Moving Day. Correction: Moving Years, Part 2

Dear Reader, The day after our son, Cliff, closed on the purchase of his townhouse in Durango, Colorado, the three of us (John, Cliff and I) were on the road again, making the six-hour drive north, up and over two precarious mountain passes, to our barn in Rangely, Colorado. It would take us four 12-hr round trips, one U-Haul trailer and one U-Haul van, to get all of our stuff out of the barn and down to Durango. And it would take us two months living with Cliff in his townhouse, to sort, sell, toss, pack and store it all. …

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Moving Day. Correction: Moving Years, Part 1

Dear Reader, Maybe you’ve seen the cartoon of a garage packed to the rafters with stuff. The garage door is open and in front of the garage, facing it, is an older gentleman with a walker, and a younger man. The caption reads “One day Son all this will be yours!” When John and I first saw the cartoon we laughed and then I thought to myself: “No, I do NOT want to do that to Cliff!” When we pass away, I don’t want Cliff to have to lift, move and wade through piles of crap before he happens upon …

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Back to the Confessional

Dear Reader, I miss you. I miss me. It has been several months since my last confession. (Haha. Can you tell I spent eight years in Catholic school and went to Confession every Friday?) And yet it feels like I have been indeed away from the confessional. Away from sharing my thoughts and feelings…with someone (you) who, ha, I can’t even see (I bet you never thought of yourself as a priest/ess did you?); away from something sacred, from something that leaves me feeling whole. Yes, I’ve been away too long now from this sharing of my soul. I’ll admit …

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Mashes Sands County Park: Day 30, Florida CT Paddle 3.14.18

Dear Reader, We awoke to another cold, dark morning. Since John and I recently crossed into Eastern Standard Time and more recently switched over to Daylight Savings Time, our internal clocks are about two hours off. Since when is sunrise supposed to be at the ungodly late hour of 7:48 am? And with temps then still hovering in the 30s, how is anyone in a tent supposed to get up at a decent hour? We feel like shameful, freezing sloths before our eyelids even fully open. Not inspiring by any means. John dutifully lit our stove out on the picnic …

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