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Posts Tagged ‘Family’

The French Roast pod clicked into my Keurig, I pushed the blinking blue button and went to the front door. This is my routine most mornings, start coffee, turn off front porch light and open the door. I want the morning sunlight to hit my face and jump start the old circadian rhythm, but it’s just pre-dawn and still gray when something catches my eye, something black, and velvety. There’s a huge spider sitting on the ribs of the life-size skeleton relaxing in my rocking chair.

The skeleton I arranged just a few days ago – one leg draped onto a column with the opposite arm raised in greeting. But the Big, beautiful, black spider?

Don’t get me wrong, I love most bugs! And spiders eat mosquitoes so they are doubly loved but I didn’t put this stuffed one on my porch. I asked Bob if he was the culprit – he just looked perplexed and asked if it was a real spider. So, there is the opposite of a porch-thief in our neighborhood; someone is adding to the Halloween decorations! And since my brain doesn’t function until an hour after the coffee kicks in, I put this particular conundrum on the back burner and made my breakfast – yogurt with a ripe pear.

Once our nest emptied out, Halloween lost most of its cache. We never had any trick-or-treaters in the Blue Ridge, and living in downtown Nashville meant drunken bridezilla/hen parties instead. But this is a neighborhood in the best sense, Mr Rogers sense of the name. There’s a Golden for every family and a Doodle for every couple. Les walks her granddog Teddy, a tiny white Shih Tzu, in a doggy pram and was among the many who left me food while I was recovering from Covid Rebound. Aha, of course… I was betting on Les for the spider.

Our porch looks festive, but not over the top. I gave up on pumpkins years ago when we moved to the South. No use in watching them rot in our hot Fall, southern-exposure front yard. But this skelli presented itself to us, it was lying around in our alley one year like a recalcitrant teenager. It was like the yoga ball that rolled into our yard just when I was thinking I needed a yoga ball! The Flapper was right – what the mind can conceive you can achieve! She was a real positive thinker who collected buddhas in the latter part of her life.

The Rocker called to ask if I had a picture of him in his Sonic the Hedgehog costume, the one I made when he was about the Pumpkin’s age. Seems he was working on the new animated movie, and he did make the cutest little hedgehog. I loved sewing Halloween costumes out of felt and cooking up a big pot of chili while baking cornbread. Ha, I was a real multi-tasker back in the day! But I never went in for Halloween decorating in or around the house. Now I’ve made patchwork cloth pumpkins and thrown a few gourds in a bowl on the dining room table and put mums and a skeleton on the….

Today we Americans spend around 11.6 BILLION dollars on All Hallows Eve.

Why? Is it the candy? Are we beginning to embrace death as just another part of life? Why am I so sad about streaming the last few episodes of The Good Place? I never felt like this with Netflix, like I didn’t want a series to end. I thought I’d get tired of the endless references to David Hume, but it is the antidote to this election season. We humans can get better, we can learn, at least I want to believe we can.

The Bug is dressing up in one of Taylor Swift’s Eras tour outfits, and the Pumpkin will be dressed like an old man. The end is near I’m afraid for these pre-teenagers. The Bride told me her Parisian friends admitted that Halloween is catching on with the French, but mostly just for parties and costumes. They would never send their children out into the street begging for candy! Zut Alors!

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What’s happened to the Appalachian Mountains post Hurricane Helene is apocalyptic.

And we are no strangers to hurricanes. When you marry an Emergency Physician, you learn to live with contingencies. We would fill up the bathtub so we could flush our toilet in the Berkshires before a Nor’easter. We had a generator in our garage on the Jersey Shore.

But last week in Nashville, Bob was walking around the house muttering about emergency back-up plans, or the lack thereof. He needs to know that everything will fall seamlessly into place when all else fails… I mean he used to write disaster plans! This is why doctors seem so serene in the midst of chaos, they figure they have everything covered. We even have a mophie wireless charging brick just in case we lose power.

But last week we didn’t lose power, we only lost internet service for four days.

This is day FIVE since Helene roared her way up from Florida, leaving over 100 dead and 600 missing. We had dinner with Les and her husband Saturday night and she got us up to speed on Asheville. She and her husband David own a condo in the middle of town and she told me she spoke for less than a minute with one of her neighbors before they lost cell service. She was starting to pack her car when she heard the roads were gone and only emergency services were allowed in.

Roads in and out of Asheville have washed out. Cables are gone and cell towers toppled. They had a boil water alert before they lost water altogether. Power and internet service is down and food is running low. Every creek and river overflowed after being drenched the week before, then Helene dropped the amount of FIVE Septembers of rain. The hospital there, Mission (recently bought by HCA) was running aground before all this happened. Doctors and nurses are living on-site with the help of generators.

People in North Carolina, Tennessee and Georgia have lost everything. It is unimaginable but not totally unexpected. Most people living in the Northeast don’t understand how a mountainous area can flood, but climate change has challenged that belief. The once every hundred year flood is happening every few years. I checked on the Facebook page of a widowed friend living in Haywood County, NC. Her daughter is a physician who works with the Groom, and she worked as a journalist for a newspaper in her younger years. The Bride thought we’d have a lot in common, and we do. I found a picture on her timeline of a coffee cup a friend posted for her with this caption:

“She’s hand grinding her own coffee beans and using a camp stove.”

I was relieved to know she’s alright. Of course she is, she roasts her own coffee beans on her front porch! If you would like to help people recover from this storm, all the usual sites are accepting donations – Red Cross, the Salvation Army and United Way. Also you can register online if you live nearby to help with food: World Central Kitchen, which set up meal service Monday at Bear’s Smokehouse BBQ, welcomes volunteers who have registered online.” There is also: https://mercychefs.com/helene-response and https://www.heartswithhands.org/

In retrospect, losing Google Fiber for four days was nothing compared to Helene’s wrath. And please remember when you vote next month, one ex-president’s response to a disaster was to throw paper towels out to victims after a hurricane hit Puerto Rico. And vote accordingly. Wonder Woman painting by Ashley Longshore.

Screenshot

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We were all in the pool when it hit me, Fall that is. But Fall in the South feels different, for one thing it’s still hot. Not three digit temperatures hot, and not the oppressive humidity, so we can sometimes sit outside in the shade and visit with neighbors. But I knew my days of ballet in the pool were numbered, what I didn’t know was that we’d lose our wi-fi!

Goggle Fiber has been replacing cables in our neighborhood all summer long. They’ve been digging and splicing along with the constant cacophony of new construction crews.

It happened like this: Bob harvested his sweet potatoes, carrots and leeks so I started to make potato leek soup for dinner; there was a knock on the door, and it was the modern day cable guy aka the Google guy; he asked Bob something about checking the box on the side of the house and warned us that we may lose our internet for a few minutes while they switch over to 8 gig…

That was 48 hours ago. I know.

We’ve been living in an analog world. We ate dinner at the dining room table. We had an actual conversation. We played Boggle. I cleaned up the kitchen. Then I called Aunt Kay for the after-action report on our MN trip. Then I texted Les next door and she has AT&T so they were watching the TN vs Oklahoma game. She offered me words of encouragement and jigsaw puzzles.

It’s funny really. I’m surprised when I switch on a light because I expect that nothing else will work. Last night the Bride was making pasta with her new Kitchen Aid mixer, well she made the dough and the Grands fed the dough through the special attachment. Voila fettuccine! She also picked my basil and made a scrumptious pesto but most importantly, she asked us over for dinner so that was sweet. We practiced our French and the house was filled with laughter.

But no Masterpiece Theatre for me last night. And the new season has started on PBS, hopefully I’ll catch up on their streaming service. So I picked up my knitting. Dr Jim told me to pretend it’s the 1960s, but I don’t want to go back… like ever.

Losing your internet is a little like losing your mind. We don’t realize how tethered we are to technology. When Bob can’t sleep because he’s worried about losing our internet service, he can’t turn on the TV and doze on the couch. I can’t play music while I’m doing household chores because it’s streaming on Sonos. We don’t have a turntable and my vintage vinyl records are the Rocker’s hanging up on the wall! Do you even own a radio?

Right now I’m writing on my iPad offline. In fact, “Working Offline” is loud and clear on the banner at the top of my ‘page.’ Like I didn’t know. I’ll be walking over to the Bride and Groom’s porch to publish this later.

I have to admit that Bob is getting a little twitchy. We finally have a Google Fiber technician sitting in my closet! He’s been running back and forth to his truck and waiting for word from a supervisor. If I could type and cross my fingers at the same time we’d be golden. But don’t feel sorry for me, a new Parnassus First Edition Club book was delivered just in the nick of time. And all my favorite characters are back:

Elizabeth Strout’s “Tell Me Everything.” Olive is in assisted-living and that’s all I’m going to say. Cause I always tell you everything. Here we were at the Farmers Market on Saturday, before our virtual world collapsed.

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Along with a travel-size tube of lavender lotion, I crafted an eternity pearl necklace for her. Bob and I ordered tennis balls for her temporary/travel walker. Dr Jim arranged for a Fajitas and Margaritas lunch cruise on Lake Minnetonka and his friends threw her a celebratory brunch complete with her favorite coconut cake for dessert.

My big sister Kay turned 90!

We couldn’t have picked better weather for our visit to Minnesota. Dr Jim is the last connection our family has to the Land of 10,000 Lakes, and we all flew in like migratory birds last week from TN and NY. After Kay’s last fall, the one that broke her shoulder outside her Upper East Side apartment, she wanted to see her little brother ‘one last time’ and so we set up a Fall sibling reunion goal. We also thought we’d ‘help’ Dr Jim downsize into a pied-a-terre in the town of Excelsior.

But like most construction plans, his actual move-in date was delayed; birthdays however, arrive despite our best objections. Our Daughter-in-Love, Aunt Kiki, will turn thirty something this week. Ah, to be thirty again… The Bride received a blue Kitchen Aid stand mixer with a pasta attachment for her big day and mine will be the last of the September birthdays, a footnote to a momentous year.

According to my Native American horoscope, our September natal days come under the “Duck Fly Moon.” I’ve always called us Christmas Party babies, but maybe Autumnal Equinox sounds better? The Flapper introduced me to a book, “The Medicine Wheel,” about Native spirituality years ago. She was beginning her search for meaning, studying psychology and Buddhism. She spent her final years surrounded by sculptures of Buddha on the shore of Lake Minnetonka. With her two sons nearby, we would write letters to each other wondering about the state of the world.

This was the last time I routinely actually wrote letters!

First the Love Bug, followed by four more female Fall birthdays – 12 to 90 years old. We saw a family of wild turkeys crossing Dr Jim’s road. I glimpsed a white egret swoop into the trees behind his house. At least I think it was an egret, maybe it was a swan? We all saw loons floating on the lake. I remembered the whooping cranes flying south last month over Nashville after I read Margaret Renkl’s brilliant essay about blue jays and change. https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/16/opinion/hope-social-problems-justice.html?unlocked_article_code=1.LU4.kgtX.2sZHo4nF3YuS&smid=url-share

My sister Kay is an artist. Her beautiful paintings are hanging all over the country, including right here in my snug. She was a single mom and a lipstick feminist back in the 50s and 60s, a glamorous stewardess for National Airlines. At her interview she was never weighed or measured, simply hired on the spot! National’s base was in Florida, but she flew around the world a few times! I loved visiting her Manhattan apartment as a teenager, right up the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Guggenheim. We’d have lunch at the Madison Deli and she’d correct my country-bumpkin table manners at Lutece for dinner.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s can’t compare to her lifestyle then, and now she still walks with some help to Central Park nearly every day.. Kay taught me so much about life and love. As soon as I landed back home, I cleaned out the bird bath and replaced the small solar fountain. The cardinals and robins are getting used to the moving water, even guarding it at times. Our temperatures will be rising back into the 90s this week and I know our cardinal family will be sticking around, but we’ll be flying off again in a few weeks to France.

Happy Birthday Kay!

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Count the “I”s, not the “Lies,” Bill Clinton said.

One of so many moments that made me proud to be a Democrat, no, to be an American, last week watching the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Everyone I spoke to felt the exact same way; like we were turning a corner on hate and division, like we were righteously taking back the flag, standing up for working men and women, for unions, for civil rights. For once, I felt the urgency of a woman who knew exactly what was at stake in the coming months. Kamala Harris said,

“(Trump) plans to create a national anti-abortion coordinator and force states to report on women’s miscarriages and abortions. Simply put, they are out of their minds.

Unlike the Republicans, the DNC delivered a hopeful message for our future, and now we have to act because November is right around the corner. But what can we do exactly? In order to win, we Dems need a three point margin because of the electoral college, but we need to win BIGLY, by maybe five points! I’m no longer knocking on doors, and I hate making phone calls, but I can pick up a pen! WRITE! The Bride and Groom have already had a ‘write and sign letters to swing states party.’ You can sign up to write and send postcards here: https://turnoutpac.org/postcards/

You could also buy merch, and be your own personal billboard. I’ve got a VOTE tee shirt with the letters made out of books and rainbows and even a uterus – but that’s not good enough. I need one of those hats with the comma followed by a “La.” Or maybe even a camo cap? We do need to take back the symbols of freedom and democracy that the GOP co-opted, I want to hang an American flag by my front door and put up a Harris-Walz sign on the lawn! You know, next to the “Hate has no place in our neighborhood” sign.

Did you know that the Second Gentleman’s daughter, Ella Emhoff, has been ridiculed by Mr T’s followers? What those cult followers didn’t know is that Ella is an artist and a model, and if I’m reading her correctly, she could care less what they think.

Ms. Emhoff, a textile artist and knitwear designer, has become known for her style since she first grabbed national attention during the inauguration of President Biden in 2021 sporting an embellished plaid Miu Miu coat on the steps of the Capitol…. On the first night of the convention, Ms. Emhoff wore cream trousers and a drapey top from Helmut Lang topped with a camouflage hat with “Harris Walz” emblazoned on it in neon orange letters. The sold-out hat has become a popular piece of campaign merchandise in recent weeks. (She also posted photos from that evening, including a shot of Tim Walz’s children putting up bunny ear fingers behind their unknowing dad’s head during an interview with NBC’s Jacob Soboroff.)” https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/22/style/ella-emhoff-dnc-harris.html

My first reaction was hooray, they’re not bashing Kamala Harris’ pantsuits. And my second reaction was how dare they go after Ella after Ann Coulter’s malicious remarks about Walz’ son Gus. I thought a candidate’s child was off-limits. I remember how Chelsea Clinton was maligned for her curly hair and braces, so when Ella talked about her step-mom coming into her life when she was 14, I could relate. I was a young teen when the Flapper married my stepfather, a Judge in our town. I was going from an only-child home into a birth family with five siblings and two step-siblings. Talk about culture shock.

The Bug celebrated her 12th birthday this past weekend. She’s entering the wonder years of adolescence and my mission as her Nana is to be a safe place to fall. We can always bake muffins and string jewelry over here.The Rocker and Aunt Kiki gave her Taylor Swift tickets, she had a spa day with all her friends at her house with all the skin products, and yesterday she scored the winning points in her school’s volleyball game! 7th Grade is looking pretty darn good so far.

And so is this election – last week was a game changer. Here are my Virgo Bimbies (kiddos in Italian)!

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I remember when Great Grandma Ada broke my ribs.

We were in Target and she was newly arrived in Nashville; she was rolling along nicely on a motorized red shopping cart, heading towards shorts for Hudson. Suddenly, instead of going backwards, she plowed right into me. I found myself on the floor covered in clothes with red shirted people gathering and gawking. My chest hurt and a foot was aching too, but I managed to walk out of there and straight into an urgent care.

After looking at my chest Xray, the doctor apologized for not being able to prescribe more narcotics! The law had just changed in TN, and the government was trying to control the opioid epidemic by limiting the number of pills a physician could give his/her patient. It wasn’t the first time a doctor had apologized to me for some aspect of care gone wrong – a spinal tap done on my newborn, the path lab mess after an amniocentesis, the West Nile conjunctivitis diagnosis. You can see why I am a skeptical healthcare consumer.

I’ve been thinking about this since I read that two doctors were charged in Matthew Perry’s ketamine overdose death. DO NO HARM takes on new meaning when it pertains to drug addicts. Addiction has touched just about every family I know, including my own. For years we didn’t know where Bob’s middle brother was living, and by the time we intervened and got him into rehab it was too late. He left a couple of days later and died of an overdose just a month before the Rocker’s Bar Mitzvah. He was the sweetest of three brothers, but he was caught in the trap of our medical community with its rules and regs around methadone and a secret underbelly of drug dealers.

And btw, read Barbara Kingsolver’s book “Demon Copperhead” if you’d like to understand Appalachia and the scourge of drug addiction. JD Vance’s book doesn’t hold a candle to Demon.

The Bride told me that ketamine, on its own, would not usually result in death, that Perry’s death was most likely caused by being in a hot tub while also taking a cocktail of drugs including ketamine. Emergency physicians may use ketamine while doing surgical procedures. It supposedly produces a dissociative experience, or as my daughter demonstrated with a whirl of her arms, “The mind separates from the body.” Psychiatrists have started using the drug in treating depression. But why someone would think it was a good idea to abuse ketamine is beyond me, then again, I don’t have an addictive personality… unless you count shoe shopping.

In a combined public and private effort, we have made a dent in the numbers of drug overdoses in our country. By taking drug manufacturers to court, smarter foreign policy measures, enforcing policy at home by stressing treatment, and limiting a doctor’s ability to prescribe narcotics, and of course the availability of over-the-counter Narcan we may be turning a corner. We have life-saving Narcan nasal spray in our house, do you? Oh, and legalizing marijuana nationally would probably help as well.

The new data show overdose deaths involving opioids decreased from an estimated 84,181 in 2022 to 81,083 in 2023. While overdose deaths from synthetic opioids (primarily fentanyl) decreased in 2023 compared to 2022, cocaine and psychostimulants (like methamphetamine) increased.https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/pressroom/nchs_press_releases/2024/20240515.htm

But this all came too late for my brother-in-law.

I spent an hour this past week getting an infusion of Reclast, a bone strengthening drug in the hospital. I sat in a plushy recliner and contemplated the beautiful, verdant landscape outside the picture windows. Except for the occasional bleep from the machine, it was blessedly quiet. Bob sat beside me reading his book on his phone, occasionally the nurse would come in to check on me. Medicare paid for this treatment…

Still, most insurers will not pay for treating the disease of addiction. We are a puritanical country and we expect people to “pull themselves up by their own boot straps.” But this would be like telling me to build my own bones, or telling a diabetic patient to watch what they eat. I read this morning that Matthew Perry paid $55,000 for 20 vials of ketamine. All of his enablers should be held accountable.

And maybe we should all learn to live with a little pain. Yesterday I went to the first Bug’s volleyball game of the season and got hit in the face with a ball during warm-up. My glasses went flying off and I found myself surrounded by kids asking me if I was alright. The Pumpkin and his friends sat in front of me for the rest of the game, my guardians against incoming fouls. Of course, I didn’t cry, until last night’s opening salvo for the DNC.

Also my pearl stringing for Kamala is coming along. Night Night DT

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It was forty years ago in LA, the Olympics that is, when we were living in the Berkshires and I was about to give birth to the Rocker. We lived in a farmhouse on the outskirts of a bird sanctuary. Idyllic and terrifyingly beautiful, surrounded by cardinals, chickadees and grouse, there was a dairy farm up the road. I had picked the date of his birth, a repeat C-section was scheduled; Reagan was president, I remember watching the Olympics live while nursing my newborn baby boy.

Synchronized swimming and rhythmic gymnastics debuted in Los Angeles as Olympic events, as did wind surfing.”

There is a picture of us at the Bris, tall gladiolus of every color stood guard while friends gathered. Two rabbis came and Grandma Ada was there. She would drive four hours from NJ, always bringing food, “Did you eat?” and a cousin or two. We loved to sit on the swing in the big screened-in porch; the bassinet was on that porch because babies need fresh air. I looked so young, so peaceful. Or maybe I was just exhausted.

John Williams composed the theme for the Olympiad, “Los Angeles Olympic Theme” later also known as “Olympic Fanfare and Theme“. This piece won a Grammy for Williams and became one of the most well-known musical themes of the Olympic Games…”

I’ve just returned from LA, from visiting the Rocker and Aunt Kiki. My baby grew up to be a talented musician and composer. His company debuted two new trailers while I was there – one for a movie and one for an Apple series. I told them about the Woodstock themed 40th birthday party I’d planned for Bob’s big day, and we talked about my son’s generation – listening to Kurt Cobain, learning to design and create websites. Somewhere between Gen X and the Millennial Generation, the Rocker is a Xennial, a unique subset.

“You have a childhood, youth, and adolescence free of having to worry about social media posts and mobile phones. … We learned to consume media and came of age before there was Facebook and Twitter and Snapchat and all these things where you still watch the evening news or read the newspaper.” https://www.bos.com/inspired/xennials-what-you-need-to-know-about-this-micro-generation/

Their California home is like a tree house, perched on a hill with lush tropical plants. We watched the Paris Olympic skateboarding finals on Peacock, a streaming platform. I thought about my son doing tricks on a skateboard, playing rollerblade hockey, moving effortlessly through my dreams. He is tall and lanky like my brothers, Po the Cat drapes herself along his legs while we critique the athletes. And we cooked and played together in the kitchen to fantastical music Kiki curated. My baby is turning 40.

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“Bird” is simply working class (UK) slang for a woman. It’s not pejorative, but it’s not respectful or flattering either.

The Groom has developed a funny habit. Whenever he gets an advert text message, he texts back a random bird fact! Usually it’s a bot and he immediately stumps it. But sometimes it’s a human, and sometimes there’s a tacit recognition, a glimmer of humanity between the sender and the sendee. I wanted to tell him all about the crows making a racket next to my pool PT this morning, but then I remembered the family drove to Memphis at dawn..

They are being interviewed for Global Entry passports: “Global Entry is a U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) program that allows expedited clearance for pre-approved, low-risk travelers upon arrival in the United States. Members enter the United States by accessing the Global Entry processing technology at selected airports.” https://www.cbp.gov/travel/trusted-traveler-programs/global-entry

When we flew British Air to Italy, we breezed right through TSA checkpoints while the kids had to wait in long lines. It’s definitely worth the effort to apply for Global Entry if you fly out of the country. You feel a tiny bit royal coming back to the US. Being an avid Anglophile, I was delighted to be served “Coronation” tea sandwiches on board. I didn’t even mind being called, “Mum” by the flight attendants. When the pictures of Taylor Swift hit social media over the weekend, smiling with the Prince of Wales and his two oldest bairn, I was positively gobsmacked.

Then today I read (cue the lights) that Travis Kelce picked Tay Tay up like a bird on a London stage and carried the Queen to her throne chair.

The Love Bug had a fantastic week at Taylor Swift camp. She made a gorgeous tee shirt, lots of bead bracelets, and dove deep into the Swiftie phenom. I’m sure Yale will be offering the definitive course on Taylor soon enough.

Well, we’re all wilting aren’t we? Bob and I walked to the Farmer’s Market on Saturday for the first fresh garlic and barely made it home. It’s less than a mile, half up a gentle hill, but the heat index got me. Not so much the temperature, which was mid 90s, it’s the “real feel” as Aunt Kay calls it; a combo of humidity in the air and the subjective, apparent temperature we perceive. That was at least three digits! Nashville has been experiencing the same heat dome as everyone else, only I guess it’s pretty normal for us, except…

“It’s not even July yet people!”

The Pumpkin enjoyed robot camp too, and I’m just happy the camps were indoors during this heat spell. Naturally I’ve been keeping the Pumpkin’s bird bath refreshed twice daily. I love watching our robins, yes I believe these two are our babies recently hatched above the patio, indulging in water aerobics and taking a drink every now and then.

Yesterday I stood by the window marveling at our bird’s ingenuity and determination to get a berry. Bob covered the blackberry bush with mesh this year, hoping we’d actually have a harvest, but the birds have outsmarted us. The robin jumped up on a lawn light, squared off, and then hovered for a few seconds whilst plucking a berry through the mesh! This went on for quite awhile. I didn’t know a robin could impersonate a hummingbird. There’s another bird fact for you!

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Good Morning! Spoiler Alert about Bridgerton – the jig is up!

We now know who Lady Whistledown is and that Pen gets her man. Amidst all the lies and deceit, love wins! And all the while I’m thinking this Bridgerton husband, fresh off his European tour bedding as many French women as he could find, will surely be giving his new bride an STD of some sort. Why must reality cozy up with a SIX minute sex scene? Maybe when you raise your children during the AIDs crisis, pragmatism kicks in.

I wonder what future generations will say about this time – climate change is a chronic, existential crisis; European elections are tilting to the Right; and America is debating the rules of a debate between a nice guy named Joe from PA, and a delusional, twice-impeached felon named Don! Could Bridgerton be the escape we all need? After all, in the end three new babies are born to fathers who will presumably mend their wicked ways.

Yesterday we celebrated Father’s Day with lunch and a movie, “Inside Out 2.” Temps were in the mid 90s so air-conditioning was an essential part of the plan. As we were walking out, the Love Bug asked me what emotion I liked best? “Ennui,” i said. I thought she should have had a bigger part. I also loved how Joy put Anxiety in a recliner with a cup of tea! Then the Bride said she loved Ennui also, and did we notice she was French? Mais OUI! The Pumpkin wanted to know what Ennui was, and while throwing out our candy boxes at the back of the theatre, I attempted an explanation.

Like the flat, bluish-gray animated character said, she is bored but rarely boring. She was distanced, lethargic like a noodle always lounging around. It’s fascinating that Ennui always had a phone in her hand. While the main character, Riley, is trying to fit in with her peers, all of her “old” emotions are literally bottled up in a jar! Could Hollywood be telling us that suppressing our emotions never works? Notice that Envy, a new emotion for Riley, is kinda cute with sparkly eyes and without a phone in her hand; maybe teens are not so envious of their friends’ social media feeds?

Another Spoiler Alert: Ennui joins Joy to save Riley! Key the eye-rolling, the shrug, the insidious “FINE!”

The good news is that Inside Out 2 is the number one, record breaking film of the year so far. “Pixar’s Inside Out 2 has broken box office records over the weekend as it brought in an estimated $295m (£232.6m) around the world.That makes it the strongest global opening by an animated film of all time, parent company Disney said. In North America, ticket sales hit about $155m, dethroning Dune: Part Two as the holder of this year’s top box office opening weekend.” https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cd114gg38xpo

Hooray! People are getting out, going back to the movies with candy and popcorn, even if it is an animation. I tried watching “Poor Thing” on the plane back from Heathrow, but it just wasn’t sitting well. I turned it off after she killed the toad. I remember the Flapper idolizing Veronica Lake, and Greta Garbo. Garbo’s “I vant to be alone,” was the synthesis of Ennui, and very much like Lady Whistledown. A smart woman, who’s been overlooked and underappreciated with a biting wit and a poison pen. We all need a break from the constant noise! Not the cicadas, those are gone thankfully; the pings and dings of our phones, the podcasts and songs in our ears, the stories we tell ourselves in order to soldier on.

It’s spending time alone, getting to know ourselves, listening to our intuition, that will help teens forge an identity. Ennui is never bored with herself! On the wall is a picture of my Foster Father Jim when he was in the Navy. He’s looking over The Love Bug on ProCreate; we like to get creative in the Snug!

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We are finally here in Italy, touring the country again with Marco and Claudio, but this time from their home in Viareggio. We awaken to church bells and cafe Americano in the garden. Flowers are blooming amid buzzing Vespas and even the sidewalks are arranged like quilts. A baby girl, Bianca, was born next door the day before we arrived and so her front door is festooned with pink ribbon.

We stroll just a few blocks to the Ligurian Sea where the sand is not too hot, yet. Only the Pumpkin has jumped in the gentle waves. We visit ancient cities and discover small, Bronze Age statues of people in a province of Lucca. Castle walls surround this whole town in Tuscany, as if to say we value every one of our people, not just royalty. Art is everywhere.

Did you know that because of the Spanish Inquisition (1478-1834), Jews brought the tomato to Italy?

Of course we are learning to cook the traditional food. Yesterday we made green lasagna noodles with two different sauces – a Bolognese and a Bechamel. The grands are enjoying the desserts, tiramisu and bignes, like profiteroles only better. Today Bob and I finally ordered a pizza for lunch on the Promenade, but it was like no other with fresh prosciutto and funghi.

If I were to define happiness, it would be now, this time with my whole family. Watching the Bug fill tiny ravioli while the Pumpkin works the dough through a pasta machine. Sitting on the sofa with Pietro, the truffle/rescue dog, and discussing design with Kiki over an Aperol. Walking in the rain with the Bride and Groom, and suddenly the Rocker takes my hand.

And Bob, forever mi amore, celebrating today our 45th Wedding Anniversary by doing laundry and caring for me. This cold I brought with me has turned into an infection. It’s OK. It’s life, I guess even this virus wants to survive in this beautiful country.

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