10 March ..,.

Winter made a return last weekend, hung around until today, and may not be done yet. Reminds me of a song from a Broadway production many years ago … March came in like a lion, a kickin’ up the waters in the bay.  Then April sighed and stepped aside, and along came pretty little May.

Four inches of soft snow last saturday morning.  Then a fair melt sunday.  Then a dusting of fresh snow early monday morning, followed by sun, followed by sun with snow, followed by heavier snow, then more snow on tuesday.  Woke up this morning to a foot of new, fresh, powder snow.

Oh well … 

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Have I told you that I recently found out that the site George and I called home for over forty years was called Pigeon Pass (but of course not in English) by the indigenous tribe (the Shasta) which had used it as a summer hunting and gathering camp?  I knew there was a spot down the road where hunters went in season for doves but had not equated doves with pigeons.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot … the past that is.

I recently learned of the lateness of a couple more of my memories (“late” is a steal from Alexander McCall Smith’s Mma Ramostwe series where when you die you become “Late”).   

A nextdoor neighbor from my Pomona days, when John (my first) was young and before Michael (my second) was born, has died … age and Parkinsons’s.  Her son was two years younger than John.  She had been a ballerina before she married.  That intrigued me.  She was a couple of years younger than I and was the one with whom I laughed when the current saying was “Don’t trust anyone over 30”.  

And another friend, with whom I graduated High School almost seventy-four years ago, has been rescued from the “looney bin” (his designation) and is bedridden, remembering less each day, living in his daughter’s home now.

And another classmate “late”.  

And to top it off, last evening the family (the equivalent of four generations … 9 to 90) watched “A Hard Day’s Night”.  Everyone was laughing.  The Beatles were so young, so talented, and so full of themselves.  Next family movie  suggestion?  “Help”.

Right now I fear I may be dropping into “I remember …” mode often what with deaths and old movies.

Do please forgive me.  Chalk it up to age, a gift which comes complete with caveats … 

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When the weather creates stay-where-you-are situations, I read.

Am nearly finished with the third book in the Tudor trilogy of alternative history.  The relationships between families of power in those times were so convoluted that I think a wall mounted clue board with lines showing connections like some detectives on the telly use (and is a feature in other mystery books as well) would  be helpful.  However, on second thought, I might have trouble finding a wall big enough for the Tudors and the Stuarts and the Seymours and the …

Still, maybe sometime in the future I’ll re-read the series and see if I can set up a clue board.  Maybe organize a book club reading so several of us could get lost in time. That should provide me with a good sized to-do list and keep me out of trouble.

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I’ve begun thinking about where I want to travel once I am resettled.  First trip will probably be back to the Chicago area.  That’s where George grew up and there is still family there.  Could maybe do some family research, some museum hopping (back to the Art Museum for Colleen Moore’s doll house and the Monets)), food tasting, and …

And maybe a trip down the Mississippi to Mardi Gras once this COVID thing passes enough to allow travel.  And although I’m not big on crowds, a cruise up to Alaska might be an idea.  And I’ve been looking forward to seeing Israel (with friends who live there) with maybe a trip to the Czech Republic and Germany for more family research on the way home.

Selecting travel partners and planning is almost as much fun as going.

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Little things become exciting when the weather is like this.  Trouble is they aren’t things which would seem exciting to others so there isn’t much about which to write.

Found a recipe for peanut butter cup brownies.  I may give that a try in the next week.   And cinnamon muffins …

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To end this week, here’s a gift for all of us …   

Today, I will love and encourage myself. I will tell myself that what I’m doing is good enough, and I’ll let myself enjoy that feeling because I know the survivor gets to tell the story.

So … ‘til next week …