Signs from the Road

It's Sunday. More Signs from the Road.

Chapter 2

Home on Cape Cod

In two weeks Janet and I, our three-year-old Mattie, and our twelve-year-old Toyota RAV are taking off for eight weeks, maybe nine. We’re leaving New England and gallivanting down the East Coast to Florida and then across the Southern Border between the U.S. and Mexico, sometimes visiting friends and family, taking a mid-way two-week sidebar to Mexico, and finishing up our last leg in Southern California before we turn around and head back East along a more northerly route that will bring us to sizzling Las Vegas and spiritual Santa Fe and the country twangs of Memphis and the Grand Ol’ Opry.

Neither of us remembers how we made the decision to take a road trip. Most likely we were complaining about winter temperatures and slippery snow in our tiny coastal community of Provincetown, Massachusetts, a peninsula at the very tip of Cape Cod. Probably we were motivated by promising two Arizona friends we’d visit. And we thought if not now, when? So over the early winter of 2019 we mapped out thirty stops. Our criteria: No snow. Warm-ish weather. Visits with friends and family. Dog Parks. American cities and small towns. Chance meetings with strangers. Good food. 

We’re leaving our vacuum cleaners and chores behind and activating our version of Thelma, Louise and Mattie.

 

Chapter 3

Where to start? 

Northern Florida serves as our starting point. It’s 1,464 miles, twenty-two hours driving time from Provincetown to St. Petersburg, where our friends Alli and Ilene live. I look at a map of the East Coast and Janet and I look at each other. We don’t do well together in the car. We argue about directions and I complain that she tailgates, which she denies. We stiffen when we sit too long.  These facts lead us to our first decision: we’ll limit our driving to four or five or at most six hours a day.

We can’t leave until we see our daughter Jess and our son-in-law and our four grandkids. They live two hours away, sixteen miles west of Boston, and two months will be the longest time ever without seeing them. So for our first night on the road, we’ve planned a Chinese buffet at their house and we’ll spend the night there. The next morning we’ll drive two hours to Western Massachusetts, to the town of Greenfield, to stay with friends for a few days. We’ll make a side trip an hour north to Vermont to catch up with more friends before we leave for a night in Philadelphia. And then on to Charleston, South Carolina. 

But wait, we’re already challenging our proposed four or five- or six hour driving limit. The ride from Philly to Charleston is ten-plus hours, so I look for a midpoint. According to Google, I’m not the first traveler seeking that midpoint—the question has been asked hundreds, maybe thousands of times. The clear winner is Rocky Mount, North Carolina.  Okay, that works. I book a pet-friendly hotel in Rocky Mount for a quick overnight. We’ll drive four hours the next morning to Charleston, where we’ll stay for two nights. We know very little about Charleston except for its great reputation for Southern hospitality and Southern grits. It was a heartbreak to learn about the plantations and the international slave trade based in Charleston from 1856 to 1863. 

Thanks to Janet’s fill-in part-time job at one of Provincetown’s hotels, the manager who is also a friend has gifted us with certificates for several one-or two-night stays, the first for Tybee Island in Georgia. That will be our next stop.Tybee Island is barely fifteen miles from Savannah and the hotel is dog friendly and right on the beach. (Not exactly.) 

Next, we’ll drive four hours south to Flager Beach, Florida, where Mattie has a dog friend, a black lab named Mary Jane. We’re told Flager Beach is a quaint coastal town like Provincetown. Then we’re off to St. Petersburg and from there we’ll follow the southern border through the Florida Panhandle to New Orleans, and head to the Texas cities and towns of San Antonio, Austin, and Marfa. And then Bisbee, Tucson, and Phoenix Arizona. And a side trip to Mexico. We’ll finish the first half of our adventure with three stops in California: Palm Springs, Pismo Beach, and Topanga.

I definitely need a system to organize all this! I often write my to-do lists on 8 by 11 inch envelopes, and that is what I do now. I write a rolling list of each stop, adding the mileage and driving time from one location to the next. As I learn more, I add the high, low and average temperatures, and the dates we’ll come and go. Looking back, I can confirm that my envelope worked like a charm, even when we changed plans.

Where to stay? Janet and I aren’t hotel chain types. We prefer quaint quirky places. But we have no experience with Airbnb and we have Mattie. As I began googling options, some things became clear: in most cases, we can find decent places to stay for around a hundred dollars a night. (Looking back, not exactly.) I honed in on places that have the greatest number of positive reviews, and I looked for those that include a free breakfast, not so much to save money, but so we can eat either leisurely or quickly before we hit the road. I also looked for a couch in the room. It’s a nice extra for weary travelers.

The chains jump out. I choose mostly 3-star ratings, but I let a couple of 2-stars slip in because the reviews are good and the places look and sound just fine. (In several cases, I’d come to regret those slips! I don’t think I will ever recommend a two-star hotel again.) In all, I spend about ten hours (It might have been twenty. Or thirty…) booking our stays. I make copies of each confirmation and slide them in chronological order into a plastic sleeve folder. 

What to pack? Eight weeks on the road. With a dog. And a separate trip to Mexico. That feels like a lot of packing. I break down what we’ll need:

Snacks for the car? Single bags of popcorn, Kind bars, peanut butter crackers, chocolate coated blueberries, other treats for Mattie. We’ll be gone almost eighty days and we’ll happily eat our meals out. But we could easily drop ten dollars a pop on quick roadside stops, and maybe we won’t want to take the time to stop as often as we want to munch. Plus, we don’t know how leaving Mattie in the car alone in strange places or with varying temperatures will work out. Our solution is a trip to BJ’s to stock up on plenty of munchies. I pack a good supply in a see-through plastic bag that we’ll keep up front with us in the car, along with chocolate, oranges, pistachio nuts, and breath mints. Some bully sticks and Greenies are also in front, and the rest go in a small grocery box, stuffed in a corner of the car’s way-back.

Weather appropriate clothes? Figuring this part out is challenging and I feel like a genius when I come up with a plan. The Rav has a good-sized trunk area and should hold our suitcases and supplies well enough. But who wants to lug suitcases and dog supplies in and out of hotels night after night? I’m a light packer (so I thought) and Janet is not (no surprise there.) We’ll start off in cold East Coast weather and warm up in the Southern states and along the Southern border. But none of the temps are exactly sun-bathing weather, except when we fly to Mexico. Since Mexico will definitely be beachwear, we decide we’ll each pack a suitcase specifically for that trip and we’ll put them furthest back in the wayback. We won’t touch those two suitcases for several weeks.

For our day-to-day travels, I come up with this idea to pack each daily outfit separately: for example, a top, a bottom, and underwear-in one of these see-through plastic bags I’ve ordered from Amazon. We’ll separate the plastic bags by cold weather and hot weather. 

A week before we head out, Janet and I lay out the clothes we want: summer, winter, sweaters, blouses, tee-shirts, pants, shorts, socks, underwear, pajamas. We sort and match them in almost random order, but the overriding goal is to be able to quickly choose just one plastic bag at a time, assuring us a simple choice of next-day clothes, and keeping it light and simple. So, some plastic bags have long pants and long sleeves and others have capris and tee-shirts. We also combine one bag for beachwear: our bathing suits,  covers, and flip flops.

Each day, when we check into our hotel or wherever, we’ll each pull out one bag, along with our one shared suitcase that has our nightwear and toiletries and medicine and Mattie’s blanket and food and munchies. It seems pretty efficient. (Ha!)

I tuck the plastic bags upright in one of two grocery boxes, one box for warm weather clothes, and a second box for cold weather. Because we each have our own clothes, I quickly realize this means we’ll have a total four pretty good-sized grocery-sized boxes that take up a lot more room than I expected. I also fail to factor in Janet’s ginormous toiletry bag—it’s the size of an adult raccoon. It’s all a tight fit, but I still think it’s workable. I sketch what goes where: the four clothing boxes in the very front of the way back so the daily plastic bags are easy to reach; our shared suitcase also goes up front; the Mexico suitcases go way back; Mattie’s supplies and food fit on the left side, snack replenishments fit on the right side, and my laptop and Mattie’s foldable soft crate get tucked behind the passenger seat. I’m impressed with myself! We make a make-shift shelf behind the driver’s seat for Mattie’s food and water bowls. She has herself a little apartment back there: a small soft bed, a window to view the world, easy access to her food and water, and a squeaky toy and bully stick.

By the time we leave Provincetown the car is pretty darn pretty organized.  (Double Ha! So I thought!)

  It's Sunday and that means the beginning (or return) of Signs from the Road.  I began posting about this trip many months (years?) ago, but only the first few chapters. This time I'll be posting from beginning to end, so my apologies to several of my blog friends who have seen the introductory chapters already.

I'll be posting every Sunday, with photos. 

Here we go!

 

SIGNS FROM THE ROAD

 

The Adventures and Misadventures

Of Two Women, One Dog, &

A Covid Pandemic 

 

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction…………………………

How to Start…………………………

Where to Stay……………………….

What to Pack………………………...

Provincetown/Cape Cod…………….

Orleans MA…………………………

Natick MA………………………….

Greenfield/Northampton MA……….

Chester VT………………………….

Philadelphia PA…………………….

Rocky Mount NC…………………...

Charleston SC……………………….

Tybee Island GA…………………….

Savannah GA……………………….

Flagler Beach FL……………………

Saint Petersburg FL…………………

Apalachicola FL…………………….

Pensacola FL……………………….

Mobile ALA………………………...

New Orleans LA……………………

Beaumont TX……………………….

Austin TX…………………………...

Columbus New Mexico…………….

Marfa TX……………………………

El Paso TX………………………….

Bisbee AZ ………………………….

Tucson AZ………………………….

Carefree AZ………………………...

Palm Springs CA……………………

San Luis Obispo CA………………...

Pismo Beach CA……………………

Cambria CA………………………...

Carpinteria CA……………………...

Topanga CA…………………………

Blythe CA……………………………

Amarillo TX…………………………

St Louis MO………………………… 

 

 

Introduction

 

It’s old news now, but in the early days of the pandemic, after returning from a nine-week cross country road trip, I was pretty sure I had Covid. At first I felt a heavy weight on my chest, and then a headache around my left temple. I waited it out for a few days before I called my local health center. The date was March 20, 2020 and this was a big scary deal. A nurse’s aide called me back, asked a half dozen questions about my symptoms, and a half hour later a clinic nurse called and asked me the same questions. Because I’d been traveling the country, she set me up for ‘the test’ the next day. I’m not a spring chicken and I’ve had pneumonia twice. I pep-talk my lungs to stay strong. But here I was, curled up, lethargic, with a headache and an on-again off-again sore chest. The window shutters in our little guest bedroom off the living room were closed shut so my surroundings were dark, and so were my thoughts. These were the early days of an unimaginable pandemic plague, with deaths and body bags piling up. I’m asking myself if I have the courage to die on a ventilator with no partner Janet and no daughter Jessica comforting me in my final moments; my poor self all too aware and all too alone. 

That was the Coronavirus in March 2020. I waited four days for my negative test result.

*****

Three thousand miles from home, when it was clear that the country was shutting down, my partner Janet and I rushed home, condensing a return trip, two-week drive from California to Provincetown to just under four days. We were determined to stay ahead of a rumor that

New York state might issue a ‘Stay-in-Place’ order in an effort to control the already rapid and consequential spread of the virus. Our rush was a wild end to a very worthy nine-week road trip. For three and a half days we rode the highways like a wild stallion, just us, our dog Mattie, pelting rain, and fourteen-wheeler trucks. Over eight weeks, we’d visited twenty-five cities, twenty states, fifteen friends and family, stayed in twenty hotels and motels, and traveled eighty-five hundred miles: one 2012 Toyota Rav, one good dog, and one damn pandemic. A pandemic, like the plague of 1812.

Chapter 1

Janet and I got the idea for a road trip on a whim. When I began researching how to plan and organize two months on the road, in a car and with a dog, I bought a few road trip books because I wanted a sense of how to think about it all--how to plan, what to bring, and where to go. We’d be gone for weeks. We’d be in all kinds of weather and temperatures. How should we pack? How far should we drive each day? We’ll need dog-friendly accommodations. Where should we stay? What should we see? I wanted a step-by-step approach to planning where and how, and I also wanted practical tips and advice. I ordered several books hoping for answers, but each one was more ‘touristy’ than either of us would be. Plus, I found only minimal help with things like how to avoid lugging suitcases in and out of every stop or how to search out interesting off-the-road places. 

We were to learn all this by trial and error. Actually, most of our trip was about trial and error, because although we had an itinerary, we often juggled our plans, and also because I made several mistakes in choosing where we stayed. We had plenty of wins: fantastic restaurants, sweet accommodations, interesting venues, unusual attractions, and best of all, back road gems. We mostly laughed about the misses, preferring to enthusiastically hit the road in our car, with our dog, with our all-weather clothes, with snacks, with promises to control frustrations and tempers, and with an unrealistic desire to plan and not plan.

            We knew at the onset that we wouldn’t concentrate on tourist attractions. We preferred to breathe in daily life along sleepy two-lane highways and winding back roads, almost haphazardly discovering American towns and cities, meeting people, many different from ourselves, and first-hand experiencing local landscapes, local foods, and local cultures. 

It turns out that road trips are a lot like life: it’s tricky to balance planning ahead and  savoring the present at the same time. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Our freewheeling preferences aside, some basic planning was unavoidable. I put about forty hours into mapping the stops, organizing the car, budgeting our time and money. I couldn’t anticipate the charming intangibles–our very human and often laughable exchanges and experiences along the way. We met a pregnant dog sprawled across two bar stools in Tybee Island, Georgia. We had ten minutes of total and misguided exhilaration thinking we won $10,000 on a Florida lottery ticket. We giggled at an electronic flashing road sign on the Sopchoppy Highway, announcing ‘This Saturday: Fish Fry for Doris!’ We sunk into six inches of thick wet mud in Topanga, California–not our car, our feet! And I can’t even remember where this gem of a sign found us: ‘Fold Your Worries Into Paper Planes and Turn Them Into Flying Fucks.’

This book is about our journey. We left our home in Provincetown Mass, on the Coast of Massachusetts, on the third week of January, and we got back home on the third week of  March. Our trip ended dramatically because of Covid, but until then, we had a blast. I can’t recommend a freewheeling road trip nearly enough. It’s a grand thing to do, and the looser, the better.  You certainly may not follow the paths we chose, but I hope this book gives you the idea and inspiration to plan your own road trip. It’s so worth it!

Two Women, One Dog, and One Covid Roadtrip

 Beginning Sunday, November 23, and continuing every week on Sundays, I'll be posting selections from my unpublished Road Trip book, starting with an Introduction and Chapter One. I hope you'll join me: it was quite an adventure!

An Imperfect Life

Finally, this book is underway. It's been edited, proofread, the cover design is finished, and now it's in the last step before it's published: formatting--getting the typed manuscript onto book pages. Every step is both exciting and nerve-racking. I expect An Imperfect Life will be available on Amazon and in bookstores on or around mid-January. 

The story: 

 The child of alcoholic parents, Christine Macabee should have known better than to marry a man who drank too much. Thankfully, she has her eccentric older sister Louise to lean on.  

After a fatal accident alters the family, Christine devises a plan to raise her three children on a steady diet of home cooked meals, inspiring poetry, and the silly addition of an imaginary husband—the singer-songwriter, John Denver. Her plan works, until it doesn’t. 

The kids grow up, make mistakes, fall in and out of love, and fall in and out of trouble—some troubles more serious than others. And just when it looks like everything’s back on track, Christine faces a  crisis of her own. 

Raw, tender, and often funny, this is a working-class epic about the ordinary heroism of showing up, with hope and humor—again and again. Can Christine have her own happy ending? Maybe. But not before she’s forced to reexamine her version of a perfect life

Once the formatting is done, I'll be looking for 'advance readers.' This means I will provide an advance copy free of charge in exchange for an honest review on or around the day the book is officially published. If you're on my email list, you may be getting an invitation! (or let me know if interested.)

It's likely my blog is going to give extra attention on my writing and my books for a few months. I haven't mentioned advertising and promotion--I'll get to that--but I can say that part isn't nearly as much fun as writing and printing! 

This blog started my writing career, almost a decade ago. I cherish it still.

Love kj

What a Month

Update: this should have been posted a couple of months ago! So here it is: late but still true: 

The most obvious event this summer has been JB's Art Show here in Provincetown. She's had 25 pieces basking altogether and beautifully hung on a long wall--each piece hand crafted from reclaimed metal or local driftwood. There were sales and smiles and well-deserved compliments. This particular show cements Janet as a serious artist--everyone said so, and she knows it, and that leaves her wondering about next steps.

We both understand the challenge of figuring out next steps. We knew when we moved to this magnificent peninsula at the tip of Cape Cod that we'd be venturing into and deciding how to live our creative lives. We're both officially retired, and what an amazing joy to no longer let structure control our days. 

 

Catch Up

 

I no sooner promise I'll be blogging more, and then my blog falls silent for far too long. I apologize! There has been so much activity over the past few months, I'm not sure where to start. 

I joined a group of fourteen local folks for a weekly 'class' in writing monologues. There was no prompt or suggestion about what to write. Little did we know that the instructor would 'tie' our monologues together and the result would be a full scale play. And little did we know that play would be presented at a Sunday matinee, to a full house and a standing ovation. It was quite an experience. My monologue was about coming out to my Mother. I was proud of both of us as I shared our journey out loud. 

If you have followed my blog since the beginning, you won't recognize Mr. Ryan, who is now 18 and just graduated from high school! He's off to college in Virginia and there's no doubt his household and our family won't be the same without him. 

I know I should do a separate post or two or three about our spring trip to Southeast Asia, and maybe I will. But for now, here is the smallest snapshot of our experience in Vietnam and then a short time in Hong Kong. Incredible. I'll let the photos speak for themselves, except the very last one.....

 This shot is from our rickety boat trip down the Mekong Delta in Vietnam. Most of the families who live along the Delta are rice field farmers, and they are very poor. This is a typical home.  This leads me to a major awareness our trip to Southeast Asia gifted me. We are all connected. Living in America is lucky. And, even with great poverty, parents love their kids and families matter and national pride isn't only the privilege of industrialized countries. The people of Vietnam were gracious and kind and fun loving.

And finally: the big event this week. My partner JB is having an exhibit of her art--25 pieces--starting August 8. Her work involves either old metal or local driftwood, and the whole event is totally exciting. I'll have pictures to share. 

As for me: I've decided to self-publish my family saga novel and hope it will be available by mid-fall. 

Lots happening, and most of it is good. 

love kj

Cambodia

Cambodia now has a special space in my heart. I didn't expect that. Like Thailand, the people were so gentle and kind and humble, but in this country, they haven't recovered from first, three million citizens killed (The Killing Fields,) and then Covid, when all the outside redevelopment and reconstruction money and efforts dried up and never returned. As a result, we saw more empty and half-finished buildings that I could count--a country on the verge of recovery, but not yet.

We had some interesting travels in Cambodia, mostly by tuk-tuk, bus and boat. For starts, I got in the habit of writing key words--thank you, hello, how much, etc--on my hand, something I hadn't done since third grade! JB and I tried hard to communicate in some way, to honor the people so gracious to us, but I have to say we mostly failed. Four countries, different dialects and inflections--it was hard!

We spent a day gallivanting. Here, where this temple is located, we encountered poverty that seemed so dire. Ten year old kids were holding babies and begging us for money, sometimes offering a trinket or a piece of fruit as a fair exchange. We also visited a thriving city, but there's no doubt we saw a lot of poverty and makeshift homes.

Here I am in a tuk-tuk: a familiar mode of transportation that took us to a local market and scooted us around town. 

On our way to the Mangroves, we passed all too many buildings like this--they just never got finished after Covid, the outside investors aren't coming back, and the country hasn't the means to finish them. 

We met Cowboy and Denise from Alabama, while waiting in line for a boat to tour the Mangrove. This was the start of some shared adventures with them and I think the start of an enduring friendship. Cowboy is really Ron, but his introduction made sure his Texas roots were very clear. On a scorching day in Vietnam, a week or so later, when I wasn't sure I'd stay upright during a 95 degree, 2 or 3 mile walk, he kept an eye on me, bought me a fan, gave me water, and pulled me back from a fast-moving motorcycle. We had fun with these two....

How fortunate we were to visit a local home. The family was waiting for our arrival, and greeted us with hands clasped and reverent bows. They served us fresh fruit and gave us a sense of their modest way of life. The main room, seen here, is open air, where the family dines. 

We also visited a monastery/temple, with so much gold and glitter everywhere. This little boy smiled, disappeared, and returned with a flower for JB and me. 

And here is a tribute to the Killing Fields: the War Memorial. It was beautiful and solemn.

 I'm going to be rooting for Cambodia. This is a country and a people that deserve peace and prosperity. 

Southeast Asia

 

I'm so overdue in posting this incredible trip. JB and I have been home a good month and I'm still influenced by the experience. We began in Bangkok Thailand, sailed to Cambodia, and then Vietnam, and ended in Hong Kong China. 

On total impulse, we'd signed up for a Viking Ocean cruise. We had never discussed Southeast Asia, and even now, I'm not sure what led us to book the voyage three days later. We'd be gone almost three weeks,  docking at five ports and traveling by bus, tram, cable car, tuk-tuk, and foot to bustling markets and deltas and mangroves and bays and upscale cities and fishing villages and private homes and monasteries and temples and artist communities. It was all incredible. 

I'll start with Bangkok. We arrived two days before we would board the Viking Venus ship, mostly so we could adjust to a massive time change and to get ourselves settled. We stayed at a lovely hotel and immediately noticed how gentle and polite the Thai people are. And the food: fantastic. Most of these two days was spent relaxing at the pool, eating incredible Thai food, visiting a temple, walking along a very poor section of the city. The temple trip convinced us to cross temples off our list. There was gold glitter everywhere, but it was too crowded and too hot. 

 

Bangkok is a stark mix of high rise buildings and run down shacks. The vibe is clearly upscale and hip, but poverty is pretty apparent. The streets are filled with motorcycles and motorbikes, zig zagging and moving in all directions. Most people don't have cars, so motorcycles transport almost everyone. It's surprising to learn that accidents are rare!

The food was fabulous and the people were gracious. We drove a good two hours inland, but never saw the lush landscape I imagined we would. That surprised me. All in all, Bangkok is a bustling city, one of the most visited in the world.  Some Americans we met at the hotel had had shirts and other clothing made for them, on the spot, and ready for pickup 24 hours later. Others indulged in great local massages at a cost of $10-15 American dollars. 

When we boarded the ship, it was obvious we were in for a fantastic cruise. The ship itself is both elegant and functional--four restaurants, living room style seating everywhere. a buffet at every meal that never disappointed, a theatre, a spa, TED talks, entertainment, and best of all, a sweet 270 foot room with a private sliding glass patio. Our views from that room were amazing.

We sailed overnight to Cambodia, and Cambodia turned out to have a special place in my heart. I'll write about that next. 

love kj

 

Wanted: Calm When the Wind Blows

 Once or twice a year JB and I go to the Kripalu Retreat Center in Western Massachusetts for a few days of R & R. I do very little yoga because of my (damn) back, but we start and end each day with a lengthy meditation, eat fantastically healthy meals buffet style (including a silent breakfast, which for what ever reason gives me a spiritual boost,) attend a couple of personal growth-breathing-self care workshops, schedule whole body massages, and head to bed far earlier than I'm used to. All in all, we leave rested and grateful. 

This is not an easy time in the outer world. I'm so sad that my adult daughter is understandably worried about her family and children; worried about rights being taken away and about deep divisions in communities that preclude kindness and dialogue. Heck, almost everyone I know feels that way. 

It bothers me a bit to hear of  programs that promote and emphasize "Joy," because for now and in the months ahead, I think most of us need healthy coping and empowerment skills that address uncertainty and ambivalence and fear and confusion. I think we need to prepare ourselves to stay centered when the world outside feels out of control. So I don't think "joy" is exactly the point. 

Still, it's not helpful to lean into despair or retreat. Sometimes I'm not sure whether to bury my head in the sand or stay abreast of every troubling action and reaction in the government and in society. So, in part to help myself, I've decided to re-enact some parts of the workshops I used to develop and present. I'm planning to hold a weekend in May workshop, here in Provincetown, initially, for 6-8 women. I'm putting together an agenda (and meal planning!) that I'm excited about. I stopped working professionally probably 4-5 years ago, but there's often a little voice inside me that nudges not to stray too far from my roots. I'm hoping this clears a helpful path. 

I'm already chuckling at the titles in my draft agenda: What's the Cat Hair? (Obstacles.)The Poker Chip Theory (Assets.)  Rocketship (Meditations.)  Flower Petals (Balance.) Color Walks (Awareness.) This is classic me: trying to 'teach' in ways that are silly and rememberable and easy to understand. 

Meanwhile, in less than two weeks, JB and I are traveling to Southeast Asia on a Viking Ocean Cruise, for almost three weeks. This is a BIG event for us. Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, China. More to come on that. xo

love kj

A Gift to My Jessica xo

A year ago, during my family's Christmas Yankee Swap, I ended up with a book that provided a prompt a day, for a full year. 

I  decided I would take on this challenge and it would be a 2024 Christmas gift for my beloved and best and only daughter, Jessica. It was quite a challenge: at one point I was almost two months behind. In my no-rush Turtle Therapy way (ie stop before something I love becomes a chore), I took my time, but I finished! There's no doubt my drawing and painting skills improved dramatically over the year. Below is one of my very favorites. 

When Jess opened this gift, she pretty much cried. I hoped it would mean alot to her--and maybe to my grandkids in the years ahead, and I have no doubt the pages touched her heart. I'm so proud and happy about that. 

I'll be sharing some of the pages in this journal in the weeks and months ahead. Meanwhile, I learned and reaffirmed something important: when I do something, anything, that has deep love as its foundation, mistakes don't matter and perfection doesn't matter; what counts is the love. And this book has plenty of that. 

love kj