I am beginning to feel at home again. I awakened somewhere in the early morning hours wondering what hotel I was in this time. It was my own little B&B. Except the staff seems to have been on vacation and everything is still a mess! On the up side, the rates are great and there is plenty of shower gel in the bathroom.

Now, about this weekend….. I recently celebrated the occasion of my birth. Saturday Henry gifted me with a most memorable evening and lots of presents too! I was the grateful recipient of a lovely basket full of Yankee candles in pink grapefruit, a sturdy three-month supply of Grand Marnier, and the most amazing thing I could imagine. He found an oil painting for me that simply takes my breath away every time I walk past it.  I am unsure which is more exquisite, the painting or the frame.

We had dinner at La Cote Basque (I was asked what it meant – I thought it was the coast area near Basque – between France and Spain. Alta Vista translates it to “the Basque dimension”.) At any rate, dinner was wonderful. I would tell you what I had, but I fear that those who are sensitive to the plight of young calves would be on me like white on rice. Speaking of rice, our conversation meandered to visiting various locales and what was to be seen there. With regard to shopping in Hong Kong, I have been made to understand that there are those who have perfected the ability to carve a poem on a grain of rice! Now I ask you, wouldn’t you, like me, be impressed by the mere act of carving a single dot on a grain of rice? I understand that they are “short” poems of only two or three lines. Well! I for one would be most amazed to see this feat.

The following morning we had our usual bowl of pho’. Then we took a little time to view potential garage fillers for the Boo. For some reason my input is desired. I know as much about cars as I do nuclear fission, but whatever. In short, we had a lovely time and I had a wonderful birthday.

A lot of catching up to do, I have. (Yoda-speak)

I have returned from my extended trip of some 3000 plus miles. There were many reasons for this trip, not the least of which was to bring Claudia back to Massachusetts for the last season of working in a restaurant where she has worked for many years in Newport, Rhode Island. The restaurant has been sold and is slated for demolition to be replaced with yet more much needed condominiums. (The previous sentence should be read with tongue in cheek, please. I abhor condominiums.)

One other major reason for this trip was to perform a difficult task that involved three people. I was faced with the difficult decision about what to do when it became intrinsically clear that no matter what I did, one of the three would be unhappy. Since that was the case, I did what I felt was in the best interests of the other two. For that, I have been chastised, called names, and otherwise treated in a fashion that further convinces me that I made the only possible choice by removing this person from the decision making process.

Once that was done, I made some other decisions as well. I decided that since I was in the neighborhood, I should see some of the things that I have always wanted to see. But before any of that, I must express that I was very saddened by the loss of Boo’s favorite large cat and very relieved – very very very relieved that he was not hurt in the event. For those who may have missed it, Heni’s Jaguar caught fire while he was driving it. He walked away, no harm done. But the Jag will never be the same. It brought home how important he is to me, and further illustrated how fleeting life is.

So now I am home again. The dogs were thrilled to see me and I them. I was enchanted to walk into my little humble cottage and look around to see how much of my person is reflected here. Home. Where the heart is. Well…… most of my heart. I fear that I may have left a chunk of it in Savannah.

Greetings from Salem Massachusetts, my fine feathered friends. Today my itinerary included The House of Seven Gables, where Nathaniel Hawthorne was inspired to write the book along with another of my fav's - The Scarlet Letter.

The House of Seven Gables has much in common with mine. I have gables and dormers along with creaky floors, narrow winding staircases and the same amount of closet space. I have one more bathroom than the House of Seven Gables, but no biggie. The tour of the grounds and the surrounding view of the ocean from the gardens was splendid. There were numerous beautiful flowers in full bloom and the air was heavily perfumed with their scent.

Then on we toured to the Witches' Dungeon Museum, The Witches Museum and the Pirate Museum. And that is where we almost had a litter of kittens. You see, we parked and walked and although I thought we made careful note of where we left the car...... with Claudia's little dog in it..... and the sun roof open for ventilation (by the way, it was 57 degrees F. today, and Coral was quite comfy) and we knew we were there over the 2 hour parking limit - could they have towed the car????? Nope, the locals said they only ticket. Great. So where is my car, and where is Coral????By this time I have developed a laundry problem. Cars are insured. Dogs in stolen cars are disposable. You see where I am headed here. But all is well in the land of Lucy and Ethel (although she STILL cannot read a map!!!!) and we looked across the block to see yet ANOTHER parking lot with my car in it.

The drive back became semi-eventful when (I had turned it off in the exhibits) I realized my cell phone was locked, the instruction book was at home, and I couldn't make a call if my life depended on it. This, on I95 in a parking lot of traffic at around 5pm in Boston. Great.

After escaping unscathed from the parking lot by going past my childhood home in Norton, we found our favorite Fall River Chinese restaurant "Happy Chopsticks". In the parking lot was a kiosk for cell phones. The young man was quite happy to tell me that my "secret code" was the last 4 digits of the telephone number. MmmmmDuh!!!!

At Happy Chopsticks I was quite delighted to see an Asian face. It has been too long. Although I did get to meet a lovely Chinese lady in the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston and spent some time with her. She hugged me. I hugged her back.

This trip has been very big on the "making new friends" side. There is the woman that I met the first day with whom I had lunch and went on a tour of the libraries of Norton and got the information I need to find my first grade teacher. There is Grace, from the MFA Boston and that nice man in the Chinese furniture exhibit who told me all about his "friend" who was so wise and who died in 1999.

Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver and the other gold.

Tomorrow I leave my dear friend Claudia to head back. We have had a great time but I miss my puppies, my Boo and my home. I miss my life. I will post pictures of my trip just as soon as I am able. Until then, Cheers!

Anxiety, thy Name is Lacy. That girl Lacy is one sharp cookie. She has seen the suitcases and drawn a conclusion that had her shivering in the kitchen, her ears around her like an old Mexican woman’s crocheted lace mantilla, a look of blame spread over her face like a billboard proclaiming my guilt in advance of leaving her again. She is inconsolable, spread over my bed as if by claiming it again as her rightful throne it will change that I am leaving. They say that dogs are the most forgiving, that their concept of time is short. Else why would I get the same greeting after being gone eight hours as I get when I return from emptying the garbage? Here is why: it is not that they do not have any concept of time. It is that they are just as overjoyed to have the absence abated whether it has been hours or merely minutes.

But that she could talk, but that I was better at hearing her form of communication, but that I could explain my motives, perhaps she would be able to accept it as inevitable. The parting will only bring the joy of the reuniting. I am as useless at clarifying this as I am consoling her every afternoon when the discordant rumbling thunder threatens her quiet afternoons. It does me little good to show her a calendar, to explain that if she look back in time that she might remember this very same phenomenon from last year. That same calendar is likewise as useless at pointing out to her when I will return so in lieu of same I have substituted pig ears. When the pig ears are all gone, one a day, then I will come and get you. In my absence you will be cared for, safe and loved by someone else. But it will all be back to the way we all prefer it when the pig ears run out.

Last night we watched the sun go down on a most dramatic skyline where the clouds were racing to steal its thunder, conceal it from view while the sun strove toward the horizon to kiss the waves goodnight. There was a storm racing also, the wind whipping the clouds across the sky from east to west, fat rain drops plopping heavily on we two cuddled on a blue park bench placing bets on who would win – the sun, or the clouds desperate to usurp the sun’s daily performance? The orchestra of rain started slowly, with a promise of faster, faster, faster now downpour! The space between drops got smaller and smaller with every passing moment. Yet the sun stayed its course, kept its pace.  For a time all of it converged into a canopy that contained every color imaginable: pale blue to black and pink to fiery red. There were places where the sun seeped through the slate gray storm clouds to backlight cumulus behind and above them. It was a play with a cast of characters familiar, yet totally fresh and new in this act, this performance. When it was over I applauded mightily and offered up a standing ovation to the sun, which had once again beaten the clouds and outshone the chorus of the storm.

A very sage man asked me then, snuggled up next to me on that bench, that if someone were to come into your house and toss a whole pile of garbage in the middle of the living room floor, (picture it: coffee grounds and beet trimmings, the nasty package that the chicken came in with its absorbent plastic and paper pad loaded with raw chicken juice laden with bacteria, used tissues and gum wrappers, empty steel cans with raggedy edges, the remains of a juice glass broken in a sink accident and the fetid dog food that they suddenly have chosen is not their brand anymore) what would you do? Of course you would tell the person that dumped the garbage what you thought of them, where to go and how to get there. Then what? Then, you clean up the mess and get it out of your house.

All of this and more.

I have been working on a number of projects that have kept me from blogland. When I have had the desire to blog, Tblog has been in a coma.

I have submitted two pieces in two days to two contests. Please hope for the best. One piece had to be 300 words or less! THAT is way tougher than it looks. The other short story is for a magazine that promotes brotherhood among all people. I sent it to a couple of you in earlier incarnations than the final version which was submitted on Tuesday.

I have been working on some stuff around here.

It has begun raining every night, every morning in the usual predictable summer pattern. It is reassuring. I slept with the windows open last night (on the second floor only).

Within days several things - 1. I am leaving again for a road trip to do more research. 2. It is soon to be a year since I had the sublime pleasure and good fortune that my dearest Henry sent me that first fated email. 3. There apparently is to be a gathering here this weekend to celebrate my 100th birthday, a few days early due to my travel schedule.

Last night, Heni Boo brought dinner (with plenty of lovely mushrooms, for which I am always grateful) a lovely bottle of wine, and an assortment of movies. We saw Chocolat' while drinking a fine dessert tea and eating chocolates. It is so wonderful, sweet, rich, lovely to have someone so special care about me, to care about him like that. I am one very lucky woman.