of night.  Their families continue to stand by the door and chew fingernails or speak in hushed tones.  There are whispers, "Live, be here, come back.  Be yourself."


Friday I took a walk down the street.  This is St. James Cathedral, two blocks from the hospital.

Today is Pentecost Sunday. The Easter season is over, a new Wind continues to blow power into the new life won by the resurrection.  Power to actually live a life like Jesus. 

Although sometimes the Church appears quiet with too wide spaces and not enough activity,  but like a hospital on weekends the breathe is always moving.  Life is moving through both places, places full of broken people even when it appears that all is quiet.  

The quest for life continues.   We have our choices as well. We also can move toward healing.

Here, there and everywhere....

How to wrap up a winter on the road?  How about a photo collage?  

Here we go- you may notice a theme.

Welcome to Arizona- Feb 1st.

Road food,  JUST for road food!

Janet's short stay in Tucson included Peruvian food. 

Downtown Abbey comes to an end.
Through the tears,  I had scones and cucumber sandwiches with my brother and his lovely wife. 

Dessert was coconut bars, cheesecake and a French tart. 
 And I thought I'd lose weight in Arizona...ha!

Took a break from eating for the Tucson Gem and Mineral show! Love this.

Looks like high-end exotic chocolates. At least to me. 

Headed to Ohio for son-in-law's promotion-

Buying for Steve's promotion,  Abby and I went to a huge international food market for... 
"what are we here for, again?"
"Oh, that's right- cigars, aged whiskey,.... ooo, a aisle of hot sauce- Marines love hot sauce."

Hey- where did this cutie come from??  Where's your brother?
 Not a great trip for pictures but captured this one! 

Back in Tucson, March 8th.

If you eat alone, chicken curry and roasted peppers by a outdoor fireplace is a great idea.

And since it was Bill's birthday- I had a really gourmet root beer float for dessert. 

Stayed in a friend's guest house near the University just in time for the 4th largest book festival in the US. Thank you, Pam- it was awesome.

University District- walk to cool restaurants. 
Green tamales with scrambled eggs- wow and yum!

Easter was lovely...

My brother is a kid at heart. A really smart, kind and responsible...kid. 

Mom came down to Tucson. We had Easter together but I left before her 88th birthday.
Looking good, Mom.

Holidays- all about pie for breakfast the next day! 

 On the road again.... heading north

I love this picture of my folks (on the right) with their skiing friends.
Good memories of the '80s.
Shirley now lives in Albuquerque and I stayed with her. 

NM- land of hot springs. This one  in Jimez is great

 On the road to Colorado- it snowed as soon as I crossed the border.  March 31st.

Local woman makes amazing burritos!
Pueblo-good food, good friends. Thank Ron and Jeanine

In Fort Collins with some of the wonderful men in my life,
Richard Baker and his grandsons (I'm their honorary grandma). 

And some amazing Cajun food in Fort Collins.....it's all about the food.

Home to South Dakota!  

Where I...

Spread out some of the books bought on this trip-
I know—it's an illnesses.
But between the book festival and the great used bookstores in Tucson...

Surveyed some of my original art finds... another weakness.  

"Helped" my sister paint my bathroom....
that means I do the horizontal edges and try not to make a mess.
Looking forward to the finished room when I return again.

After cramming a month's worth of appointments and meetings into two weeks,

this greeted me. 

So I ....

packed up the goodies I bought on the winter road trip for the kiddos,

did a little bit of this.....

and a little bit of that...

And back on the road again!
Off to Bismarck, Seattle, then east to the coast and NJ in June.  
The show goes on and on.