Little Gifts # 3

 Can you see how much they love each other? 

These are two people I love more than I could ever say.

It's been a couple of weeks of unplanned stress.

It's getting better.

But above all that 

seeing my Mother and my Daughter 

together like this

is reason enough

to know joy.

This a very huge gift for me

and I hope it may remind you

of how good it is to be in the presence 

of people who love one another.

That reminder is 

my little gift # 3

to you today

love

kj

Little Gifts # 2

Yesterday, I, being a very considerate grandmother had a discussion with the little boys in my family:

I to Drew (age 3), what would you like for Christmas dinner?

Drew to me: (no hesitation), spaghetti and meatballs!

I to Drew: okay honey, great, no problem

I to Mr. Ryan (age 5), what would you like for Christmas dinner?

Mr Ryan to me:  (brief contemplation),  jellybeans and bananas

I to Mr. Ryan: okay honey, great, no problem

There will be multi-colored jelly beans for Christmas dinner, placed just so in an elegant bowl.

I will make spaghetti for Drew and my Mother's homemade raviolis for the grownups among us.

The ravioli's come out extra large and are one of a kind orgasmically fantastic.

They are surprisingly simple to make as long as you have a big enough table that won't mind flour all over it.

Compliments of my Mother, Rose: this makes 40--50 raviolis.

The filling:

Mix two pounds of ricotta cheese with four eggs

add 3/4 to one cup of grated Romano cheese and mix it all together until it doesn't run. Look for the mixture to stand up a bit 

The dough:

You will be eyeballing this: approximately 3 cups of flour and six eggs mixed together with a fork until all the flour is mixed in and doesn't stick to your hands. You don't want it too moist so add the 4th, 5th, 6th egg one at a time and stop when you have dough. Make it into a ball.

The creation:

Spread cornmeal around a cookie sheet (so the raviolis won't stick)

Generously spread flour all over your table

take a section of the dough (start with a quarter of it until you get the hang of it) and roll it out with a rolling pin. Keep using flour liberally so nothing sticks.

Roll thin enough.

Now comes the creative part and the hardest to tell not show: place a spoonful of the filling on the dough, spacing each spoonful about three inches from the edge of the dough and about three inches apart from each other.

Grab the edges of the dough and flip the dough over the mixture and kind of tuck it in.  You want the row of raviolis to be about about three or four inches wide and three or four inches long, in other words, so use the side of your hand and push down to  separate the mixture mounds from one another. you should have about four raviolis from each row when you do this.

With a pizza cutter or knife, cut into squares and then use a fork to press together the three sides of dough.

Place the cut raviolis on the cookie sheet and continue this process, row by row, mound by mound

I tell you true that flipping the dough over the mixture just right is a learned skill and the most fun.

You can refrigerate the raviolis even overnight. Cook in a large pot in boiling water for about 15 minutes or until the raviolis rise to the top of the pot

Have the spaghetti sauce and Parmesan cheese ready

It's obvious I will have no career writing cookbooks. But if you try this you will figure it out and I guarantee these raviolis will set your heart ablaze.

love

kj

Little Gifts # 1

Ah the holidays in Provincetown. 

Besides for New Year's Eve festivities, this is the last weekend of the season here in this town of 3500 residents that expands to 20,000 each summer. 

This weekend is Holly Folly, when almost every store and shop offers 40-50% discounts on everything. Nobody wants to carry inventory all winter.

Commercial Street in Provincetown is filled with holiday lights. This is the bank; the same bank that has original oil paintings on its walls, not the candy cutter home equity rate and marketing signs most banks plaster everywhere. 

And the store windows.....

 And new slants on how a Christmas tree can look

and colors and words everywhere.

Meanwhile, back at our little place in Provincetown, a dog who has recovered from a five day seizure tucks his legs in every which way and settles in. 

I love the holidays, always have. I know that is not the case for many. I"m not sure how I've escaped hard memories and unrealistic hopes, but starting this weekend in Provincetown I am once again going to try to fall into the parts I like and avoid the parts I don't. 

I'm going to try here on my blog through the end of the year  to post what I hope are 'little gifts'. I did a post on little gifts a few days ago but couldn't get the video I wanted to upload correctly. I tried a zillion times. 

But this time of year I'm into little gifts: words, pictures, inspirations, human connections, gestures, acts. That is my hope for my blog this season. I figure we may all be too busy to visit and comment, but over the holidays I'd like to offer a little gift each time a friend or visitor stops by here.

love

kj

Rambling.....

I don't know what to say.

I admit to being exhausted. I stayed up almost all of three nights with a terrified post seizure good dog. JB is temporarily on crutches. Two young women who lost their mother to cancer a few years back will now lose their father. And it is my favorite holiday. I can't bring myself to decorate y-e-t, but I've bought fresh bough for the fence and I want pine scent in the house. I've also given thought to the gifts I will give this season. I love that part; more than getting, I love the giving.

I am rightly concerned and consumed with the writing of my second book. It feels endless. Part of the problem is time: I don't have enough of it. My best style is to write for 8, 10, 12 hours at a time. I barely come up for air. But I don't have open stretches like that these days. This is not a gratifying or enjoyable book to write and I'm not sure when it's truly done that I will let it find its way to the outside world. I hope so, but I'm not sure.

I went to a writing conference a few weeks back and the first page of my book was read aloud for a panel of three agents to critique. They gave some helpful criticism, and they told the audience of 200 people that my opening preface was pretty fantastic. I was floored and stunned and of course determined to keep going.

But I have other characters that are starting to pull at me. They are impatient. Claudia and her eight year affair with a married man. Her brother Cole, the journalist who longs to hear his Mother's poems. The wacky landlady in her baby blue chenille bathrobe. The married man and his too tender infidelity.

But for now I have a book to finish. To finish the edits, decide on the names and the locations, write the bridges, improve the verbs. And discover the ending. This last part is pretty perplexing. I should know the ending by now. But I know I will know by the time it's time. 

I imagine there will be some good cheer on my blog during this month. I love the season. If I sound somber tonight, I possibly am. But mostly I am so damn grateful. 

love

kj

FYI: Here's the opening that landed some compliments from the agents:

Preface

Some of this story is true and some of it isn’t. A wise reader will probably figure that part out. Please don’t ask me. I have enough angst worrying about Bee’s reaction and whether Catherine will sic a Filipino dragon on me.  

Also, don’t ask me if hearts heal. I have no idea.

There Is No Word For Goodbye

Do you remember the first time you lost someone? Living means losing the people you love sometimes. 
There's no way around it. 

I hope when you read this poem, written by an Alaskan woman and gratefully shared with me by a friend and writer, you will never forget it. I hope it will bring you comfort in the times when you must let go and in the times, like today, when you have the chance to say thank you for the precious people who grace your life.  

Happy American Thanksgiving, with love
kj 

THERE IS NO WORD FOR GOODBYE

by Mary Tall Mountain

Sokoya, I said, looking through

the net of wrinkles into

wise black pools

of her eyes.

What do you say in Athabascan

when you leave each other?

What is the word

for goodbye?

A shade of feeling rippled

the wind-tanned skiin.

Ah, nothng, she said,

watching the river flash.

She looked at me close.

We just say, Tiaa. That means

See you.

We never leave each other.

When does your mouth

say goodbye to your heart?

She touched me light

as a bluebell.

You forget when you leave us,

You’re so small then.

We don’t use that word.

We always think you’re coming back, 

but if you don’t, we’ll see you someplace else.

You understand.

There is no word for goodby

A Special Thanksgiving Recipe from Me

As a public service I once again offer you this recipe for turkey stuffing:

hahahahahaha!

love

kj

Ah Dr. Seuss

Hello Dr. Seuss,

I hate to tell you

I hope this won't fell you

but did you know

poems that rhyme

are considered low

(er) than a fairy tale

the kind that bob

but don't much sail?

I write rhymes too

and one bad time

they gulped mine down

like bitter lime.

But that was then

when I cared a bit

now i'm just a happy twit

so Dr Suess, do you mind

if I follow you

the way you rhyme?

Your cat in the hat,

my rabbit in the jam

they both for sure

don't give a damn.

Pass the candy,

throw the eggs

and when we tire

we'll go to bed.

maybe in 2013 I will follow the rhythm and line pattern of Cat in the Hat and write myself a long Dr. Seuss poem. maybe I just will....

love
kj

The Distraction of a Mish Mash

I can't write another post on my dog Chase's seizures. Not front and center, anyway. Some of the drama and difficulty of the past few days has been trumped by my partner JB's unceremonious fall from which she is now in a full leg cast with a most painful knee. This is not the way she or I expected to welcome the start of the holiday season. But hell, why not enjoy the lemonade in the few moments between caring for a very pained dog and a very pained JB?

So here comes another mishmash. This is Whalers Wharf in Provincetown. I had an office on the third floor for a couple of years, one of the worse jobs I will ever have but valuable none-the-less. 

I wish you had asked me, Governor Romney. This voting line says it all. The Big and little Birds of the country voted with their beaks :^)

Ah Provincetown. Someday I am going to walk every single street and stretch of beach and bay and photograph it all. I like that I have introduced Ptown to so many of my friends and visitors here. It is as beautiful as I make it sound. It is also outrageous and expensive and creative as anyplace on earth could be. 

Where oh where is Emily Rabbit? Why isn't she writing her weekly column? If any one has heard from her would you let me know? She hasn't asked me for bail money for some time now and that worries me. 

This is Logan, my third grandson. He gets short rift because all the firsts have already taken place with Mr. Ryan and no-longer-baby Drew. He is a leo the lion and he has had the necessary perspective of observing his brothers from day one. I wonder who he will be. My birthday book says he will be an important and impassioned leader. I know he is as sweet and easy as sweet and easy can be....

Okay: an update on Chase. It is now day four and finally this morning he was able to stop pacing and racing and whining and looking so lost and so confused. I have essentially not slept in three days. We don't know what to expect ahead. Tomorrow we get a new medication for partial seizures to add to his medication for full seizures. At this point we can only hope for a life for him that is not consumed with sickness. JB and I are cautious about that. But we want to hope for his sake. The whole thing sucks. I will say again he is a good dog. Now he is also afraid of falling because the phenobarbitol knocked out his back legs for two days. And he doesn't want to be alone. JB and I go back to work on Tuesday except JB is probably not going anywhere any time soon. 

Would you under any circumstance pay $ 10 for this bowl of soup? (it might have been $ 12 and I am too embarrassed to say.)  I did. It was one of a kind ORGASMIC. As in: priceless :^)

So. The season is upon us. I am a fan of these holidays. I write cards and see friends and bake and cook and search for stocking stuffers. This year I have already ordered gifts from Etsy and I am pretty sure I am going to like the presents I give to my family and friends and maybe a little something to my coworkers. I've bought chocolate coins for some of my clients, especially the kids. Who wouldn't like a netted sack of chocolate coins? 

And speaking of chocolate: I have lost nine pounds. I've munching on popcorn instead of chocolate. Until four days ago....

love 

kj

An Update on Chase

For some reason I am unable to leave responses to comments about Chase. And so much has happened since his seizure several days ago that I've decided to post again.

The news is not good. Until last night when we essentially knocked him out with 510 mg of phenobarbital and I can't even count how many milligrams of his regular anti seizure medication-all this after the emergency Valium did not stop his pacing, anxiety, sudden 'spikes' that caused him to jump up and pace as if he'd been hit in the head.

This has been exhausting and heartbreaking. I have stayed up with Chase all night for the past two nights and finally this morning he is lying down and resting, but he is so drugged he splays when he tries to walk. 

JB and I knew that Chase had seizures and an ankle injury when we adopted him now two months ago.  No regret, we feel good about offering family and love to this sweet dog in need, much as we did Stella, who gave us so much back. Two months ago we didn't know what we now know: Chase likely has a closed head injury. That probably happened during a collision on the racetrack, perhaps when his ankle was broken as well. Both vets involved and helping us have now mentioned 'quality of life' issues and we know what that means. This sweet dog also has an rear foot that he often lifts and that prevents him from running and playing without consequence the next day. Maybe he and we can work around that. But if these seizures cannot be controlled, coming once a month and lasting for several painful days with all these partial seizures, that is something JB and I will have to face. I'm not sure at all that she and I could handle that and I am sure that we cannot let Chase suffer like this.

Yesterday JB fell. Her ankle is swollen the size of a grapefruit and we are looking at one another in stunned disbelief. I should mention we have also had news of a close family member (not my Mom) who is very ill, unexpected and in its own way tragic. Combined, this is also called a two by four to the head. 

What a week. I know I have to squeeze in enough sleep so I don't get sick. I know we are going to stay with Chase totally until we are due back to work on Tuesday. I know we pray this round of seizures has been resolved, that we pray the new anti-seizure med works and we are not on eggshells a month from now. I pray that Chase does not suffer, whatever that means. It has been agonizing to witness his distress. Is this the story: this dog is in a major collision at a West Virgina racetrack, he sustains a closed head injury with seizures and a broken ankle that is never treated and he is rescued rather than euthanized and now he has been adopted by two women who didn't know the extent of his struggles and it is not certain his struggles can be helped?

Where is the fault here? The first line of fire: a dog who is a commodity to a corporation that owns hundreds and thousands of greyhound racers. But what about the next piece? The Neurologist in Boston said yesterday, "I don't believe in adoption for dogs with epilepsy like this. They end up suffering."

Should we blame the rescuers, clearly well meaning and the carriers of good works? Should JB and I have been more prudent in understanding the whole picture--we, who suffered ourselves helping Stella die last December?

And now: we love Chase and his hardship pains us. Thankfully we can and will get him through this. I told JB yesterday, at a moment of feeling totally overwhelmed: "We have to look at this as a privilege. We will help him and he won't be alone no matter what. We can do that."We both nodded. 

I have this way of prettying up adversity. But isn't it true that this is a privilege?

I'll keep updating my blog about Chase. For now I won't be able to respond to your comments but I sure as hell appreciate every one.

love

kj

Seizures

Let me tell you this is not easy.

He is the sweetest guy. I won't say he's bonded with us yet: he spends a lot of time alone, sleeping, sometimes in another room. He isn't necessarily affectionate, but we can tell he's appreciative. I understand greyhounds sleep a lot. But Chase, I think his anti-seizure medicine knocks him out. And he has an ankle he can only run and play on so much before he will suffer for it the next day. 

He has been with us two months. He is of course unfamiliar with many things: doors, toys, walks, even cookies. Our lack of a routine has probably wrecked havoc in his very controlled life as a racer. But all in all he and we are coming along pretty well and I can see trust and loyalty building. What better gift from a good dog than loyalty?

But these fucking seizures.

Chase had one this morning at 11:30 and it lasted I'd guess two or three minutes. That is a very long time to helplessly watch the terror of thrashing and teeth clattering and head banging. JB and I have been given a heavy duty drug to use if he has more than one seizure within hours, which worse to say, seems to be the case. We are supposed to attach a clean needle to a syringe, inject the needle into the liquid medicine, attach a catheter, lubricate, and inject through his rectum. This is not in my comfort zone, not one bit. I am a wreck about it.

We feel so helpless. Chase suffers In eight weeks we have now witnessed four seizures and each is  equally horrible.

Can we do this? Yes. But not easily. The whole thing sucks.

How is it that of all the dogs in need of adoption, we ended up with a breed unknown to either of us, a dog with a unattended broken ankle, thyroid problems, and these horrible seizures?

This is the answer. Stella. Somehow she managed to send word to me in my dreams to seek and find a dog named Chase. This is true. 

.

 So here he is. All three of us are on edge tonight. Please we hope there will be no more seizures tonight or tomorrow or any time soon. They seem to be 5-6 weeks apart. I think JB and I will get use to preparing that damn syringe and not freaking out so badly when we are forced to watch Chase afraid and thrashing. We want to love him and help him. 

But did I mention this is not easy?

love

kj

Through The Seams

What can I tell you?

Of course the world is turned upside down:

Wars and worries wear thin

Even though the seams.

But the sweater of the years was knitted tight,

Weathered wool that softens and warms 

The prickliest skin.

I’ve had that sweater for many years

And I’ve faced the nighttime shakes

Until then, never did the chill

Overtake me.

Until then is too often still now

But I am better. 

With better comes hope

And hope is the warmth

Of days to come. 

So why am I not writing more poems? It is because I work in the city three days a week? Because I'm trying to finish the novel that won't quit? Because I don't see Jess and Mike and the kids enough as it is? Because I have this new research gig? Because I try to visit my Mother several times a week? Because I love the holidays and I'm getting ready! Because I blog surf with glee? Because I have chores? Because I can't write about loss one more time without thinking myself ridiculous.

In any case. here is an old and new poem and I'n glad to post it.

With love

kj

Another Mish Mash: Before & After

Before the wall came down..

and after...

Before a commercial athlete

 after (now) a family member.

chase, age 6, newly adopted 

Before too long this is good to know

because it makes after a whole lot easier

Before JB makes these wristlets, 

she is not as confident as she is after, 

when it's so obvious how fabulous they are...

Before I get too down for any reason 

I remember I have this in my life 

and shortly after I stop lamenting...

Before a five year old little girl and I sat here, 

under the stairwell of her school, 

because bad things happened to her. 

Now, after all that, she has been adopted and has a family...

and finally: 

                                                                               

Before, a favorite picture of my soon to be 

97 year old Mother  

but she says she looks strange

so after, the one she likes better....

Wishing you all a very good week, 

love

kj

Morality

I bought organic chicken tonight. I buy eggs from cage free chickens. Before my beloved friend Willa died of cancer, she told me if I did nothing else to buy organic butter and and milk and eggs. I can't bring myself to yet drink organic milk.

My friend's plea is not why I bought organic chicken. 

I can't bring myself to direct you to this website called Occupy for Animals, If you want to look, you will be able to find it.  But it is gruesome. You will see the mistreatment of animals throughout the world to a degree that I know will make you sick, because it makes me sick. Humans eat animals and that is not the judgement. The judgement is about cruelty. No animal should have to suffer. If an animal is killed let its death be humane. If you go to this website you will learn about the slow torment of the bulls in Spain who never have a chance and the dog meat market in Korea and the red blood waters in Japan in the killing of the whales and dolphins. Brutal stuff. I will leave it at that. 

I wish I had never come upon this website and I wish I do not know what I now know. But because I know I will now be more thoughtful. I don't want any part of animal cruelty. When animals are killed, let it be humane. It must be humane if we believe life is sacred. 

I now have a dog who spent his first five years living in a crate from which he was let out four times a day. He raced from age 2 to 5 and his track record shows he was in several crashes running at 45-48 miles an hour. He collided with other dogs, he failed to make a turn. It was painful to read. He has a  broken ankle that never fused because it was never set and more than half his teeth are missing because of poor nutrition. He has nicks over his body. I never thought about dog racing before we adopted Chase. Initially I thought it was pretty cool that he was an athlete racing. 

I feel differently now.

 So I bought organic chicken tonight. Not just for health reasons. I paid more for it. And I am going to learn how I can be sure I do not support places and people and governments and businesses who do not treat animals humanely. I hope you might think about this too.

One more thing. That adorable greeting card of a kitten hanging by its claws or a dog dressed in sunglasses and a bow: chances are those animals have not volunteered for that assignment. Chances are those animals do not live with a family and chances are that animal is viewed as a commodity.

If you've made it to the end of this post, thanks for listening. There is an election in America tomorrow and I can't help thinking about morality. 

love

kj

Thoughts on Therapy...

Are you laughing? I hope so. This could be my favorite cartoon ever.

I don't talk much about my work as a psychotherapist. The background is that I've always wanted to achieve these two things in my work life: one, successfully running workshops without so much anxiety, and two, being a psychotherapist. 

I am now a psychotherapist even though I don't think I really qualified for the job. But I work in a small mental health agency that serves "culturally diverse" and often very poor clients, many of whom who have had some very serious trauma or neglect or marginalization or abandonment at some point in their lives. I do this after a career in the private sector, often earning four times what I do now. I can do this because I'm at the tail end of working. 

I like the job a lot. I may not continue past next summer and while it is my choice, that also makes me sad. Lately I see half my clients at the clinic and half in their homes. I've been doing this for four years and I'm not sure but I think I may be a very good therapist, even if  I lack the normal training and background.

For this post I wrote out a little background on each of my clients. But I've had wise second thoughts because of confidentiality. So I've deleted all that. Instead I will just tell you this:

age 6, Hispanic, little boy

age 20 Portuguese, young woman

age 48, white, female

age 50, white, male

age 45, black, female.

age 34, black, single mother 

age 40, white, female

age 45, black, male

age 45, white, female

age 13 black, male

age 16, Hispanic, female 

age 37, Hispanic, female

age 29, black, male

age 32, Hispanic, female

age 19, Hispanic, female

I wonder if this information tells you how privileged I am to have such diversity in my life, how much I have learned about poverty and resilience and children and teens and families and culture and trauma and strengths and needs and listening and helping. Would you rather be pushed or understood? I sometimes ask my clients this question. They are often startled for a quick moment, but they get it. Their answer helps me know how to help.

I don't know if there is a point to this post. Other than one day I will not do this work anymore but what I have learned rests in my heart and head for my lifetime.

And you, my friends: would you rather be pushed or understood?

love

kj

Happy Halloween (Boooooo)

I cannot describe Halloween in Provincetown. Walking three blocks along Commercial Street last Saturday night, more than half the people I passed were quite dolled up in costumes. Outrageous creative unique costumes. Having an outrageous creative unique time of it. That is Provincetown. In the wild height of it all, JB grinned at me, "Did you ever think you'd still be dressing up for Halloween at our age?"

And speaking of JB, here she is.

And speaking of ages, here is a three year old little boy named Drew trying on his extra muscle Power Ranger costume. JB and I will go out with him and his brothers and his parents tomorrow night, door to door in his neighborhood, collecting compliments and candy. 

When was the last time you donned a costume and became someone other than who you are? May I tell you something? You actually change. When you are no longer you, you don't act like you. You become someone or something else. Yes this is a generalization, but I think it's more true than not.

I did not take the time this year to create a great costume and I did not take photos. Not so last year. Last year I purred my way to dinner:

I wish you a HAPPY HALLOWEEN. 

And by the way.....if you weren't you, 

who would you be?

love

kj

The Storm....

Dear Snow and all friends and visitors,

I write this from my home in Western Massachusetts as the rain begins and the winds increase, but so far only slightly. I have no idea whether we will have an anti-climatic hurricane-ish storm or a major tree falling street flooding one, but I am prepared. Stacked dry ready firewood, flashlights and kerosene lamps if (when?) the power goes out; a crock pot simmering with beef vegetable stew; a yard as of this morning empty of anything that could become into a shooting missile in high winds. 

I don't wish damage for myself or anyone. But I have to admit there is something exciting and reassuring about feeling tucked in and secure, waiting to see what nature will do. All roads and businesses are closed and time changes. There is now less to do and more to appreciate. I know my daughter and son-in-law and grandchildren and friends and family are safe in their homes. Our nephew is here from New York City, arrived by bus yesterday rather than evacuate. We are all quietly settling in and hoping for the best. We will have food and a warm fireplace and I hope the means to keep in touch. 

Stay safe, friends. 

love

kj

A Very Brief Halloween Tale

JB and I mailed Mr. Ryan age 5 one of those Halloween cards that talks. When you open it  a Vincent Price type voice booms  "I have my eye on you!" while a paper eye pops up.

Last night I received the following e-mail from my daughter Jessica: 

"So the good news is Ryan loved getting mail and was thrilled with the stickers on the envelope. The bad news is that the voice in the card petrified him and he cried for 5 minutes" :)

Oh s----. We are seeing Mr. Ryan and his brothers and parents on Sunday. I hope the large dead moth I am bringing him makes up for our indiscretion.  

love

kj

Tell Me The Story Of Your Name....

She said that words matter. She said 'tell me the story of your name.'

Okay: 

My mother wanted to name me Shannon. My Mother is French Canadian and my father Italian, so I imagine in the end the Irish sounding 'Shannon' just didn't cut it. I don't know how she came up with Karen. To be honest I've never really liked it. Even now I don't say it easily. I don't like my middle name either: Marie. My godmother is named Marie but I think my Mother just liked the name.

When I was twenty three I lived in Germany and when my parents came to visit we drove to Italy, to the tiny town on a mountain where my grandfather was born. My maiden name is Italian. My Father said he could speak Italian but throughout Italy he tried and nobody understood him. We were both amused and embarrassed. Then, when we drove up a little mountain in the town of Ofena, he was understood. Word spread in an instant that 'Franco from America' was here.

I don't use my maiden name anymore, except on Facebook. I carry the German-English name of my ex-husband which is also the last name of my daughter. I kept that name because of her, but I'm not partial to that one either. I wonder what I would chose on my own. That is an interesting question.

Many people call me kj now, in large part because of blogging but not only because of that.

That is the story of my name.

Please, tell me the story of your name.

love

kj

Another Mish Mash

I have been buzzing around the last few weeks, quite a bit on weekends with visiting friends. It's full blown Autumn here, but I start with a recycled materials fair at the local middle school. All kinds of funky designs and ideas. 

 And fallen leaves just waiting to be appreciated.

 New shoes: what's better than new shoes? These are JB's, but I have not one, not two, but three new pairs. All set!

And fires in the fire place. I stacked the wood and brought a good supply inside. Another feel good event.

An update on Chase: no more seizure but not the easiest time either. He is a dear, he is stubborn, he is wiped by the strength of the seizure medication. I have to remember that it took more than a year before we could touch Stella without her tensing up. Chase is both aloof and affectionate. I hate seeing him affected by the meds. But there is hope all will improve. And bottom line, there will be mutual love.

My back roads are absofuckinglutely gorgeous this time of year.

And pumpkins...

and this weekend, a concert by Young At Heart. Please click to meet them. The youngest age in this chorus is 72 and some folks are in their 90's. OMG. Watch the video. The audience was speechless. We cried. We laughed. We stood and clapped more than once. 

Finally, I don't know why my camera took a photo that looks like this: wow. But maybe it captured the souls within. I wouldn't be surprised.

Wishing you a great week,

with love

kj