I remember the trip to the mountain more than the mountain itself.
Once a year, my brother and I are awakened at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m. We stumble in the back seat of the 4-door Pontiac with pillows and blanket and sleep off and on for the next two and a half hours. But I only doze. The excitement of what is ahead is too stimulating for sleep. Continue reading
We are quite inconvenienced by a bird.
And we’re learning to let her have her way with us. Continue reading
Who turns on their alarm during vacation? That was my cranky question as my guy began to set his phone alarm for a 6:00 a.m. wake up call.
“Sunrise is at 7:07,” he reminds me. So I accede. We’re vacationing at a spot where the sun rises with insistence in bold sherbet colors above the ocean. We have vowed to ooh and ahh at the sun’s wake-up majesty every morning we’re there.
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As we begin to mix the batter for peanut butter kiss cookies (my grandson’s -GS’s – choice), I hum to the Christmas music in the background. GS has refused to wear my “Christmas apron” that I bring out every December for cookie-baking.
GS is all-boy, immature for his age in some ways while being wise beyond his years. Last year as we mixed the sugar and flour, he confessed to me that he was 158 years old. Continue reading
Photo, “Keeping Time,” by Susan Licht, https://www.instagram.com/susanlicht/
Yes, I still have my dog’s puppy teeth. I’ve never admitted this to anyone until two weeks ago, when our son’s dog, Jax, got hit by a car.
Jax is an 80-pound, 4-year-old silver lab, although more dark gray than silvery. He boasted large paws and a strong body even as an 8-week-old, picked up at a CA breeder’s ranch in the middle of a wildfire. In some ways, Sonny claims, Jax is a “rescue” dog.
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