The Metamorphosis

I've been visiting a new church. The tangible example of change (aka "repentance") in yesterday's message was the caterpillar who is reduced to mush inside the chrysalis. (I do believe I've already survived the mush stage...) In the case of the caterpillar, once the metamorphosis is complete and the butterfly emerges from the chrysalis, there is no going back. There is no more caterpillar. The caterpillar is gone. It is, in other words, dead. At least dead to being a caterpillar. It was never meant remain a caterpillar, but to die to it's original life in order to gain something new. The to butterfly was never intended to remain on the ground. It was destined for the sky.

The church I'm visiting is different from any of the churches I've been to in the past, and yet much the same as well. I am appreciative of fresh perspectives, new insight, and renewed hope. Holding onto faith has been difficult the past eight years, and it is in this vein that I am ever so grateful for a God who holds His children when we are not strong enough to hold on ourselves. (Perhaps it is true that we are never strong enough... ) I am hopeful that I will soon read scripture without the tinted glasses that clouded my vision for so long, and that it will be, maybe for the first time, unimaginably clear. The stories will not be new, but perhaps seen with new eyes and deeper meaning. 

The butterfly can't go back and I can't go back either. I was meant for something more.

I hope you don't mind metaphors, to go along with the metamorphosis taking place in me. I feel a little bit like a Methuselah generation butterfly because I felt like mush forever. (I'm sure they spend at least a week or two longer inside their chrysalis because I had one hanging on my swing set for a little over three weeks once. here and here) My wings might not be completely dry but I haven't dropped to the floor yet either. Here's hoping my wings are straight and strong.

Windows to the Soul

It was just an old family album full of photographs from days long gone and I suppose everyone has a few gawky childhood photos that they would rather not remember. My worst school picture was the one taken in the seventh grade when I was five months shy of my thirteenth birthday. A blemished complexion, long, greasy hair, and the nervous expression of a child entering junior high and puberty at the same time. Perhaps somewhere along the way my mother complied with my wishes to destroy the pictures because I did not run across them last night. Instead I ran across others.

Two high school photos; one taken in the fall of 1979 when I was a sophomore, and the next the following autumn, early in my junior year. It isn't as though I didn't see the swollen eyes previous to last evening. They would have been quite literally impossible to miss, yet last night the contrast between the two images struck me in a new way. I never did drugs in high school. I didn't smoke or drink, yet there in the second photo, all over my face, is pain. Deep, searing, mental and emotional pain... One picture full of hope and expectation, the next apprehension and despair. The hopes and dreams I'd carried for the previous seven years had been dashed to pieces and destroyed forever. I wasn't pregnant yet, but it wouldn't be long. I was caught in the trap of feeling no longer worthy of the one I'd loved since childhood (Joey), desperate to hold onto the one with whom I'd lost my virginity (James), and barely more than a child.

It was the eyes that caught my attention last night. These are the eyes I struggle with today, the upper lids swollen and droopy, hanging like curtains. Thirty years ago allergy injections relieved the swelling and my eyes opened up again, allowing others to once again see into my soul, but time and tears have rendered them perpetually puffy and me searching for a way to relieve the swelling. I'm trying a saline nasal spray along with a nasal steroid in hopes of clearing passages and reducing swelling. I have an appointment for a routine eye exam in another week. I know repressed (or is it suppressed?) emotions can wreak havoc on our bodies, leaving us susceptible to unexplainable chronic pain and disease, but can it also affect our eyes?

Twice in a Row

 I stayed overnight at my son's apartment last night. Nate is playing guitar in his church worship band on a fill-in basis and needed to be there early this morning. Since fun didn't sound like getting up at 5 o'clock in the morning to brush snow off my car, I decided to pack a bag and take my pillow for a Saturday night "Pa-Grandma Party" instead. (I forgot my pajamas... Go figure.) Nate made pancakes and scrambled eggs for dinner and we watched a movie. 

This morning I got the kids ready. I fed them breakfast, and they picked cereal and milk so that was easy peasy. Nate had left clothes out for them. Only Lyla needed help so that was easy peasy too. Then we made sure teeth were brushed, hair combed, and faced washed. The van was buried by last night's "winter storm" so brushing the snow off was the next task. 

Getting the vehicle clean and everyone into their seats didn't take near as long as I'd imagined and we ended up having way too much time before church so I did the only thing a sane grandmother would and I took them to Dunkin for a box of 25 Munchkins. We had no trouble devouring them and I took them to church all sugared up. Ha ha!

Church attendance two weeks in a row. Two churches I've never attended two weeks in a row. Communion two weeks in a row. I took some cute pictures of Nate and the kids on their way back to the car.

Time Marches On

Looking backward is not advised, and yet each morning I look back over my Facebook memories, pour through the pictures and find myself amazed at how fast life moves along and what has transpired. Past moments on the farm very often catch me by surprise, bringing with them all the feels of yesteryear; bittersweet, poignant reminders of another life...

Materially speaking the farm was everything I'd ever wanted but had never dreamed would be mine. Simply stepping out the back door took my breath away. Three barns and a house surrounded by apple orchards, three and a half acres of land on a country road, and a wood burning stove. The kitchen was spacious, the living room big enough to hold our ever expanding family whenever special occasions arose. We spent countless hours outside in the yard, on the back porch, or gathered in the living room. Picnics, parties, holidays, we did them all...  And then the bomb dropped and the bottom fell out of my world. 

Grief is complicated and complex with threads of varying thicknesses and colors, twisted and wound into a multitude of indistinguishable knots. For months I picked numbly at knotted, outer layers, terrified of what lay beneath the surface, often setting the entire mess aside. I did all I could to live a normal life in a world that had suddenly shattered. Death leaves a visible gaping hole. Abuse leaves an unseen, shredding of the soul. Outsiders witness the abused gasping for breath, but they do not see the wound. The gasping renders others clueless. Rather than come alongside the breathless, they offer empty platitudes or avoid getting involved altogether... 

The best way to untangle a knot is to follow one colored strand, tediously and methodically unwinding it from the others. Eight years. I've been untangling threads, cords and strands for over eight years. It's a wearisome task.

(And here my thoughts were interrupted by someone I love. My phone was ringing and on the other end someone who intricately understands the complexity of grief, abuse, and knotted threads. If only (another fruitless hope)... If only I could wind the hands of time backward, to erase at least of portion the heartache to which my not-knowing-better has contributed. Today I know something different. Today I would give different advice.)

Can I untie the tangled, haphazard knots in this string of life? Can all the pain of yesterday be woven into hope and beauty? This is my earnest prayer.

Christmas 2023

We had a very nice Christmas this year. We gathered at Beth and Adam's house with outside weather that felt more like we were at Jim and Michele's place in Florida. It was 57 degrees Fahrenheit and downright balmy. Jillian was out running across the year in bare feet. (She takes after her mother. Ha ha!) 

Each and every one of my local kids and grandkids
made an appearance and I am thoroughly blessed. I brought a bin full of smallish Squishmallow friends and let the kids each pick one. Even the older boys had smiles on their faces while plucking a sleek, soft, stuffed creature from the collection. Hannah and I had picked out 23 just a week prior so that everyone got a chance to choose rather than be stuck with the leftovers of other's choices. I was confused when I counted the remainder and there were eleven instead of ten, but the mystery was solved when before I went home a small child said, "You didn't get me one." Oh, Henry! He was smiling too after picking a small, pillowy friend.

My friend Gail joined us for dinner this year which was very nice. We had way more turkey, macaroni and cheese, and desserts than we could finish in one day. It made me feel just slightly better about not having made any Christmas cookies this year.

I could take all my lovely decorations down and pack them away, but I've been enjoying them so much that I think I'll keep them around for a while longer.

Weekend Crash

Skating by. That was my thought regarding the respiratory illness that ravaged the daycare this past month, but on Thursday morning something inside me felt off. Other being excessively tired though, I couldn't have told you what wasn't right. Friday I felt more tired and by the end of the day frustration was settling in. My head was feeling stuffy and I wanted to sleep. Rather than going to do pottery with my cousins, I went home instead. The children have had RSV. One small child coughed directly in my face last week and passed the dreaded viral infection on to me. (Thank you very much, TJ.) 

I stayed home yesterday and once again put off the myriad of tasks needing to be accomplished. I ate soup, drank tea, and took ibuprofen and vitamins. A shower helped me feel human, and my laundry got washed and dried. In the evening Bethany came with the kids and we went for a dark, evening walk around the block. The baking and wrapping would have to wait. Morning found me feeling better. Not 100%, but much better than yesterday. I missed all the Christmas church services.

By early afternoon I was feeling good enough to make a run to Wegmans to join the holiday rush. Hannah had not planned a Christmas Eve dinner so I picked up some golden potatoes, a spiral cut ham, a package of Hawaiian dinner rolls, and a package of frozen green beans while she was at work. It made an easy, yummy dinner. My gifts, few though they be, are wrapped. I did not make the cookies Bethany ordered, but maybe that will happen tomorrow... 

I am thoroughly grateful for this beautiful Christmas full of unexpected interruptions and unplanned surprises. My little tree is covered with smiling people and animal ornaments, my room adorned with happy snowmen, and the house is filled with love. My heart is full.

Merry Christmas!

You Can't Make Old Friends

It's been an exceedingly wonderful weekend! A weekend full of friends and family and what could be better?

I went with Bethany to see Nate and his friends sing on Friday evening after work. I left with a full heart. 

Saturday morning was lazy and relaxed. I dragged my feet leaving the house instead I put my laundry in, brought a dresser downstairs, and taped up a box of fleece blankets to send off to Florida. (Austin was disappointed when I arrived without them last week.) When finally getting out and on the road I vacillated between going to the post office first or the gift shop. The post office seemed obvious, but something inside said, "Go to Kittleberger's," and so I did. I took a photo with the plastic Santa inside the door and began my meandering. I rounded a corner and was met with a familiar face. My long loved friend Cindy! She has been my friend for her entire life. What a gift to find her there!

Late afternoon found me headed south of Rochester to meet my sister Priscilla and her family at the Genesee Country Museum for a Yuletide Dinner and Tour. (I almost got lost on the way but my favorite Bethany, my daughter, came to the rescue and gave me directions over speaker phone.) It was a wonderful night and my Tom Tom took me home just fine, even though he didn't appear to know where the museum was.

I was lazy and relaxed again this morning, texting my friend Gail at noon to see if she was up and about or looking for something to do. We met for brunchfast at a local diner. It's been a while since we went out to several craft sales and it was nice to be together again. She is much loved and I appreciate her friendship ever so much!

We were waiting for our food when I recognized a familiar face at another table. It was my fourth grade buddy Pam having a meal with her husband and a few friends. We shared a hug, some conversation, and a few laughs. There is nothing like old friends and it has been a weekend filled with them. My heart is not only full, but overflowing.

The Week Flew Past

Florida...

* We spent Sunday afternoon at the other Grammy's house. Relaxing family time with snacks, tree decorating, Christmas movies, and a dip in the pool.

* There was a scheduling conflict on Monday which prevented us from going into Magic Kingdom as planned. Instead we took the time we did have and visited the life sized gingerbread house at Disney's Floridian Resort.

* We also had some late afternoon time for a stop at Disney Springs for something to eat and a few pictures. ("Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!"

* In all honesty, I was very disappointed in not being able to visit the park itself. Previous to the trip I had surprised myself by feeling quite excited about going, so it was hard to change gears. My sweet son and daughter in law felt terrible and I have been promised a trip on my next visit which we are planning for spring. I'm looking at tickets now.

* On my return home I discovered the Orlando Airport is a wild place! The lines are astoundingly long and slow and everyone is late for their flight. (I was grateful to make it through security without any snags this time.) If one is flying out of Orlando it would be a good idea to be there three hours ahead of departure. I was there two hours ahead and felt a bit of anxiety over whether I would make the flight. Several people did not make it to the gate before the doors were closed.

* My flight left Orlando at noon. I had a 3 hour plus layover in Baltimore (and didn't know about the rocking chairs...) which turned into a little more when someone on the aircraft that was our connecting flight, had a medical emergency. Once they were taken care of and the plane disinfected, we made our way to Rochester.

* I was all tucked into my center seat when a familiar face came down the aisle. It was one of our daycare dads! I have five little ones in my "care group" and there was Levi's daddy on my plane! Ha ha! (I talked with his mommy about it just yesterday afternoon.)

Home again...

* I went back to work the morning after arriving home. I haven't been paid for any time off work since giving my 2 week notice at Tot Spot at the end of July, so I needed to get back right away. I jumped in with both feet. Everyone (home included) has been struggling with the respiratory virus that has been ravaging the planet. (I don't really know where it's been. I am being dramatic.) Cough, congestion, sore throats, ear aches and misery. So far I have escaped. Fingers crossed.

* I visited my therapist Thursday evening. More on that later.

* Finally, my eldest daughter and I were blessed to attend a Singer Songwriter Showcase at the Seed and Stone Cidery last night. (She gracefully gifted me with an egg roll ahead of our arrival as I went directly from work to her house and was  starving.) My son Nathan and a few friends were sharing stories and their original music. I am so happy to see him plugged in and doing what he loves. (That's him in the dark shirt on the left.)

And this is the end of my long and rambling post.
Thanks for listening.

Friday Saturday

 I am enjoying the tradition of visiting Florida each December. It's been cooler this year than the past two, and I forgot to bring my sweatshirt, so I bought  myself a long sleeved cotton T-shirt from Blue Spring State Park. I splurged. For the manatees. 

Late yesterday morning Jim and I took a drive to Daytona where we met my friend Marty for lunch at Jimmy Hula's in Ormond Beach. It was a quick and emotional visit. Mostly I wanted to give him a hug. That desire was fulfilled and I am grateful. His sweet wife Kathy passed into eternity just a little over a week ago. Needless to say, I did not take pictures.

Last night was hot cocoa, Christmas movie and tree decorating night. I enjoyed a cup of peppermint hot chocolate with whipped cream and peppermint sprinkles, took lots of pictures, and took in a little bit of The Polar Express. The house is looking festive.

Today we stayed home. The kids played video games and I went outside to chase lizards. Before dinner Jim and I took Charlie and Jonah for a walk, and after dinner we headed to the zoo for the Asian Lantern Festival. So fun!

Barbara Manatee!

Barbara was the star manatee in a Veggie Tales song...

I have been to Florida's Blue Spring Park twice before today, but both times, although we had a lovely walk, there were no manatees. It was just too warm. The manatees come into the spring when the water temperature in the St John's River drops. Manatee need warm water to thrive and the spring stays a toasty 72 degrees Fahrenheit making it an idea spot for them to congregate. Getting a clear photo was next to impossible. Ha ha! But I did try.

I've been enjoying my grandchildren. The smallest is an adorable friendly little one who had me sitting on the floor singing songs and looking at a book as soon as I came in the door. Her brothers have followed suit in a slower, but similar manner. The house is full of laughter and tears, running, and squeals of both frustration and delight. I feel right at home. LOL!

Yesterday and today were tired days. I woke up at 3:30 am on Wednesday to catch my 5:45 am flight, and sometimes airplanes affect my ears for a day or so after. Throw in  a change in the coffee consumption routine and it's a recipe for a dull headache and tired eyes. I took a good nap this afternoon and am feeling much better this evening.

Can You Hold This for Minute?

I've come to The Blog multiple times and stared at it, wanting to write but not knowing what to say... I visited my therapist the night before Thanksgiving. There were a few tears and some moments of laughter.

"Years ago you told me," I said to him, "that things like this take 3 to 5 years to work through..." 

"We're pretty close to that," he answered.

And I laughed and said, "It's been 8 years."

There remains the question, "Have I worked through it?" and the answer comes in layers. 

I'm grateful he didn't say, "It takes 3-5 years to get over things like this," because there is no way to "get over it." We can only learn to live with the awful truth and grow, however long it may take and however painful it may be, and we (I'm talking my family) are all working through this as individuals which means a myriad of different angles and understandings. It's the most complicated thing we have ever had to do, and honestly, in all likelihood we will be processing some aspect of it until our lives here end.

A few nights ago I had a conversation with a beloved family member who was trying to help me sort through some feelings. I don't think either of us was prepared for the feelings that welled up inside of me. "Anger" is a simple term that covers a broad spectrum of emotions from irritation to blind rage and everything in between. It's a safe word. A "weasel word," if you will.

For years I've known I should feel intense anger, but mostly felt only numbness. Rather than look my own indignation, outrage, or lividity in the face, I placed a cap on the bottle and screwed it down tight, It was too painful to let the emotions out, and besides I didn't even know how. All of my life I have been taught to put myself last, to think of others first, to keep secrets, cover sins, and think the best. I have taken on the emotions of others to the detriment of self, but this time it wasn't about just me. I dragged my feet, searched both scripture and soul, sought wise counsel, and eventually did the hardest thing I have ever done. I moved away from the home I loved, the church I attended, and the man I had married. It ripped my heart out, but in all honesty, it had already been torn to shreds.

Today I recognize the anger inside. I feel it tighten my back, neck and shoulder muscles, and creep down my arms and legs. It has shown up in blood pressure readings, fatigue and depression, as well as regret and feelings of hopelessness. It has brought isolation, loneliness, and insurmountable loss. 

But for all the negative there are positives to anger as well. I learned to set boundaries and an example as well. In spite of the numbness inside, in spite of the swinging pendulum of emotions, I did what needed to be done in order to lance the abscess and bring much needed relief to not only myself but my children as well. Surgery is painful. Healing is agonizing. Physical therapy is hard and exhausting work. (I speak allegorically.) Today I need not only to loosen the bottle cap, but remove the bottle altogether. The problem is that I don't know how to process anger in a healthy manner. I only know how to shut it down.

Please don't tell me I need to "give it to Jesus" because, although I have heard that all my life, I don't have an inkling what that is supposed to mean. Is it possibly enough to admit to myself and others that I am deeply wounded and profoundly angry not only for my children, but myself as well? I am ready to move on and desperately need to let it all go, I'm just not sure where to set the bag.

With all of that said, I have undergone an incredible transformation the past eight and a half years. Life rarely feels hopeless, I seldom isolate, and my family is healing in ways I once deemed impossible. The mirror reflects more peace and happiness with each passing year and I am incredibly grateful for each and every bit of growth, even if I'm not entirely grateful for how it came about.

(I'm headed to Florida on Wednesday morning. Stay tuned for some great times and photos.)

A Few Words

I don't feel like I have much to report, although I'm sure a myriad of happenings have transpired since my last post, one of them being my youngest son's 30th birthday last Saturday. We surprised him with a family bowling party. All the local kids and grandkids were there, except for Josh who was working. I missed the opportunity for a group photo. I just wasn't quick enough. They scattered when I wasn't looking and there was no rounding them up again.

I've been doing battle with a bit of underlying depression. It comes with the holidays. One angle of combat is to put up the Christmas tree and decorate for the upcoming holidays... I like to wrap Thanksgiving in Christmas paper and tie it with a ribbon. I also like to be thankful for Christmas and all it entails, so I've decided to mix them altogether and enjoy an extended holiday season... I have a fabulous snowman collection along with a collection of fabric birds dressed in holiday garb.

Last Sunday I took myself out to breakfast and ate "alone" at the counter in a favorite local restaurant. I was alone when I ordered but a few others ended up sitting there too. We did not converse but none of us was completely alone at the same time. In the afternoon my friend Laura and I took a drive out to Hamlin Beach State Park and took a long walk. It was a beautiful day.

This morning I decided to do something different and visited a church by myself. It's here in town, maybe a mile away. It's been there my entire life but I had never been previous to this morning. I saw a few familiar faces, felt very comfortable, and will likely make another visit in the near future.

Too Much and Not Enough Too

Two weeks. It's been two weeks since I last published a blog. Two are in forever draft form (never to be published), but they don't count. And now, because it's late and I'm thoroughly exhausted from chasing children during the day and not sleeping at night, I have little to share and yet much on my mind. Late fall problems...

I've not taken any wonderful, autumn woods walks this year and I am a little sad about that. However, I do have a great stockpile of woods walks from years past and if I close my eyes and hold the picture in my mind, it's almost like being there. I soaked those memories in deep; the sights, the sounds, the smells. All of it. I am so grateful for those years. If I ever slide into dementia (which is a terrifying thought), I'm sure I'll be taking some woods walks in my memories then too. (Which really doesn't sound half bad. LOL!)

It's been an emotional week with a cherished family member being diagnosed with a terminal illness. (I'm keeping the identity private out of respect.) The time and miles between here and there make visiting impossible. There is nothing I can do except to pray. For peace. For pain free days. For God's grace. For those who can to be there. Life, it seems, is all about learning to let go...

Tomorrow is a day with friends. We're going to a craft sale and then out to lunch. This is good. This is what I need.

Thanks For Joining Me on the Ride

It's been quite the journey so far, a rambling sort of road, crossing sunny fields, through long, dark tunnels and endless forests, and over rocky mountains. Like you, my fellow travelers, I don't know what lies over the next hill or around the curve in the road ahead. More territory has already been covered than I'd ever imagined. There's been expansion along the way, a painful stretching growth. Low lying branches have pulled my hair and scratched my face. My fingers have been bloodied and toes smashed against unseen obstacles. I've tripped over roots, lost a shoe, and ripped my pants, but I can't turn back. Time doesn't allow for restarts. It just keeps tumbling us forward, farther down the road toward the end, wherever that may be.

It's been quite the journey so far, an ambling sort of walk across sunny fields, through fabulously long tunnels, endless enchanted forests, and majestic rocky mountain climbs. Like you, my fellow travelers, I don't know what adventure lies over the next hill or around the curve in the road ahead. More territory has already been covered than I'd ever imagined! There's been expansion along the way, a wonderful stretching growth. Low lying branches have taught me to pull back my hair and protect my face. My fingers have been bloodied and toes smashed against unseen obstacles but I'm much more aware today. I've hopped over roots, danced without shoes, and laughed at ripped pants. I can't turn back but I don't really want to. Time doesn't allow for restarts. It just keeps encouraging us forward to more adventure further down the road. The excitement never ends!

I Don't Write Much Anymore

Writing is cathartic. I know this and yet still find it difficult to carve out the time. It's so much easier to listen to a podcast or do an online jigsaw puzzle. Or both. Usually at the same time. 

Writing takes time and effort. When I have the time, I'm often too tired to put in the effort. Mostly I mull over what could be written when I have no access to the internet or my computer.

It feels like yesterday when I was able to sit down and write a blog post every day. Back then we walked the orchards, baked cakes and pies, and raked leaves into gigantic heaps. Toys were strewn across the living room, laughter filled the house, and the school bus stopped at the end of the driveway almost every day... It felt as though life would go on and on like that forever but slowly, little by little life began to change. Quite honestly, life was always changing. I simply wasn't noticing.

My son Dave turned 40 on Sunday. Where have the years gone? October 15, 2006 So much has happened since he was twenty-three... Three of my grandchildren have birthdays in October. In 2006 I didn't have any grandchildren, my parents were living here in this little house, and I was still in awe of the home God had given us, surrounded by apple orchards, blanketed in star studded skies, and filled with family... 

There are still moments when it feels as though I'm living the wrong life, that mine was mistakenly derailed and I landed on one going an entirely different direction, one with a destination of which I am totally unsure.

Hmm...

Another week has flown by. We had some summer days last week and today late fall has settled in. It was warmer when I went out to church this morning that it was when I headed out again at noon. Definitely heavy sweater weather this afternoon. I wore a sweatshirt under my jean jacket, and though I saw others with summer foot attire, I chose socks and close toed shoes myself. Perhaps summer will return again by the weekend. 

I'd expected to accomplish great things this weekend and was set back by a sinus/migraine headache Saturday. I'd been slacking off on my decongestant and nasal spray so off I went to find some, along with a nap and an afternoon cup of coffee. It seemed to do the trick and I caught up with most of the activities I'd had in mind, including washing all of my laundry and bedding, along with a few more. I have yet to take a woods walk but there is still time for that.

Oh! I just remembered! I was coming back into work from a lunch break last week when my boss said she had a weird question for me. She showed me a picture on her phone and asked, "Is one of these yours?" There was a photograph of three canvas pencil cases with names on them; Martha, Amber, and Megan. They were Christmas gifts from one of the Tot Spot moms three years ago when I was helping open the infant room and doing breaks. 

"Yes," I told her, still wondering where this was going...

"Do you know who made them," she asked. It felt like a trick question and I was still caught a little off guard by the asking. I took a guess that it was the sister of one of the other moms because she has done gifts in more recent years. "You're looking at her," she said, "Jen P---- asked me to make them back when you were taking care of ----."  Ha ha! I knew she and Jen were friends, I'd learned that during my interview, but how funny that I actually have something made by my current boss when I didn't even know. (Now if only I can find it... It's probably somewhere in the attic.)

Not Enough Time in the Days

It been a whirlwind of a week! Last Thursday my son and his band had their first official show when they opened for Glass Cannon at the Iron Smoke Distillery in Fairport, NY. They did a phenomenal job and I am looking forward to more music outings in the not too distant future. 

On Friday morning my friend Gail and I took off for a weekend in New Jersey. She had some deliveries to make and some family to see. In the midst of the visits and errands we had some fun. We went out for breakfast and dinner, walked a couple of beaches, collected a few treasures, and I stuck my feet in the ocean. It was entirely fabulous!

I just do not have enough time in my life to work and do all the playing I would like. Ha ha! Who does?