Seminole 2022 - Acceptance and Enjoyment

 

Pool Area

Pix.

Thursday was a more normal day, as reality sank in. We are going to be here for a month so we might as much enjoy our time in the sun. I really enjoyed both my morning and evening swims, especially as I try to make sure my right shoulder (recently treated with physical therapy for rotator cuff tears) is properly rehabbed before I get by to my Y swimming routine.

We've got our bearings now and had no trouble getting out to a main road, Hwy 694/Park Avenue. Traffic seemed like less than we were once used to once we got to Gulf Boulevard. The coast is, of course, overbuilt but the Gulf of Mexico and Boca Ciega Bay are very beautiful.

We drove to a few favorite places, including the boardwalk at Land's End and the very end of Pass-A-Grille. We had fish & chips and conch tacos delivered from DJ's Clam Shack which we enjoyed on the patio. Because the shade is inoperable (or, as we say in Minnesota, "broke"), we sat in the hot sun of the late afternoon.

TV is working well. WiFi is good. Watching the terrible war in Ukraine, I feel sad and very angry.

Seminole 2022 - Day 2 (Still Married)

 Pix.

Let's face it, the choice of this property was mine. I did have my doubts when I saw only one review and noticed right away the absence of basic safety equipment (like a handrail -- and more) around the pool steps. I did look up property valuation compared with similar properties in the residential neighborhood and was reassured -- of course, location-location-location applies, and this is a great location.

Bob has been very kind in not blaming me, but I am defensive about every innocent negative remark. Yesterday's included shades that almost fell apart in the enclosed patio, toilet issues (fortunately not clogged ones), uncomfortable seating, TV problems (to which I am fairly indifferent, especially with Live-TV on my laptop for the news and a few other programs I watch). So many more. Seems we're used to the good life with solid doors, soft-close cupboards, lots of outlets without overloaded power strips, new plumbing, shades that don't fall apart. The list goes on.

Yesterday we hit the Dollar Store, one of my favorite places which but Bob is definitely not a Dollar Store shopper. I stocked up on cleaning supplies, though I feel a little disheartened and will not get into my habitual cleaning frenzy. Just praying that the washer and the dishwasher work. If not ... oh well, let's not go there.

On the positive side, we are getting a few laughs. Our worst vacation experience is still Barker Lake Lodge nearly 10 years ago and we still crack up when we think about it. "It's gonna be warm", said Bob cheerfully a few minutes ago. While the bed didn't seem quite as comfortable as it did on the first night, it was still pretty good. I'm hoping that the two small bruises inside my right elbow are from a bang and not an insect.

Already inquired about getting back to our longtime rental in St. Pete Beach next year. Sunrise Resort is looking better and better!

Florida 2022 - Seminole

We returned to Florida this year for the first time after leaving two years ago at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. Last year we stayed home and lost our St. Pete Beach rental of many years. After much dithering and indecisision, Bob and I decided to try a new rental in Seminole, an "upscale" community north of our old favorite St. Pete. Using our Delta credits from 202, we sprung for first class on Delta.

Yesterday was our first day. Jim M. gave us a ride to the airport and our flight left right on time at 9:30. While flying first is not what it once was, the seats were very comfy, especially for me, a frequent occupant of the middle seat. My "charcuterie and cheese" breakfast was delicious. Bob took the "banana bread" menu choice and we shared our selections, including really good fruit and nuts.

Tampa International (TPA) seemed less busy than I remember. I had reserved a Hertz car through Delta and the line was short. Probably because we ended up forking over ore $$ for the extra driver and a vehicle upgrade, and but that Chevy Malibu isn't much of an upgrade: noisy under the car (Bob says A-frame), left signal that won't turn off, chemical smell that I hate. Inauspicious start.

We took the wrong exit to Seminole and drove through construction to get to the house. Let's just say that it photographs well but needs many updates, like everything (plumbing, electrical outlets, TV, furniture). The look is dated and dingy and the pool lacks a railing on the stairs.

Our bed, however, is very comfortable and the coffeemaker is good. The outdoor space also looks very nice. This morning I feel a little more positive but have mentally gone through every room and updated everything.

Still, it's Florida nad the weather is beautiful!

Let the be light ... or not!

Love our automated Hunter Douglas Silhouette shades. However, one of the sets of four shades wasn't working properly with its remote. Although the shades worked fine on my phone app, Bob prefers to use the remotes. He was driving me crazy trying to get shades lined up. Over a period of several months, we learned how to change batteries in the shades and in the remotes, reset shades manually, fix mis-alignments between the little puck that fits in the "Pebble" remote holder, reset the hub, and all kinds of other things, some of them useful.

On the first Saturday of the Olympic games and the day before the Super Bowl, I took it upon myself to fix this irriting problem. Now. I pulled out the now familiar instruction booklets and fiddled with programming the living room remote. Big mistake, because I couldn't get any of the shades added to a remote configuration routing. After an hour or so, I decided to call Customer Support. I was a little surprised when the recorded instructions advised me to press "1" if I'm over 50. Well, I'm two decades over 50 but I felt a little insulted, thinking that there was a special dumbed down assistance protocol for seniors. Turns out I'd mistakenly called the wrong number and was connected with a very nice lady who wanted to sell me a medical alert system.

Finally, I got the right number but the so-called "hot line" is hot only M-F at 9 AM EST. Next, I called the retailer, Viking Blinds. The designer was busy with customers, but she got back to me later that day and provided a link to instructions, which I already knew but no matter. I contact Hunter-Douglas on the Monday but I really needed more help than HD could provide.

Finally, it dawned on me that Bob had been right all along: the remote was defective. We brought it into Viking Blinds and the lovely designers there agreed with us. They ordered a new remote (free) which was immediately shipped by HD. Bob and I worked together on the operation and we were in business 10 minutes later. The shades work perfectly.

Open Border

Air travel to Canada from the US opened in August, when I already had an October reservation for Toronto. My sister was planning shoulder surgery and I was to be the post-procedure helper. In the end, the surgery did not happen but all reservations had been made, so I stuck with my plans.

The instructions for travelers were somewhat confusing and cumbersome, but I was fully vaccinated with a booster, and figured out how to time the required COVID 19 test. My "enhanced driver's license" was not the passport replacement I had expected, as a passport was required for several of the many phases of preparation and execution of travel plans.

Everything went off without a hitch at Terminal 1, Minneapolis-St. Paul. Check-in, TSA check, boarding and service during flight were very efficient. I sailed through Customs & Immigration in Toronto, not noticing right away that I had been selected for an additional COVID test. The test required creating an account with switchhealth.ca, an easy enough task if only my glasses hadn't kept fogging up above the required mask. That added at least 30 minutes to my arrival ritual. Fortunately, the Stratford Airporter picked me up earlier than my scheduled 3:30 time, so I was at my sister's before I had expected to leave Toronto.

Then began the job of scheduling and paying for a COVID test to re-enter the United States on November 1. Shoppers Drug Mart webite was the front end for a LifeLabs COVID test registration. I opted for the more sensitive PCR test because I didn't want to risk the possibility of a false positive result that would delay my eligibility to return to the US, and also put me into quarantine. The first time I tried to pay the hefty charge, the payment engine failed and I had to start over, which I didn't do until the next day. The next day, scheduling and payment were easy, but the required print job (yes, I had to print paper to take with me to the test) wouldn't display right away. In the end, after an inordinate number of hours, I had everything I need for a Friday test three days before departure.

Yesterday, Air Canada sent me an email warning me to arrive at the airport at least three hours before departure. Out went my plan to take the train to Toronto from Stratford and spend a couple of hours with my brother and sister-in-law, whom I haven't seen for 3-1/2 years. I made another pricey reservation on the Stratford Airporter, cancelled my ViaRail reservation, and am now good to go --- I think.

This has been a moderately frustrating experience. Before the two countries are ready for an easy, routine crossing of the "longest undefended border in the world", rules and procedures need to be clarified,simplified, communicated and put into practice.

Remembering 9/11

Everyone old enough to remember that terrible September day has a story. Mine is not the still raw grief-stricken account of those who lost family or friends, nor does it have the immediacy of stories told by eyewitnesses in New York, Washington or Shanksville. Still, the events of that day are seared into my brain.

It was a stunning morning in St. Paul, Minnesota, the kind of day that qualifies as a "top ten weather day". I was off work, and I was looking forward to spending time outdoors after dropping off my son and a classmate at St. Agnes School, where both were freshmen. I arrived a Nativity Church a little early for 8 AM  Mass. The pastor, Father (now Bishop) Peter Christensen was talking with  someone outside the church, but I couldn't resist announcing  I'd followed advice from his Sunday homily -- something like "have the confidence to try new things", and that morning I had parallel-parked my Dodge Grand Caravan in a tight space -- a new experience for me, as I usually chose a drive-in spot large enough to park a bus. Father Peter seemed preoccupied and I apologized for interrupting his conversation.

At Mass, Father Tom Margevicius announced from the pulpit that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I turned on the radio for the short ride home, where my husband was watching coverage of the disaster on TV. We spent much of the day in stunned silence, following the tragedy in real time. My son reported later that he had seen the news on TV in the waiting room at his dental appointment.

I have little recollection of work the next day. I know I told a colleague at the Minnesota Public Utilities Commission that I had had "become an American" the day before. A dual citizen of the United States and Canada, I had taken the oath of citizenship 15 years earlier, but had always considered my primary citizenship to be Canadian. On September 11, a glance at the clear blue sky told me that I was as American as any of my neighbors.

Since then, I've been fairly diligent in trying to learn and understand US history and culture. Always a political junkie, I'm now a student of all levels of government, with a particular interest in  the separation of powers. On this twentieth anniversary of 9/11, I mourn the divisions in our country but was encouraged as I listened to former President George W. Bush speak uplifting, hopeful words in Shanksville, Pennsylvania: "... Whenever we need hope and inspiration, we can look to the skies and remember." A perfect azure sky no longer fills me with pre-9/11 unrestrained joy, but I remember with gratitude and sadness that day and those whose lives ended in such horror.  

The Turn

Today is my 71st birthday, one that I never imagined I would reach, but here I am, very much alive, in relatively good health.  As always on this August morning, I am reflecting on "the turn".

When I was a little girl, on summer evenings my mother would take my sister, brother and me to the playground at the end of Elm Street in our hometown of Temiscaming, Québec. We'd walk up the lane and down the little hill, sometimes "swim" in the small rectangular wading pool and always play on the monkey bars or the big wooden swings. Around the time of my birthday, darkness would fall suddenly, seemingly much earlier than only a few days earlier. I began to think of my birthday as "the turn" ... the day summer faded a little and fall stared us in the face. After August 10, evenings and mornings cooled. Lake water temperatures declined and school supplies made their appearance, welcome to some kids but not to me or my siblings. We all dreaded the day after Labor Day and the beginning of another interminable school year.

For a few years when I was a young teenager, I celebrated my birthday at John Island Camp near Spanish, Ontario. There, "the turn" was even more apparent. Birch leaves were yellowing and the wind blowing off Lake Huron gave presaged winter blizzards in that beautiful, primitive location. Later, when I worked at the Temiscaming waterfront, I noticed that kids left for home earlier in the afternoon and were less inclined to return for an evening swim, when the shadows of rocks and trees darkened the water way before sunset.

This is my second birthday in the "new" house, and I'm pleased with the house, grass and patio, a small space that is gradually coming together. The sun is rising later and I turn on the light when I get up at my usual 5:00 a.m. In a summer of drought, we're grateful for rain, and I'd be happy to see a shower on this usually perfectly sunny and hot August day. Not much chance we'll actually have any more rain than the couple of inches that fell over the weekend.

Over the years, I've sometimes talked about the"turn" phenomenon and fear I've ruined the otherwise perfect month of August for those who took note. In Minnesota, winter never seems to be more than a weather forecast or two away, but today I'm pushing "the turn" out of my mind and enjoying this great summer morning.

Jon Rahm: a $1.674 Million Decision

 A recent article in Golf Magazine discusses Jon Rahm's withdrawal from the Memorial Tournament due to a positive COVID-19 test. I watched Rahm's walk off the course on Sunday, not long before he would have almost certainly won $1.674 million as a first-place finisher.

For some reason, about 50% of golfers on the PGA Tour are vaccinated. Rahm declined to discuss his vaccination status, but if he'd been fully vaccinated, daily testing after known exposure to COVID-19 would not have been required.

Over 600,000 Americans have died from COVID. Many more hav been infected; most have recovered. It's too early to estimate the number and severity of long-term side effects. The economic impact is expected to be staggering -- a recent search yielded an estimate of $16 trillion. Some of these costs will touch ordinary people, including people I know and love.

The politicization of the COVID-19 vaccination issue does a grave disservice to many who are now adament about not getting the vaccine. The arguments are many and mostly easy to refute. The vaccine was developed quickly but the preliminary research was completed over a period of over a decade, and testing was not sshort-cutted. It will not make anyone sterile, a falsehood repeatedly debunked and reported. And yet, the lies persist.

This international catastrophe touches us all.

Back to the Pool!

After several years of swimming at least every other day, I felt bereft when gyms and pools closed late last winter. After the Y re-opened with strict mask regulations and other COVID protocols, I still felt uncomfortable with the idea of returning to a pool.

Even after full vaccination, I hesitated ... until Monday. I made a reservation at the Woodbury Y for a session in the "leisure pool", since lane reservations were full. When I got to the Y, my glasses fogged up in the warm air and I had to navigate as well as I could to the unfamiliar lockers. Fortunately, the sign for POOL is in upper case letters, so I had no problem getting to the pool deck.

The leisure pool was, of course, inadequate for a lap swimmer, but at least I got to see that I am certainly good enough to swim laps in this environment. Only one younger guy was a very good swimmer, so I figured I'd manage well enough for a 50-minute session, if I could get a reservation. About half-way through my little swim in the leisure pool, the lifeguard told me that the lady in the far lane usually leaves early and promised to let me know when I could have the lane. And she did.

I swarm 16 laps reasonably well for someone who hadn't been in the water for over a year. When I got home, I felt exhilarated and immediately made a reservation for a session today. I'm so happy!

Sunny Days Ahead

The last year has been arduous: the COVID-19 pandemic isolated us and sickened many, killed about 570,000 in the United States, over 3 million world wide; unrest in Washington, including the tragic events of January 6; police involved killings and a shocking murder trial in Minneapolis, ending in the conviction of former Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin; a long winter with no cheerful short trips or our usual month of March in Florida.

There have been many moments of joy too. At the very top,  I count the birth of our youngest grandchild early New Year's Day. John Robert Hennessey was the first baby born in the Twin Cities in 2021, the son of Chris and Melissa and latest sibling for Lena, Everett, Eloise and Aggie. I enjoyed lovely walks on the paths in the neighborhood, with many photo ops. Bob and I explored Washington County on pleasant drives as we watched summer burst into a colorful fall before winter snow covered the landscape. Most recently, we've been waiting for spring to finally take over, perhaps this weekend when temperatures may reach 70F.

Another major highlight was getting the Pfizer vaccine. Bob was fully vaccinated in February and I in March, and many family members and friends are now vaccinated as well. Restrictions on contact are gradually being lifted across the country and, most relevant to us, in Minnesota and Wisconsin.

We've actually planned a family getaway for Memorial Day weekend. Looking forward to a happy, healthy summer!

The Recliner Misadventure

For many years, Bob was a serial recliner buyer. He always loved the chair for a couple of weeks until its shortcomings began to show. After a year or so, he was usually in the market for a new one -- until he found the great Hooker Esme recliner in August of 2018.

Two days after our move-in date, we were expecting the delivery of a new couch for the family room so I decided to move the recliner blocking a traffic lane near the west window. Bob was out, but he had adamantly objected to my plan before he left the house. Since I'm accustomed to moving furniture on my own, so I went ahead anyway and all was well until I plugged in the chair and tried it out. After a few seconds, I heard terrible sounds under me.

Seems the power cord was too short and the power supply itself got caught in the chair mechanism. Crunch, crack, pieces all over the floor. I jumped out of the chair and turned it over, failing to unplug it. Sparks were flying and I managed to give myself a shock, not too bad and perhaps something of a punishment for my foolishness. I gathered up most of the pieces and put them in a baggie. I immediately called the sales rep from HOM Furniture who had sold Bob the recliner and was working with us on current purchases. 

Bob soon arrived home and, not for the first time in the 37 years we've been married, I found myself on the wrong side of stupid, though this was my first chair offense. More pieces of plastic fell out of the chair onto the new carpeting. Cat moved into the doghouse and a long month of anguish began.

A new part was ordered but rejoicing soon turned to frustration when it turned out to be the wrong one. I contacted the manufacturer myself and somehow the right power supply was ordered and we received it a few days before my birthday. Miracle of miracles: we connected the part, plugged in the chair and tested functionality. All perfect after five agonizing weeks.

The pricey wrong part was returned and the full price refunded after dozens of text messages, emails and phone calls, extending an issue that could, and should, have been resolved within a week or so. There may be limits to what can be blamed on COVID-19.

The Big Move

Construction photos.

We lived with Meggan and Scott in Woodbury for over two months, and the time passed very quickly, as we settled into a comfortable (for us) life in the beautifully renovated lower level, with our own bathroom, wet bar and patio door exit. We often saw turkeys, rabbits, squirrels and songbirds from our quarters, the main level of the house and the wide deck overlooking the treed grounds, with an old barn and farmer's cornfield in the distance . Our hosts were welcoming and gracious, and we enjoyed their company.

After the turmoil of early June following the George Floyd murder, suddenly our move was imminent. We visited our homesite almost every day until our formal walkthrough, when the house was cleaned and made ready for occupancy. A week later, on June 30, we completed a final walkthrough with Brenden Englund, the construction manager, and then showed up at Ohio Title in St. Louis Park to sign closing documents.

The closing was a little bizarre in the new order imposed by COVID-19. We sat across a table from the closer, separated by a plexiglass divider in the table. Documents were passed back and forth under the divider, much as they would be at a bank with protective glass for the tellers. I, however, felt like a prison visitor and almost expected to be frisked.

In about 10 days, we'll celebrate two months in the new house. The challenges of the first few days, like finding towels and dinnerware, were replaced by slogging through moving boxes, buying necessities (mostly online), and making the house feel like home. Scott -- the project manager for this entire adventure -- installed dimmer switches in the dining room, family room, under the kitchen counters, in one bathroom. He's adding towel rails to the bathroom and laundry, and will soon hang pictures on the wall.

Some obstacles have been both frustrating and sometimes discouraging. Among these: getting our Xfinity (cable/Internet/phone) bill straightened out, managing furniture delivery and returns (delayed because of supply chain problems attributed to the pandemic), living in a field full of mud and weeds until landscaping was completed on August 8, the damage I inflicted on Bob's recliner -- a topic covered in another story.

We love our new house! So much efficiently used space with a convenient layout for everything. The window treatments provide control over light; temperature is consistent through the house; there is plenty of room for Bob and me to be together or do our own thing. The neighborhood is nestled into a small area near the Woodbury/Lake Elmo border, so we have easy access to the amenities of Woodbury and I-94/the I-494/I-694 loop circling the Twin Cities. Grocery stores are located a few minutes away, and parking lots aren't packed as they were in our former neighborhood.

People ask me if I miss the house we lived in for so many decades. The answer is always "no", though I feel a little sad that it was so easy to close the door on the past and move on. Only a little regretful, though -- I wake up happy every morning and am thrilled that everything is progressing as it should.

Tragedy in Minneapolis

George Floyd was killed on Memorial Day in a Minneapolis police incident memorialized in nine agonizing minutes of video that almost immediately went viral. A police officer, later identified as Derek Chauvin, kneels on the victim's neck as he pleads for help, repeatedly saying "I can't breathe".

Two days of protests and chaos followed. Some protesters looted a Target in south Minneapolis, about 4 miles from our former home. Last night, clashes with police continued as fires ravaged throughout that neighborhood. Yesterday, protesters gathered outside the home of Derek Chauvin in Oakdale, an eastern Twin Cities suburb about 20 miles from the incident and not far from where I am right now.

Minneapolis Police Chief Medario Arradondo fired the four officers involved and observers around the world are demanding charges. Minneapolis Mayor Jacob Frey is outraged; a “shocked and horrified” Governor Tim Walz and Minnesota Attorney General Keith Ellison promise justice; the Federal Justice Department and the FBI pledge to undertake a “robust criminal investigation”.

When I moved to Minnesota nearly four decades ago, I was surprised to hear only English on the street and see mostly Caucasian faces in a crowd. Although the state has become more diverse, as reported in this 2018 article, racial disparities are evident from an anecdotal perspective and poverty statistics. The numbers are painful to contemplate and call out for change, on institutional and personal levels

The killing and its aftermath are so disturbing, a terrible tragedy that compounds the effects of several fatal racially charged incidents over the last few years. I'm really sad and so very sorry.

Farewell 2048 Goodrich!

Bob lived at 2048 Goodrich for 55 years. At a few months short of 37 years, I was also one of  the block residents with the most longevity.

We had been planning our move for many months but plans didn't begin to materialize until the house sold quickly to a young couple who made an offer on the day it was listed. All of a sudden we had to be out by 9:00 a.m. on May 1!

The serious work started when we returned from Florida on March 25. Scott jumped into action and created a tentative moving schedule that included enlisting Chris, John, Adam and Mitchell. With a few exceptions, we're buying new furniture so we gave away or pitched most things, and sold a couple on a community marketplace Facebook site.

Scott hauled his large snowmobile trailer and filled it pretty much to capacity. Last Saturday, we were almost finished, but still had odds and ends (too many) to deal with. Meggan and Scott graciously offered us their newly refinished lower level, where the view is beautiful and the comfortable, cheerful space provides respite from all the stress of moving. Our hosts could teach the hospitality industry a lot.

Bob a I moved more stuff Sunday and Monday. Sonia came yesterday to help clean  (what a godsend her presence was) and Junk360 picked up what neighborhood scavengers left in the alley.

I left appliance instruction books on the buffet along with keys and garage door openers. We read the water meter and just like that, we were done and gone. Final walkthrough is Thursday afternoon and on Friday, the new owners will take over.

Goodbye peonies, Bob's roses, prairie garden and majestic centenarian oak tree! Goodbye, beloved house! Thanks for all the fun and deep joy, for the six kids you sheltered, for precious memories and so much love.

Life at Home #stayathomemn

We've been under a stay-at-home order for over a month now -- how long doesn't really seem to matter, because we seem to have adapted to the new distanced reality imposed on us by COVID-19. We've figured out grocery shopping, the pharmacy and necessary trips to Menard's for moving boxes, tape and other supplies. I plan my route through the store in advance and I always wear a mask. It's routine now, so I have one in my purse and another on the seat of my car

Once I got the curbside pickup thing figured out, I thought I would order all groceries online, but that didn't really work out except once. Demand for the service seems to exceed capacity, and I haven't succeeded in getting a workable pickup or delivery time at either Cub Foods or my favorite Lund's & Byerly's. Seems "in person" is the way to go, armed with a good list.

I shopped once at Lund's, and although it was only 7:00 a.m., the store was full of slow-moving shoppers and the wait at check-out seemed like forever. Instead, I switched to the nice, new Cub just across the Ford Bridge in Minneapolis. This morning, I was there way before 7 and zipped through the store like a pro, which I definitely am not. The checkout guy seemed desperate for conversation, conducted as I packed my bags (paper, not the re-usable ones I washed when we got home from Florida), all at a greater than 6-foot distance.

#stayathomemn has been extended through May 4.


https://mn.gov/governor/covid-19/

Empty Attic

Way back in the mid-80s, Bob and I cleaned the attic, but didn't empty it. Instead, it filled up again. Dealing with the contents has been a major task in the decluttering project initiated last fall. Our house closing is May 1, so obviously I needed to complete the job.

Among the oldest items was a box with dusty quilted nylon bathrobes that must have belonged to one of the girls who grew up in this house, decades before me. Of course, I recognized the clothes from old photos and felt a little sad they went in the trash.

I also found an oil painting covered with attic dust and dirt. I remembered being unable to throw it away all those years ago, and couldn't do it yesterday either. No one seems to recall its provenance, so I think it may have been in the house when Bob and his first wife, Sandy, took possession in 1965. I "reverse imaged" a photo on the Internet, with no luck, but maybe this picture will job someone's memory.

I cleaned the painting kind of following instructions for amateur conservators. However, I'm a little too squeamish to do much with Q-tips and spit, so  I ended up outside this morning with a dry paintbrush for the worst of the dust, and a damp cloth to wipe off the darkest stains. The canvas brightened up immediately and I'm looking forward to finding a frame.

It will find a good spot in the new house.

Field Trip to Menard's

We returned from Florida four days ago, and although we haven't been in quarantine, like people returning from another country, we  kept to ourselves, even before Friday's stay-at-home order. Son Chris delivered necessities we had trouble finding, like Kleenex, toilet paper, hand sanitizer and coffee.

We're allowed to go for walks, hit the compost site, as well as shop for groceries and other necessities. Fortunately, permissible destinations include hardware stores. Yesterday, I tried, without success, to buy moving boxes from Menard's online store, so today Bob drove me over to the local Menard's, where I also picked up a few other items, including snacks and drinks.

Minnesotans are an obedient lot and no one in the store went beyond anyone else's invisible six-foot personal space. Disinfectant wipes were prominently displayed at the entrance, so I wiped down my cart.  The person ahead of me at checkout moved quickly and I maintained  my distance from the cashier. The employees were obviously well trained and the store seemed like a safe place to be.

New Normal

I really hope this so-called "new normal" doesn't last!I miss the daily social exchanges of what used to be everyday life, and laughter! I'm reminded of Cosmo Castorini's father in Monstruck: "Somebody tell a joke!"

Still, my routine is not really so different from my "normal" before we went to Florida. Then, I was decluttering and cleaning in preparation for our move, and I have to keep it up, since the buyers of our house take possession on May 1. Yesterday, I spent the day doing laundry, disinfecting the kitchen, vacuuming. I felt proudest of washing all my re-usable bags and anything from Florida and wiping down our luggage with Lysol wipes. Today I'm going to deal with my purses, shoes and incidentals I missed yesterday.

Friday's other projects:

• wash bed linens and blankets (almost done)
• drive by the new house
• do a little outdoor spring clean-up
• re-visit remaining work in the attic
• fill the trash barrel for Monday
• watch Frozen -- I made the phrase "let it go"  my mantra some time ago but have never seen the movie

For me, the isolation was worse when I was laboring alone in the attic and basement in the weeks before Christmas and during the month of February. However, I will soon begin to miss my lap swimming at the Y and a much needed trip to the hair salon. I did cut my own bangs a few days ago, not very well (no pictures, pease), but good enough for someone who will not be going out any time soon. The Governor's stay-at-home order takes effect just before midnight.

A Long Day Going Home

I was on edge for a week, worried that we would never get out of Florida. Before leaving for home on Monday, March 23, our friends from Wisconsin gave us a frozen cherry pie, barbecued chicken legs, unopened bags of romaine lettuce, tomatoes, a bottle of wine (which I drank all by myself over a couple of days).

I didn't clean the fridge until I was fairly sure our flight would leave on Wednesday morning. I left unopened items in the fridge and on the kitchen table. We dressed for Florida in shorts and left the condo shortly after 8:30 a.m. For the third time, we had to go through the Byway toll without paying the $1.00 toll -- the sign reads something like "Drive through without stopping. You will be billed.". If that happens, the rental agency Budget will bill us, I'm sure. A hassle.

The drive to TPA was a straight shot on 275, with only a little traffic. Smooth car return and check-in before the shuttle to the terminal. The skycap told us that 500, rather than usual 50,000, were expected at the airport that day.

Sure enough, there were only a dozen or so passengers at the gate. We'd decided to fly first class to ensure "social distancing", but it was totally unnecessary. Our flight left at about 12:30 p.m., only a little late. No drinks at all, except water. I really needed a cup of coffee, since I hadn't had time for one before we left. The snack box was pretty good (the hummus box for me; the salami one for Bob). I packed the uneaten snacks in my purse. We watched A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood during the flight -- great movie. Bob wore the N95 mask Chris had sent us UPS, but I had to take mine off, as I couldn't stand the feeling around my head.

Pouring rain at MSP. This usually busy hub was almost empty. We were the first fare for our cabbie, who had been at the airport for about 13 hours! Not ideal transportation, but we had to get home. With no traffic, we were soon in the door.  I immediately threw all my clothes in the hamper and changed.

So good to be in the door, doing normal things like changing the clocks to DST.

The Nanday Parakeets

I'd been trying to get a good photo of a Nanday parakeet since our first visit to St. Pete Beach over a decade ago. Until this year, I would see and hear them regularly at Passe-A-Grille and, later, across the street on the TradeWinds grounds. They are hard to shoot because they're mostly in constant motion. The noise -- which makes me laugh -- is awful!

For a few years, Passe-A-Grille was difficult to access because of extensive infrastructure projects that included roads, sewers and palm tree planting. The birds must have decided to move up the beach, because I haven't seen or heard one in that area since we arrived three weeks ago. They're all here, I think.

Several times a day, the flock travels around our building, screeching the entire way. Two of them seems to have decided to nest together, perhaps in the large palm tree under our condo. They are quieter, heads together, chattering cheerfully, looking totally smitten with each other.

Coronavirus Panic

When we arrived on March 1, we were a little concerned about Coronavirus. By yesterday, after listening to the President's rambling press conferences for a week, we and others are feeling very uneasy.

Minnesota Governor Tim Walz closed schools, bars, restaurants, salons etc. early in the week. Most places of worship cancelled public events and made streamed services available. Archbishop Hebda of the St. Paul Minneapolis archdiocese issued a letter in which he explained the suspension of public liturgies.

In Florida, action seemed to take a little longer. As COVID-19 cases increased in Miami, the jitters became apparent here on the Gulf Coast. Restaurants began to offer curbside pick-up and delivery, but bars and restaurants weren't closed until yesterday. Beaches in Pinellas County closed at 11:59 p.m. yesterday, but I noticed a few beachwalkers this morning.

We haven't been inside a bar or restaurant for at least 10 days. As someone with a "compromised immune system", I am particularly aware of how easily I seem to come down with any kind of virus or infection -- so I began to "self isolate" earlier than most. I was ready to book a flight home at least five days ago! I didn't care about the "sunk costs" for our vacation rental (not cheap, no refunds).

In the end, we decided to leave a week earlier than our planned April 5 departure. After an uneasy night's "sleep", we changed that March 29 departure to Wednesday, March 25. Our Wisconsin neighbors are clearing out on Monday, about 10 days ahead of time. Delta promises some kind of credit for our cancelled flight, but that will take at least 7 days. We dropped $600 for 1st class tickets -- I really didn't like the idea of being squished into a standard seat, where I am always stuck in the middle, usually between two very large people (and I'm not exactly small myself).

The great thing about this is an empty swimming pool! My 7:00 a.m. swim has nearly always been solitary, but even our afternoon dip is quiet, with no more than one or two other swimmers. Yesterday, Bob and I had the entire pool to ourselves for nearly an hour.

These are different times.

Hoarders - Everywhere!

My first stop in St. Pete Beach is always the Dollar Store, where I pick up paper products and cleaning supplies, including splenty of disinfectant. This year, I couldn't find toilet paper, disinfectant wipes, or hand sanitizer for my purse and the car. Apparently people all over the world are hoarding stuff, including toilet paper.

Publix was short of lots of items too, but Norman's Liquors was well stocked. The Sunday farmers' market on Corey Boulevard is closed until April, at the earliest.

The situation became progressively worse as the weeks progressed. Now, at the end of Week 3, we're not even trying. I improvised with baby wipes soaked in Mr. Clean disinfectant spray, which seems to work reasonably well on most surfaces. I have liquid hand soap for every sink. The place has a vague, not unpleasant disinfectant smell.

House for Sale

2048 Goodrich Ave., St. Paul MN  55105.  Since last summer, the plan was to list our house for sale on March 1. In late February, we signed the paperwork with our realtor, Lynn Ault. Lynn soon had pictures taken by her superb photographer and she gave us clear directions on how to leave the house. More cleaning. By the time we closed the door at 5:00 a.m. on Sunday, March 1, I was spent.

Lynn had an open house that very day and we had three offers right away. By the next day, we had accepted the very first offer we received, from a young couple planning to be married at the end of May. We liked the letter she wrote, and the fact that they plan to raise a family in the house. Seemed like a good fit.

A week later, we had a signed purchase agreement. And so, just like that, the "house for sale" became "sale pending".

No 2020 Florida Blog

Most years I publish a Florida blog, but somehow I just couldn't get my act together after creating the basic design. January and February were rough months: I came down with a bad cold shortly after Christmas and missed almost an entire month of swimming. By the time I recovered, I had fallen far behind in the big decluttering project.

My goal had been to be done by the end of January, but I was nowhere near finished. In February, Bob got on board with the effort and started on the workbench area of the basement. He has lived in that house for 55 years, so there was much accumulation, including an ancient sander (so heavy!), a lot of unused tools, and repurposed kitchen cabinets that were built with the house in  1919.

Too much to deal with for two people! As I evaluated the many items on three floors that we didn't want, I spent a couple of sleepless nights wondering what to do. I couldn't deal with the idea of trying to sell it off piecemeal, so I decided to get pricing rom a couple of junk collectors.

Junk360.com  gave me a good bid. A few days later, a couple of guys arrived and spent several hours hauling out a huge corner desk in the office, a heavy loveseat hide-a-bed, an elliptic machine, and a basement full of wood, steel, boards and everything I pulled down from the rafters. The removal gave me a huge lift -- I realized we could indeed get the job done.

We cleaned, pitched, and made many trips to the Goodwill, right up until our departure for Florida on March 1. By the end of February, I was hardly sleeping at all and was, predictably enough, quite manic. Had at least one major meltdown over nothing.

I was too jumpy and unfocused to write anything at all ... until now. And, of course, there is much to report.

Happy 2020!

2020 has a nice ring to it! How the year will unfold is still a mystery, but I feel excited at the prospect of its challenges and full of hope for the future.

2019 was a good year too. On Flag Day, Melissa and Chris welcomed Agnes Cecelia to their happy family. Aggie is a happy, smiley baby who fits right in to our large family. A few weeks ago at the Hennessey Christmas party, (granddaughter) Kaitlyn's son Marcus -- 12-year-old baby whisperer -- picked her up when she got fussy and the cheery baby magically re-appeared.

Last summer we decided to take the plunge and make a move to a new neighborhood in Lake Elmo, a St. Paul suburb much closer to several of the kids' households. Bob's son Scott artfully guided us through the dozens of choices we had to make. I am especially happy with the open floor plan in the new house and the light that will fill the new space.  Groundbreaking on our new home is next week, if all goes well, we'll sell our existing house in the spring and move  in June or early July.

Prairie Garden Year 6

A few weeks ago I was listening to a local gardening program on WCCO radio. Master gardener Theresa Rooney was answering questions from listeners, most of whom were hoping to finally start spring clean-up on still frozen gardens. Ms. Rooney made what seemed to be a startling statement: save your energy by leaving leaves and other organic debris in the soil. I decided to take her advice with the prairie garden.

Chris did his magic yesterday with a gas tilller. This morning I went out before 7:00 a.m., raked in a "compost plus manure" combo, and mixed up my seed (packaged Encap mixes bought with my Mother's Day gift card: wildflower, aromatic, pollinator, zinnia). I carried my bucket to the garden and spread it by the handful over the soil.

I removed only the largest rocks and finished the job within an hour. It was already hot -- yes, HOT! -- so I took off my jacket and hung it on the hook where I'll install the hummingbird feeder a little later today.

Marcella's Quilt

We receive many thoughtful and lovely gifts throughout the year, especially during the Christmas season. I love the home-made treats and ornaments, as well as gift cards to favorite restaurants, teas, coffees and wines that remind me of happy times with the gift givers.

On Saturday, we celebrated  Christmas with the extended Hennessey family. A delicious buffet hosted by son and daughter-in-law Scott and Meggan was followed by gifts. Bob and I received an unexpected family heirloom from daughter Janet and her husband Mark.

Mark's mother, Marcella Schlichting, died on May 6, 2016. She was an accomplished, old-fashioned homemaker and matriarch of a large family. She included quilting among her many skills, and last spring her children shared her collection of quilts among them.

I was brought to tears when I opened the large box containing one of Marcella's beautiful quilts. The quilt is a work of art, constructed of triangles pieced together by hand to make a kaleidoscopic floral masterpiece.

Although this lovely creation belongs in a museum where more people could view and appreciate it, it has already given me so much pleasure. I immediately laid it out on the guest room bed. The next morning, I spread it out in our bedroom and have slept under it now for two nights. It is light in weight, warm and comfortable.

I've always thought of myself as somewhat "crafty" and artistic, but I look at the mistakes and uneven stitching in my current project and know that Marcella would never have completed any piece of work without correcting the errors. Each of her stitches is perfect, every triangle, octagon and star a miniature masterpiece.

I am honored to be getting to know Marcella through her exquisite work.

Influenza A

We got home from Hawaii early Sunday morning and I immediately got to work on laundry, which I polished off by noon. Spent the rest of the day watching football and the evening ended with what was immediately dubbed the "Minnesota Miracle".

With 10 seconds left in the game, the Vikings were behind 24-23, quarterback Case Keenum threw a 61-yard pass caught down the sideline by Stefon Diggs. Unbelievable! Like other Minnesotans, I was still grinning when I woke  up feeling somewhat sick with "flu-like symptoms" (all of them!) on Tuesday morning.

I spent most of the afternoon resting and, by bedtime, I wondered how I'd make it through the night. My sleep was fitful and troubled by weird dreams of myself as an older teenager. I remember lying on the couch in our living room during the Christmas holidays of 1968, feverish and so sick, unwilling and unable to move. It was called the Hong Kong flu , and  though I thought I was dying, I've really had a pretty good half-century since then.

I am considered immune suppressed because of the infusion I get every eight weeks for  Crohn's Disease so I checked in with my gastroenterologist's office. I was advised to get a flu test and sure enough the result was positive for Influenza A. On Wednesday evening, I left Fairview Highland with a prescription for Tamiflu and another for Ventolin.

I didn't read much positive press on Tamiflu but by the next morning I was no longer waiting for death. The Ventolin has helped me breathe easier and while the wheezing isn't gone, it's a lot better. Unfortunately, Bob seems to have developed similar symptoms and his doctor put him on Tamiflu as well. 

Too bad this year's flu vaccine was next to useless.

Joyeuses Fêtes 2017

2017 was a big year. For me, a half century of memories since 1967, the year Canada celebrated the one hundredth anniversary of Confederation and Expo 67, Montreal's World's Fair.  I graduated from high school that year and worked started my first year at McGill University. It was all long ago, so I'm amazed to be in relatively good health and more or less "with the program".

Bob and I were fed up with winter by mid-February so we packed up and headed to Florida a few weeks early. We spent a few days St. Augustine, Florida, our first visit to that historic part of the country. We drove down the coast to Cocoa Beach where we were right on the beach for a week, before crossing Florida to St. Pete Beach. We especially enjoyed seeing other longtime visitors to our "March home", Sunrise Resort on Boca Ciega Bay, as well as meeting up with friends from my hometown of Temiscaming. Florida pics here.

Summer getaways included a family weekend in Wisconsin over Memorial Day, several Corvette trips to the North Shore of Lake Superior and La Crosse, Wisconsin, and a memorable week around Lake Michigan. One great stop was Milwaukee where we stayed on the top floor of the Hilton and enjoyed a fantastic view of the city. The Harley museum was great entertainment one afternoon, full of vintage bikes, photos and artifacts. I spent my usual  long weekend in Stratford with my sister Marilyn. On my way home from Ontario, my brother Steve and his wife June treated me to lunch in Toronto.

On the horizon: Hawaii in January, Florida sometime in February through the end of March, and the wedding of Chris and Melissa in June, when we'll have Melissa's three great kids as bonus grandchildren. 

Merry Christmas to all; Joyeuses Fêtes à tous.

A Time to Mow

Many homeowners in our St. Paul Macalester Groveland neighborhood use lawn services in the summer. Bob has always cut his own grass and I think he was a little reluctant to let me take on some of the work when I retired four years ago.

However, that first summer he was recovering from knee surgery and he could do only limited mowing. Years ago, I used a rotary mower and I made have made a pass or two with a power mower early in our marriage. Mowing an entire lawn was a totally new experience for me.

I was amazed to find that mowing the lawn is a very satisfying activity. It has a beginning and an end, and the process itself is very soothing in its monotony. An added benefit is that no conversation is possible. I put in my ear plugs and just get the job done. I have no interest in listening to music or the radio. Why add a distraction?

I'm half through my fifth summer now, and we divide up the work to get our property done in about an hour, using two mowers. Bob weed whips most weeks and cleans the sidewalk with a power blower. I sweep the deck and wash the tables, and then we enjoy a big glass of water while we admire our work.

It's a good life.

Prairie Garden: Disaster in Year 4?

The promise

Three years ago I surprised myself with an eclectic butterfly and bird friendly display of flowers in what I called my "prairie garden". I thought that I might have something of a green thumb after all, but it's fairly evident that my knowledge and skills are, at best, limited. Still, the results were fine in 2015 and 2016,  and I felt reasonably confident inaugurating another season.

We got off to a rough start with planting after the weather turned cold a few weeks ago, and record May rain wasn't helpful. Bob was happy to postpone most planting until after Memorial Day, but I, never one to procrastinate, was eager to get the soil tilled and ready before our holiday weekend out-of-town junket.

After two seasons of using a spade to loosen the rocky ground, last year Bob rented a gas tiller and prepared the soil for me. This is not something I can do on my own, as the machine is very heavy and somewhat temperamental. I can pull the cord to start it, but it has to be primed and perfect for it to work. Definitely beyond me.

Anyway, yesterday was the day. The machine was even heavier than I remembered and, once started, it tended to run away with the operator. Bob gave himself a break and off I went through the garden. The tiller pulled me forward: I thought I would fall head first into the rocky, churned up earth until I was relieved of my duties and relegated to the sidelines.

The job got done. Time to plant. A few weeks ago, I was seduced by one of those flyers in the weekend newspaper, showing a happy gardener unrolling a carpet of beautiful pollinator friendly summer flowers. I was hooked: I imagined a Jack-in-the-Beanstalk magic transformation into a farmers' market harvest of beauty. Within a few days, my online order arrived:  five large plastic envelopes of seeds embedded in 8 sq. ft. sheets of heavy biodegradable, compostable paper.

My border looks like toilet paper

As promised, it was easy to cut the sheets into the "desired size and shape". I made strips of paper for a sunflower seed border along the east side of the garage. By then, it was mid-afternoon and a wind had come up, so I needed to anchor down the paper, first with some of the rocks still in the soil and then with the "1/8 " of topsoil recommended by the directions. My carpet of flowers looked like old toilet paper.

Then I tackled the bird and butterfly friendly planting. I wanted to leave myself a little path for weeding, so I divided the plot into triangles, and placed half a sheet in each triangle. By the time I finished, the rectangles looked like a random landing of old white towels, covered with black dirt -- not the topsoil layer, since it had settled in clumps at various spots on the paper. Nevertheless, I watered the mess, as directed.

The reality ... for now

"What the hell kind of pattern is that?", asked Bob. Dismayed and discouraged, I scrambled to straighten the rectangles. They were soaking wet and ripped a little under the weight of the topsoil layer. By the time I finished, pressing shredded paper into the earth so it wouldn't blow away, I was sweating. Since coverage is obviously insufficient, I will be supplementing my carpeted mess with the same seed I've used in the past.

My workfree artistic venture has evolved into a secondary salvage project. There will be no miraculous carpet of flowers anytime soon.

Happy Holidays 2016

The State of our Union is Strong ...

I took this photo of the White House last month. 

I love the phrase "the state of our union is strong". When I hear it, read it, or say it, I feel uplifted and optimistic.

I've loved the political process and the art of governing since I was a young child. Some of my first memories are of my dad railing against then Canadian Prime Minister John Diefenbaker and his elation (yes, elation) when Quebec Premier Maurice Duplessis died in office in 1959.  I learned early on that crushing electoral defeats were eventually followed by a shift in attitudes and "victory". One of these victories -- the first I remember for sure -- was that of Jean Lesage, who led Quebec during a turbulent but exciting time in its history.

Last night, Donald Trump was elected President of the United States. He was not my candidate and we turned off the TV as the evening wore on, when stations darkly analyzed the electoral map, pointing out Hillary Clinton's slim chances in battleground states.

The victory was decisive. As of 6:25 a.m. CST: Electoral College: Trump 289; Clinton 218.  In Congress, Republicans have control of both the House (235-191) and the Senate (51-47). Minnesota voted for Clinton, as expected, but not really by much (46%-43%). In the State Legislature, Republicans retained control of the House; the Senate is still too close to call, but the the slim DFL majority in the Senate seems to be threatened. I was almost surprised that Democrat Rick Nolan retained his seat in Congressional District 8, against second time challenger Stuart Mills.

Trump was gracious in his speech after Hillary Clinton called him to concede the election. There are a few protests around the country, but for the most part, the nation is calm. Families divided over the election, including mine, can now get back to some kind of normalcy.

Governing is not easy, and President-Elect Trump faces many challenges as a Washington "outsider". He is a dealmaker but he will learn that compromise isn't easy and one can't always succeed by insulting and disparaging one's enemies.

I heard this morning that Canada's immigration website crashed as Trump's victory seemed certain. I am a dual citizen of the United States and Canada, but although I love Canada, I will not be returning to my native country anytime soon. I've lived in the United States for over half my life now, and Minnesota is definitely home.

It's time to put this ugly election in the rear view mirror. Many who seemed to feel disenfranchised only a few days ago now have the responsibilities that come with leading a new administration. While we face challenging but interesting years, our beloved republic will survive and prosper.

Our country has always been great and the state of our union is still strong.

Remembering Istanbul

Facebook pics.

The terrorist attack on Istanbul's Ataturk airport two days ago reminded me of my visit to Istanbul in the spring of 2008. I was tagging along with my sister Marilyn. a participant in the annual conference of the American Association of Child and Adolescent Psychiatrists. The destination sounded somewhat exotic and exciting, yet "western" enough for me to feel comfortable as a woman in a predominantly Muslim country. I've always liked being among people who are different from me so I thought me pre-trip literature and cursory study of my Turkish language book would be sufficient preparation.

Hilton Bosphorus

Marilyn and I connected easily in Amsterdam and made our way to the departure gate for an uneventful, if crowded, flight to Istanbul. We arrived in that ancient city in the rain, and our first challenge was obtaining a colorful tourist visa at a crowded counter in the airport. We took a cab to the upscale Hilton and enjoyed the ride, charmed by the sight of people fishing off the bridge as we drove by.

Marilyn at her conference

The hotel was lovely and our room gave us a magnificent view of the Bosphorus, where military, commercial and private watercraft moved up and down the river day and night. We started every day with a delicious breakfast of fruit, grains and various meats and loved a morning swim at the hotel's unusual pool. On our first evening, we fought fatigue and ventured a few blocks from the hotel for dinner. Marilyn was determined to eat Turkish delicacies like pork brain, while I stuck with more familiar lamb kabobs and rice or orzo. We ate out most evenings, often at little sidewalk restaurants. Bread and pastries were always excellent.

The language proved to be a bigger barrier than I had anticipated. In the past, I had always been able to communicate wherever I travelled, but Romance languages are easy for someone who speaks one or two, as I do. Turkish is totally different, and the only word I learned was "sutlac", delicious rice pudding that I learned to recognize on the menu, whether or not pictures were provided.

I was a little alarmed by the frosty reception we encountered from many younger service staff, and a little scared the few times we were out after dusk, when men seemed to leer at us, two respectable middle-aged women alone in a strange city. One of our tour guides was in his twenties, taciturn and surly. He spoke excellent English but spent much of his time on his cell phone. His conversations sounded ugly and menacing, especially to someone with as much imagination as I have. When one of us commented on Mustafa Ataturk, the founder of the Turkish Republic, he sneered and seemed to suggest that the best days of the Republic were ahead. In 2008, Islamist sympathies were beginning to become evident, even to a westerner with only a cursory knowledge of a Turkish timeline.

On May 1, I wasn't worried about what I thought would be May Day celebrations. That day I was accompanying Marilyn to the day's meetings, held about a mile from the Hilton. As we walked toward the conference venue, we noticed a rapid gathering of mostly young people walking in our direction. The crowd became very dense, and we walked arm in arm as riot police arrived on the scene, causing anger among protesters. Young men dug bricks out of the street and used them as weapons. The air was filled with the smell and sting of tear gas. The beautiful May morning was full of noise and chaos, and a young student told Marilyn and me to get to safety. "You are not safe", he said. There were many videos published that day; this is one of them.

Bricks were used as weapons

At the time, I thought that the police were exhibiting and unnecessarily violent response to a peaceful protest. Now, I still think the response was excessive, but I'm less sure of the protesters' innocence. Marilyn and I managed to get to the conference and I hastily emailed our families to let them know we were all right. I learned later that there had been little media coverage of the May Day events. In fact, that very morning, Matt Lauer was broadcasting from a ship on the Bosphorus, and the beauty of the city was quite breathtaking.

Lots of beautiful items for sale on the street

That night we looked at the possibility of leaving the city early but we decided to remain and enjoy the rest of our visit. We loved Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, the Topkapi Palace and the Istanbul cisterns. A charming artist and dealer of rugs and antiquities showed us the city from beautiful rooftop patio. Good experiences outnumbered the bad, compensating for the May Day scare and an afternoon when we got hopelessly separated from our tour grop in the Grand Bazaar.

Nevertheless, we were delighted to go home the following week. Our flight to Amsterdam was early so we cabbed to the airport way before dawn. We were at the gate when we learned that our flight had been canceled, and airport personnel made us gather our bags and go back to the terminal, where we had to get ourselves rerouted. The lines were endless and it took forever to get new boarding passes. I regretted having a heavy bag to lug around.

I got a flight to London, then went on to Chicago and eventually MSP. I literally kissed the ground when I finally landed, about 30 hours after the beginning of my journey home. Marilyn spent a sleepless night in Munich before flying home to Toronto the next day.

This week's pictures of the Istanbul airport were shockingly familiar. I remembered the hours we spent there and felt transported back to the awful confusion we experienced, still far from the horror of the terrorist attacks. I was immediately ashamed for complaining about the Istanbul experience all these years.

Turning Thirty

Spring photos.

Today my son Chris celebrates his thirtieth birthday. When I turned thirty myself nearly thirty-six years ago, I thought it was the beginning of the end. I had never expected to live so long (!) and here I was with no clear idea of what I wanted from the rest of my life.

I met my husband just over a year later and the rest is, well, history. I became a mother on the warm May Sunday of Memorial weekend in 1986, and didn't really know what to expect from motherhood. The screaming baby I'd anticipated was, in fact, very quiet and easy. He slept all night at two and a half weeks and simply came along with us wherever we went.

Of course, the simple early months ended as soon as my active pre-toddler struggled  to climb out of his crib, playpen and stroller. For the next five or six years, my "escaper" had to be watched every waking minute and held tightly whenever we went outside. Fortunately, hockey became a favorite sport. After Chris' first hockey practice, he lay in Bob's recliner, sprawled in the chair from exhaustion, and I realized that I had inadvertently found an activity that would both capture his interest and provide a healthy outlet for his restless spirit.

An active, headstrong child is a challenge to raise, but I'm very proud of the way he turned out. My now thirty-year-old is skilled, competent and successful in business and in life. More important, Chris is a good person with a kind and generous heart, whose boundless energy and creativity are contagious.

I now view the decades as a continuum rather than discrete blocks of time, and thirty is simply a point on the maturity scale, with lots of room for growth. For Chris and all who reach this milestone birthday, I hope thirty is the gateway to a future filled with a happy family and good friends.

Mr. Toad Finds a Home

Spring photos.

I think of him as "my" toad. Anyone who grew up in my hometown of Temiscaming, Québec would recognize my nostalgic memories of a childhood filled with wildlife, including lots of amphibians.

I was more familiar with frogs than toads, since one of my favorite spring activities was collecting frogs' eggs from the pond on the dusty old Ville Marie road. Like many other kids, I stored the eggs in a milk bottle filled with pond water, and watch the black dots in the gelatinous eggs develop into polliwogs and, finally, frogs. We released the frogs into the garden when they started to jump around too much to contain in a makeshift terrarium.

I remember seeing toads in wet, leafy areas, minding their own business and quietly eating insects, worms and whatever else seemed appetizing, but I'm not sure I'd even picked one up until a couple of weeks ago.

My husband Bob grew up in the city and had never had a close encounter with a toad until he found one lounging in his Weber grill a few weeks ago. Bob called me to "deal with it" so I picked him up carefully, rinsed him off in the birdbath and laid him it carefully in the grass. A few days later we grilled again and Mr. Toad was back under the grill cover, resting on the propane tank. Same routine to get him out of harm's way.

On Sunday Mr. T. was nowhere to be found and I feared that one of his predators (raccoon, skunk, owl, snake ...) had eaten him. However, this afternoon, he was back on the propane tank and I deposited him on the edge of the birdbath. He soon disappeared into the grass.

The grill is covered and cool now, and I can picture Mr. Toad safely asleep under the cover after enjoying a tasty bug dinner.

Good News!

Spring photos.

Today I went to the new University of Minnesota Clinics and Surgery Center for my Entyvio (vedolizumab) infusion, my only remaining Crohn's medication. The new center is attractive, though not quite as great as I had thought it would be.

I know that a lot of staff who have been toiling for years in dark quarters were looking forward to windows. Well, there are windows all right but many of them let in light but provide no view of the outside.

The treatment room lacked some organization and processes seem to lack uniformity. I was surprised that the sharps disposal container requires a visual check to determine whether it needs emptying. Surely it would be possible generate an electronic alert or notification when the container is x% full. There's still a lot of work to be done before systems satisfy staff and patient needs, but the new smell is wonderful and everything is so clean.

As always, I had some lab tests and for the first time since I became a frequent flyer at Fairview and U of M clinics, all my blood work was normal. My hemoglobin is now 12.1 and the recently problem white blood count is 4.1, both finally within standard range. Dr. Howard, my gastroenterologist, messaged me that the labs looked "amazing".

Although "amazing" is certainly an overused word, the news really was amazing and I am thrilled.