tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35126420499712070572024-03-13T04:47:22.115-04:00SmallWorldSarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.comBlogger1459125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-22094906759516646822023-04-05T16:57:00.005-04:002023-04-05T16:57:41.892-04:00January-March in Books<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I've finished 23 books so far this year. I've started listening to more audiobooks this year, and not only have I enjoyed them tremendously on my daily walks, but they are adding to my monthly totals, for sure. Here are comments on several of January's books.</span></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSc30lWMS9DFaGOZ1ka-wDQHUcMIxAqPI3uTklVxCG4UD7CIQ0O3qjIgwflntLaxvSWiQKZzwEuPvlmIYoH7DHfALbgMxS4avFAaawxCLYlrFxib5lwk_8ZaHnQ1GZ477RWxI5-pz63q17gtohLFEbEWfsNo4zTj08X6B1Ioqr60pAf61l-Di12v4cIA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img alt="" data-original-height="583" data-original-width="1024" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSc30lWMS9DFaGOZ1ka-wDQHUcMIxAqPI3uTklVxCG4UD7CIQ0O3qjIgwflntLaxvSWiQKZzwEuPvlmIYoH7DHfALbgMxS4avFAaawxCLYlrFxib5lwk_8ZaHnQ1GZ477RWxI5-pz63q17gtohLFEbEWfsNo4zTj08X6B1Ioqr60pAf61l-Di12v4cIA=w464-h264" width="464" /></span></a></p><br /><br /><i>The Perfect Girl </i>by Gilly Macmillan. 4 stars. This thriller not only kept me on the edge of my seat, but the last quarter was also satisfying —something I find to be rare in thrillers.<br /><br /><i>The Hate U Give</i> by Angie Thomas. 5 stars. This is an incredible novel about the fatal shooting of Kahlil, a Black teenager by a white police officer, told from the POV of Starr, the teenaged girl —the Witness—who was with Kahlil. Highly recommended novel about racism, injustice, balancing worlds, friendship, and finding your voice. Actress Bahni Turpin read this audio version, and she is phenomenal.<br /><br /><i>Intimacies</i> by Katie Kitamura. 3.5 stars. The narrator is an observer of intimacies and a passive participant in her own moments of intimacy. She watches small dramas play out without jumping in. As an interpreter at The Hague, she has to carefully translate details of horrific war crimes while remaining stoic. I liked this novel—the prose is lovely and concise—but it left me feeling somewhat cold, all the while hoping that the unnamed narrator finds the warmth she seeks.<br /><br /><i>The Housemaid</i> by Freida McFadden. 3 stars. Psychological thriller that’s perfect for in between heavy reads. A rich psychotic family, a hot Italian groundskeeper, and an ex con. What more could you want?<br /><br /><i>The Year of Magical Thinking</i> by Joan Didion (audio). 4 stars. Phew. So sad, so beautiful. Hard to listen to because it’s so sad.<br /><br /><i>The It Girl</i> by Ruth Ware. 4 stars. Good mystery!<br /><br /><i>Bittersweet</i> by Susan Cain. 3 stars. An interesting study of the importance of embracing loss and sorrow rather than putting on a brave face all the time. As someone who is completely comfortable with and aware of the bittersweetness of life (I mean, I write poetry!), I did not find this revelatory, but it was affirming, which is always a plus.<br /><br /><i>With</i> — finally finished. Unremarkable.<br /><br /><i>Klara and the Sun</i> by Kazuo Ishiguro. So good! A story of Klara, an artificial friend, and her girl, Josie. This one stayed with me for a long time, and I still think about it now and then.<br /><br /><i>Book Lovers</i> by Emily Henry. Very cute. I love Emily Henry.<br /><br /><i>Memphis</i> by Tara M. Stringfellow. Audio book. Outstanding. Some difficult parts but so excellent. Three generations of women growing up in Memphis. Four stars.<br /><br /><br /><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWFJGwmj74RCN_j7g7PKTu30RuV24lU69q-ZG4GX_1nETJvUgw1EEgKtk_0anHtY3xxWsDLVDJ0X5rU6TuvhdpB9iK_wfqAhlC3rUNtJpWoe5wO004hBDTV8YZdO18Dr2Ew5-PS6SzfA8Yw-sm4nEVB-JCiZB--NoTCbTx-IcAfsWvbM2cwZJ2Uiik8A" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="3264" height="524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWFJGwmj74RCN_j7g7PKTu30RuV24lU69q-ZG4GX_1nETJvUgw1EEgKtk_0anHtY3xxWsDLVDJ0X5rU6TuvhdpB9iK_wfqAhlC3rUNtJpWoe5wO004hBDTV8YZdO18Dr2Ew5-PS6SzfA8Yw-sm4nEVB-JCiZB--NoTCbTx-IcAfsWvbM2cwZJ2Uiik8A=w524-h524" width="524" /></span></a><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">February and March were excellent reading months. I may never recover from <i>Demon Copperhead. </i>I can't imagine that anything else could possible take over its Number One spot in 2023!</p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">A few comments...<br />1. Demon Copperhead YES YES YES. Five hundreds stars. Totally lives up to all the hype and more. I recommend watching the limited series Dopesick (8 mesmerizing episodes) on Hulu and then reading Kingsolver's novel. Wow.<br /><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">2. Ugly Love is my first Colleen Hoover book, and may be my last. </span>I needed to know what the buzz is about Colleen Hoover. This was a very fast read. Most of the characters were pretty flat, the plot was fairly predictable, and it all tied up happily. I think Emily Henry and Taylor Jenkins Reid are infinitely better writers with much more original and interesting stories. </p><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">3. The School for Good Mothers is an excellent book to pair <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>with Celeste Ng’s Our Missing Hearts. In this one, a newly single mom has a single bad afternoon that leads to her being arrested and sentenced to a year at mother-training school. So good. And scary.<br /><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">4. The Candy House: I really liked this Egan's novel; however, this is the kind of book that should be read in a few long sessions rather than over the course of a week or two, 15 minutes at a time, like I did. It’s also probably better read in hard copy rather than on an e-reader There are so many characters in this nonlinear book, and they are all connected in various ways. I would forget from night to night who a particular character is that was mentioned 80 pages beforehand, and I’m too lazy to flip back through my Kindle to find out who this person is. Really intriguing book but would have been greatly enhanced and appreciated if I’d read it in a few sittings.<br /><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">5. Five Little Indians: A painful book. The topic is so important and the story needs to be told, but the prose was choppy and stilted. This seemed like a first draft and needed the help of a good editor. Again, this is an important story and worth reading on a humanitarian level, but I wanted the storytelling itself to be so much better.<br /><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">6. Other Birds: A sweet, happy book that I obviously needed after all the heavy reading. Lovely.</span></p><div style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjz_Lf0CsNJS9gSecH92D9GoGyBXNjJkA1dQ7Q_pRi7f-9RMNU9DJUM890ct5qyg_eFwAivzzUyaySn87nGvuYviDE_84oHoq3OvbsW4n4QmbwpC35f02lESlvQ32ETnhGsylV-NjxfH3jKOerJ5Mtt2MeR9LOtuLwKnBVW1S_7gOzylBoF_1cKGa8Ccw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="3193" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjz_Lf0CsNJS9gSecH92D9GoGyBXNjJkA1dQ7Q_pRi7f-9RMNU9DJUM890ct5qyg_eFwAivzzUyaySn87nGvuYviDE_84oHoq3OvbsW4n4QmbwpC35f02lESlvQ32ETnhGsylV-NjxfH3jKOerJ5Mtt2MeR9LOtuLwKnBVW1S_7gOzylBoF_1cKGa8Ccw=w392-h400" width="392" /></span></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">7. Audiobooks: Clearly I was on a Lisa Jewell kick, and I don't regret the many miles walking with her mysteries. She's mesmerizing. Also listened to the classic Virginia Woolf To the Lighthouse, which is of course, well, amazing and unforgettable. It's better to read in print so you can underline everything, but however you consume it, consume it.<br /><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And there we have January-March in books.<br /><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What are you reading that I should add to my never-ending TBR list?<br /><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Also please explain the Colleen Hoover craze. No judgment if she's your thing; I'm just trying to figure out why there is so much hype about her books!</span></p><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div></div></div></div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-38570744214379618982023-02-17T21:08:00.007-05:002023-02-17T21:08:41.265-05:00caregiving: shower day<p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcj3uCPZTUhDflzwjOt4lum50IY_Prjd6eZZcVyv0dBAyioEJ4gBBG8V9iYl1bfPzn7IlWM6CjwXDu-s4ziflD2IFrKu5SPewhqKMU3vn3mRaLcgUOkuUfW2Ek4rfEqM9lIwRNx7M5DrYWkppC2nQjtJbohZlKB5Ph1v6Vt09jZipRErpXeR01Sh2tw/s4032/IMG_0818%20Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjcj3uCPZTUhDflzwjOt4lum50IY_Prjd6eZZcVyv0dBAyioEJ4gBBG8V9iYl1bfPzn7IlWM6CjwXDu-s4ziflD2IFrKu5SPewhqKMU3vn3mRaLcgUOkuUfW2Ek4rfEqM9lIwRNx7M5DrYWkppC2nQjtJbohZlKB5Ph1v6Vt09jZipRErpXeR01Sh2tw/w379-h505/IMG_0818%20Copy.JPG" width="379" /></a></span></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: georgia; white-space: pre-wrap;"><p>Thursdays are shower days for Mom. The whole process takes a couple hours, from start to finish. It's hard to get Mom in the shower, first off. She'll stick out her tongue and flat out refuse: "I just did this yesterday!" or "I want to take a bath like I did when I was a kid, not a shower!" I make bargains sometimes, remind myself to be patient, kind, and gentle.</p></span><p></p><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia;">On Thursdays, I'm wiped out—more mentally than physically—by noon. I mean, my back hurts a little, but mentally and <a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer;" tabindex="-1"></a>emotionally, I'm just plain tired. There is something so draining about bathing your mother. This is when the parent/child relationship is so obviously reversed. There is the frustration that comes with hearing the childlike "I don't want to do this; why are you making me?" again and again. There is a hefty dose of remembering, as I blow dry her hair, that this is the woman who bathed me as a child, who patiently rolled my hair in pink plastic curlers every Saturday night and then stuck me under her warm, comforting hair dryer. And there is the in-your-face reminder of how the body ages and fails, how it sags and wrinkles and weakens, and, frankly, the knowledge that someday, this will be me. </span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia;">In the end, though, she always ends up smiling. "This is wonderful! I never want to get out! How did you learn how to do this?" She is overflowing with gratefulness, bubbling with the joy of accomplishment. After I dry and curl her hair, she thanks me and says, "I'm going to pay you a million dollars!" </span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto"><span style="font-family: georgia;">These are bittersweet days, ones you never imagine until you are here in the midst of it, moving slowly through the hours and days and weeks, shaking off the frustration, returning the smile, breathing deeply, giving back.</span></div></div>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-42692248719883288772023-01-16T14:16:00.005-05:002023-01-19T11:05:27.918-05:002022: Year in Review<p> 2022 was a year of celebrations, changes, big adventure, and small, sacred days. </p><p>The year began, as it should, with a first day hike and family. My brother and his family were here for it.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxHVcFk35EMC75FTejomsjqXphYVwAa7Wsywqf1Zzgru6xeKv5YqJ4crcOFlb28nGslo1udZP1kvMeZWrpjV7D3yGPJrOPV42xFYOjCbBG7NfTseJaLXW8w3y-um8nqVSQ4qHl6pr1SIzo0svoM8zGb4G1hvZN_Zkz7iLU7-I8IfThfoG2MM4N0cpLMw/s4032/IMG_5029.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxHVcFk35EMC75FTejomsjqXphYVwAa7Wsywqf1Zzgru6xeKv5YqJ4crcOFlb28nGslo1udZP1kvMeZWrpjV7D3yGPJrOPV42xFYOjCbBG7NfTseJaLXW8w3y-um8nqVSQ4qHl6pr1SIzo0svoM8zGb4G1hvZN_Zkz7iLU7-I8IfThfoG2MM4N0cpLMw/w472-h354/IMG_5029.jpg" width="472" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqkPJWvCB3kWqwM-chVcj9USZQMge46MUUVOwTVQ-Hy-VVqO1xhNZVLqgmlkJQRVRA8CyCF8VqDdqrTb5kh3MNFSwWQVwybVJbh0zEClhqAv8emOG7a6vfj9_tOIodaHVhJ0251ST44EiVMRgV5s1ZT7hKoaSPYhkmD-3gRukdeRPVqvA7xf3cUzLZ5g/s3869/IMG_5035.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2859" data-original-width="3869" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqkPJWvCB3kWqwM-chVcj9USZQMge46MUUVOwTVQ-Hy-VVqO1xhNZVLqgmlkJQRVRA8CyCF8VqDdqrTb5kh3MNFSwWQVwybVJbh0zEClhqAv8emOG7a6vfj9_tOIodaHVhJ0251ST44EiVMRgV5s1ZT7hKoaSPYhkmD-3gRukdeRPVqvA7xf3cUzLZ5g/w446-h329/IMG_5035.jpg" width="446" /></a></div><p>One of January's highlights was definitely our book club trip to Chattanooga. How very very good to spend a weekend laughing and talking, both practically nonstop.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcWXjG5fy8ZwAwaJUl3uZmKrfU2_VP2PWzdXR-sYkTPwtZ01QKEyckLcxfFzoPKv9jzPBZIpvCZHoxeLWraXRnwxrVVfqMmr2cUeAYnWtm5lo0HD8P5fe_uVxklBBpKm8sTuVdGAWY5A6cAlOx8IOq0Z2xiZIJcv1jhPFw6S-PQwzXNMx_ZmJAwHN4g/s3088/IMG_5083.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdcWXjG5fy8ZwAwaJUl3uZmKrfU2_VP2PWzdXR-sYkTPwtZ01QKEyckLcxfFzoPKv9jzPBZIpvCZHoxeLWraXRnwxrVVfqMmr2cUeAYnWtm5lo0HD8P5fe_uVxklBBpKm8sTuVdGAWY5A6cAlOx8IOq0Z2xiZIJcv1jhPFw6S-PQwzXNMx_ZmJAwHN4g/w454-h341/IMG_5083.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEleeyWIa9yDocxMPlQZoVzN0EpiuE6xQ8Aqwbp5TKfggyqGvdL_w0y9_S5A5fKY-wWQlkS2naoPfwbFPek7bHBMm2LaTyJwJh3lNT1yUzmscDRdSYzMyMU0FGqnUxnaUUEqUKcX-Gz9Fpdwa3SmsJIVMzjb7FPtqTHvcQb5m0m9-zCCE09MY10UeVg/s3088/IMG_9019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2316" data-original-width="3088" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizEleeyWIa9yDocxMPlQZoVzN0EpiuE6xQ8Aqwbp5TKfggyqGvdL_w0y9_S5A5fKY-wWQlkS2naoPfwbFPek7bHBMm2LaTyJwJh3lNT1yUzmscDRdSYzMyMU0FGqnUxnaUUEqUKcX-Gz9Fpdwa3SmsJIVMzjb7FPtqTHvcQb5m0m9-zCCE09MY10UeVg/w488-h366/IMG_9019.jpg" width="488" /></a></div><br /><p>Dad turned 97 in January, and the whole family got together, in person and on Zoom, to celebrate.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Wo6jtox1xO-AKLnA_tOcBedDj25m2TteKYJqmQQDisSjysHY4Baqj4Jo1czlNcv8GSXXEMSFsAZP_8z2hf11t4WQh_238F1II37EHa8o8K7gLh5BQw5f75_FQqXXRhwTz-214Av9u-RBE8XyXST4WlNOf-2WHjxwO1eQ5NgDTYHpP6qFqXEFhp4LCA/s3495/IMG_5131.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2621" data-original-width="3495" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Wo6jtox1xO-AKLnA_tOcBedDj25m2TteKYJqmQQDisSjysHY4Baqj4Jo1czlNcv8GSXXEMSFsAZP_8z2hf11t4WQh_238F1II37EHa8o8K7gLh5BQw5f75_FQqXXRhwTz-214Av9u-RBE8XyXST4WlNOf-2WHjxwO1eQ5NgDTYHpP6qFqXEFhp4LCA/w470-h353/IMG_5131.jpg" width="470" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1C1jMrTPKAYbMDDFhKZSnr2aPZuTstW_EJLuP1W03s34WjEnJ1UhR67dJKoqkgKcdaggm3Apkg7gfX3RnTi-xj0ayIDsuPdNfFv7Xa96WDa_XvYGhxelGjTQlUhhfXAGIFLJi-RKHhjPMXaYjkoXidmrMTWyVT0oLhR5VJ01QTAmEEO-Zy9Ml80HDbg/s3848/IMG_5143.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3848" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1C1jMrTPKAYbMDDFhKZSnr2aPZuTstW_EJLuP1W03s34WjEnJ1UhR67dJKoqkgKcdaggm3Apkg7gfX3RnTi-xj0ayIDsuPdNfFv7Xa96WDa_XvYGhxelGjTQlUhhfXAGIFLJi-RKHhjPMXaYjkoXidmrMTWyVT0oLhR5VJ01QTAmEEO-Zy9Ml80HDbg/w451-h354/IMG_5143.jpg" width="451" /></a></div><br /><p>Randy and I took a snowy hike to Upper Meigs Creek Falls in late January. I was proud of myself for making a whole bunch of icy river crossings without falling in!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje2M4O7mbiULTTs0iW_RhQQYvycCbnP9XWw5oBB6Y5_QXrlW6SovsYrfjf87tYFYLTAP9K74OQ0yBwjjcdF9Fmys1ltUsCfDGqcmZzMN412mJSV8cIPfcVgAZ6rxuyMNdhWAjV-rC3Q3yXCa1rAtA-g3lvu_JcWEnzE11SjO1vzPPeOnrBMpuTECEFiw/s4032/IMG_5156.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje2M4O7mbiULTTs0iW_RhQQYvycCbnP9XWw5oBB6Y5_QXrlW6SovsYrfjf87tYFYLTAP9K74OQ0yBwjjcdF9Fmys1ltUsCfDGqcmZzMN412mJSV8cIPfcVgAZ6rxuyMNdhWAjV-rC3Q3yXCa1rAtA-g3lvu_JcWEnzE11SjO1vzPPeOnrBMpuTECEFiw/w372-h496/IMG_5156.jpg" width="372" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Rz4xyKyeK2n8m4J6WHkTO2Lo1OlFDuwx5CVF5FoKyBvtxFqQjCvEsK4wRc-BvOSiOKs-RnCVz28idPqi6xL_o4MPROBG1g-up-zINTTderAjfLQX6xDBwoN5_UiBBY-wUQ7tgzeWEDGAVSqT0BkQC_0f2XgExQbOeZDIPgQcDTZ-fAUKQrL2YzhdvA/s4032/IMG_5214.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Rz4xyKyeK2n8m4J6WHkTO2Lo1OlFDuwx5CVF5FoKyBvtxFqQjCvEsK4wRc-BvOSiOKs-RnCVz28idPqi6xL_o4MPROBG1g-up-zINTTderAjfLQX6xDBwoN5_UiBBY-wUQ7tgzeWEDGAVSqT0BkQC_0f2XgExQbOeZDIPgQcDTZ-fAUKQrL2YzhdvA/w475-h356/IMG_5214.jpg" width="475" /></a></div><br /><p>In February, I turned 56. I started the day teaching class (early western literature) at Maryville College. The day ended with opening presents, including something I've wanted for so long: my own chainsaw!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgwDGikimuLDs0Tv5glKQKr2J05LLV84mjpM8d34FoDCQ6pNJ0MKthVO_tGukWA6p-z_9tNAoEjS-YL31MwcJDH6ZPeJcRax5JlBS9oqR9aLzIlnrQNPONACFb2gO0YJoEnWZXH3eHw7lbSm7VX0zNkyCOBh8aQLdUcARCS9fUNIpuqkPjL2IFfDM7Xg/s3088/IMG_5304.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="455" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgwDGikimuLDs0Tv5glKQKr2J05LLV84mjpM8d34FoDCQ6pNJ0MKthVO_tGukWA6p-z_9tNAoEjS-YL31MwcJDH6ZPeJcRax5JlBS9oqR9aLzIlnrQNPONACFb2gO0YJoEnWZXH3eHw7lbSm7VX0zNkyCOBh8aQLdUcARCS9fUNIpuqkPjL2IFfDM7Xg/w341-h455/IMG_5304.jpg" width="341" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqucuiQu8WYaXbJyTGeABcE6DzocZN7wemdoOmdvOZ_3wkObxQnJEFHM_3rBlEZ1FFl1uBLsGWkCQLTJJhvdbljBPZn3eurSF_yAjB5oETASsjLfDh2Bl-ivBjt1jEkbecN5gIz9wHcUuxw78UTJQnkEEwNx5Khw2oY0X70TcFZoa0gR1xAtZMnTbWA/s3363/IMG_5314.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3363" data-original-width="2522" height="473" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyqucuiQu8WYaXbJyTGeABcE6DzocZN7wemdoOmdvOZ_3wkObxQnJEFHM_3rBlEZ1FFl1uBLsGWkCQLTJJhvdbljBPZn3eurSF_yAjB5oETASsjLfDh2Bl-ivBjt1jEkbecN5gIz9wHcUuxw78UTJQnkEEwNx5Khw2oY0X70TcFZoa0gR1xAtZMnTbWA/w355-h473/IMG_5314.jpg" width="355" /></a></div><br /><p>The highlight of February was definitely the visit from our long-time friends, Kris and Del. We met Kris and Del during our years in Iowa, and they are our soulmate friends. The ones that, when asked by our kids, "Who would you most like to vacation with?" we say instantly: Kris and Del. I am pretty sure we spent almost the entire time they were here sprawled in the living room, talking and talking and talking. Geez, I love these people. We have plans to go see them this summer, if everything works out.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfalWnupjsvghJTIPXV3axD4MsmykI_N3o_TFTbLWQxs-V0MM3vULSXGrcmrNRB5et7EY0Hu6nCEGbfLoc_c2_5xwJu2gKsc-DI4hGh7YnqvUtixKL8PxtCk3lbEd7y5bdPq4RXlflJxh4oNGBsYjsI2RV7fgwfcA7OJlgA17u-TbFY0k_jHFAiMv1lg/s1440/B3039089-8867-454C-AFBA-38D5C1AC4584.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="1440" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfalWnupjsvghJTIPXV3axD4MsmykI_N3o_TFTbLWQxs-V0MM3vULSXGrcmrNRB5et7EY0Hu6nCEGbfLoc_c2_5xwJu2gKsc-DI4hGh7YnqvUtixKL8PxtCk3lbEd7y5bdPq4RXlflJxh4oNGBsYjsI2RV7fgwfcA7OJlgA17u-TbFY0k_jHFAiMv1lg/w460-h346/B3039089-8867-454C-AFBA-38D5C1AC4584.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdoCYi8VG9vQ9GWura-3FXkQewtAa1e286yQpxhvAl4t9DQpiDXtruELeOsosaM2QXpz487Pu7akQeLaZLEgMCPOEvdVXDdwreGmS-nvifUGhaUOGJJIGoyceh3R1Y7D3MEszHytonvJ3LPnmynFH4FJtgZz-LKJJLHMBCVS91pEDNb4f64_SZJiWNw/s1440/C71ED589-695C-45A8-ACFA-ACF137A44620.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1081" data-original-width="1440" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdoCYi8VG9vQ9GWura-3FXkQewtAa1e286yQpxhvAl4t9DQpiDXtruELeOsosaM2QXpz487Pu7akQeLaZLEgMCPOEvdVXDdwreGmS-nvifUGhaUOGJJIGoyceh3R1Y7D3MEszHytonvJ3LPnmynFH4FJtgZz-LKJJLHMBCVS91pEDNb4f64_SZJiWNw/w461-h346/C71ED589-695C-45A8-ACFA-ACF137A44620.jpg" width="461" /></a></div><br /><p>We had our big snow in March—some of the trees were already flowering! It was a lovely snow. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvA1HSBH2y_LsBVGjKZulgAHzluU5aR5KC_PC6ERklpUuY_GTUNTqbiy36Au_y-1Lx4vsmxSvPywWaMQw3nn3vDxMGmxbgteu2XBXp9lDfD-1TXQfJnZSdJ_1V-WxjWaDOqk1dJp2aeX0XqMYXvJRftexZo8CKLp2ivwHu1AX8bQVzDyDHhKnPWG1bSw/s4032/66878498035__0E2E23B1-E33A-4847-BF0E-9B56D5D0CDBD.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvA1HSBH2y_LsBVGjKZulgAHzluU5aR5KC_PC6ERklpUuY_GTUNTqbiy36Au_y-1Lx4vsmxSvPywWaMQw3nn3vDxMGmxbgteu2XBXp9lDfD-1TXQfJnZSdJ_1V-WxjWaDOqk1dJp2aeX0XqMYXvJRftexZo8CKLp2ivwHu1AX8bQVzDyDHhKnPWG1bSw/w448-h336/66878498035__0E2E23B1-E33A-4847-BF0E-9B56D5D0CDBD.jpg" width="448" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUct9BTOVwzecJxY1RqfZtLJRtZASgvAcCBNPlwobGlkWG9J7slPNyeRZwbBJ6_R8Oqpo_fX50N1hi-DFJC3sZLuVmQG3c3irPMQCEsUNJTopeQSTTRweBuAPGWCH4Vw5MaNsm6I-k_JbKGQ7pBLB0ePWT5qibZU50tigJZcqaVL7efEFOCUHPW0w2UQ/s4032/IMG_5432.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUct9BTOVwzecJxY1RqfZtLJRtZASgvAcCBNPlwobGlkWG9J7slPNyeRZwbBJ6_R8Oqpo_fX50N1hi-DFJC3sZLuVmQG3c3irPMQCEsUNJTopeQSTTRweBuAPGWCH4Vw5MaNsm6I-k_JbKGQ7pBLB0ePWT5qibZU50tigJZcqaVL7efEFOCUHPW0w2UQ/w440-h330/IMG_5432.jpg" width="440" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikK90Oihodx3FWOAQC8BFOsrcUIgprAPke7N6nQIbxegUX66X-IhLqx1s9Ra7M4UhjTkBjyrwwqH7il07JJOt9b51TBk8fPxUEI3u4IN4Lg2mql6WOSITRtHkaTwrzV7ik3HCfBhwxSE1BWX3Er2HzFCSABSYABV8TMoTGtz44DCGJ0KeXqF6s5fxhBQ/s3338/IMG_5448.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3338" data-original-width="3024" height="469" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikK90Oihodx3FWOAQC8BFOsrcUIgprAPke7N6nQIbxegUX66X-IhLqx1s9Ra7M4UhjTkBjyrwwqH7il07JJOt9b51TBk8fPxUEI3u4IN4Lg2mql6WOSITRtHkaTwrzV7ik3HCfBhwxSE1BWX3Er2HzFCSABSYABV8TMoTGtz44DCGJ0KeXqF6s5fxhBQ/w425-h469/IMG_5448.jpg" width="425" /></a></div><br /><p>We went from snow to sand then, as we headed to Florida for spring break to see Laurel and Hunter. Randy, Duncan and I all had the same break, so that worked out perfectly. We had all kinds of fun on that trip, including a visit from Randy's brother and his wife, botanical gardens, hikes, the beach, trivia, and lots of game nights and ice cream.</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9n9hympuCgQGyskcjKWPpXzlSv3tMgMkA_zrdyS5N_tbGuYyp8H6CVtk_aeG-aP0b6OzHL1KkmWrwfxXl9j7S0Zy7OqCSVynpeI5sXXWV1eAKvLGrkj0BiKJwuPVxQeTCa4qv9Op_crtsgG2FSCf4LL1aznLbD8LHNlBaiAH03YgkfwXldzOGVDWTA/s4032/IMG_5515.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9n9hympuCgQGyskcjKWPpXzlSv3tMgMkA_zrdyS5N_tbGuYyp8H6CVtk_aeG-aP0b6OzHL1KkmWrwfxXl9j7S0Zy7OqCSVynpeI5sXXWV1eAKvLGrkj0BiKJwuPVxQeTCa4qv9Op_crtsgG2FSCf4LL1aznLbD8LHNlBaiAH03YgkfwXldzOGVDWTA/w457-h343/IMG_5515.jpg" width="457" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRM0a2hQ3qpoJsTA-4HRCnKfz0EvyN4H-hKNPJmFt-UD-_IcCZkipIh-sTtGufd5U7Mhfgzq0lUOlaWROXOlUV6XM7_WrNfaZNHHRt1_gz3ASsoKt88GO6kulq7Ov8Fk_fmI2rbkEYJwSJ6wvJ81B0kaSJgGRhyT9TNqu-iNLJB9Llr2nsDZrSUO7fAA/s4032/IMG_5560.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRM0a2hQ3qpoJsTA-4HRCnKfz0EvyN4H-hKNPJmFt-UD-_IcCZkipIh-sTtGufd5U7Mhfgzq0lUOlaWROXOlUV6XM7_WrNfaZNHHRt1_gz3ASsoKt88GO6kulq7Ov8Fk_fmI2rbkEYJwSJ6wvJ81B0kaSJgGRhyT9TNqu-iNLJB9Llr2nsDZrSUO7fAA/w479-h359/IMG_5560.jpg" width="479" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_X_k-SVPcsDgf5HvaeYj3bEE9YtRJYQ1kSgh3HtpxSdn3eMeEZAsoHSn5av3uTBMCUK64-1cu2QNCiBJDkc5VvuPahJ5u8xeyMjGEwEBWJ2x0u_7YNHb8xNDFDRv70wvaC0ozM3yISASj--_GEPvWmcXigYykdNX-mARDX5QtfzOJqrsEKPFF-cXSQ/s3706/IMG_5562.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3706" data-original-width="2817" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS_X_k-SVPcsDgf5HvaeYj3bEE9YtRJYQ1kSgh3HtpxSdn3eMeEZAsoHSn5av3uTBMCUK64-1cu2QNCiBJDkc5VvuPahJ5u8xeyMjGEwEBWJ2x0u_7YNHb8xNDFDRv70wvaC0ozM3yISASj--_GEPvWmcXigYykdNX-mARDX5QtfzOJqrsEKPFF-cXSQ/w384-h506/IMG_5562.jpg" width="384" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI9N4MaiOvYDLzjpbKrvahQsDe1IYob51-luO_CyXHHqIC-eQuKa2gHbsV4P8-cPvghdcM5iVKquMrHY_UZwlIwrBMnUHYPkgxpFbjgX3YFCYkTgHsZ1wTjOsyMBAV52V88doRTdpf6kEwNUJt6izThHLkqfDtv4R_oC5S5OqFs_yOiPPYzhnNZNYcmg/s4032/IMG_5634.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI9N4MaiOvYDLzjpbKrvahQsDe1IYob51-luO_CyXHHqIC-eQuKa2gHbsV4P8-cPvghdcM5iVKquMrHY_UZwlIwrBMnUHYPkgxpFbjgX3YFCYkTgHsZ1wTjOsyMBAV52V88doRTdpf6kEwNUJt6izThHLkqfDtv4R_oC5S5OqFs_yOiPPYzhnNZNYcmg/w472-h354/IMG_5634.jpg" width="472" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEif1cn1dJbyfV8Z-yjfl35mDhixV9-B6f6MGwyaqQOsIBufcOXjqeXHxzVovHkbz-dE0m41LchrDllj_GCttJpyJcpKOTIzhFoP92-t4qhzcGRP8eXF-S509_Mslr9s44l5_NjSEUP-DNDhgDbPfHkBtpapMDxViK2jFRb2l29O1K16P6T7ymoHsJaw/s3088/IMG_6220.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEif1cn1dJbyfV8Z-yjfl35mDhixV9-B6f6MGwyaqQOsIBufcOXjqeXHxzVovHkbz-dE0m41LchrDllj_GCttJpyJcpKOTIzhFoP92-t4qhzcGRP8eXF-S509_Mslr9s44l5_NjSEUP-DNDhgDbPfHkBtpapMDxViK2jFRb2l29O1K16P6T7ymoHsJaw/w459-h344/IMG_6220.JPG" width="459" /></a></div><br /><p>We celebrated 33 years in late March with a quiet dinner at a new restaurant in town. And we also celebrated Jesse's 29th birthday!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm1vlj9lBw0A9L8bJ0cs1VlG3LLykbY6U3d5jl2OSZukrpLgiKW06oeS5WLK0Wui6XPCDNkKh8M5a0F62rujSaA_VLGrROocbkHC88qTpU0F0qJxzH7kbTJIMNL_CV_LxfJJ-3SaFF5L5WxU6y0Lja8YEQKgCril9cjjGgqF4Ey0eyeKu4K9eGTjQ5ag/s3088/IMG_6301.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm1vlj9lBw0A9L8bJ0cs1VlG3LLykbY6U3d5jl2OSZukrpLgiKW06oeS5WLK0Wui6XPCDNkKh8M5a0F62rujSaA_VLGrROocbkHC88qTpU0F0qJxzH7kbTJIMNL_CV_LxfJJ-3SaFF5L5WxU6y0Lja8YEQKgCril9cjjGgqF4Ey0eyeKu4K9eGTjQ5ag/w480-h360/IMG_6301.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GjyjdfGNqPirFGrbb9YAyAh_B6EWml0bImhoLm2IbrilqWNPBhYxasW65ojyUS1542RFoKCgb3QU5r2wSc3q2PMz9Uv-7gVT--8v3iJ7oB1hfAvMp2qqeMF81P7RX3MhF6Ci7zoTN7o6o2--C2W0NjyT9lA7yfkkoUX_FR7MTNJEAsOxDKC6PyEeiw/s3559/IMG_5738.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2669" data-original-width="3559" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2GjyjdfGNqPirFGrbb9YAyAh_B6EWml0bImhoLm2IbrilqWNPBhYxasW65ojyUS1542RFoKCgb3QU5r2wSc3q2PMz9Uv-7gVT--8v3iJ7oB1hfAvMp2qqeMF81P7RX3MhF6Ci7zoTN7o6o2--C2W0NjyT9lA7yfkkoUX_FR7MTNJEAsOxDKC6PyEeiw/w499-h374/IMG_5738.jpg" width="499" /></a></div><br /><p>April was the big shift for us—the month of major change. I got a text from Dad one day that said, "Mom won't wake up. Come down?" I drove down to their house, took one look at Mom and called 9-11. She was completely unresponsive, but clearly breathing. She landed in the hospital for a few days with a severe UTI. Note: UTIs are extremely serious in elderly people! If your parent starts acting strange, being irritable, even seeming as if they are suddenly moving into dementia, get them tested for a UTI! In this case, Mom had none of these symptoms, but she has before. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62MJ1CckxTOYtQQyL-NWhloURjShyidbbELK3E15LBd_EXKk_DkRsiU3_f_MYXOpceSvtMnaaIi_KJur5gbIatNfRc-O41On1QLweLbz6Z5OFPeITJg3P93iGHUYNsTPwyCBC_k8UCSOFBSPQJNNsJf6xHHAI2ncBU8eOJhDW-NRgUywMIo3KtKO6yQ/s3088/IMG_5858.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62MJ1CckxTOYtQQyL-NWhloURjShyidbbELK3E15LBd_EXKk_DkRsiU3_f_MYXOpceSvtMnaaIi_KJur5gbIatNfRc-O41On1QLweLbz6Z5OFPeITJg3P93iGHUYNsTPwyCBC_k8UCSOFBSPQJNNsJf6xHHAI2ncBU8eOJhDW-NRgUywMIo3KtKO6yQ/w346-h461/IMG_5858.HEIC" width="346" /></a></div><br /><p>While Mom was in the hospital, we all decided it was finally time for Mom and Dad to move out of their house and into our attached apartment. It's why we bought this house 20 years ago— we wanted to have a place for my parents or Randy's mom to live if they ever needed it. It was time. Dad was tired. Mom needed more help than he could give her. They could no longer keep up their house or yard.</p><p>And so, we did frantic cleaning and rearranging, and Mom came straight from the hospital to her new home. It took a few weeks for her to adjust. She went through confusion, a little anger, and lots of wanting to go back to her house. I credit an occupational therapist for really reframing her perspective; he was gentle but firm in reminding her that she was in the best possible place—that she could no longer live without help, and that living with family was so much better than being in a nursing home. After that, she's really been quite happy ever since. Dad adjusted much better. He misses his yard and misses being able to live totally independently, but he is relieved that he doesn't have to take care of Mom solely by himself anymore. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOTJx2cZOlPp0qv_-Ts6UM3XlJMvaAEodQ7wjl-nGklrsaDigmE7sXMoW-0JXVvLmq8SbDlPfbjzFrdQYojDSAd3I7tgum7fMU6uVI_td-vub2YfDZBb1sBNc6sP8agCPzTrWicnFrYxLSvFuaOdfsD5-4-Py4pyzU-FNzFl85E_QcD-sGTWbTwbaUBA/s3886/IMG_5877.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2732" data-original-width="3886" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOTJx2cZOlPp0qv_-Ts6UM3XlJMvaAEodQ7wjl-nGklrsaDigmE7sXMoW-0JXVvLmq8SbDlPfbjzFrdQYojDSAd3I7tgum7fMU6uVI_td-vub2YfDZBb1sBNc6sP8agCPzTrWicnFrYxLSvFuaOdfsD5-4-Py4pyzU-FNzFl85E_QcD-sGTWbTwbaUBA/w503-h353/IMG_5877.jpg" width="503" /></a></div><div><br /></div>It's been an adjustment for sure, all around. We went from empty nesters back to a full house. We went from dinner in front of the TV, going out whenever we want, and basically doing what we want to having supper together every night, always being mindful of my parents, etc. We've fallen into a pretty good rhythm, although every day is different. I do a lot of waiting for the next thing. Are they awake yet? Have they eaten anything? Are they napping? Bored? You just never know what the day will bring. We play a lot of cards and dominoes. When the weather is warm, they sit outside and watch the golfers across the street. Dad rides his recumbent bike, and Mom sweeps the driveway and picks up sticks.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBaZZB3sitQvKH8tpX21eYHiM_tTgVnTvwYe8IQC7fIws5L8ybvkBy5NGLakSZoL5Nz6sJM3_MiumcDBf11AtGFxm_IKY_kcXtnYKTULgY949CaQ5EqtkF8x4lYpCvz54yo_jxRXnA93nVq9RF4BLgLcwz0rOz6KbfYwvphgUp8rq1ya43G3qDdD1vA/s4032/IMG_5883.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBaZZB3sitQvKH8tpX21eYHiM_tTgVnTvwYe8IQC7fIws5L8ybvkBy5NGLakSZoL5Nz6sJM3_MiumcDBf11AtGFxm_IKY_kcXtnYKTULgY949CaQ5EqtkF8x4lYpCvz54yo_jxRXnA93nVq9RF4BLgLcwz0rOz6KbfYwvphgUp8rq1ya43G3qDdD1vA/w363-h484/IMG_5883.HEIC" width="363" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUQoDXDJ82gsy-hs20Wyp6mPh8MjqWnVf6HmK3vTCx6g2phR7nMAdOohpLD1sH062xZamqoMO8LUDgHcIeKQV3aTaKpD5dx_aSieXAUYoUXknPQxepLmD1uMRluTxaTL24XVw9gQhOhMNC88BsxTLWP-8tCJX0ZHLRU83AZK7f0Ds-8DcRkrwtwwUU5w/s4032/IMG_5902.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="343" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUQoDXDJ82gsy-hs20Wyp6mPh8MjqWnVf6HmK3vTCx6g2phR7nMAdOohpLD1sH062xZamqoMO8LUDgHcIeKQV3aTaKpD5dx_aSieXAUYoUXknPQxepLmD1uMRluTxaTL24XVw9gQhOhMNC88BsxTLWP-8tCJX0ZHLRU83AZK7f0Ds-8DcRkrwtwwUU5w/w457-h343/IMG_5902.HEIC" width="457" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAzsJ_P3rz_a6pcZhFE2F1wZnN7qGClqMWU4GUrXPhvnRSu74GFnm-3_cJ_S3Os5BXH_5FKazgb785cwQv1QWm_jyC5-RRcXbthOyE53xhWZomczm8KzXZ7QU1ivwXjv2Tl7For1eZk26Cq5aL-EZ6PHZHN8v64T6sNBJS9So_oH-Cgjg6SrIkv01ew/s3562/IMG_5930.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2671" data-original-width="3562" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAzsJ_P3rz_a6pcZhFE2F1wZnN7qGClqMWU4GUrXPhvnRSu74GFnm-3_cJ_S3Os5BXH_5FKazgb785cwQv1QWm_jyC5-RRcXbthOyE53xhWZomczm8KzXZ7QU1ivwXjv2Tl7For1eZk26Cq5aL-EZ6PHZHN8v64T6sNBJS9So_oH-Cgjg6SrIkv01ew/w490-h368/IMG_5930.jpg" width="490" /></a></div><br /><p>So, that's where we are now. Mom and Dad are settled into their tiny one bedroom, one bath apartment. It is an honor and a joy to have them here, and it is sometimes exhausting. Bittersweet.</p><p>May brought the end of teaching college for me. I realized quite quickly that I could not prepare lessons and teach classes as well as give proper care and attention to my parents. So, when I finished the semester, I finished what was a short but wonderful stint as a writing and literature instructor at our local private college. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fZLpXaQLnwakmVKkx1A_SBKbW8wn2iLYrktg_CfNa_QywzGbyV22PN9DpuWzRtMdr9Yb1M5ZP9pW_AJoW5onDxxk-bPipLFJJHflMlsm-7DrAmtR0cpT1qBJYC5WLijpMG-06A0zWS71FegeEgYQmRvnrfspz6HXnUjzz2UacYp1VjSaQvba-_TOHw/s4032/IMG_6019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fZLpXaQLnwakmVKkx1A_SBKbW8wn2iLYrktg_CfNa_QywzGbyV22PN9DpuWzRtMdr9Yb1M5ZP9pW_AJoW5onDxxk-bPipLFJJHflMlsm-7DrAmtR0cpT1qBJYC5WLijpMG-06A0zWS71FegeEgYQmRvnrfspz6HXnUjzz2UacYp1VjSaQvba-_TOHw/w443-h332/IMG_6019.jpg" width="443" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmMGCV5wDHf_KeJhViTaO_MAd4DcVvZSLCfDzXJm7rGgR0SphYNuPsfrlCSPjdo32rT59dCdr2E1D9p8K1yKYFOfOx8MuGOTIocDIyVTlDBew4Xe79nRCt4Cf47aaTjVfxur3-fHT_s0GGnJBz6JpcgUi6xgUs8JLSbLA3PIuPikcGO27AMo9lePnCg/s3865/IMG_6021.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1761" data-original-width="3865" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmMGCV5wDHf_KeJhViTaO_MAd4DcVvZSLCfDzXJm7rGgR0SphYNuPsfrlCSPjdo32rT59dCdr2E1D9p8K1yKYFOfOx8MuGOTIocDIyVTlDBew4Xe79nRCt4Cf47aaTjVfxur3-fHT_s0GGnJBz6JpcgUi6xgUs8JLSbLA3PIuPikcGO27AMo9lePnCg/w455-h208/IMG_6021.jpg" width="455" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdo8MsUPWdEOMeljWNB7yKhIvBpw5ihFcnamDtYioBSg0_cJZLAl2y_zJ8cX4Stt1UOtsF3kfCUnCWZ9muKNZDbtmjB0XXzpLwHT54OO4JWu3bi506l7jCSFXfCxmi3Wl2nrGxKSGRAaGArqNmofEZFyzSCI1068KiOPGPQ4WUttxHFGLK7PuIfCYwcQ/s4032/IMG_6461.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdo8MsUPWdEOMeljWNB7yKhIvBpw5ihFcnamDtYioBSg0_cJZLAl2y_zJ8cX4Stt1UOtsF3kfCUnCWZ9muKNZDbtmjB0XXzpLwHT54OO4JWu3bi506l7jCSFXfCxmi3Wl2nrGxKSGRAaGArqNmofEZFyzSCI1068KiOPGPQ4WUttxHFGLK7PuIfCYwcQ/w300-h400/IMG_6461.HEIC" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p>Bittersweet. I thought I would miss teaching so much, but I'm mostly relieved that I don't have the added stress. It makes me smile to remember emails like the one above, thinking about how much I adore teenagers and college students. Teaching college had always been a goal for me, and I've accomplished that. Personal success and fulfillment certainly makes the next season easier.</p><p>May gave us another major event: Jesse, our oldest, graduated from law school, magna cum laude! He was so glad to be done. He loved it when he started, but the pandemic with its online learning just sucked a lot of the joy out of law school, just like it did for some many students worldwide! Still, he did it! He took the bar exam in July and found out that he passed it in October. He now works for a local lawyer!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnZLPR1sGQgkxQvR_8OM19R3yzePN4UqnGe6y5CXdBHMJb2gn4gXPftnDAN8_P3n1lx3-bJBu1QApyu-jtAh9V4n6AkJY_o7kY7umDxg4aNszUf7aEfdZEWc8ZfHg8jOp0PhnSlU9dNyjP9qBCTvNbG-TXCg9PxLSF2_V8RjcBkdIC2rcrFaHEzpj4w/s4032/IMG_6338.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnZLPR1sGQgkxQvR_8OM19R3yzePN4UqnGe6y5CXdBHMJb2gn4gXPftnDAN8_P3n1lx3-bJBu1QApyu-jtAh9V4n6AkJY_o7kY7umDxg4aNszUf7aEfdZEWc8ZfHg8jOp0PhnSlU9dNyjP9qBCTvNbG-TXCg9PxLSF2_V8RjcBkdIC2rcrFaHEzpj4w/w450-h338/IMG_6338.jpg" width="450" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our lawyer with Randy wearing a shirt with Jesse's handprints from when he was a baby</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTRpvKiMcmm0ztPIqAniWxfq5MF4cxdQv9ivNWz5taRJ6qaxoOpimsK-7oVlbQ89jgd-rlO2LAMcdAKgkZ7GwW1nNVMD9XLi1h7-Nn9850NQxqx7fZovpGyLrFUZRtOG3GRrEk-eVj49jho6nUJKhKju1H7D6C-7hgmM8q2RkX7UAanBXbuMuUI5W6A/s4032/IMG_6385.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTRpvKiMcmm0ztPIqAniWxfq5MF4cxdQv9ivNWz5taRJ6qaxoOpimsK-7oVlbQ89jgd-rlO2LAMcdAKgkZ7GwW1nNVMD9XLi1h7-Nn9850NQxqx7fZovpGyLrFUZRtOG3GRrEk-eVj49jho6nUJKhKju1H7D6C-7hgmM8q2RkX7UAanBXbuMuUI5W6A/w450-h338/IMG_6385.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><br /><p>Beginning in May, my friends and I made a plan. Cades Cove is perhaps the most famous drive in the Smoky Mountains. It's an 11-mile loop with historic cabins and churches and beautiful views. Every Wednesday from May through September, the road is closed to vehicle traffic so that walkers and bicyclists can enjoy it without fumes and traffic. So, we decided to head up each Wednesday and walk, beginning with the 3.8 mile Sparks Lane loop and making our way up to the full 11-mile loop. Well, we never made the 11 miles, but we did the 8-mile loop a couple of times and the 3.4 mile loop about a dozen times. It was an absolute highlight of my year, and I can't wait to do it again!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5XGAxpaqqivggEzJZW7wt6GZXPIRc8uakRUam2LdvqaSwx9Y9lqODvcJfmas_kfhvAJq-L_5sJ2xxHOIegaL7507Bt9GHfURPOd5skI9v2NyrKUrUmqDPpIdIz-d0nwWLH9jGEn0TJdhX4UQSE-6gAc2qkJx3f1I9PUFCZO7a3lhKArPbf2SJdpFaOw/s3088/IMG_6407.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5XGAxpaqqivggEzJZW7wt6GZXPIRc8uakRUam2LdvqaSwx9Y9lqODvcJfmas_kfhvAJq-L_5sJ2xxHOIegaL7507Bt9GHfURPOd5skI9v2NyrKUrUmqDPpIdIz-d0nwWLH9jGEn0TJdhX4UQSE-6gAc2qkJx3f1I9PUFCZO7a3lhKArPbf2SJdpFaOw/w461-h346/IMG_6407.HEIC" width="461" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8FqxS8L6dibUke2ssBF_v-g23Yj8LYQjvRIwNVdmiftJiMmPtuGBQ4MDXZAe3k-qDm1gmZ36A4r8MeVwSJaKx17cOzefmUF0eZM7S3OxDL2xIcS88EVNj0cC1hWyrGIZHsa4EXac9TrK_jkvJz-J2p-KFnzoqUuOhPuDW_JhlqtTpDhcNRR9h8Ipnpw/s4032/IMG_6414.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8FqxS8L6dibUke2ssBF_v-g23Yj8LYQjvRIwNVdmiftJiMmPtuGBQ4MDXZAe3k-qDm1gmZ36A4r8MeVwSJaKx17cOzefmUF0eZM7S3OxDL2xIcS88EVNj0cC1hWyrGIZHsa4EXac9TrK_jkvJz-J2p-KFnzoqUuOhPuDW_JhlqtTpDhcNRR9h8Ipnpw/w477-h358/IMG_6414.jpg" width="477" /></a></div><br /><p>My fourth brother and his two little guys came to visit in June. It's such a joy to have them here; sometimes I still can't believe he finally had kids. They've brought so much color into our world! Imagine my parents becoming grandparents yet again in their late 80s.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0CHHmRfHHJVbUIPQDVz5RDDynd27p1KauxHcJq7O60xJnN-eByXBdAqzuqEYJOkr0v7UieOlU8kDwUtOtVYBeydbfAl4hpLPEIkgDu8doxWm-95_f7nu8OZe74UNLUbwoxqIM43j4rLj2GQFnh6rjuldgx4pUkypVQbsp4v-35vAZhrL_NwMvi1-Yw/s3100/IMG_6536.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2642" data-original-width="3100" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0CHHmRfHHJVbUIPQDVz5RDDynd27p1KauxHcJq7O60xJnN-eByXBdAqzuqEYJOkr0v7UieOlU8kDwUtOtVYBeydbfAl4hpLPEIkgDu8doxWm-95_f7nu8OZe74UNLUbwoxqIM43j4rLj2GQFnh6rjuldgx4pUkypVQbsp4v-35vAZhrL_NwMvi1-Yw/w439-h374/IMG_6536.jpg" width="439" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggfI0kE0GneCOz0Gw_ljYEkXMAjxrBTleKdcS3OEQ3IxhteNYf4AcYtKFy2o0FvtDc2jErQfhS9xUIiAkQ-RTM4QeRyS27rEzgIWw5ddGhuF9O93ULa6ePXUYKg_Mk95d2qdRdWV9eH6T1b8AFpawGEIQxHT9y0h8ZdYdDStdksYV7PYzbdIObuJsaow/s4032/IMG_6604.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggfI0kE0GneCOz0Gw_ljYEkXMAjxrBTleKdcS3OEQ3IxhteNYf4AcYtKFy2o0FvtDc2jErQfhS9xUIiAkQ-RTM4QeRyS27rEzgIWw5ddGhuF9O93ULa6ePXUYKg_Mk95d2qdRdWV9eH6T1b8AFpawGEIQxHT9y0h8ZdYdDStdksYV7PYzbdIObuJsaow/w442-h332/IMG_6604.jpg" width="442" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Took the boys to Tuckaleechee Caverns. Summer's first time, too!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkpOGcDaJlPOTPFNXMaiR4HdbKpHnn8hhyX7CKZTbnDlQf5WtoVC-nX7c0HS7z6djgj0rzJtuCOPPP4K5xrxWla4PnDAukDvfXXYyXg6kaUYjWRZfFgVWqZOFA1zis3quOsHWZOd0WcjLtFq1Za57Uuybry0kzJ59BidZIKcXSQqY7PEQNqW3ekqn9A/s3088/IMG_6652.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkpOGcDaJlPOTPFNXMaiR4HdbKpHnn8hhyX7CKZTbnDlQf5WtoVC-nX7c0HS7z6djgj0rzJtuCOPPP4K5xrxWla4PnDAukDvfXXYyXg6kaUYjWRZfFgVWqZOFA1zis3quOsHWZOd0WcjLtFq1Za57Uuybry0kzJ59BidZIKcXSQqY7PEQNqW3ekqn9A/w451-h338/IMG_6652.HEIC" width="451" /></a></div><br /><p>We got to have Laurel for several days in July, as we hosted a bridal shower for one of her best childhood friends. It was lovely have all my girls back together again, even just for one evening.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9134rsA8Sjmnu-1sqLfhJQ3nel0fRDqESVbEstO_sz3vsiDus-LeKQLxuIRt5cIENF5qZwJ5pp0pQ0RakW0QN5Q_HWzqf0U9OCw-uHWChVW8d6tsVGxQV9XIXkKh5IPE4GualB37Ghnn-a78lanrFCFqNdkkjOwPTivLaeqg9FUujUMQNJUQ4Rz62xQ/s3720/IMG_5158.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3720" data-original-width="2790" height="487" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9134rsA8Sjmnu-1sqLfhJQ3nel0fRDqESVbEstO_sz3vsiDus-LeKQLxuIRt5cIENF5qZwJ5pp0pQ0RakW0QN5Q_HWzqf0U9OCw-uHWChVW8d6tsVGxQV9XIXkKh5IPE4GualB37Ghnn-a78lanrFCFqNdkkjOwPTivLaeqg9FUujUMQNJUQ4Rz62xQ/w365-h487/IMG_5158.jpeg" width="365" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BXZSu_HIBxJ7DduqQvyQsQ1FfbJUFfvsFYWOajj2K2DrtbQM2Jss46tKxGpu-_-fzvn_LVULuMD6DuuhItCMm7K74pNXdBAXbdgcJUfAkOHDOAKGFcvl5o89CbyAjj8Bsz0ilCvhMX-TYlpBwukZCXJtygTPzCvBB1wA3OVef00T8NMB2AzMWchozg/s4032/IMG_6937.HEIC" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BXZSu_HIBxJ7DduqQvyQsQ1FfbJUFfvsFYWOajj2K2DrtbQM2Jss46tKxGpu-_-fzvn_LVULuMD6DuuhItCMm7K74pNXdBAXbdgcJUfAkOHDOAKGFcvl5o89CbyAjj8Bsz0ilCvhMX-TYlpBwukZCXJtygTPzCvBB1wA3OVef00T8NMB2AzMWchozg/w459-h344/IMG_6937.HEIC" width="459" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These girls have been friends since kindergarten!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>And then came the biggest event of our year, a trip we'd dreamed about but weren't convinced it would really happen: Randy and I went to Alaska! He had meetings in Anchorage, and we toyed with the idea that we could make a vacation out of it. It seemed implausible with Covid and Mom and Dad and all... but it all worked out and we had the most incredible two weeks. We spent a few days in Anchorage, a few in Denali National Park, and a few in Seward at Kenai Fjords National Park. This trip deserves its own post, but here are just a few photos.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLD9LFLxuR6axvt5Qjn1d_Ink0ypsXHnrUpcJKrOsuTsNSUU-m1bSiXxsiQHb_sAUgBHVLGgMbBxixx-6pnHenX0aaFJ_xKMBnSl4q2_vZ0AwNrbc2HIzNgymtHsLVNNXuGn9iSVR7mSn4EMbTonr4nFIPzeGX-JiZUjW_0QLmo3GcvzN7k2R4B48fQ/s2048/thursday%20thunder%20bird%20falls.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLD9LFLxuR6axvt5Qjn1d_Ink0ypsXHnrUpcJKrOsuTsNSUU-m1bSiXxsiQHb_sAUgBHVLGgMbBxixx-6pnHenX0aaFJ_xKMBnSl4q2_vZ0AwNrbc2HIzNgymtHsLVNNXuGn9iSVR7mSn4EMbTonr4nFIPzeGX-JiZUjW_0QLmo3GcvzN7k2R4B48fQ/w455-h341/thursday%20thunder%20bird%20falls.jpeg" width="455" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupfeZ-yhqTakJzcpIHGTja3a_0esUyOxqASzQcGKFMOXd1cJJwxvhTwvB1awcmb0GyaN4nFm1PsGkMfo48aQCXPPQQN7qQ09b8n6NHciepFqRn7nNN2NLdwAhKnYuQwsiuku3IHMbmi1LVO1JJ8ZyD_mB7BGz4abZzRzUQahysELnaVHU0BaOCETzXw/s3088/IMG_7488.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupfeZ-yhqTakJzcpIHGTja3a_0esUyOxqASzQcGKFMOXd1cJJwxvhTwvB1awcmb0GyaN4nFm1PsGkMfo48aQCXPPQQN7qQ09b8n6NHciepFqRn7nNN2NLdwAhKnYuQwsiuku3IHMbmi1LVO1JJ8ZyD_mB7BGz4abZzRzUQahysELnaVHU0BaOCETzXw/w460-h345/IMG_7488.HEIC" width="460" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy__sEXigIiyws2FFHkNkPM5zqamY_MLKFUX5OkHRMEMHsRazaz1Ji9nEuuhokwCFaDK_-axR1kvLjVunfUkX-6nvFknZc6fmj0b3qM6SASKfqnl_aonDxpkXgLbSgIvzx9vYEc6SKutyX760zv6XVEFQ5jzKAzBz98d6q2PAgQpafDCttELNpWvpOeQ/s4032/IMG_7573%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy__sEXigIiyws2FFHkNkPM5zqamY_MLKFUX5OkHRMEMHsRazaz1Ji9nEuuhokwCFaDK_-axR1kvLjVunfUkX-6nvFknZc6fmj0b3qM6SASKfqnl_aonDxpkXgLbSgIvzx9vYEc6SKutyX760zv6XVEFQ5jzKAzBz98d6q2PAgQpafDCttELNpWvpOeQ/w478-h359/IMG_7573%20(1).jpg" width="478" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPqXf2qNwl30NIHR4QTn2JBsBtV5rWBWF7nHWmmYcHxWcJzj3fueuWUfd2zUhf3VpIpIEByUGJlSl2nPlF4frTpfmvxF5ZSRhFcV5vbxpsqxAnMqjcygjJTdRO77NS3X7HzHUtdx7BpdQvg-nIsP1SWnFjU4slgCaqan8hPIrf6lD4i2Ss6sfx92KSZA/s2773/IMG_7448.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2083" data-original-width="2773" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPqXf2qNwl30NIHR4QTn2JBsBtV5rWBWF7nHWmmYcHxWcJzj3fueuWUfd2zUhf3VpIpIEByUGJlSl2nPlF4frTpfmvxF5ZSRhFcV5vbxpsqxAnMqjcygjJTdRO77NS3X7HzHUtdx7BpdQvg-nIsP1SWnFjU4slgCaqan8hPIrf6lD4i2Ss6sfx92KSZA/w472-h354/IMG_7448.jpg" width="472" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2DjlNNa-xgfpW_w7ocgbAQSOpfWKhJ5Wu_r_O3SG6lQwBylIiDUhICZ2-V50UzL9YlEdbH4hbkQCGKUTHCT26l9exCNfy85GKmViZOxa5Ed6waoG8NtRmENfTOWjKuMTqiRXmkuIjSP6WyqjOaV_FjE3SNQsmgSLMsv2aVSUTOFyDtvfNwwQf2BXCA/w460-h345/denali1.jpeg" width="460" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqDwQxf7EmvYVzoJei8qA6aSt1dc3WmHjyS0kOL9qclePuurxTYzAf7hiOSs6uhfQK2Y9qCnoY3-ZAt_1iSULs3fwdSFvPTSNX1Rt02_a_Kk8rzkOaSm2J21KYH1tMQq3VZNEDQh2uNEYv_d3V5IM7v-mQR3EudIw8P_k1odPWA1E8jSt7b5ZXic9DA/s4032/IMG_7007%20(1).JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqDwQxf7EmvYVzoJei8qA6aSt1dc3WmHjyS0kOL9qclePuurxTYzAf7hiOSs6uhfQK2Y9qCnoY3-ZAt_1iSULs3fwdSFvPTSNX1Rt02_a_Kk8rzkOaSm2J21KYH1tMQq3VZNEDQh2uNEYv_d3V5IM7v-mQR3EudIw8P_k1odPWA1E8jSt7b5ZXic9DA/w479-h359/IMG_7007%20(1).JPG" width="479" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLe-RARRCGo609lml_ZaSTdCu9jowYtnREJv8JZ8yTDP5HHU-pmL05c82C9v0fvlI5VkI8yOeW3dNhxKvFPWZH3UsnL2edc3lwBXq_MhiS3v_Y1JYM1UrIY2VHu-6TIv-Yrw3XMvx891Yzv1LrSHKxwAj-5t_jGHlIoFyp-8-a9uTsvtBuV0_VHIoJw/s4032/IMG_7582%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLe-RARRCGo609lml_ZaSTdCu9jowYtnREJv8JZ8yTDP5HHU-pmL05c82C9v0fvlI5VkI8yOeW3dNhxKvFPWZH3UsnL2edc3lwBXq_MhiS3v_Y1JYM1UrIY2VHu-6TIv-Yrw3XMvx891Yzv1LrSHKxwAj-5t_jGHlIoFyp-8-a9uTsvtBuV0_VHIoJw/w472-h354/IMG_7582%20(1).jpg" width="472" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPVzbj9LugMKoGNDSpiHTtbyIkjGbsubql7kMwbZOgKDt9Z-GIN3_MoKXZIR-RdVQIDxfoRin_xdC6hgwUE0X6wdedp76efXTOHLxL0N6IoMgJdcZQAeztMZK1r-oLYLBC9MUviZh7c7CQs7LitKs4vbNldCrFbdd_rPD2mPQDvzlcn775_DaEs1cUQ/s3914/IMG_8420.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2935" data-original-width="3914" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHPVzbj9LugMKoGNDSpiHTtbyIkjGbsubql7kMwbZOgKDt9Z-GIN3_MoKXZIR-RdVQIDxfoRin_xdC6hgwUE0X6wdedp76efXTOHLxL0N6IoMgJdcZQAeztMZK1r-oLYLBC9MUviZh7c7CQs7LitKs4vbNldCrFbdd_rPD2mPQDvzlcn775_DaEs1cUQ/w442-h332/IMG_8420.jpg" width="442" /></a></div><p></p><p>It was more than we ever could have dreamed of. We thought this would be our one and only trip to Alaska, but we are determined to go back and visit more of the national parks. We are always ready to come back after a trip, but this time we really did not want to come home! </p><p>While we were in Alaska, Mom and Dad spent three weeks with my brother Stephen in New York. They had a wonderful time... but they brought Covid back for all of us. It was our first bout with Covid. We are all up-to-date with our vaccinations, so it wasn't terrible. Dad took Paxlovid, and he was better within a couple of days. Amazingly, Mom never got it! So, that was our how August ended. Sadly, Duncan came home from his summer job during the time we had Covid, so we could only visit with him outside.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsHfp0w0yos5-F-RH1_208MPy0zAV-3mSOBGqk5yz9freh1gZWw-HpT8pulo2_nBH_bDtM37_eXbH10CbBW9hOrW5_QwkNNN-_CARrFQT19lKNBaPjZHYTpxhFJnIZD4yzmMNE62gvT9hADIwPLVSIWRI1HnETL-adJFkNuCsR08TF8ng0enYY_AzFA/s4032/IMG_8699%20Copy%20(1).JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVsHfp0w0yos5-F-RH1_208MPy0zAV-3mSOBGqk5yz9freh1gZWw-HpT8pulo2_nBH_bDtM37_eXbH10CbBW9hOrW5_QwkNNN-_CARrFQT19lKNBaPjZHYTpxhFJnIZD4yzmMNE62gvT9hADIwPLVSIWRI1HnETL-adJFkNuCsR08TF8ng0enYY_AzFA/w465-h349/IMG_8699%20Copy%20(1).JPG" width="465" /></a></div><p>This was awfully hard on this mama's heart. He'd been gone all summer working in the Florida Keys at Sea Base Boy Scout High Adventure camp, taking groups of Scouts out on 8-day island adventures. He was only home for two days before he had to go back to North Carolina for his senior year of college, and we couldn't even have a proper visit! He was a sweetie and came back over Labor Day, though, and we got to catch up then —and even get a couple good hikes in. </p><p>We also got to very briefly see our girl that weekend, as she came in for Caitlin's bachelorette party. At least we got to celebrate her 25th birthday with her.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOe_xdKmkB7aaT66UR_g9GZisvdLmynKb1WepQo5TmERdmKydPExNTz48yNG7cnFt48HNsqzswkgN58fEN1s1XCvsMPgzd4i47VHZK0rWMdtwltaWBq72ST6pj1vo4xzoCbRCRcfneWvlrV_8iYaO2qnQ9Al2ikdcc7kvEDQORk20RRxcLz_Zdf2FmQ/s3088/IMG_8766.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOe_xdKmkB7aaT66UR_g9GZisvdLmynKb1WepQo5TmERdmKydPExNTz48yNG7cnFt48HNsqzswkgN58fEN1s1XCvsMPgzd4i47VHZK0rWMdtwltaWBq72ST6pj1vo4xzoCbRCRcfneWvlrV_8iYaO2qnQ9Al2ikdcc7kvEDQORk20RRxcLz_Zdf2FmQ/w456-h342/IMG_8766.HEIC" width="456" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmyPoEOAF8nKX14fVZVFw61Le5OSOuygtEU2SBbHe__lHLx5Y22Dw7fwG-pPVtlewp-6JLEcgNC8PhxQ0uJQTyf7N5YhzjR6-K-BLoVvosn2KSOZ0jtbMXb7nt4kUbSEhUz46Jg3z78sVHL7EzPxJuhEiXxGEVzGK8_sDs_IPJBZ2ccECpBwjCPQd2g/s4032/IMG_8751.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmyPoEOAF8nKX14fVZVFw61Le5OSOuygtEU2SBbHe__lHLx5Y22Dw7fwG-pPVtlewp-6JLEcgNC8PhxQ0uJQTyf7N5YhzjR6-K-BLoVvosn2KSOZ0jtbMXb7nt4kUbSEhUz46Jg3z78sVHL7EzPxJuhEiXxGEVzGK8_sDs_IPJBZ2ccECpBwjCPQd2g/w472-h354/IMG_8751.HEIC" width="472" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLFU4tutqyTQmairYCN6D4ZxjtGmOxLw1QSs_Adh8DZbhq9Xd83-OrXJ5UsZVWiki3a0aqfXrooDlbWjx8SSTwrB--IYWZKUsw1MdiM9vMqBXr3qWNi_r3dpaNziamhPCnrnnax_UGVXggf04x1-aJkR78iUovQ7hkNqFCmIsPHc7evDEGmdE88F4Xg/s4032/IMG_8796%20Copy%20Copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLFU4tutqyTQmairYCN6D4ZxjtGmOxLw1QSs_Adh8DZbhq9Xd83-OrXJ5UsZVWiki3a0aqfXrooDlbWjx8SSTwrB--IYWZKUsw1MdiM9vMqBXr3qWNi_r3dpaNziamhPCnrnnax_UGVXggf04x1-aJkR78iUovQ7hkNqFCmIsPHc7evDEGmdE88F4Xg/w487-h365/IMG_8796%20Copy%20Copy.JPG" width="487" /></a></div><br /><p>I spent most of September and part of October cleaning out my parents' house. Oh man. What a job! We have some friends, a young family, who were moving back to town and desperately needed a place to live. The housing market is ridiculous around here, as it is most places. We had a three-bedroom house sitting "empty" just down the street. So... I dug in and packed away all my parents' belongings. Oh, it was hard work. It was physically exhausting and emotionally exhausting. Nearly every day for six weeks I spent hours there, cleaning and packing. The grandchildren claimed many items, and many more went to donation centers. So many memories. I wrote some during this time, trying to process the emotions. Here's just a tiny snippet I wrote one day: </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgryNv6Fz6DUdWJqZD0_M1y_PDj0fckwqYzuoMJofgyxPIyja4mTk3yT7Ng6fnwO-KJTY_0BIWXWLTeVMsihvlgoBUg7-zAyTdoNdXf0sJqEHv-SxnPQy1Lx2BUEiytEkO_0I0wyEwMWQgavPpmYgqPmqe40J0h16ezJ3XkGu-stsM9gdZ_6Wg2R4wZrQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="936" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgryNv6Fz6DUdWJqZD0_M1y_PDj0fckwqYzuoMJofgyxPIyja4mTk3yT7Ng6fnwO-KJTY_0BIWXWLTeVMsihvlgoBUg7-zAyTdoNdXf0sJqEHv-SxnPQy1Lx2BUEiytEkO_0I0wyEwMWQgavPpmYgqPmqe40J0h16ezJ3XkGu-stsM9gdZ_6Wg2R4wZrQ=w640-h180" width="640" /></a></div>I had to let it all go, although I have several boxes now in our attic of things I just couldn't part with. Mom had no idea what I was doing; I basically sneaked away each afternoon for a few hours. Eventually, I had the house nearly emptied and then had to clean. Phew. A house cared for by two people in their mid-90s, well... it needed lots of TLC and disinfectant, to say the least. I didn't do this all on my own; my brother Peter was there to help as much as he could, along with his sons. Others came now and then—Jesse and Summer, another brother, my nieces. But I was largely on my own.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V4wTJh1DySeUqDlGgyLZwyXk8Bh0O4EErNanvIxQSLz0BoZ-a395hjjj3N1jKLry9hIRooEbr2qQd-07koppflQhb59qA0_PpZMb_r-QzchACtJ1jLaPA7q85H_cfIQNdTvZQJTzMwrqHqznyIKh1OmfuGt2_rWPfMIBWn94vUTHoY6ZJY3wQUynCA/s4032/IMG_9064.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1V4wTJh1DySeUqDlGgyLZwyXk8Bh0O4EErNanvIxQSLz0BoZ-a395hjjj3N1jKLry9hIRooEbr2qQd-07koppflQhb59qA0_PpZMb_r-QzchACtJ1jLaPA7q85H_cfIQNdTvZQJTzMwrqHqznyIKh1OmfuGt2_rWPfMIBWn94vUTHoY6ZJY3wQUynCA/w470-h353/IMG_9064.HEIC" width="470" /></a></div><br /><p>This particular day in the photo above was one that I broke down and sobbed a lot. This is my mother's vanity, and it's one of those pieces of furniture that is childhood to me. How many days did I sit here on this small chair before the mirror, looking through the drawers at my mother's jewelry or brushing my hair or watching my mother? It was the furniture that really got me, that broke my heart and left me bereft and grieving. We kept most of the furniture, as it is Heywood-Wakefield, and Jesse and Summer will someday have it in their own home. I will love that so much.</p><p>Well, eventually in mid-October, it was all done, and the sweet family moved in. And I, at last, could rest. Someday I will write more about the complex emotions of packing up your parents' house. For now, I must keep those feelings at arm's distance.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3z1AF88ZAXo0m3RVgQW47JpDjXvjrRkI9-egoxqnL338wEsBK2rnlQA9vEAcKh2RcAlMJxCmKM7KdGyf5-m60MyGWg-QhudD3LeQVGV_nPHTM_kADBvgNCfNBdTbPFfA3lTlckn0l8Ebp8jGtCOamBNqJRszQwZX3p5pBY1QZA_652GZjJ0HEtHeX3Q/s3238/IMG_9207%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3238" data-original-width="3024" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3z1AF88ZAXo0m3RVgQW47JpDjXvjrRkI9-egoxqnL338wEsBK2rnlQA9vEAcKh2RcAlMJxCmKM7KdGyf5-m60MyGWg-QhudD3LeQVGV_nPHTM_kADBvgNCfNBdTbPFfA3lTlckn0l8Ebp8jGtCOamBNqJRszQwZX3p5pBY1QZA_652GZjJ0HEtHeX3Q/w362-h387/IMG_9207%20(1).jpg" width="362" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A note in my grandmother's handwriting, found in my mother's recipe box</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Randy and I managed to take a couple of weekends away in the fall. We camped at Linville Gorge in North Carolina in October. Duncan came over from his nearby college for an afternoon and hiked the gorge with us, and the next day we hiked to Table Rock.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tCBm2FEazS-EW6Qh9NqQ1cnSRWdcNppQJNzWn-VA8KCd1MASFKDvUxz_1ZxlqUgNk8IlZOIE2mz3jSACCaXf3NJhHvY15tPQ-0BhQcEFPupxfjTUXFJS4ejTtiO5CMksJ_5_jYhbRwnqeFIGNZMoP5pLOhpWJ10-SaqOGIuZBM3QZo3uOiK33SdLig/s3088/IMG_9292%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tCBm2FEazS-EW6Qh9NqQ1cnSRWdcNppQJNzWn-VA8KCd1MASFKDvUxz_1ZxlqUgNk8IlZOIE2mz3jSACCaXf3NJhHvY15tPQ-0BhQcEFPupxfjTUXFJS4ejTtiO5CMksJ_5_jYhbRwnqeFIGNZMoP5pLOhpWJ10-SaqOGIuZBM3QZo3uOiK33SdLig/w447-h335/IMG_9292%20(2).jpg" width="447" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1pf4dXOFUauKw-5NiW_Q2lA9IB8kzoO9tmVgwPGf6kqhc6Ty-pnYmx53XMPjeqIE7GfeAnKpbynrremaZEFQEQC1rJAiX9McLNMWp9kxECFOfBCUSbub_275IWKYiOd6bbih879LPAxjIiWN9SVUUxdcUBZtUBhHU5uQWgd7erubu1Q8mtYp0XypnA/s3088/IMG_9446%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="353" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja1pf4dXOFUauKw-5NiW_Q2lA9IB8kzoO9tmVgwPGf6kqhc6Ty-pnYmx53XMPjeqIE7GfeAnKpbynrremaZEFQEQC1rJAiX9McLNMWp9kxECFOfBCUSbub_275IWKYiOd6bbih879LPAxjIiWN9SVUUxdcUBZtUBhHU5uQWgd7erubu1Q8mtYp0XypnA/w470-h353/IMG_9446%20(2).jpg" width="470" /></a></div><br /><p>And in November, we took a quick weekend trip to hit another National Park: Mammoth Cave.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxX9aVOYhunuwX1cSZH6aIWVhf_WKKKcQK3bXgGj1NLvHDu1qcq8YRbLXQNaMP3gWJ6MFJfrCfz49hA6yN0X75cT0dAaDRTCEx_tb0J-5kJSFfiv5NYYSKbdlf1c94PmEGjCChHKZiraICUmgNXC4FhyHIupwqi9a2x3PECUw62n1TrwW9M1hKEoA0AQ/s3088/IMG_8132%20(1).JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxX9aVOYhunuwX1cSZH6aIWVhf_WKKKcQK3bXgGj1NLvHDu1qcq8YRbLXQNaMP3gWJ6MFJfrCfz49hA6yN0X75cT0dAaDRTCEx_tb0J-5kJSFfiv5NYYSKbdlf1c94PmEGjCChHKZiraICUmgNXC4FhyHIupwqi9a2x3PECUw62n1TrwW9M1hKEoA0AQ/w424-h318/IMG_8132%20(1).JPG" width="424" /></a></div><br /><p>It's getting harder and harder to take even a weekend away. Dad takes good care of Mom, but she gets very bored and often goes outside without his knowledge, which is a fall risk, or she just sleeps all day. So, we have to coordinate our trips with my brothers to make sure they can be caregivers in our place.</p><p>We were finally able to do our annual Soup and Pumpkin Party again this year. We'd cancelled it for the past two years because of Covid, but we felt safe hosting it at last. It was so good to see people—some we hadn't seen in a couple of years! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9V6fGATQ_9xt8oN0-ystDqawl_676T4KMrXapis8ftsZPKRJ9mrIHfhg-hcqvxHE3sdOtcQoRfCjI2dFB9ZYpzwOZHoOsNeYSV1r6xS2r9QYGWZEbGg1dnvjY-WtGqE7saJHGH_yUY_OcJxghEp1lzKkARDe5zgaMyR3meLkEVL6_3SJ1j-L64G7X3w/s4032/IMG_9768.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9V6fGATQ_9xt8oN0-ystDqawl_676T4KMrXapis8ftsZPKRJ9mrIHfhg-hcqvxHE3sdOtcQoRfCjI2dFB9ZYpzwOZHoOsNeYSV1r6xS2r9QYGWZEbGg1dnvjY-WtGqE7saJHGH_yUY_OcJxghEp1lzKkARDe5zgaMyR3meLkEVL6_3SJ1j-L64G7X3w/w327-h436/IMG_9768.HEIC" width="327" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2p1HtCs0QuJVPtOhjqqJeKxR8am8QfmRtGVaAYijQujXGIIsEyVOePVoMJFkGXSWt77TaPsD-sgPRpBFpSJbT2UZ0a0VRKlFMCVGZroLp6az2KVgTEci6psRl2fFpzNTk6DurEVBVFe6NtQXb7rQjI-qS9wvSX5xwpVd6tWSDbUQpYejSS9NXITIMA/s3864/IMG_9748%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2621" data-original-width="3864" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2p1HtCs0QuJVPtOhjqqJeKxR8am8QfmRtGVaAYijQujXGIIsEyVOePVoMJFkGXSWt77TaPsD-sgPRpBFpSJbT2UZ0a0VRKlFMCVGZroLp6az2KVgTEci6psRl2fFpzNTk6DurEVBVFe6NtQXb7rQjI-qS9wvSX5xwpVd6tWSDbUQpYejSS9NXITIMA/w474-h321/IMG_9748%20(1).jpg" width="474" /></a></div><p>We also got to see lots of friends at Caitlin's wedding, and of course, we got to have Laurel and Hunter home for a few days.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYzDVYqlKFNE6jv2T68i4TEzNdhrXCVEbmnxl9ucwTjCYExDYPms4MWziAX0Cey3G3e6_7KBAHPgQHQMcd-rsGuSdU5151vBddfeG8_THcitS6_ezDuFC9FX9fdwRMXZQxcBox6PnTEDJhPRI2FzKM8UrQ4FouE5RHv1Iw1BcXBFuMhBuUbiSq610J5A/s4032/IMG_5033%20(1).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="471" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYzDVYqlKFNE6jv2T68i4TEzNdhrXCVEbmnxl9ucwTjCYExDYPms4MWziAX0Cey3G3e6_7KBAHPgQHQMcd-rsGuSdU5151vBddfeG8_THcitS6_ezDuFC9FX9fdwRMXZQxcBox6PnTEDJhPRI2FzKM8UrQ4FouE5RHv1Iw1BcXBFuMhBuUbiSq610J5A/w353-h471/IMG_5033%20(1).jpg" width="353" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYz3_xfKIssysDHnkkkoCJAJTvh5ha_B3cpQmzq3iBmXu7aBJQEkBhWqYEIrcd-AhRa03Epf6F3qCwExSJ-HWLQPSkCLu_5FJGZYVtdmffb1yqqvITgpLnE9WsUiyUJsmWcm8WEgENFYNOCna13WZtgPdQp0tUjaTL2aZV_hvjtKii4IM7vno5cihebg/s3296/IMG_8036%20(1).JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2305" data-original-width="3296" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYz3_xfKIssysDHnkkkoCJAJTvh5ha_B3cpQmzq3iBmXu7aBJQEkBhWqYEIrcd-AhRa03Epf6F3qCwExSJ-HWLQPSkCLu_5FJGZYVtdmffb1yqqvITgpLnE9WsUiyUJsmWcm8WEgENFYNOCna13WZtgPdQp0tUjaTL2aZV_hvjtKii4IM7vno5cihebg/w463-h324/IMG_8036%20(1).JPG" width="463" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl879rct-9Ig0fA1m9LH-qASX6x4QgolaQHz4gk8MtKZGicnzV4SQO98J1aDNb7ZSCkMurmjszIEtRxLF0oyUVNKme4k-lS3_Zd9Nd_ifCr1wGZOUYEOS7iUeEgteOJhE8qOm1qQyn0YjlNqin3at5KEUuCciHbcoHHXSXpVA5H0ZqXWEBph9vkIeu6g/s4032/IMG_9572%20(1).HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl879rct-9Ig0fA1m9LH-qASX6x4QgolaQHz4gk8MtKZGicnzV4SQO98J1aDNb7ZSCkMurmjszIEtRxLF0oyUVNKme4k-lS3_Zd9Nd_ifCr1wGZOUYEOS7iUeEgteOJhE8qOm1qQyn0YjlNqin3at5KEUuCciHbcoHHXSXpVA5H0ZqXWEBph9vkIeu6g/w427-h320/IMG_9572%20(1).HEIC" width="427" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvwPYDFbsHSOnRmqaCf4Hn25bUFEvpr65iVbpcTcCOctdsoJX55Be_yyx0VBRPXXS7U7_VfMF2n4wGzmP11zSJjfxotFfluzBV6AVzYt3HgaMQ2MxYpUYPCeXyhfkGn6KeGcnZ1b-iHwTYBs_yMNRo5mKZQR7ySyrb73YlOo2-VqBjvIR8crjDznn0g/s4032/IMG_9584%20(1).HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSvwPYDFbsHSOnRmqaCf4Hn25bUFEvpr65iVbpcTcCOctdsoJX55Be_yyx0VBRPXXS7U7_VfMF2n4wGzmP11zSJjfxotFfluzBV6AVzYt3HgaMQ2MxYpUYPCeXyhfkGn6KeGcnZ1b-iHwTYBs_yMNRo5mKZQR7ySyrb73YlOo2-VqBjvIR8crjDznn0g/w354-h472/IMG_9584%20(1).HEIC" width="354" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>In early November, Mom landed in the hospital again. She had another UTI, and this time she was given some kind of opiate that made her hallucinate for days. It was horrible! I felt really desperate then, wondering if this is how our life would be. But she came out of it after a few days and is just now finishing up with the physical therapist.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNXJjxBoyr2fplfE7QiSjgCFhqDxKp1BJEjXpoo4gkU9zgPB37cbK9qwPuiOPcp6CETSeyZUhWNSHHUMBhbgQ2onMOjGN73rZJFAq0W2dbcDr2G135A6AZdONfvqjutqbILBlShmSwmafeElVbTlheqbReDYqRTFa3NfpjrtExwfTkgBI72MFAR08Zw/s3905/IMG_0056.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2836" data-original-width="3905" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNXJjxBoyr2fplfE7QiSjgCFhqDxKp1BJEjXpoo4gkU9zgPB37cbK9qwPuiOPcp6CETSeyZUhWNSHHUMBhbgQ2onMOjGN73rZJFAq0W2dbcDr2G135A6AZdONfvqjutqbILBlShmSwmafeElVbTlheqbReDYqRTFa3NfpjrtExwfTkgBI72MFAR08Zw/w478-h347/IMG_0056.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><br /><p>All the kids were home at Thanksgiving, and we got new family pictures done! Here's one of my favorites:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UpxwTzCDxvrp1us0jALT34pj-pIzf3K8XDAK0_L5kaTVHUsdIgdrEI5uMgq19JYly1vjoUrYziXAF1WCpvJ9MHOc2DLl3xn-dajr11RvrV2iVqZ9YbdVwA2neoYlJzE4cHn_xDneMesIme64n-msNcW-Nxh7wiVEluociK40QDXQ7naRvQWKito0SQ/s4800/SmallFamily2022-71.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3277" data-original-width="4800" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5UpxwTzCDxvrp1us0jALT34pj-pIzf3K8XDAK0_L5kaTVHUsdIgdrEI5uMgq19JYly1vjoUrYziXAF1WCpvJ9MHOc2DLl3xn-dajr11RvrV2iVqZ9YbdVwA2neoYlJzE4cHn_xDneMesIme64n-msNcW-Nxh7wiVEluociK40QDXQ7naRvQWKito0SQ/w640-h436/SmallFamily2022-71.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We had a lovely Thanksgiving week together, squeezing in lots of fun and plenty of relaxing on the couch. And everyone was back just a few weeks later for Christmas. Again, lots of good walks, talks, eating, and lounging.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8dSNhYEyGbBvKzcQQDBhaR1SslCr15ZukcZhe2vtjSWdP6hFGR1CnMReeKNF5okdeMxUtIbcUX3pqeA6umJwcm0OTxRMk_XWRRHh4lxo8wun_3SSLNq7Kv3FU2cNSRm9BQoci5uPLlonJwnxFfOkzueyZJariNjFjtW7ORXpmcQw8QkecRNDarnxgw/s4032/IMG_8186.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="341" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8dSNhYEyGbBvKzcQQDBhaR1SslCr15ZukcZhe2vtjSWdP6hFGR1CnMReeKNF5okdeMxUtIbcUX3pqeA6umJwcm0OTxRMk_XWRRHh4lxo8wun_3SSLNq7Kv3FU2cNSRm9BQoci5uPLlonJwnxFfOkzueyZJariNjFjtW7ORXpmcQw8QkecRNDarnxgw/w454-h341/IMG_8186.JPG" width="454" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Randy's uncle from Hawaii came in for a quick visit</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhcdSIUeSsN0DwoyFr4s9S3pKMIXA9HEQrjyE5r4dRDZQRKWhdQjXl1cNa3KKFk31IGEFwbjGNyKraUdA5Ah5PQAju1ztK3LemvfEJ1Y0jowUYxeAoLacBRiNM8bvSH5NG9bsTYS0AWyZYolt-Pe_K_pTi-poQ7u13Roifo29jgUI6fbOVzmq9ed13g/s3031/IMG_0439.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2273" data-original-width="3031" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhcdSIUeSsN0DwoyFr4s9S3pKMIXA9HEQrjyE5r4dRDZQRKWhdQjXl1cNa3KKFk31IGEFwbjGNyKraUdA5Ah5PQAju1ztK3LemvfEJ1Y0jowUYxeAoLacBRiNM8bvSH5NG9bsTYS0AWyZYolt-Pe_K_pTi-poQ7u13Roifo29jgUI6fbOVzmq9ed13g/w409-h307/IMG_0439.jpg" width="409" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmX0GB-BplAVERHutZTE_lKXtxYVHDl4nzJYX7nnxWRkQtK95PZUTXmHL00qHFLym0g_vpXI1kvyi_xhXDqAqqWG6CrSrxVlsfpR1bZCiNuYq4ciN5ZqfcA36xxs2EclXjrvYQVfxxtaKuGzgaE4aDj-iFngzci_F8iZ5YSaAkHy3Mu06hQ9qnfSpQA/s4032/IMG_0418.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="471" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlmX0GB-BplAVERHutZTE_lKXtxYVHDl4nzJYX7nnxWRkQtK95PZUTXmHL00qHFLym0g_vpXI1kvyi_xhXDqAqqWG6CrSrxVlsfpR1bZCiNuYq4ciN5ZqfcA36xxs2EclXjrvYQVfxxtaKuGzgaE4aDj-iFngzci_F8iZ5YSaAkHy3Mu06hQ9qnfSpQA/w353-h471/IMG_0418.jpg" width="353" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Christmas baby turned 22</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHHM4SZecl2gejt6hvIhamT8YVHL1SgV5whCSncZB1cfNrLDburMNHy6qXmvtrAvYcbaaq_ngnUu1SNyu_of4KqI_cvFTKaxY1qd3xuHy0Hv3ht3Gz_cheAwGV4pa2aGOci4p_Y42y2RTgnPInS5xrFiHwv3VPcUYFe1uVn2jQ31l7bDiwoWxRqIIieA/s4032/IMG_0490.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHHM4SZecl2gejt6hvIhamT8YVHL1SgV5whCSncZB1cfNrLDburMNHy6qXmvtrAvYcbaaq_ngnUu1SNyu_of4KqI_cvFTKaxY1qd3xuHy0Hv3ht3Gz_cheAwGV4pa2aGOci4p_Y42y2RTgnPInS5xrFiHwv3VPcUYFe1uVn2jQ31l7bDiwoWxRqIIieA/w361-h481/IMG_0490.jpg" width="361" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow for our Florida kids!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKIluoAu7a2IInyLtEmApA9IiiHrd0ekQpJAEFWEZvxrWamHyH_birrmsXdvPB16efOAbSMtuWI3BoXbGiT9nzIxfRBAjTsYRYaqQOddYZ_8VDYmeWnZw1K9yZ0IqMnYjR-71DHm9H_J2o4gsbR8HQ7_HuWkW07AnJWpK6z9p2o6RGlzoyGrtgewSdEA/s3088/IMG_8204.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKIluoAu7a2IInyLtEmApA9IiiHrd0ekQpJAEFWEZvxrWamHyH_birrmsXdvPB16efOAbSMtuWI3BoXbGiT9nzIxfRBAjTsYRYaqQOddYZ_8VDYmeWnZw1K9yZ0IqMnYjR-71DHm9H_J2o4gsbR8HQ7_HuWkW07AnJWpK6z9p2o6RGlzoyGrtgewSdEA/w460-h345/IMG_8204.JPG" width="460" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got a good snowy hike in</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>The kids enjoyed spending lots of time with my parents, but they also visited Randy's mom. That was a hard but sweet time for them. It's been a long time since most of them have seen her, and she's rapidly declined mentally and physically in the past several months. She's now on hospice care.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYecM7JXrGMEyekJDr48QrOqb15C7TSEF83UqH6tjd8tGHQbG_m2EmFE9dFIvooIBHizTQcpfX5_ZHyRcq00ZhNvYl5Nqcgun0TSGuPHoWwu1urgN1K5mKMFrhr6sbOQymR3ajJXpJhpYnFeto0In92H0NaJNhKsmvqceVwvrzL13R7cdV57GMXSbFhQ/s3735/IMG_0557.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2756" data-original-width="3735" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYecM7JXrGMEyekJDr48QrOqb15C7TSEF83UqH6tjd8tGHQbG_m2EmFE9dFIvooIBHizTQcpfX5_ZHyRcq00ZhNvYl5Nqcgun0TSGuPHoWwu1urgN1K5mKMFrhr6sbOQymR3ajJXpJhpYnFeto0In92H0NaJNhKsmvqceVwvrzL13R7cdV57GMXSbFhQ/w456-h336/IMG_0557.jpg" width="456" /></a></div><br /><p>Throughout the year, our daughter-in-law has been making amazing strides as an independent artist in Knoxville. She participated in the annual Chalk Walk in April, which she's been doing since she was in elementary school. She's now one of the featured artists on the Walk of Fame. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRGSgHRjcPwOP0cwEDqAoCVZEgWkiEZR6F9-w1gmVQNgwPFxOksx-tbRTxta8KhruAi_Jf9wSucPHd8ErlGOpjaU0KC8fZL2bXRcrR74t_yWGvPwjz5pe-YaNA9c5rw131OIGftdhypXNRgX71g_g6dHIvswD-dgwb18-_r2PT-n7VFuigsYT_WwwxxA/s4032/IMG_5796.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRGSgHRjcPwOP0cwEDqAoCVZEgWkiEZR6F9-w1gmVQNgwPFxOksx-tbRTxta8KhruAi_Jf9wSucPHd8ErlGOpjaU0KC8fZL2bXRcrR74t_yWGvPwjz5pe-YaNA9c5rw131OIGftdhypXNRgX71g_g6dHIvswD-dgwb18-_r2PT-n7VFuigsYT_WwwxxA/w459-h344/IMG_5796.jpg" width="459" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLs23gNYrp0Xh7kYZHCeagV1MUVpp1dSuQiKWlr1HEsWhnBIry19WMLZzF4pvMer6dfORpAUyZYxFn2ReDm8L-y40XGcXcth9odEucqpH7xWd5boQSKIGgTFEQDrX619JXA7jfCRF0lQNru-8eULwrbFwSgQrHeux0x1KJBw1Y-Uz6wDtFcvuY6hKGNg/s3722/IMG_5833.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2791" data-original-width="3722" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLs23gNYrp0Xh7kYZHCeagV1MUVpp1dSuQiKWlr1HEsWhnBIry19WMLZzF4pvMer6dfORpAUyZYxFn2ReDm8L-y40XGcXcth9odEucqpH7xWd5boQSKIGgTFEQDrX619JXA7jfCRF0lQNru-8eULwrbFwSgQrHeux0x1KJBw1Y-Uz6wDtFcvuY6hKGNg/w495-h371/IMG_5833.jpg" width="495" /></a></div><br /><p>She also has a mural in Knoxville's Strong Alley, a rather iconic photo spot in downtown.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcN7fEDkzGZ2OeKFujA2j4iIFxIEjrhDW5OYqJ4qkyYcn_4ktCgayNTFfbLk_tOOKWzqKaZQ-9TbaoeAXMkJHgF6b4reWUsAL7BwFqDlgMyl_WCrEVDmklSp8Tw5TPpSr6PY6cNxdXnlk0hsm8pgRBjG_eShTYiO-RUftqyg-Ck7dIw03BlN5yK8_gA/s1440/6F209D62-18E1-4D76-B77B-7046CF40FD87.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1085" data-original-width="1440" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcN7fEDkzGZ2OeKFujA2j4iIFxIEjrhDW5OYqJ4qkyYcn_4ktCgayNTFfbLk_tOOKWzqKaZQ-9TbaoeAXMkJHgF6b4reWUsAL7BwFqDlgMyl_WCrEVDmklSp8Tw5TPpSr6PY6cNxdXnlk0hsm8pgRBjG_eShTYiO-RUftqyg-Ck7dIw03BlN5yK8_gA/w460-h346/6F209D62-18E1-4D76-B77B-7046CF40FD87.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><br /><p>It's exciting to watch her as she grows as an artist and a businesswoman!</p><p>And so that's where we are now. It's been a year of highs (Alaska!) and lows (Mom's hospitalizations). I'm adjusting, still, to life as a caregiver. I'm so honored to have my parents here with us. It is a precious, sacred time. I have been so blessed this year to be surrounded by friends. Our weekly hikes in Cades Cove were life-affirming, and I can't wait to do it again. My children are all well, and I'm excited for all of them as they figure out next steps. And through all of the changes, I have the love of my life by my side. It's a good, good life. </p><p>Here's to 2023!</p></div>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-2823917382163709522022-08-28T16:03:00.005-04:002022-08-28T16:03:38.670-04:00The Loop<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wleklfOr0Z8JLRz9Tb3d6fr7NT-uOMNLt6HRPgy5p4OEmvFI0tRCLzcc0Fb1O7aA6Ds4ucxEz_Q2nRoIJsem17HSy0LnCJPncJunYUyNAqLt3S3_Y2jghTl5HBGKREjkIpf-85w9V4Z42_b_Xr2OS43qTmaCkRL8b_XGcnsLtTaIBOyqVCaZd7u7yQ/s4032/IMG_6436.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_wleklfOr0Z8JLRz9Tb3d6fr7NT-uOMNLt6HRPgy5p4OEmvFI0tRCLzcc0Fb1O7aA6Ds4ucxEz_Q2nRoIJsem17HSy0LnCJPncJunYUyNAqLt3S3_Y2jghTl5HBGKREjkIpf-85w9V4Z42_b_Xr2OS43qTmaCkRL8b_XGcnsLtTaIBOyqVCaZd7u7yQ/w640-h480/IMG_6436.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>"Coleslaw for breakfast?" Mom asked. "I've never had coleslaw for breakfast."</p><p>"It's not breakfast, Mom," I said for the 15th time in the 30 minutes since Mom had been awake. "It's 6 o'clock at night. It's supper."</p><p>"What? No!" she said. "It's early in the morning!"</p><p>"You slept nearly the whole day," I remind her. "And now it's time for supper!"</p><p>She takes a bite of her coleslaw. "This is delicious!" Chews a minute. "I've never had coleslaw for breakfast."</p><p>It's a circular conversation. Anyone with aging parents—with or without dementia—is familiar with looping: this repetition of ideas, questions, stories. </p><p>The stories always begin as if this is the very first time she's ever told them. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>"My mother was a good cook like you are. She used to make food for Dad's store and people would line up to buy it." </i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>"I loved to sit on the porch swing with Mama. She lived right across from the junk yard, and we'd watch people bring their junk."</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>"I loved my Dad. His store was across a busy road and I ran away to get to him, but I got stuck in the mud before I got to the road. I could have died."</i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>"I used to love to watch Shorty kill the cows. He'd thump 'em on the head and they'd fall over."</i></p></blockquote><p>These stories are having their last telling. Who will tell them after she's gone? I may tell my own children and future grandchildren how my mother told these stories, but I won't tell them with the same first-person gusto. I don't hold these memories myself, these memories of folks long, long gone, of a time when a woman would sell angel food cakes and German potato salad at a neighborhood grocery.</p><p>The looping is endless. Oh, we know all the right things to do. We smile. We answer a question, again and again. We listen to a story and smile. We exude patience, love, and kindness. </p><p>But let's be honest: The looping drives us bananas. The looping is hard, and we just want to shout: I JUST TOLD YOU THAT! or YES! YOU'VE TOLD ME THAT STORY 600 TIMES BEFORE!</p><p>Hang in there, caregivers of aging parents. You're not alone. </p><p>I repeat: you're not alone.</p><p>(Did I mention... you're not alone?)</p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-80505775477654321782022-06-04T08:51:00.001-04:002022-06-04T08:51:03.375-04:00Books Read in May<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvM3nS0hzPuC2XYmBCQVoj0J6WfqPysyv2f7AZbluL3AzRlkAkj92bfjDBQLoF1oaooLT927IRha7FE6XVZRppuvO9eFwR__tUQCRffymQjI_6dLhdtY4VlmzIHhpvicQk14xp9IHCOiE-pMr2UXZu7x-FdPlfuQyHSNZOfcbaidEQWVsehR--ThOCQ/s3264/march%20reads.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1595" data-original-width="3264" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvM3nS0hzPuC2XYmBCQVoj0J6WfqPysyv2f7AZbluL3AzRlkAkj92bfjDBQLoF1oaooLT927IRha7FE6XVZRppuvO9eFwR__tUQCRffymQjI_6dLhdtY4VlmzIHhpvicQk14xp9IHCOiE-pMr2UXZu7x-FdPlfuQyHSNZOfcbaidEQWVsehR--ThOCQ/w468-h228/march%20reads.jpg" width="468" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><h2 style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Rock Paper Scissors</i> by Alice Feeney. </span></h2><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This was a fun psychological thriller. Lots of secrets and some fun plot twists with plenty of eye-rolling moments. Not a masterpiece but a good in-between read.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></p><h2 style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>The Woman They Could Not Silence</i> by Kate Moore. </span></h2><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Subtitled "One Woman, Her Incredible Fight for Freedom, and the Men Who Tried to Make Her Disappear," this is the nonfiction story of a mother of six in the mid-1800s whose husband, a Presbyterian minister, decided she had way too many opinions. And so, because he could, he committed her to the asylum. After all, she had the audacity to challenge his religious and political beliefs; thus, she was clearly insane. The author uses the letters and journals of Elizabeth Packard in telling her incredible story of fighting not only for her freedom, but for justice for women incarcerated by their husbands across the U.S. This was an amazing story, both frustrating and inspiring, and the short afterword reminds us that “difficult” women continue to be silenced. Highly recommended!</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><h2 style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>The Reading List </i>by Sara Nisha Adams. </span></h2><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This will definitely be a contender for my favorite book of the year. A series of people in a community find a list: “In case you need this” with a series of book titles. The titles draw them to the library, where they all interact at some point, and as they read, they find healing and connection. I laughed, I cried, I wanted to curate my own reading list and stuff it in mailboxes, slide it into library books, and pin in on bulletin boards. </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">What would be on my reading list? What would be on yours? Great fodder for a book club discussion!</span></p><p><br /></p><h3 style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></h3><p class="p1" style="font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-46958106194010099592022-05-29T09:20:00.002-04:002022-05-29T09:20:38.082-04:00We have a lawyer!<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-38iwyjTIfOBda215Sm5F8pFe3UI6IcTzk9QqDui5o6Vj-O1r1mEv--k4CqeLCmA6f3MXDxsnI6UmqOrucgHwaGfK572Ol_CRgcgCySGHXvzL4rk30s6Z7ooTdt84rL6BSCg6wSjesVzc_zo_DccO_syljv-MvEZPrLUWWPVBnNBzlGDWGVMKZybjA/s3644/IMG_6361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2838" data-original-width="3644" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih-38iwyjTIfOBda215Sm5F8pFe3UI6IcTzk9QqDui5o6Vj-O1r1mEv--k4CqeLCmA6f3MXDxsnI6UmqOrucgHwaGfK572Ol_CRgcgCySGHXvzL4rk30s6Z7ooTdt84rL6BSCg6wSjesVzc_zo_DccO_syljv-MvEZPrLUWWPVBnNBzlGDWGVMKZybjA/w640-h498/IMG_6361.jpg" width="640" /></a> </p><p>When I started blogging, he was 12. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYWZnq76S68yPES5yN4kN5PeLVFwq1fG3FBjVQtEHxQ-jra0M5GhPtGqssWj5Ceo03bV0F0gUxC_aBnMSPwuNlC-dmRHi1HTFcreDn8U4GnJCskj71BpwGnTBek_scipyhzNodcP5zbQGyE1YGwHABtQLNaW6pmEx8zcepECIy8ks6hU20769G9XF2w/s1600/j12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYWZnq76S68yPES5yN4kN5PeLVFwq1fG3FBjVQtEHxQ-jra0M5GhPtGqssWj5Ceo03bV0F0gUxC_aBnMSPwuNlC-dmRHi1HTFcreDn8U4GnJCskj71BpwGnTBek_scipyhzNodcP5zbQGyE1YGwHABtQLNaW6pmEx8zcepECIy8ks6hU20769G9XF2w/w480-h640/j12.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>Then <a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2007/03/march-27-2006-thirteen.html" target="_blank">he became a teenager</a> and then, in a blink, <a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2009/03/jesse-16.html" target="_blank">turned sixteen</a>. He was an<a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2010/05/my-eagle.html" target="_blank"> Eagle Scout</a> and then <a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2010/06/wordless-wednesday-my-first-graduate.html" target="_blank">graduated from high school</a> and <a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2014/05/weekly-wrap-up_9.html" target="_blank">college</a>. That all seems like forever ago.</p><p>Last July, he and Summer got married in Las Vegas, and we celebrated together at a big family campout when they returned.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnoXqMtRRL6VF_7wndUJOF26c3em_BFfAgPbAphUcklazij5wy6oIv3zM0sJGR5vWlZnogeNAXVogkj1OH5dJG9-qgc5w9Wda-KkrxG8t-Nifgkkz07-fSbjkgNW0aYNfYZUGUlVZo8Epnc_9lTLoRl8jIRepE-wCHWJE7s4faZ4fC0hZ8qQCP3v3uw/s4032/IMG_2745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnoXqMtRRL6VF_7wndUJOF26c3em_BFfAgPbAphUcklazij5wy6oIv3zM0sJGR5vWlZnogeNAXVogkj1OH5dJG9-qgc5w9Wda-KkrxG8t-Nifgkkz07-fSbjkgNW0aYNfYZUGUlVZo8Epnc_9lTLoRl8jIRepE-wCHWJE7s4faZ4fC0hZ8qQCP3v3uw/w640-h480/IMG_2745.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zooming after their wedding!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFyGQxrTa3qMQKM42jPqjRpy2A5c_gS9-mFnWijFt5GBW6ibM5YPIu7zytphUTQc0FeFhhW6bJ6wOH_JKTlEBx4TkJbQXedga3zRsHiFNArTpDt2-2JRFz7LWMA8rFLNRS7h5rLBxDNH8sFOL8wUFL751q_xb4CRPVjhae2I6eiGm5oIMem4Y81c5fw/s4032/IMG_2831%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFyGQxrTa3qMQKM42jPqjRpy2A5c_gS9-mFnWijFt5GBW6ibM5YPIu7zytphUTQc0FeFhhW6bJ6wOH_JKTlEBx4TkJbQXedga3zRsHiFNArTpDt2-2JRFz7LWMA8rFLNRS7h5rLBxDNH8sFOL8wUFL751q_xb4CRPVjhae2I6eiGm5oIMem4Y81c5fw/w480-h640/IMG_2831%20(1).jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family camping week, post wedding celebration</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>And now, he's a lawyer. While he was in law school, he worked on the law review journal and clerked at a law firm, and he graduated with highest honors—in the top 5% of graduates. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInaNcDRfmVY8V04e7JaR4Bgi2zuCx12PSgpu5NryK6BPJQw48fPnBSQwuSFcj9lk9QS6UfqG_ylI0TuGWvc4mclhFolUJaebtqRoJsHFTXuyFtqWBoAux3VnCowEZZrqNgBhOpqUO60cf-Uk62Ttk61chJIzzlA6DGsAkjHveiZtJa8bABYeq8NvXaw/s4032/IMG_6277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInaNcDRfmVY8V04e7JaR4Bgi2zuCx12PSgpu5NryK6BPJQw48fPnBSQwuSFcj9lk9QS6UfqG_ylI0TuGWvc4mclhFolUJaebtqRoJsHFTXuyFtqWBoAux3VnCowEZZrqNgBhOpqUO60cf-Uk62Ttk61chJIzzlA6DGsAkjHveiZtJa8bABYeq8NvXaw/w480-h640/IMG_6277.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmQ0VP7Iux4IOFbbMSt5C5bsldpWTBdHJ0_c28b4XZr_OQ5uwV7utBFnVBWKEsBv3x2c4E8_hZv0ZArJtPGiOlqywWOXPc4HFYrP1W1AqpTHv9Cor0qnNxbao2Tr4CuygI-KtVBDjTSff3Rhdh757mZHjqkBYbPTDCjWMfqqR5uL0tvSCUVoqvGMsow/s3618/IMG_6279.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2645" data-original-width="3618" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFmQ0VP7Iux4IOFbbMSt5C5bsldpWTBdHJ0_c28b4XZr_OQ5uwV7utBFnVBWKEsBv3x2c4E8_hZv0ZArJtPGiOlqywWOXPc4HFYrP1W1AqpTHv9Cor0qnNxbao2Tr4CuygI-KtVBDjTSff3Rhdh757mZHjqkBYbPTDCjWMfqqR5uL0tvSCUVoqvGMsow/w640-h468/IMG_6279.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbUIu_5XoarQsP3yagh8hxVusz7aUB_PXc2DmKP7Ka88y43-6tGiXrYCGrUbmi4NHSkG5bh46zCrQJNzNeIcxRpfXGwA_uTS8RKFRyzAV-ngomPl_cJeE5SnRJJls9skyk_URF9UBctfT-WMkFTqQl7IG7Vy5bT8AhhcJ8EdzKg4GDJu5N1PS2uzdtw/s3536/IMG_6291%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3536" data-original-width="2691" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbUIu_5XoarQsP3yagh8hxVusz7aUB_PXc2DmKP7Ka88y43-6tGiXrYCGrUbmi4NHSkG5bh46zCrQJNzNeIcxRpfXGwA_uTS8RKFRyzAV-ngomPl_cJeE5SnRJJls9skyk_URF9UBctfT-WMkFTqQl7IG7Vy5bT8AhhcJ8EdzKg4GDJu5N1PS2uzdtw/w488-h640/IMG_6291%20(1).jpg" width="488" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEiefyA8WLH9icRdIxBCAegAT6UNonXcWW4u5nFc2pwxQHL1eDoMp3Mo9lH9p9DCza874zbYMQOEpznWSh15iapNJZ52Rs2TpelSWWWbU1qnJJSziXyQJQMstKSRazxPKDPqa0obRWKp47R7BBCGWfg1zjq5kZcD5x8KM4hDXQtUVgeJLDMRMU7HzjA/s2939/IMG_6351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2399" data-original-width="2939" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEiefyA8WLH9icRdIxBCAegAT6UNonXcWW4u5nFc2pwxQHL1eDoMp3Mo9lH9p9DCza874zbYMQOEpznWSh15iapNJZ52Rs2TpelSWWWbU1qnJJSziXyQJQMstKSRazxPKDPqa0obRWKp47R7BBCGWfg1zjq5kZcD5x8KM4hDXQtUVgeJLDMRMU7HzjA/w640-h522/IMG_6351.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TqrviL8x1zC80Cbgu7m0-C4H45v30OZNCzcyD01_PTAueWI4zcNsiY2qEVURWl5NPwEoiIVTeIZM-g7D1sH-QZmSY2g2J7dOAHSTdoMlMXwMGc3nmZ0cNCz47IxkAxh1tsPVu7S2mCr35WmfOBfG-vEsW5vEqf2ndZWqaQ-GsMZAVdp7VTWIpWxb_Q/s4032/IMG_6358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2TqrviL8x1zC80Cbgu7m0-C4H45v30OZNCzcyD01_PTAueWI4zcNsiY2qEVURWl5NPwEoiIVTeIZM-g7D1sH-QZmSY2g2J7dOAHSTdoMlMXwMGc3nmZ0cNCz47IxkAxh1tsPVu7S2mCr35WmfOBfG-vEsW5vEqf2ndZWqaQ-GsMZAVdp7VTWIpWxb_Q/w480-h640/IMG_6358.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEizy5q036JYJpM0HsoZ6z3M1liPXduqr9iDu5-RRbZ7U9CgXHhGlmQfL3vUwMz4eb2DV5GKmpoMQpsngSbj5nkhibIWnbNoygWXL5zfEeaOWBpoFurhaSw5bDBHI3F3mPQmnEwkNGmGizvtN4CwnKkNM9D5hi0H-hfVGSFi4lPfkUA2oY-cZHfLWQA/s4004/IMG_6378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2811" data-original-width="4004" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjEizy5q036JYJpM0HsoZ6z3M1liPXduqr9iDu5-RRbZ7U9CgXHhGlmQfL3vUwMz4eb2DV5GKmpoMQpsngSbj5nkhibIWnbNoygWXL5zfEeaOWBpoFurhaSw5bDBHI3F3mPQmnEwkNGmGizvtN4CwnKkNM9D5hi0H-hfVGSFi4lPfkUA2oY-cZHfLWQA/w640-h450/IMG_6378.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirea9VK3Y7dJwaXNfLgKzH1Kv-YD4DvX2RX_eu6bdx8mnI5nmuO2VgIzTt75H-4KHnmd34vv_K71f9iJ8yp5jzaAdP_73sO_uAffWGyw-ttHOO-QCy8NPMDf2_p-KME5k5u-El36Gvbf5ot-NBqtSW7V893eFsKzVcwCYgYbQWAYQJGHxPrnwSeNNCKQ/s4032/IMG_6385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirea9VK3Y7dJwaXNfLgKzH1Kv-YD4DvX2RX_eu6bdx8mnI5nmuO2VgIzTt75H-4KHnmd34vv_K71f9iJ8yp5jzaAdP_73sO_uAffWGyw-ttHOO-QCy8NPMDf2_p-KME5k5u-El36Gvbf5ot-NBqtSW7V893eFsKzVcwCYgYbQWAYQJGHxPrnwSeNNCKQ/w640-h480/IMG_6385.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCHye-k1LeqCSLS4jUYI2sBXd30Rd8pFTIy3FDIyFRb8Vl7TasOWqtz0z1FBTbSI5DWyip7hMZtthMVhXkUEzeGxzFRcu6rkDzdu4Eh35So_u6brbfvr71gOJ0DXgkrIowaPbyjX7m3OlYpdJ0i0TrbWRCTeYpXpIkdwsCJqq01y7BtNzaz4IsnI6ZQ/s3088/IMG_6391.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCHye-k1LeqCSLS4jUYI2sBXd30Rd8pFTIy3FDIyFRb8Vl7TasOWqtz0z1FBTbSI5DWyip7hMZtthMVhXkUEzeGxzFRcu6rkDzdu4Eh35So_u6brbfvr71gOJ0DXgkrIowaPbyjX7m3OlYpdJ0i0TrbWRCTeYpXpIkdwsCJqq01y7BtNzaz4IsnI6ZQ/w640-h480/IMG_6391.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>You could say we're a little proud, yep.</p><p>"What's next?" That's what everyone asks. There is only one answer: pass the bar exam. </p><p>Stay tuned! That happens in late July with results by October. Until then: he'll be studying.</p><p><br /></p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-85654635576180628742022-04-30T15:49:00.003-04:002022-04-30T15:49:19.386-04:00Home at Last<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTPkm-sp7XZKFBcsfH4cdVT9axvkyuzLh-iLzcdqWLln8KpSyGMraC1lbiRNVSOg7ZR7Qyf3_CyX0tBB3YCbPhss0tbtvrkISpUdfYT8yI_YXvKvVIlt1mWrNzuAFvYmrmckdbwhQ_R-L7YQiA_q-7lW4yE1GOVKks-ksNWU2_iUVSGBDyrhmESBd2g/s4032/IMG_1505.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTPkm-sp7XZKFBcsfH4cdVT9axvkyuzLh-iLzcdqWLln8KpSyGMraC1lbiRNVSOg7ZR7Qyf3_CyX0tBB3YCbPhss0tbtvrkISpUdfYT8yI_YXvKvVIlt1mWrNzuAFvYmrmckdbwhQ_R-L7YQiA_q-7lW4yE1GOVKks-ksNWU2_iUVSGBDyrhmESBd2g/w640-h480/IMG_1505.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> Twenty-two years ago we bought our first house. We didn't have a huge list of requirements. We were thrilled just to have our own house after living in rentals for the first 11 years of marriage. But we did want a house that had an attached apartment—not a basement one, but one with plenty of light and its own entrance. Our dream was always to have my parents spend time with us. For the first 10 years, my parents were snowbirds. They came to TN from NY from November through March of each year. It was a wonderful time; we had what we always wanted: that our children would know their grandparents.<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGhDLbD7BzpEwKZcvrXYSVj7_y4Fs4ti4hYeHKLClAZwm89clcg7avVneBKYMVebPp2OlpZzoeikfNvYeyH57ShAqKKslclKEm5GSd8lSsmW-9FmAruMyU472Hl0DAL6lFlXm-D-dO34aGH9-HIFDciGBWL3hIlEiF7XQOR7E66O0yc7MO15Jw7aeBg/s1203/2004%20Christmas%20eve%20at%20Smalls%20with%20Opa%20and%20Oma.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="765" data-original-width="1203" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGhDLbD7BzpEwKZcvrXYSVj7_y4Fs4ti4hYeHKLClAZwm89clcg7avVneBKYMVebPp2OlpZzoeikfNvYeyH57ShAqKKslclKEm5GSd8lSsmW-9FmAruMyU472Hl0DAL6lFlXm-D-dO34aGH9-HIFDciGBWL3hIlEiF7XQOR7E66O0yc7MO15Jw7aeBg/w640-h406/2004%20Christmas%20eve%20at%20Smalls%20with%20Opa%20and%20Oma.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After dinner games and books, 2004</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><p>And then they finally decided to sell their beautiful house on the shores of Seneca Lake and move down here full time. They bought a house just two minutes down the road from us and lived there for 12 years. Every now and then something would happen— a fall, a hospitalization, too much housework—and we'd wonder if it was time for them to move into our apartment. But they always rallied and decided they wanted to stay in their own space. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKZrwHGZVQcOc5aOn2AJlo1Pc3_uD9RI3LXA556H-NoqX5qm2hw1a_4j3thXQ7ufEXYORWNgSGu441HGEKLMtE4OgOMy0WVWFHo8B866pJqLs98PtptQwfVf5GGsrOuStUe8fwapJj80xIcXCp7NEpFdaVjRO61aFbc1MYSiRFDtDFrd9BqjdVnPgnQ/s4032/IMG_2849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLKZrwHGZVQcOc5aOn2AJlo1Pc3_uD9RI3LXA556H-NoqX5qm2hw1a_4j3thXQ7ufEXYORWNgSGu441HGEKLMtE4OgOMy0WVWFHo8B866pJqLs98PtptQwfVf5GGsrOuStUe8fwapJj80xIcXCp7NEpFdaVjRO61aFbc1MYSiRFDtDFrd9BqjdVnPgnQ/w640-h480/IMG_2849.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom in the hospital with a broken arm</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECwAPesoKbZ4YScYNt0hh5c514OX2U0Ho8OkX72VAQnm6NjBGrzuJjU9f1j72Nec6OAGxCFQ5l5Mtg3vIFGgWcowuif_Z7f71eygxEeIqIFlwchr0aAinAYzFrXvXfoL0nlWOc31i415z9EKOtr8DwKNLvkSbacadS3tEz0Ko0iiyAUHcBGX1OiI-uw/s1600/IMG_4496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECwAPesoKbZ4YScYNt0hh5c514OX2U0Ho8OkX72VAQnm6NjBGrzuJjU9f1j72Nec6OAGxCFQ5l5Mtg3vIFGgWcowuif_Z7f71eygxEeIqIFlwchr0aAinAYzFrXvXfoL0nlWOc31i415z9EKOtr8DwKNLvkSbacadS3tEz0Ko0iiyAUHcBGX1OiI-uw/w480-h640/IMG_4496.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad battling a toe wound</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>Last month, just a week before Mom's 95th birthday, Dad sent me a text on a Sunday afternoon. "Can't wake Mom up. Can you come?" When I got to their house, Mom was out cold, completely unresponsive. We called 9-11, and she was transported to the hospital. She'd had a mild heart attack and also had a urinary tract infections. UTIs are serious in the elderly, often causing delirium and leading to hospitalization. She finally awoke the next day, bewildered and weak. My brother and I alternated between being in the hospital with Mom and transporting Dad to and from the hospital. Randy fed us every evening. We all decided that it was time to move Mom and Dad into the apartment.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQwIUzMR0XbwyXWGqpkCPDcL1nKneBhWzqkddB21ORH_z64zQFjAW7YXf6kA69KBzmunCJLxevM7YktqPlWV7Hj3AWtFTicngVZPoMNOmvkJ2untUuq-KL_kM6F06JDoQGi-20CAcvsmF7jCYrjfWclmqMimscgSHTBEZ41TQgbskq0WH1uh-SgSPvw/s3088/IMG_5858%20(1).HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQwIUzMR0XbwyXWGqpkCPDcL1nKneBhWzqkddB21ORH_z64zQFjAW7YXf6kA69KBzmunCJLxevM7YktqPlWV7Hj3AWtFTicngVZPoMNOmvkJ2untUuq-KL_kM6F06JDoQGi-20CAcvsmF7jCYrjfWclmqMimscgSHTBEZ41TQgbskq0WH1uh-SgSPvw/w480-h640/IMG_5858%20(1).HEIC" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom said "This hospital sure is nice!'</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>And so, here we are in this new season—one we always knew was coming but didn't really know what to expect. This all happened at a good time. I just had a few weeks left in the semester. As an adjunct at a small private college, my load is light anyway. Mom and Dad seem happy to be here, although Mom is often confused, wondering where she is and where she came from. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYupNyAMRqjyeTNan6v99LVUHlc10x6BdHx-eK81JvjDXPXUZmhJuTHWCMgSVaHuS6untFZqoRi_6RjoDhXCwT_mvxa-DbRVSA5cbV4vxK9bpktLhbJnpVJFOuQ2jdzXkp6_LacBaLw5s8MSSC3hw1rkzesh1THqrSvfpr2t7xXKdATpN1VzaGfe2VPA/s3340/IMG_5876%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2525" data-original-width="3340" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYupNyAMRqjyeTNan6v99LVUHlc10x6BdHx-eK81JvjDXPXUZmhJuTHWCMgSVaHuS6untFZqoRi_6RjoDhXCwT_mvxa-DbRVSA5cbV4vxK9bpktLhbJnpVJFOuQ2jdzXkp6_LacBaLw5s8MSSC3hw1rkzesh1THqrSvfpr2t7xXKdATpN1VzaGfe2VPA/w640-h484/IMG_5876%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p>We still have some adjustments to make. My brother is putting in a walk-in shower—and also finishing his last semester as a college professor. We have to eventually figure out what to do with their house—and all their stuff. For now, we're just taking this day by day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1hzVG9M4nMd0OwoxSdTbcMdbF7qseOXcedPBLUdbmuHJxHCBpWzXZ-fSS35wBzkNbrfh6DtGnllUdfKHyV_gpFJanN7QCs0NJzZcfD-Q8cwEbFgWzA5ok0hLsP41aeXPd1SOeML8Fdm3qtwx2r_NPKiRCG_1nsXTDJlcrTHSIf2t0fh3dqKDstP7Xw/s4032/IMG_5937.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1hzVG9M4nMd0OwoxSdTbcMdbF7qseOXcedPBLUdbmuHJxHCBpWzXZ-fSS35wBzkNbrfh6DtGnllUdfKHyV_gpFJanN7QCs0NJzZcfD-Q8cwEbFgWzA5ok0hLsP41aeXPd1SOeML8Fdm3qtwx2r_NPKiRCG_1nsXTDJlcrTHSIf2t0fh3dqKDstP7Xw/w480-h640/IMG_5937.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><p><br /></p><p>It's an honor to have these two kindhearted people who have lived in this world so long and seen so much here with us, for however long it lasts.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnDloCxgadq0AXs7LfZcoIw_qa52hrUf5Yzj34EnAGrteuifu_ht3u4fM7jb8hFiDVeZIKQKzSskvm_xogyFUQhCpU-FCORiDscHK8HQdjJHp_jnubcEEhtCNBWsq5Lx1nzc2AfgDv9636bdtD7Y28Ri5c5If4OAkpuRME66Uyjq1_FbkztsA9XbC3g/s4032/IMG_5902.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixnDloCxgadq0AXs7LfZcoIw_qa52hrUf5Yzj34EnAGrteuifu_ht3u4fM7jb8hFiDVeZIKQKzSskvm_xogyFUQhCpU-FCORiDscHK8HQdjJHp_jnubcEEhtCNBWsq5Lx1nzc2AfgDv9636bdtD7Y28Ri5c5If4OAkpuRME66Uyjq1_FbkztsA9XbC3g/w640-h480/IMG_5902.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><p></p></div>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-72026730454600791522022-04-28T16:23:00.000-04:002022-04-28T16:23:01.544-04:00Oh HEY!<p> Oh hey! </p><p>I'm not gone yet.</p><p>2021 is gone, yep, and 2022 is nearly halfway gone, but I'm still here.</p><p>A lot of things have changed this year, and a lot of things have stayed the same.</p><p>Our oldest child got married.</p><p>Our middle child and her husband moved 12 hours away.</p><p>Our youngest is finishing his junior year of college.</p><p>My parents moved in.</p><p>Some things stayed the same. Our jobs. Our friends, mostly. Our love for hiking and for each other. Our desire to travel, to see it all, and yet to stay home on the couch and watch Hulu.</p><p>I'm going to be updating here more often with a focus on preserving memories of these last year with my parents. My blog's gone from raising kids to partnering with aging parents, and the time between is short.</p><p>If you're still here, thanks for reading! I'll be back soon.</p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-19762445027681024422021-05-10T09:02:00.002-04:002021-05-10T09:02:16.678-04:00School Year Wrap-up<p>My homeschooling days are two years past now, but our lives perpetually revolve around the school year calendar. Last week was exam week for everyone. I still have a few papers to grade, but Randy has his grades all submitted. Here we are with the traditional end-of-the-year ice cream celebration!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9ZIoj0UspZYAiUupfeLTpKyptaR9cOFlHstAFlIPEtDHTXXQUNg3yuG1SzyyXZCnuI9kEh6_RYuVgnm23bOUqd-S4zS3-cVRZrYVWemFRUtwsIMEAUYvQa6pGtbDQPIX9d5_yHFfI-nD/s3088/IMG_1239.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN9ZIoj0UspZYAiUupfeLTpKyptaR9cOFlHstAFlIPEtDHTXXQUNg3yuG1SzyyXZCnuI9kEh6_RYuVgnm23bOUqd-S4zS3-cVRZrYVWemFRUtwsIMEAUYvQa6pGtbDQPIX9d5_yHFfI-nD/w480-h640/IMG_1239.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p>We took a quick trip down to North Carolina midweek to help Duncan pack up his dorm room and transport stuff home. He'll be out in the Pisgah National Forest for the next three weeks as part of a class —backpacking, rock climbing, whitewater rafting, etc. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4w0h97hWuODe-CwqH3VibOt1hXUG8s5rTodgXy2RPp68V3y8oP6_-5Sg2DWdksUbjSl8klJcrVVqLsmyeiB-PgowwT6VQ4Uzl5EbAiIhWnVkl0K-EcCt776tpEAAIwdHJfYmlrY_sDJ_/s2048/IMG_1260.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU4w0h97hWuODe-CwqH3VibOt1hXUG8s5rTodgXy2RPp68V3y8oP6_-5Sg2DWdksUbjSl8klJcrVVqLsmyeiB-PgowwT6VQ4Uzl5EbAiIhWnVkl0K-EcCt776tpEAAIwdHJfYmlrY_sDJ_/w480-h640/IMG_1260.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duncan at the climbing wall where he works</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJmEMff-hml0mwuyrU3T3f1b8Xke5eFUEdov9zR2-o6EVtYCRzjgO6DpNyttBQ4nPjXGaVAG0POvtQI-ZM94GZBMJjgI74ufVPQzJuBFyzcHdDvJjrUk2jspS2YmPsAkjcELW6QbHfCzf/s2048/IMG_1268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1868" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJmEMff-hml0mwuyrU3T3f1b8Xke5eFUEdov9zR2-o6EVtYCRzjgO6DpNyttBQ4nPjXGaVAG0POvtQI-ZM94GZBMJjgI74ufVPQzJuBFyzcHdDvJjrUk2jspS2YmPsAkjcELW6QbHfCzf/w584-h640/IMG_1268.jpg" width="584" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Had a nice dinner with Duncan and his girlfriend, JR</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />So, Duncan has now finished his sophomore year in college (or will have after this 3-week class), Jesse has finished year 2 of law school (one more to go!), and Laurel and Hunter graduated with their master's degrees!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAa_kwat9ZHmtbhQDnskAWnaGKk7IQGTRaVe_vzQh3IivQZKVtkOnDL3wUNWk17Rigt6DSExxbTOXtA2OJ6LZKCxQF0pdvXrd2hdnsbrGXgZKb1MbXUPBwXOkVhlMdgoToFAqZiBdBuPEu/s2048/IMG_1348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1538" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAa_kwat9ZHmtbhQDnskAWnaGKk7IQGTRaVe_vzQh3IivQZKVtkOnDL3wUNWk17Rigt6DSExxbTOXtA2OJ6LZKCxQF0pdvXrd2hdnsbrGXgZKb1MbXUPBwXOkVhlMdgoToFAqZiBdBuPEu/w640-h480/IMG_1348.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B3UtPHz29qWAwa5cETkpgr_GBZ0Zavhx1nlfCwqfkaHG2xSdFletvbYWTvgh4MBKSg9TgXLexzlVH0wWScHW5G8isK9g6rkk_KefQpC-vZP9E7HE9x_xwvn7c7mgTDBJ_q8IxEpi8M2P/s2048/IMG_1431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B3UtPHz29qWAwa5cETkpgr_GBZ0Zavhx1nlfCwqfkaHG2xSdFletvbYWTvgh4MBKSg9TgXLexzlVH0wWScHW5G8isK9g6rkk_KefQpC-vZP9E7HE9x_xwvn7c7mgTDBJ_q8IxEpi8M2P/w640-h480/IMG_1431.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jt2Cj7SB8dSLlltWP_DCvTTx8aQ_BJVsQIydi7DvM25dEIL30Q3lWRPLPhdTbtgfDl7CjFfJcsrD4x6zTptQHzLR8ev9fi07j496sFSEhOJlfi_qlCCMV1eBab0DjIVL_nZETLKZ4Fxz/s2048/IMG_1440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jt2Cj7SB8dSLlltWP_DCvTTx8aQ_BJVsQIydi7DvM25dEIL30Q3lWRPLPhdTbtgfDl7CjFfJcsrD4x6zTptQHzLR8ev9fi07j496sFSEhOJlfi_qlCCMV1eBab0DjIVL_nZETLKZ4Fxz/w480-h640/IMG_1440.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZRL9w6RtELfJ362yn3lp9FZGREvT92PxdLxWlisLuECdsS4KFzKDHJ_JGaHkE2CRXmF8ukGtHRcj6P7o9X3_jKkoxMEN5JLVPI-IRKCjOJmVmMKfnjk-RPnqRDGnXZSoOuj8jSBm1ALW/s2048/IMG_1444.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKZRL9w6RtELfJ362yn3lp9FZGREvT92PxdLxWlisLuECdsS4KFzKDHJ_JGaHkE2CRXmF8ukGtHRcj6P7o9X3_jKkoxMEN5JLVPI-IRKCjOJmVmMKfnjk-RPnqRDGnXZSoOuj8jSBm1ALW/w640-h480/IMG_1444.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjien2BAMwEKf9_PC8F93kgeKr4eCMO7Gzy_v8ECTqrmtsVbUZpAqWXDpNbyXr7BEJHhYnwT2ihvBg4gBeYfqYKWQ2ORgyxVDbHsA0M1FEOoi6Txx3I07wucunrmg_iXsg4GAxbdlkVB1Au/s2048/IMG_1467.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1630" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjien2BAMwEKf9_PC8F93kgeKr4eCMO7Gzy_v8ECTqrmtsVbUZpAqWXDpNbyXr7BEJHhYnwT2ihvBg4gBeYfqYKWQ2ORgyxVDbHsA0M1FEOoi6Txx3I07wucunrmg_iXsg4GAxbdlkVB1Au/w510-h640/IMG_1467.jpg" width="510" /></a></div><br /><p>They actually both still have a summer semester before they official graduate, but their divisions both walk in the May ceremony. At the end of July, Laurel will be a Master of Marriage and Family Therapy, and Hunter will have a Master of Divinity. And then... who knows? They are job hunting!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi338DgqtWXynuSpcmeRxG2UEff-5VY4i97XrcxlhuULujk6wLYR4DR_BAxmLN19ytNFs9TzFA7XEV3HxOvrq8dJJw8bQQR6tXzSATOQwo5G4xbkQd63af9lLjrf3qMKVPyKES8GfnZzdRC/s2048/IMG_1181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1539" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi338DgqtWXynuSpcmeRxG2UEff-5VY4i97XrcxlhuULujk6wLYR4DR_BAxmLN19ytNFs9TzFA7XEV3HxOvrq8dJJw8bQQR6tXzSATOQwo5G4xbkQd63af9lLjrf3qMKVPyKES8GfnZzdRC/w300-h400/IMG_1181.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last day of class!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>I finished my first year as an adjunct writing instructor at Maryville College, teaching freshmen composition. It's basically always been my goal to teach part-time at the college level, and I absolutely loved it. There was definitely a learning curve —especially with technology — but I just enjoyed helping these students grow as writers, find their footing in college, and persevere to the end of this very strange year. I'm hoping there will be a class or two for me to teach again next year!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNbFE0Bn9W26143q5TtisO3phhXx5XFjr7Uf24PzqaPKHItWpnCxeZKNd1SDZ85V_Lkz6xJqNwgz7IPMqg265gGqhWuGkHPaMRkMgs8Eucwy2JfwVt3KyNxzYCZ3Y2ulcGsPG4QGcg9gZs/s1440/46350E1A-D486-4CC2-B4A9-3BC3CDEBB29D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNbFE0Bn9W26143q5TtisO3phhXx5XFjr7Uf24PzqaPKHItWpnCxeZKNd1SDZ85V_Lkz6xJqNwgz7IPMqg265gGqhWuGkHPaMRkMgs8Eucwy2JfwVt3KyNxzYCZ3Y2ulcGsPG4QGcg9gZs/w640-h480/46350E1A-D486-4CC2-B4A9-3BC3CDEBB29D.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The pandemic of course made family gatherings rare. This photo was taken on Mom's birthday in April. It's the first time we'd all been together since Thanksgiving, and we are all fully vaccinated! Speaking of being fully vaccinated, here's Dad proudly sporting his "Fauci Ouchie" button.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRcZ8J2p0Abh_3JTtY6l1t1Lhj5YQyKWmwf1XrZmKLq-BCXo91fVr1kDDyb9uZlUmy_3bv4qpcqOMGTKNJhmRvz1xcxJI1pdpJmAKOcbwlvPMFxNMiybnQwmkg2_hBWNQryCLmCivBU-mB/s2048/IMG_0934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRcZ8J2p0Abh_3JTtY6l1t1Lhj5YQyKWmwf1XrZmKLq-BCXo91fVr1kDDyb9uZlUmy_3bv4qpcqOMGTKNJhmRvz1xcxJI1pdpJmAKOcbwlvPMFxNMiybnQwmkg2_hBWNQryCLmCivBU-mB/w640-h480/IMG_0934.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVxo1nakTzMqOGqjIs_6q9-j-ItCp6uaqp5jLNtzd3eX8wrzk_4Lv4SCBnUrKv9JX38saOoQ1DZnSrARtIpAl0GqwjOEC5GaFGsWGcKfxd3hwl0v3RTA8qFwfjL-yeD5etEPtSFqC_klu/s2048/IMG_0935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVxo1nakTzMqOGqjIs_6q9-j-ItCp6uaqp5jLNtzd3eX8wrzk_4Lv4SCBnUrKv9JX38saOoQ1DZnSrARtIpAl0GqwjOEC5GaFGsWGcKfxd3hwl0v3RTA8qFwfjL-yeD5etEPtSFqC_klu/w400-h300/IMG_0935.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Summer couldn't join us that day, as she has been commissioned to do a mural for the Dogwood Arts Festival. She did an amazing one at the Knoxville Zoo and then also did this one a different weekend at World's Fair Park. Isn't she incredible?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDVTccFwj6XzZ6gRC7Ksjs_zBTWgnI-ocHTzRW5H4njscPHDMOnr-SmeorkaUTHEG-sGc63aY_EMeoAg9OG1xjtOsy9RcyfVSQHvFQL7gyegIidbKUfETtL3neQXFPv9JQOA5Q3blMlFig/s1178/Screen+Shot+2021-05-10+at+8.41.40+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="910" data-original-width="1178" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDVTccFwj6XzZ6gRC7Ksjs_zBTWgnI-ocHTzRW5H4njscPHDMOnr-SmeorkaUTHEG-sGc63aY_EMeoAg9OG1xjtOsy9RcyfVSQHvFQL7gyegIidbKUfETtL3neQXFPv9JQOA5Q3blMlFig/w640-h494/Screen+Shot+2021-05-10+at+8.41.40+AM.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>So, here we are, at the end of the academic year! Randy and I are looking forward to doing lots of hiking and waterfall exploring this summer. </p><p>We hope to take a trip up to NY, as Duncan will be working at my brother's orchard in Ithaca. Beyond that, we don't really have any solid plans! We're just so happy to have vaccinations all around so that we can venture out safely.</p><p>And that's a recap of academic year 20-21 in our own small world! </p><p><br /></p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-21392601143720134252021-04-16T14:25:00.004-04:002021-04-16T14:25:38.185-04:00Books Read in March<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0qhpPv06Q1YI5cCfYT504ktYQJBxlGbE83jj8C1DXRnjTnI9Wdurb4CHDpZjAgspElpEAzKrObPIzVYJM8ZzT1q5JXQ6FVXhI2kMNHKPQiLXgjj_JX7Tm_Jopidsou28JLDsRIjPZz93/s499/51sig3Nmy3L._SX330_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="332" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0qhpPv06Q1YI5cCfYT504ktYQJBxlGbE83jj8C1DXRnjTnI9Wdurb4CHDpZjAgspElpEAzKrObPIzVYJM8ZzT1q5JXQ6FVXhI2kMNHKPQiLXgjj_JX7Tm_Jopidsou28JLDsRIjPZz93/s320/51sig3Nmy3L._SX330_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Anxious-People-Novel-Fredrik-Backman/dp/1501160834/ref=sr_1_1?crid=6CECM794PYWL&dchild=1&keywords=anxious+people+fredrik+backman&qid=1615072260&sprefix=anxious%2Caps%2C208&sr=8-1"> Anxious People</a> by Fredrik Backman.<p></p><p>"<b style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;"><i>…We all have this in common, yet most of us remain strangers, we never know what we do to each other, how your life is affected by mine. When this day is over and the night takes us, allow yourself a deep breath. because we made it through another day."</i></b></p><p>The story: A bank robber. A man who jumps off a bridge and the girl who doesn't. A real estate agent, a couple of cops, and a few people in and out of love. Mothers and fathers. Lovers and lost loves. This beautiful, tender novel features a cast of characters who are accidentally held hostage and who hold themselves hostage with secrets too painful to share. Their anxiety is palpable... but sometimes, when you share just a little bit, the anxiety can be relieved, and hope can be restored —if everyone works together. </p><p>My reaction: Fredrik Backman does it again. HOW DOES HE DO IT? Once again, Backman took me by surprise, made me fall in love with characters, and got me all choked up. This novel took me a little bit to get into but once I did, well, I never wanted it to end. His rhythm and pace, as well as the connectedness of the stories, reminds me so much of Markus Zusak's The Book Thief, which is one of my all-time favorite books. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_Rd_bWGqkrKLiiUNfWqdiREJtotoGH-C1Of5VBkxLnoTPrRWJm6nizdT_fvSymNQNJv4TsrP3TY_VQKSvWbNW8uXP-7w34RoYB7Wu9Dot0MxN4wyvdYLNa65oZ_Zbm5pABCa9L6ZUppr/s499/51-EQDRnF1L._SX329_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo_Rd_bWGqkrKLiiUNfWqdiREJtotoGH-C1Of5VBkxLnoTPrRWJm6nizdT_fvSymNQNJv4TsrP3TY_VQKSvWbNW8uXP-7w34RoYB7Wu9Dot0MxN4wyvdYLNa65oZ_Zbm5pABCa9L6ZUppr/s320/51-EQDRnF1L._SX329_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Lions-Fifth-Avenue-Novel/dp/1524744611/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1DTHWKZDGGIF1&dchild=1&keywords=lions+of+fifth+avenue+fiona+davis&qid=1615823925&sprefix=lions+%2Caps%2C210&sr=8-1">The Lions of Fifth Avenue </a>by Fiona Davis</p><p>The story: Laura Lyons and her family live in the NYC Public Library, where her husband is the superintendent. They seem to have a wonderful marriage, and then Laura decides she simply must pursue her journalism degree; her husband suggests she wait a year until their finances are better. Suddenly, she sees him in a new light. He's holding her back, and she pursues the degree anyway. She meets a whole new crowd as a result of journalism school, and her life changes. In the meantime, books are missing from the special collections at the library, and her husband is blamed for the thefts. The second story alternates chapters with this one. Sadie works at the library</p><p>My reaction: I love the setting of this novel. Imagine living inside the NYC Public Library! Fans of <i>From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankenweiler </i>know what I'm talking about. This novel has a lot of the same issues I complained about in last month's book club novel also by Fiona Davis, The Dollhouse. It's jumbled. We're here and then we're there and <i>squirrel</i>! Way too much isn't explained. The dual stories are better connected in this one, for sure. Davis starts strong, but ultimately way too much happens, the characters are poorly drawn, the action is outrageous (way too many coincidences, for one), and her messages seem didactic and yet confusing and contradictory. I did enjoy the peeks into early 20th century feminism as well as the book trade, but otherwise... too much eye rolling and "what just happeneds??" going on in my head. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmn6zeSUQQt65C8OBFsB0658nXcopaK5ZcIq-kXWvTArKm9XvjzJ-YM7-F08SYqSnzICTaNSWukx3D5k70zgwoaKe_0K9duuPagM3r7KlhzP6XKegd-G4NfqxHc3u7QLG423cA8EXuCKY/s392/The_Reckoning_%2528Grisham_novel%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="257" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmn6zeSUQQt65C8OBFsB0658nXcopaK5ZcIq-kXWvTArKm9XvjzJ-YM7-F08SYqSnzICTaNSWukx3D5k70zgwoaKe_0K9duuPagM3r7KlhzP6XKegd-G4NfqxHc3u7QLG423cA8EXuCKY/s320/The_Reckoning_%2528Grisham_novel%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Reckoning-Novel-John-Grisham/dp/1984819585/ref=sr_1_1?crid=24FPNVQXCZQCW&dchild=1&keywords=the+reckoning+john+grisham&qid=1615823702&sprefix=the+reck%2Caps%2C208&sr=8-1">The Reckoning </a>by John Grisham (audiobook)</p><p>The story: Small town Clanton, Mississippi's local war hero and respected resident Pete Banning kills the pastor. And 18 hours later, we find out why. In the 16 hours between the killing and the big reveal, we get the complete story of Pete Banning, including an entire extremely detailed section on his wartime experience in the Philippines, his courtship and marriage; plus every detail of his son Joel's life (loved his meeting with Faulkner), a little on his daughter, and lots on his wife. </p><p>My reaction: I have John Grisham issues. <a href="http://smallworldreads.blogspot.com/2008/05/book-review-appeal.html">I've written about this before</a>, and yet I keep going back to him. This time, we listened to this as an audiobook all the way to Florida and back and then a few more hours even. 18 hours of a story that could easily have been half that long. I mean, Grisham is a great storyteller. He is terrific at building and maintaining suspense. We cared about these characters. We were sucked in, waiting for the great reveal. Which was... a big thud. A big <i>Are you freaking kidding me?</i> Ugh. So much wrong with the big reveal. I won't say what it was, but it was not only disappointing but terribly trite. It was just an old, old story that needs to stop being told. Randy and I felt like Grisham really wanted to tell the story of the Bataan death march, which is the whole middle section of the book. It was interesting, for sure, but it was absolutely not necessary. Grisham is so good at nonfiction; in my <a href="https://smallworldreads.blogspot.com/2007/06/book-review-innocent-man.html">2007 review of An Innocent Man </a>I wrote that "<span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;">Grisham needs to pursue writing nonfiction a little more often," and I'm sticking with that. Why not write an actual account of one of the survivors of Bataan, rather than squeezing this in with this novel? Anyway, I felt ripped off at the end of this novel, as well as annoyed throughout for many reasons, but particularly for Grisham's stereotypical, rude treatment of Black characters. (He actually uses the term "colored." For real. But there's so much more.) Also, for the last few hours, we were rolling out eyes at all the completely extraneous details and shouting "GET ON WITH IT, JOHN!" My recommendation: skip it.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8o1ZhD_2rzHZZsU1ypVkhofAo2M7wCcxzqwhidYX8lE_1tva6lnX41PuwGPQ7tWG1k5pu_NCup_2oieuDxq_4RtnTodXS6uCXJdJf8xgZ4WkA8TYO-Hxmhc9-zy-awGjntzCJ9k_uL7d/s500/41SYG2uyEvL.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="329" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM8o1ZhD_2rzHZZsU1ypVkhofAo2M7wCcxzqwhidYX8lE_1tva6lnX41PuwGPQ7tWG1k5pu_NCup_2oieuDxq_4RtnTodXS6uCXJdJf8xgZ4WkA8TYO-Hxmhc9-zy-awGjntzCJ9k_uL7d/s320/41SYG2uyEvL.jpeg" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Survivors-Novel-Jane-Harper-ebook/dp/B087ZY8NXX/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2ZI9I39OKX7CX&dchild=1&keywords=the+survivors+jane+harper&qid=1616938569&sprefix=the+surviv%2Caps%2C206&sr=8-1">The Survivors</a> by Jane Harper</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><b>The story: </b>After a decade away, Kieran returns home to his tiny coastal village in Tasmania to help his parents. His father is struggling with dementia, and it's time for them to pack up and move into assisted living. Kieran left for a good reason: the summer after he graduated from high school, a huge storm struck and lives were lost —because of him. When he heads into the local cafe with his wife and newborn daughter, he can feel all eyes upon him, accusing him. And then tragedy strikes again, and as the townspeople and official investigate this new murder, all kinds of secrets surface.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><b>My reaction:</b> I absolutely loved this book. This is my introduction to Jane Harper, and I will definitely be reading more. Reviewers seem to like this one a bit less than her others, so I'm super excited to read <i>The Dry, Force of Nature, </i>and<i> The Lost Man,</i> too. Harper is a wonderful writer. Her characters are richly drawn, her dialogue spot on, and the mysteries about what really happened were revealed slowly and satisfyingly. I love the long ending. So many books I've read lately reduce the ending to a quick wrap-up, as if the writer herself got tired of the book and declared, "I'm done." Not so with The Survivors. This is everything I love in a book: a long story with plenty of backstory, a setting that acts as another character, a true mystery, excellent writing, strong and likable characters, and just the right amount of tension. Highly recommended. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGW2TwdtoaTgwcOdn2M6U6KRoDKURtUGFBqq_zWg1DwMZuCdbTRqEHRfNqtr2bEiJ8JcpT6bHg2dl0Mjzfxn1ghJYLlleuu0gdNomizPPNjwbsw3t2fa098_KjjxdxUJrSVH2KgU-wz3s0/s499/41rzBx%252BUt6L._SX323_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGW2TwdtoaTgwcOdn2M6U6KRoDKURtUGFBqq_zWg1DwMZuCdbTRqEHRfNqtr2bEiJ8JcpT6bHg2dl0Mjzfxn1ghJYLlleuu0gdNomizPPNjwbsw3t2fa098_KjjxdxUJrSVH2KgU-wz3s0/s320/41rzBx%252BUt6L._SX323_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Fierce-Free-Full-Fire-Glorious/dp/071808814X/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=hatmaker&qid=1618145175&sr=8-3" target="_blank">Fierce, Free, and Full of Fire</a> by Jen Hatmaker</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;">The story: Subtitled "The Guide to Being Glorious You," this is a "embrace who you are," "you can do it" and "we're all in this together" book. It's divided into five self-reflective categories: who I am, what I need, what I want, what I believe, and how I connect. The chapters within those categories explore strategies, offer stories, and provide encouragement for navigating who we are and feeling exuberant (or at least okay) with that. This is listed as "Christian Women's Issues," but the theology is light-handed but extremely refreshing. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;">My reaction: We chose this book for our small group (six women) over the past year -- pandemic year. At first, we were all super excited and found relief and connection in this book. We loved the dismantling of what it means to be a "Christian woman." We loved knowing we aren't alone in our questions and searching. Ten months later, we were all thrilled to be done with it. I don't think that's a reflection on the book or Jen Hatmaker. I think we transitioned, as the rest of the world has, from exploring ourselves to being sick of exploring ourselves! Toward the last third of the book, sick of Zoom and longing for normalcy, we became annoyed with Jen's cheerleading and capital letters and LET'S GO GIRL rah-rahs. Somehow, at the end of a year of isolation, perhaps it's been difficult for us to connect with who we were pre-pandemic. Our values have shifted. Our inner eye is tired. I also think this book would be much more appreciated by women in their 30s-40s, and we are all in our mid-40s and 50s. Also, I don't recommend spreading this out over nearly a year! This could be a quick read but a kind and thoughtful one, if read at the right time in one's life.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCpQagc7347a2w075voezBr03Z3XcHOK984Ekxlak8XJey2WwHR4afZ4xMlf01VLDHPmh66SDL-OR5JhyBhS0nrDqoZS1YfIQFBZhnXEMlzZ11QhsQ8MnPJTJzZE-4N9ibMgYMqkVGwbC/s500/41DPq03IAOL.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCpQagc7347a2w075voezBr03Z3XcHOK984Ekxlak8XJey2WwHR4afZ4xMlf01VLDHPmh66SDL-OR5JhyBhS0nrDqoZS1YfIQFBZhnXEMlzZ11QhsQ8MnPJTJzZE-4N9ibMgYMqkVGwbC/s320/41DPq03IAOL.jpeg" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/When-We-Believed-Mermaids-Novel-ebook/dp/B07MV8SWZF">When We Believed in Mermaids</a> by Barbara O'Neal</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><b>The story:</b> Sisters Josie and Kit has a terrible and wonderful childhood. Their parents, free-spirited restaurant owners, were so obsessed with their own lives that they completely neglected their daughters, who ran wild on the California beaches. Fortunately, they have Dylan, an informally adopted older brother, to keep them straight, help them with their homework, teach them to surf, and basically care for them as if he were their parent. And then tragedy strikes when an earthquake completely shakes up their lives. Nothing is ever the same after the earthquake. The sisters drift apart, and Josie dies in a terrorist attack on a train Or does she? One day Kit and her mother see a face on a screen that looks exactly like Josie, and the search begins. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><b>My reaction:</b> I absolutely loved this book. O'Neal does a masterful job of revealing the story bit by bit through flashbacks interwoven with the current day story of Kit and Josie. Each character is carefully, lovingly developed. I was rooting for both sisters -- I wanted Kit to find Josie, and yet I wanted Josie to be able to keep the beautiful new life she'd made for herself. Honestly, I was just utterly wrapped up in the entire story and was so sad when it was over. Some of the issues in the book are hard, but it is well worth the emotional investment. Highly recommended.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib75SZtnspwX7mLUuVfO4FH3oqq0io98aGQ4aMr0DW2855HyIu-uJdEWMONp01NNy4tuguSLTfI15X58LXixr7vdKV1X4N7MYOsJNt5jXU5-fD9qd9RH607JyoCLi9QdDouEbt_w9Qt7J7/s500/51Y6e2sT1rL.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="329" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib75SZtnspwX7mLUuVfO4FH3oqq0io98aGQ4aMr0DW2855HyIu-uJdEWMONp01NNy4tuguSLTfI15X58LXixr7vdKV1X4N7MYOsJNt5jXU5-fD9qd9RH607JyoCLi9QdDouEbt_w9Qt7J7/s320/51Y6e2sT1rL.jpeg" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Wife-Upstairs-Novel-Rachel-Hawkins-ebook/dp/B08BKLVZRJ/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=the+wife+upstairs&qid=1618338060&s=digital-text&sr=1-1">The Wife Upstairs </a>by Rachel Hawkins</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><b>The story:</b> The is a modern-day retelling of <i>Jane Eyre</i>. Jane falls in love with Eddie. Eddie has a secret wife, well, upstairs. And so the story goes.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><b>My reaction:</b> Honestly, I tend to steer clear of retellings of classic stories. <i>Jane Eyre</i> is one of my favorite novels ever, so I probably would not have picked this up had I realized what it was about. But... I liked it! As a true Jane Eyre fan, I appreciate all the characters being included: the insipid St. John Rivers shows up as John Rivers, Jane's sniveling, sneaky roommate. Rochester's daughter, Adele, is Eddie's dog in this version; Jane is the dog walker. In fact, she's the dog walker for all of <i>Thornfield</i> Estates, the ritzy subdivision. I thought Hawkins' reimagining was fun, and there are a few twists that made me smile. I would actually recommend this for fans of <i>Jane Eyre</i>, if you're up for a playful adaptation. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZ6Q4TMYa-8nSIQMjz5vV0yRANomKSGql1MQ6pY3lTqntSXd7U2Je07HOHdTAtwarVSQ8aYteIEBcSERrSGdue_EJFqKyDOIP1ly_b8mHJ1NBOyJPYgJyN-TSWv7l18qKMcQojltUK8_b/s500/61rKeJrfnmL.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZ6Q4TMYa-8nSIQMjz5vV0yRANomKSGql1MQ6pY3lTqntSXd7U2Je07HOHdTAtwarVSQ8aYteIEBcSERrSGdue_EJFqKyDOIP1ly_b8mHJ1NBOyJPYgJyN-TSWv7l18qKMcQojltUK8_b/s320/61rKeJrfnmL.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Love-Life-and-Elephants-audiobook/dp/B0081FY93K/ref=tmm_aud_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1618338729&sr=8-1">Love, Life, and Elephants</a> by Daphne Sheldrick</span></p><p><span style="color: #353535; font-family: Lato;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16.83px;"><b>The story:</b> This is Daphne Sheldrick's lovely memoir of growing up in Kenya, from her early childhood to her many years as the warden's wife of Tsavo Park, a wildlife refuge. Sheldrick was a mother to hundreds of animal orphans, from a weaver bird to a mongoose to rhinos and, most famously, as an elephant keeper. She is the first person to ever successfully raise an orphaned baby elephant to adulthood. Woven in with her animal tales are her people tales -- her loves, her losses, and her friendships. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #353535; font-family: Lato;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16.83px;"><b>My reaction:</b> This is a book I would probably never have read on my own— and that's why book club is so wonderful! I absolutely loved this sweet memoir. I listed to this one, and Virginia McKenna is an absolutely delightful narrator. I was utterly wrapped up in Daphne's life, rooting for the animals, rooting for her. You can't help but fall in love with each animal and with Tsavo Park and, of course, with Daphne. She had an incredible life and shares that with her readers so beautifully. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;">I learned so much about all kinds of African animals! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;">I don't know that I would have enjoyed the book quite as much if I'd read it; I think McKenna's narration feels as if Daphne herself is telling the tale. Highly recommended! </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWY5Tekc_Ihm5smtzc0it1VNeoubr7OR9mP5-KxHnSQu34HG8hOMMPLzZo1ht9thyphenhyphenGYsa8AhsOCnat1lhqkhGXqVtZHZIZW6csFiXa2GAqVX7P15SnGBPFnYx7uFjRnMhb3Y4ff92MOYM/s500/41nRXBqUQpL.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWY5Tekc_Ihm5smtzc0it1VNeoubr7OR9mP5-KxHnSQu34HG8hOMMPLzZo1ht9thyphenhyphenGYsa8AhsOCnat1lhqkhGXqVtZHZIZW6csFiXa2GAqVX7P15SnGBPFnYx7uFjRnMhb3Y4ff92MOYM/s320/41nRXBqUQpL.jpeg" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #353535; font-family: Lato; font-size: 16.83px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Girl-Novel-Abigail-Dean-ebook/dp/B08H18WHX5/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=girl+a&qid=1618596221&sr=8-1">Girl A </a>by Abigail Dean</span></p><p><b>The story:</b> Lex is the girl who escaped the House of Horrors. Once identified by the press and police only as Girl A, she's now a successful attorney, trying to live a normal life. But her past haunts her; how could it not? She and her brothers and sisters grew up in utter poverty, starved, neglected, isolated, and, ultimately, held captive by their parents. She wants only to forget it all, but when her mother dies in prison, Lex is appointed executor of the estate. She has to go back and face her story, her childhood home, and her fellow captives: her six siblings. Each of their stories — during and after their childhood — is different. Each has coped in a different way, and their bonds to each other are tenuous and complicated.</p><p><b>My reaction:</b> I absolutely loved Dean's debut novel. It was emotionally tough to read at times (OK, most of the time) because the subject matter is unthinkable, but it's utterly engaging and so well written. Abigail Dean handles the story with grace, allowing these fictional siblings their dignity and giving the reader enough detail to let us see the horror but without going into extraneous, over-the-top description. This is somewhat along the lines of Educated, Tara Westover's memoir. Although this is a work of fiction, we all know that horrors like this do occur. Highly recommended.</p><p><br /></p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-16641038328488589222021-03-17T15:32:00.001-04:002021-03-17T15:32:07.945-04:00Books Read in January and February<p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Girl-Louding-Voice-Novel/dp/1524746029/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1609852444&sr=8-1" target="_blank"></a></p><h2 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Books Read in January </span></h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOI56rZMhFM5qiREJJem_utScs2ex1seNxDS6aAPTPTyns49GDvuPu2x4GUeftJXFCdD4sU-biy2nwieLnEhrXFu_Mf98fsMJ9MWSZxxo3CKgKJI4_tlaUVNKL8bB7SWrXenVu4XQpR3e/s499/louding.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZOI56rZMhFM5qiREJJem_utScs2ex1seNxDS6aAPTPTyns49GDvuPu2x4GUeftJXFCdD4sU-biy2nwieLnEhrXFu_Mf98fsMJ9MWSZxxo3CKgKJI4_tlaUVNKL8bB7SWrXenVu4XQpR3e/s320/louding.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Girl-Louding-Voice-Novel-ebook/dp/B07SCTZ4RQ/ref=sr_1_5?crid=3OO9JH512JNOV&dchild=1&keywords=the+girl+with+the+louding+voice+by+abi+dare&qid=1610995167&sprefix=the+girl+%2Caps%2C205&sr=8-5">The Girl with the Louding Voice</a> by Abi Daré</span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;">T</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;">he story: Adunni is a fourteen-year-old Nigerian girl who wants two things: her mother, who was her greatest advocate, and an education. She can't get her mother back—she has passed away—but she is determined to get an education. This, her mother told her, is how she gets a "louding voice"—how she can speak for herself and determine her own path. Adunni lives in a traditional village in Nigeria, under traditional tribal laws. When her father pulls her out of school and trades her to an old man as his third wife, her dream of an education looks impossible. She faces daily abuse, drudgery, and fear, and then tragedy strikes. She makes a bold decision that saves her life and ultimately leads her to a new one. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;">My reaction: This was a perfect book with which to begin a new year. Adunni is the most wonderfully courageous young woman. She is compassionate, gutsy, curious, intelligent, and determined. The story is told through her voice, which makes this even more compelling, inviting the reader right into her world. In her words: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;">“I want to enter a room, and people will hear me even before I open my mouth to be speaking. I want to live in this life and help many people so that when I grow old and die, I will still be living through the people I am helping.” I loved the wide array of women introduced in this novel, each with a different voice and a different experience. Some of their voices are muffled, some completely shut, some shouting, but each one cries out in some way for understanding. Highly recommended!</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwa4xUZAWHEGhn4UERr3mLSH8ZNjyPSxpzKm6BFcV_6qe1au5BsaHpXQd_8pujeSn10NqCx8QcyS77bvEwn7snUchOJ5tqoW7WM_jN6ZJjqyipn_vT_BJqXPqfAIyOaqK_-RBwW-Fg7tr/s499/caste.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwa4xUZAWHEGhn4UERr3mLSH8ZNjyPSxpzKm6BFcV_6qe1au5BsaHpXQd_8pujeSn10NqCx8QcyS77bvEwn7snUchOJ5tqoW7WM_jN6ZJjqyipn_vT_BJqXPqfAIyOaqK_-RBwW-Fg7tr/s320/caste.jpg" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;"><p style="font-size: 14px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Caste-Origins-Discontents-Isabel-Wilkerson/dp/0593230256/ref=sr_1_2?dchild=1&keywords=caste&qid=1610995077&sr=8-2" target="_blank">Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents </a>by Isabel Wilkerson</span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;">The story: Isabel Wilkerson explores the characteristics of caste systems, the way human beings are ranked, and shows how the United States is rooted in a brutal caste system that puts Black Americans firmly at the bottom of the ladder. She compares and contrasts the U.S. caste system with that of Nazi Germany and India. As she writes, </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;">Throughout human history, three caste systems have stood out. The tragically accelerated, chilling, and officially vanquished caste system of Nazi Germany. The lingering, millennia-long caste system of India. And the shape-shifting, unspoken, race-based caste pyramid in the United States. Each version relied on stigmatizing those deemed inferior to justify the dehumanization necessary to keep the lowest-ranked people at the bottom and to rationalize the protocols of enforcement. A caste system endures because it is often justified as divine will, originating from sacred text or the presumed laws of nature, reinforced throughout the culture and passed down through the generations." </span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;">My reaction: I think every single American should read this book. We need to be talking about this, teaching this in our schools, and working toward demolishing the American caste system. As Wilkerson writes (italics mine), </span></p><p><span id="freeText8032443473494036740" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"></span></p><blockquote><span id="freeText8032443473494036740" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;">Americans are loath to talk about enslavement in part because what little we know about it goes against our perception of our country as a just and enlightened nation, a beacon of democracy for the world. Slavery is commonly dismissed as a “sad, dark chapter” in the country’s history. It is as if the greater the distance we can create between slavery and ourselves, the better to stave off the guilt or shame it induces. But in the same way that individuals cannot move forward, become whole and healthy, unless they examine the domestic violence they witnessed as children or the alcoholism that runs in their family, <i>the country cannot become whole until it confronts what was not a chapter in its history, but the basis of its economic and social order. </i>For a quarter millennium, slavery was the country.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"> </span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"></span><p></p><p><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><span style="background-color: white;">Wilkerson uses stories about real people —including her own experiences— to show how insidious and pervasive the caste system is in America -- how it seeps into every aspect of our lives. I highlighted about a billion passages in this book. I had to put it down sometimes and just mull over what I'd read. Wilkerson is a wonderful writer, using just the right balance of personal experiences, analysis, and research, both historical and scientific. (At one point I shouted to my husband, who has a PhD in genetics, that I was reading about <a href="https://www.tasciences.com/what-is-a-telomere.html">telomere length</a> and understanding perfectly!) This book is a lesson, a reprimand, a call to action, a plea, and a challenge</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;">.</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Each time a person reaches across caste and makes a connection, it helps to break the back of caste. Multiplied by millions in a given day, it becomes the flap of a butterfly wing that shifts the air and builds to a hurricane across an ocean."</span></i></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaqfEhrP_lIrvIixD1L45LvrrG71M0-SXlrBajLnLtmsE9YFYdm47Rqv1dv6L-dEzPNeAo9EUnmiDHJkxJjYl5vhqGKdG_LM9lZDHI9-qJylSrO6uGoOwtNwGtr79bFUTMeT5LzxQaxvP/s499/51Vv2QeBoPL._SX332_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="334" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaqfEhrP_lIrvIixD1L45LvrrG71M0-SXlrBajLnLtmsE9YFYdm47Rqv1dv6L-dEzPNeAo9EUnmiDHJkxJjYl5vhqGKdG_LM9lZDHI9-qJylSrO6uGoOwtNwGtr79bFUTMeT5LzxQaxvP/s320/51Vv2QeBoPL._SX332_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bookshop-Yesterdays-Amy-Meyerson/dp/0778369080/ref=sr_1_1?crid=TPERQNVCR40V&dchild=1&keywords=bookshop+of+yesterdays&qid=1611414232&sprefix=bookshop+of+yest%2Caps%2C182&sr=8-1">The Bookshop of Yesterdays</a> by Amy Meyerson. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><b>The story: </b>Miranda's favorite uncle dies and leaves her his independent bookstore. Well, that's the simple way to explain the book. But Miranda, now in her late 20s, hasn't seen her uncle since she was 12-years-old, when he disappeared from her life without explanation. Her mother, his sister, won't talk about Uncle Billy. Her father just says, "Ask your mother." And the bookstore is on the opposite coast, far away from Miranda's current life as a high school history teacher. When Miranda returns for his funeral, she realizes his inheritance comes with a scavenger hunt. In order to solve the mystery of why Billy disappeared from her life, she has to follow the clues and put the whole story together: </span><i>“Like Prospero, Billy wanted to tell me of his betrayal, the event that had exiled him from our family." </i>And so the search begins, taking Miranda from person to person, event to event.</p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><b>My reaction:</b> Boy, did I ever need this one after reading </span><i style="color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;">Caste</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;">! This is lighthearted (mostly), warm, happy (mostly), quick read. This is a book lover's book, for sure. I love all the titles listed throughout, the literary references, the celebration of reading. And what a DREAM: to inherit a whole bookstore! Meyerson does a fantastic job immersing us in the world of bookstores—I could smell the books, feel the covers, and take comfort in the shelves. Miranda herself was a little annoying now and then, but certainly not enough to keep me from highly recommending this.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;">My biggest gripe: the title. I cannot remember this for the life of me! Shakespeare's <i>The Tempest </i>was such a prevalent theme throughout the book—Prospero Books and the name Miranda, just for starters. Why not use Prospero in the title? (Or maybe the title IS a reference from <i>The Tempest</i>, and I'm not getting it! "Dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday," perhaps...) I keep getting this title mixed up with others I've read recently: <i>The Little Paris Bookshop, The Library of Lost and Found, The Book of Lost Friends.</i>.. I know—it's a petty complaint and should not stop anyone from reading this lovely book!</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PWmujtubCER0AlhAE5lspsvoygaFFu3xyNviZZB6iZwiA7OZBoapS0zwYyuQpTsFDwpi8OhgazbEPoGRmCS8baustBoNmtgWwR_5KbZre6v7LhxxvzXsn4A5ooZybtsmwDwx4EqprPM_/s499/41Do3mLZqOL._SX329_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="331" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8PWmujtubCER0AlhAE5lspsvoygaFFu3xyNviZZB6iZwiA7OZBoapS0zwYyuQpTsFDwpi8OhgazbEPoGRmCS8baustBoNmtgWwR_5KbZre6v7LhxxvzXsn4A5ooZybtsmwDwx4EqprPM_/s320/41Do3mLZqOL._SX329_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dark-Vanessa-Kate-Elizabeth-Russell/dp/006294150X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3HV981RP8YE3R&dchild=1&keywords=my+dark+vanessa&qid=1611415884&sprefix=my+dark+vane%2Caps%2C190&sr=8-1">My Dark Vanessa</a> by Kate Elizabeth Russell</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><b>The story: </b>Vanessa is an outcast at her boarding school. She's lonely, friendless, isolated, and 15. She's the perfect prey for a predator like her 40-something English teacher, Mr. Strane. He singles her out and grooms her carefully, telling her that she's just like him, that he's madly in love with her, that she's brilliant. He knows all the right things to say, knows exactly how to manipulate Vanessa. Over 15 years later, he still knows all the right things to say: he knows how to convince her to keep their story quiet when another young woman, and then another and another come public with accusations of being abused by Strane. "They're lying," he tells Vanessa, and she believes him. He has been telling her since she was 15 that she's special, after all. The book alternates between 15-year-old Vanessa and Vanessa in her early 30s, when the accusations are flying about Strane. It's the #metoo movement, and Vanessa claims she is NOT a victim: that she made all her own choices, willingly. How long will she keep protecting her abuser?</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><b>My reaction:</b> Haunting. Disturbing. Unsettling. Brilliant and brave. My heart absolutely broke for Vanessa, over and over again. This book is full of triggers, so beware. It is a difficult, gut-wrenching journey. To read how a 15-year-old is brainwashed, manipulated, and degraded by an authority figure is just so heartbreaking and maddening. I was angry at her parents for treating her like a leper, for the school for not pursuing the initial report of abuse, and of course for Strane for being a despicable pedophile. But I was never angry with Vanessa, who was so deeply twisted by Strane that she could not see the truth of their "relationship." This book is not for everyone, for sure. It is raw, graphic, and so disturbing, but Russell does an incredible job of inviting the reader to explore the complexities of abuse, the thread between abuser and the abused, the voiced and the voiceless. Highly recommended but know ahead of time: this is hard stuff.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9GJtMVhyphenhyphenhOws8oDL56GgCHtvEAxuqozyvTjyUxY9G01N0dHOAf2FGNn4Mv3TXDcNvD0PaLfPXF2FL_IO3204gUOfGMQfubFuugqTrlOakUicoZlKzvRkXNUnuDJDrxwE3H55EOJLBJXR/s499/51TCW6ozeAL._SX320_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="322" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9GJtMVhyphenhyphenhOws8oDL56GgCHtvEAxuqozyvTjyUxY9G01N0dHOAf2FGNn4Mv3TXDcNvD0PaLfPXF2FL_IO3204gUOfGMQfubFuugqTrlOakUicoZlKzvRkXNUnuDJDrxwE3H55EOJLBJXR/s320/51TCW6ozeAL._SX320_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dollhouse-Novel-Fiona-Davis/dp/1101985011/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1612220642&sr=8-2" target="_blank">The Dollhouse</a> by Fiona Davis.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><b>The story:</b> Rose is a 30-ish journalist who has recently moved into the once glamorous Barbizon Hotel for Women, now luxury condos, with her partner. She becomes intrigued by the older women who live on the fourth floor of the hotel—women who are long-term tenants, now living in rent-controlled apartments. She learns that one woman fell to her death in the 1950s, another has a terrible scar on her face from some kind of altercation. Rose pitches the story to her editor and starts interviewing these women. From there, the book alternates between Rose's present day story and the story of Darby, one of the Barbizon women in the 1950s. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><b>My reaction. </b>The first half of the book was great... and then it fell apart. Darby's story just took too many unrealistic turns, and Rose's story never reached much development after the first half. I mean, she thinks she is about to get engaged, and then her boyfriend leaves her for his ex-wife. Exit long time almost fiancé, enter new guy. She's over her ex really fast. And there were a lot of references to what "really" happened at her previous job, but it just seemed extraneous and distracting. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;">Darby's 1952 story could have been so much more interesting had it been given more attention. The characters there held promise. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;">It was as if too many stories were happening at once, and none of them made it to a satisfying conclusion. Honestly, the book just went on way too long, and the climax was like a balloon that slowly and limply deflates. </span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather;"><i>Linked up with <a href="https://thebookdate.wordpress.com/2021/02/01/its-monday-what-are-you-reading-259/" target="_blank">It's Monday! What Are You Reading?</a></i></span></p>
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Books Read in February </h2><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAgYzo1y5Zao2-lz9xnc2QlOT6HhgfaaptDaZe_GC_DtR7YOd-PTiombYhRyunF_uSqRswC984OGHr87WNniO77i9XmBcgyF82QO-RXsh4VFqjJksrEe-KRT5K2dEj9y7N6fD2M4PuEC6/s500/511rJ5qu7tL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAgYzo1y5Zao2-lz9xnc2QlOT6HhgfaaptDaZe_GC_DtR7YOd-PTiombYhRyunF_uSqRswC984OGHr87WNniO77i9XmBcgyF82QO-RXsh4VFqjJksrEe-KRT5K2dEj9y7N6fD2M4PuEC6/s320/511rJ5qu7tL.jpg" /></a></div><p><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Woman-99-Novel-Greer-Macallister-ebook/dp/B07HJSBZJC/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=woman+99&qid=1613068396&sr=8-1"> Woman 99</a> by Greer Mcallister</p><p><b>The story:</b> It's the mid 1800s, and Charlotte's beloved older sister, Phoebe, suffers from what appears to be bipolar disorder. Her parents commit Phoebe, who they consider to be an embarrassment to the family, to an insane asylum. Charlotte absolutely cannot let Phoebe rot away there, and she hatches her own insane plan: she'll get herself committed to the asylum so that she can bring Phoebe home. By appearing to be suicidal, Charlotte gets sent to the asylum. She is shocked and horrified to discover that many of the women have been committed merely because they were somehow not "proper" women: they suffered from postpartum, loved the "wrong" person, or perhaps their husbands were just tired of them. She learns their stories while searching for Phoebe, and she also considers her own life and pending wedding.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnmFeeAZozDxJxDzR4kqarGjoyMann-PsvOTZsCD579B56imYtGxCD9S_tmo1fn0Zy5jDj7DUgny61gqiwQNAE7HUdL7Q2u-JQvFQEWI-TWOhwapOYQi3OVTxmyz5tEntMVjaMgxExgej/s1280/willardpsych82.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXnmFeeAZozDxJxDzR4kqarGjoyMann-PsvOTZsCD579B56imYtGxCD9S_tmo1fn0Zy5jDj7DUgny61gqiwQNAE7HUdL7Q2u-JQvFQEWI-TWOhwapOYQi3OVTxmyz5tEntMVjaMgxExgej/s320/willardpsych82.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Willard</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><b>My reaction:</b> I've always been both drawn to and terrified of books about asylums. The tension is real! I grew up on Seneca Lake, roughly across and down some from <a href="https://exploringupstate.com/willard-asylum-ovid-ny/">The Willard Asylum for the Chronic Insane</a>, and <a href="https://allthatsinteresting.com/willard-asylum">Willard</a>, as we called it, loomed largely in our young imaginations. I used to terrify myself by imagining that an escaped inmate would row a boat across the lake and land on our beach. Anyway... it's always been a strange fascination of mine. The thought of Charlotte willingly entering an asylum was both fascinating and unbelievable to me. I enjoyed very much the descriptions of the various wards, each focused on a different "ailment": love, silence, oversexualization, melancholy, etc. And I loved that Charlotte quickly recognizes that so many of the women in the asylum are there simply because they are inconvenient in some way. This is basically storage for women who dare to buck the system. There were definitely times that the book was too repetitive and drawn out, and some scenes seemed quite implausible; however, I found the book ultimately satisfying. For a book about an asylum, it was not graphic nor horribly disturbing. Recommended! <p></p><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbFWGiGw9A9LgNqIxheb1N3OVcnTP34SupX7PqmVETk5ddj8IGagvOQqQB4PUTD0tjX-iCr_sf_-UKfB8O_AP_zmVh9ncApzNk5Jl5p4dQHIF3-Umd7DopTJQoPHy_gJ5x60B6ZGkvX2M/s499/515Jg9lLYaL._SX330_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="332" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbFWGiGw9A9LgNqIxheb1N3OVcnTP34SupX7PqmVETk5ddj8IGagvOQqQB4PUTD0tjX-iCr_sf_-UKfB8O_AP_zmVh9ncApzNk5Jl5p4dQHIF3-Umd7DopTJQoPHy_gJ5x60B6ZGkvX2M/s320/515Jg9lLYaL._SX330_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dutch-House-Novel-Ann-Patchett/dp/0062963686/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=the+dutch+house&qid=1613068862&sr=8-1"><br /></a></div><div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dutch-House-Novel-Ann-Patchett/dp/0062963686/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=the+dutch+house&qid=1613068862&sr=8-1">The Dutch House </a>by Ann Patchett</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The story</b>: This is a marvelous story of a brother, a sister, and their rightful inheritance, the Dutch House, a grand house purchased by their father and ripped out from under them at his unexpected death. For the rest of their lives, Danny and Maeve try to figure out what went wrong and how to get it all back. They move forward with their lives when they are apart, but each time Danny and Maeve get together, they pick apart every detail of the events that led up to their father's death. Other people in their lives fill in details now and then, and as they leave middle age, the siblings finally have some closure as questions are answered.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>My reaction:</b> Ann Patchett is just the real deal. What a storyteller! Everything about this works together. There are no loose ends, no wondering for me. The characters, including the house itself, are all richly drawn. It's somewhat of a Hansel and Gretel tale, with an evil stepmother, a kind but distant father, and that irresistible gingerbread house that draws them back again and again. I love Ann Patchett, and I love this book.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicl-GGn6GATog3pWLut_G29BW1fu12Q3Hv7ksYI-gDJ-xkUmYTOEvlJ4_DgY4wiPMrn6K94S4u1qshUY2Efqe9-CZvZPys9FXSmP74klxmeHhoXikeKWi1MJcwm7DeUuqAynhbIve9mTBp/s500/51xbbNWBwCL.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicl-GGn6GATog3pWLut_G29BW1fu12Q3Hv7ksYI-gDJ-xkUmYTOEvlJ4_DgY4wiPMrn6K94S4u1qshUY2Efqe9-CZvZPys9FXSmP74klxmeHhoXikeKWi1MJcwm7DeUuqAynhbIve9mTBp/s320/51xbbNWBwCL.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/After-Alice-Fell-Taylor-Blakemore-ebook/dp/B0874463D9/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=after+alice+fell+book&qid=1613430324&sr=8-1">After Alice Fell</a> by Kim Taylor Blakemore</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The story:</b> It's just after the Civil War, and Marion has spent the past year as a battlefield nurse. While she was gone, her beloved sister, Alice, was committed to an asylum by their brother and his wife. And then Alice fell off the roof of the asylum and died. Everyone assures her that Alice committed suicide, but Marion knows she would never do that. So how did Alice get to the roof, and who pushed her? <i>Let it go,</i> her brother and his wife tell her, but she cannot rest until she finds out how Alice fell.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>My reaction:</b> Eh. Well, first I have to say how weird it is that I read yet another book this month set partially in an asylum in the mid-1800s. Between this and <i>Woman 99,</i> the latter is far more interesting. This one had so many missing pieces. It was terribly disjointed, and at times I felt as if I were in an institution. None of the character, except the dead Alice and the nephew, were particularly likable, and I like books with likable characters. I'd give it a solid 3.5. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiav0C9ThhglmMd3H8RNRjT4vMRSXHzw5mXhWnQoj9mmgEZ16Oc0lWaaOTbknKCD7ronuzMw44vvcP-IqY4JQqtNoShTjdSUHZuAchR79gkAvlobJKkgcHW_JaavEBKAtlkhbGAwOhDwxCZ/s499/51H7YynECuL._SX331_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="333" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiav0C9ThhglmMd3H8RNRjT4vMRSXHzw5mXhWnQoj9mmgEZ16Oc0lWaaOTbknKCD7ronuzMw44vvcP-IqY4JQqtNoShTjdSUHZuAchR79gkAvlobJKkgcHW_JaavEBKAtlkhbGAwOhDwxCZ/s320/51H7YynECuL._SX331_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Everything-Here-Beautiful-Mira-Lee/dp/0735221979/ref=sr_1_1?crid=38MOJ05E183TN&dchild=1&keywords=everything+here+is+beautiful&qid=1614368266&sprefix=everything+here+is%2Caps%2C301&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Everything Here Is Beautiful </a>by Mira T. Lee</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The story:</b> Lucia and Miranda are Chinese-American sisters, fiercely loyal to each other. Miranda, as the elder sister, is protective and motherly toward Lucia, who is carefree and impulsive, a girl who thoroughly enjoys each moment of life. Both sisters are independent and brilliant, but as Lucia heads into her 20s, she develops a mental illness. Only Miranda knows about it for awhile, until Lucia marries Yonah. Within the first year of their marriage, the "serpents" begin tormenting Lucia. The voices in her head drag her down, and Miranda is there to rescue her. Their relationship suffers, as Miranda becomes more and more insistent that Lucia take her medicine, and Lucia resists. Lucia spends the next decade or so in and out of hospitals, in and out of relationships, and in and out of motherhood. Miranda is walks the tightrope of caring too much and letting go.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>My reaction: </b>What are the chances that I would read yet a third book centering on two sisters, one of each pair with a mental illness, in the span of a month? This was totally not on purpose; I just grabbed the books when they became available on the library's electronic reading system. This is my favorite one by far. This book is so beautifully written. Each of the characters — Lucia, Yonah, Manuel, Esperanza, and Miranda — is richly brought to life. We are especially submerged in Lucia's world— from vibrant and then impoverished neighborhoods in NYC to rural Ecuador. Lee's perspective on various immigrant experiences in the U.S. was powerful and so lovingly written. I especially appreciated the section on Lucia and Manuel, an Ecuadorian immigrant who is constantly afraid of being deported. Lee paints all her characters with such tenderness and such vivacity. Miranda and Lucia are a classic pair: the Martha and Mary, the steady worker and the prodigal daughter, one responsible and one reckless; but both fight demons in their own way. Highly recommended. These characters will stay with me for a long time.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZx72TerQN29GsFC1vj6HmVOUzxlOStOZ90timL3pgRkrmd10qt5l5Jg0l5QFhkD5rz8I1qN6UvicxUfQkPNmUTfPShxXwjb44D2aRP0lCkWYRVmxJYDoUVBGybEmgaYFB_HfB1TOO6sYu/s499/41UY3xTBq3L._SX322_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="324" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZx72TerQN29GsFC1vj6HmVOUzxlOStOZ90timL3pgRkrmd10qt5l5Jg0l5QFhkD5rz8I1qN6UvicxUfQkPNmUTfPShxXwjb44D2aRP0lCkWYRVmxJYDoUVBGybEmgaYFB_HfB1TOO6sYu/s320/41UY3xTBq3L._SX322_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Homegoing-Yaa-Gyasi/dp/1101971061/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3JCRV0Y5HPHMI&dchild=1&keywords=homegoing+by+yaa+gyasi&qid=1614368484&sprefix=homegoing%2Caps%2C202&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Homegoing</a> by Yaa Gyasi</div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b>The story:</b> This is a sweeping story of a family through many generations and across continents, beginning with <span style="background-color: white; color: #181818;">the half sisters, Effia and Esi, who are born into different villages in Ghana in the 1700s. One sister is sold into slavery; the other is taken as an Englishman's Ghanian wife. (He has another back in England.) From there, the novel proceeds through subsequent generations of each sister's line, telling a different family member's story up until present day. One line goes through Ghanian warfare, the slave trade, and colonization; the other sister's descendants are enslaved people on Southern plantations, convicts in the coal mines, part of the Great Migration, and all the way to today. Ultimately, the two lines meet again in a powerful, hopeful conclusion.</span></span></p><div><br /></div><div><b>My reaction:</b> Brilliant. Heartbreaking. Beautiful. Eye-opening. This is a tremendous undertaking on the part of Gyasi (this is her debut novel), and she absolutely succeeded. Each character's story is told with such love and devotion; it's as if she freed dozens of voices to speak and say, "I am here. I lived, and I loved, and I have a story you need to hear." I wish I had read this in an actual hard copy book rather than on my Kindle because Gyasi includes a wonderful family tree at the beginning that I should have returned to again and again, to keep all the characters straight. I am too lazy to do this on my Kindle. That is a small, reader's issue that has nothing to do with the actual novel itself, which is astonishing. Read it. Pay attention. And then tell someone else to read it. Truly incredible.</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's it for February! I've started March with Fredrik Backman's <i>Anxious People.</i> So far, so good!</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-90600241522197200932021-01-31T20:31:00.000-05:002021-01-31T20:31:53.252-05:002020 in Review (Part 1)<p> I'm a month late in reviewing 2020... but I have to get this strange year recorded. </p><p><br /></p><p>2020 started out with such promise! We were looking forward to Jesse and Summer's wedding on July 4. We toured their venue; we got together for some planning.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5kcj-_ML4OC37rmoVUVIwD2Ojb4iWtj9cWnauGG2FvsmN3HYHJHE2rXEvYLE-N1eu8Og5bgOGxC-c_38CuWwKUG6HlgIw6dYIEUtDwfNK-0nmTB9jzPJjOKoDxYMoZJurNK46dPVufmB/s2048/IMG_4536.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit5kcj-_ML4OC37rmoVUVIwD2Ojb4iWtj9cWnauGG2FvsmN3HYHJHE2rXEvYLE-N1eu8Og5bgOGxC-c_38CuWwKUG6HlgIw6dYIEUtDwfNK-0nmTB9jzPJjOKoDxYMoZJurNK46dPVufmB/w640-h480/IMG_4536.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2apemSka5iHcYwp-Ir3NnAYqyrZfyEJTlLHmneRejR6yI79uCtISZ93ujqWGkknCnUlPNzarmMl-HfvviXa7CN61FpvQ5Jlo7dZjyjBnuJoX6O1QqgrYcaghbeGpKuRrOFjpzYruflx5Q/s2048/IMG_4672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2apemSka5iHcYwp-Ir3NnAYqyrZfyEJTlLHmneRejR6yI79uCtISZ93ujqWGkknCnUlPNzarmMl-HfvviXa7CN61FpvQ5Jlo7dZjyjBnuJoX6O1QqgrYcaghbeGpKuRrOFjpzYruflx5Q/w640-h480/IMG_4672.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Randy had hernia surgery and spent a few weeks recovering...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEierpX-x-14cp6_3XCP9UCzU9y0f3WaSbFR59AJSoXo8ulTrRduiY81W0wMDL6sIvl-7fa2uWget_iXptL-5XmLvQnQ3qIbqt5DeMVF4QYwtPnqqh0EsgWuV68Y6DWuCbD7r0swh-39O1Yz/s2048/IMG_4597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEierpX-x-14cp6_3XCP9UCzU9y0f3WaSbFR59AJSoXo8ulTrRduiY81W0wMDL6sIvl-7fa2uWget_iXptL-5XmLvQnQ3qIbqt5DeMVF4QYwtPnqqh0EsgWuV68Y6DWuCbD7r0swh-39O1Yz/w640-h480/IMG_4597.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We moved his mom into an assisted living facility. In the photo below, my mom (on the left in blue) is visiting Randy's mom on the right.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlQQynuoTbVMAnEx3qryxZ6hnOgiZEW-BJi_JZlkS_MMT2GO8wwQZ-sHFKnZzoAAT4DsTVlLSQNXOVx-ms3klyUQXk-6bwU4e15BxsxgPJARzCrKkgwzh_XLyeUKxWw6DYkz9jKPA1CoE/s2048/IMG_4604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlQQynuoTbVMAnEx3qryxZ6hnOgiZEW-BJi_JZlkS_MMT2GO8wwQZ-sHFKnZzoAAT4DsTVlLSQNXOVx-ms3klyUQXk-6bwU4e15BxsxgPJARzCrKkgwzh_XLyeUKxWw6DYkz9jKPA1CoE/w640-h480/IMG_4604.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We had book clubs and game nights and celebrated birthdays.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29yfIlgj1HrK-63xd70ArXl6voaNb7ll8jiUMjrBouf5A2kN9uYYiRS_LgKtjhu71xri5TXkx-l8Kyu4hbmkUAL33ppBgH8dXTD28sqWcnvVfQwhD-L_bZM5_l3Jj8Z3NMZxvT5lPis-t/s2048/IMG_4665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29yfIlgj1HrK-63xd70ArXl6voaNb7ll8jiUMjrBouf5A2kN9uYYiRS_LgKtjhu71xri5TXkx-l8Kyu4hbmkUAL33ppBgH8dXTD28sqWcnvVfQwhD-L_bZM5_l3Jj8Z3NMZxvT5lPis-t/w640-h480/IMG_4665.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUZemwitDsUwHu9hUGn7X0wtx-VK-DP-JmtRUTfwypC1zXtctpEsoOHXmK5EamGV-bJRl6yZ1NUrJlgfmsyh4I4B-_vknUyFmKvl8MzaKNhmoC3S2E1Y7dnPpcLZdNP1gwAzMCnmeRlND/s960/IMG_4778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUZemwitDsUwHu9hUGn7X0wtx-VK-DP-JmtRUTfwypC1zXtctpEsoOHXmK5EamGV-bJRl6yZ1NUrJlgfmsyh4I4B-_vknUyFmKvl8MzaKNhmoC3S2E1Y7dnPpcLZdNP1gwAzMCnmeRlND/w640-h480/IMG_4778.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnI-euaKXw8ORcVFIfhDHk23ISeCTj7Q0lL4ZbGEE7LJUgbOiBOI5z4QBBfpkwnG6gLo-d2Mp-2qHscZ-q_O7eQRv94t8GhjqTN5bXbrFOOEQkn7XWFMAdMtcgGN9bcx3iXn2Jp88viRzk/s2048/IMG_4689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1668" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnI-euaKXw8ORcVFIfhDHk23ISeCTj7Q0lL4ZbGEE7LJUgbOiBOI5z4QBBfpkwnG6gLo-d2Mp-2qHscZ-q_O7eQRv94t8GhjqTN5bXbrFOOEQkn7XWFMAdMtcgGN9bcx3iXn2Jp88viRzk/w522-h640/IMG_4689.jpg" width="522" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YCeDJmEJHZcGIf2icvV-hGE83gufiULjZ3BQISAYl9ne1FVGaTSp4Cea9HJhCZpd2EfSFESagj6MeFJVj-GyNs7kLBUmurx9ZOnyxzz4KAHhoWvStmNTF_prWZUFqXz4ZHhGUo3eScZY/s2048/IMG_4740.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7YCeDJmEJHZcGIf2icvV-hGE83gufiULjZ3BQISAYl9ne1FVGaTSp4Cea9HJhCZpd2EfSFESagj6MeFJVj-GyNs7kLBUmurx9ZOnyxzz4KAHhoWvStmNTF_prWZUFqXz4ZHhGUo3eScZY/w640-h480/IMG_4740.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>We saw friends and family and celebrated weddings and even traveled.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTZerrew6NB8dktAg_7acANHW45nFjVGyXyEze2wjNE4Oq3F-zXlwdFxrK0oFqDUa11TdVWBivjUbKuSs_hhlaIaFplBYMWjbMxmv09yigalTgroB_I-HUs7-5Pb_JVfYw0wsoRIztyLB/s2048/IMG_4812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1471" data-original-width="2048" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuTZerrew6NB8dktAg_7acANHW45nFjVGyXyEze2wjNE4Oq3F-zXlwdFxrK0oFqDUa11TdVWBivjUbKuSs_hhlaIaFplBYMWjbMxmv09yigalTgroB_I-HUs7-5Pb_JVfYw0wsoRIztyLB/w640-h460/IMG_4812.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We spent an couple hours with Laurel and Hunter while they were in Gatlinburg</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-VeBzRsnL5y_fPq8ZTofXKbmhtWxMhbSQPj4KcZRot7qGBpONWPKPbbht9EBUwsbVQHt_qcezfVew-5Y7wU6eJQBAWBK-MYUGZaXJjBMPVLDnCYNaZhyphenhyphenyBdPlEa7J0Q9MXNAGKxMzsn1/s2048/IMG_4820.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1746" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-VeBzRsnL5y_fPq8ZTofXKbmhtWxMhbSQPj4KcZRot7qGBpONWPKPbbht9EBUwsbVQHt_qcezfVew-5Y7wU6eJQBAWBK-MYUGZaXJjBMPVLDnCYNaZhyphenhyphenyBdPlEa7J0Q9MXNAGKxMzsn1/w546-h640/IMG_4820.jpg" width="546" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We spend a night with my high school friend Robin and her husband while they were in the Smokies</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqdQ_1zlv4a0cEV8qHubHoO9zJYY1awVsaUOUeFOCOdcYHxHce1xBCa-2eaxobmN9vONVaoIwVIlYSwOcQ5sGPQX2r-d4J6Aj6Rd-JVixBumnLwfEjG6MQVNmMRhszOIT6BTSVIP_OHFL/s2048/IMG_4845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdqdQ_1zlv4a0cEV8qHubHoO9zJYY1awVsaUOUeFOCOdcYHxHce1xBCa-2eaxobmN9vONVaoIwVIlYSwOcQ5sGPQX2r-d4J6Aj6Rd-JVixBumnLwfEjG6MQVNmMRhszOIT6BTSVIP_OHFL/w640-h480/IMG_4845.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We celebrated Elizabeth's son's wedding!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LbSItN7os7mfEEg0cjPbz-NWPjGr1vjFtrdENQOwoFEevb-yi5msSJ_YLpTOwcehvudVH1SAu4-Dqa_8HncMUPuHdcFvyVadWxTunsbZLhuMIGntDq5bJ2DuXObQSZbtrc1Lt6D_4B4K/s2048/IMG_4929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5LbSItN7os7mfEEg0cjPbz-NWPjGr1vjFtrdENQOwoFEevb-yi5msSJ_YLpTOwcehvudVH1SAu4-Dqa_8HncMUPuHdcFvyVadWxTunsbZLhuMIGntDq5bJ2DuXObQSZbtrc1Lt6D_4B4K/w640-h480/IMG_4929.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I visited Laurel and Hunter in Nashville for a few days</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>And then COVID became real. I remember this particular night so well. It was about a week before things got really bad in NYC. Randy and I were planning to go to NYC during spring break, and I remember telling my friends that we were still planning to go.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIBxkZyeVyuYZievu9U0Ef0qA2TN_MNz25onitj2U3Eaq9n4aRYWF345sK0btmAOXvtPSy5FnuzBCaI8KxAp8DUDxm_mS_aVf72FHWaOln_yzaG1WoIpeeutUthTB0RO1P-bbE38TUK0O3/s2048/IMG_5002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIBxkZyeVyuYZievu9U0Ef0qA2TN_MNz25onitj2U3Eaq9n4aRYWF345sK0btmAOXvtPSy5FnuzBCaI8KxAp8DUDxm_mS_aVf72FHWaOln_yzaG1WoIpeeutUthTB0RO1P-bbE38TUK0O3/w640-h480/IMG_5002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>We all thought it would go away soon.</p><p>A few days later, my friends and I went to Biltmore Estates for a little getaway. It all still seemed so far away.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7F5tln13kidh-ufPMsA3Ky3-9J_zHayXIW7sf6TcPbJ0lzdN-i1jI5_IFRnzr2YW2ZwM118Yl3hws016P8fFd8OxRFPPBOVDD-AUauppSMyNLPWIkcBtFvD__t0L0EWFTm5VOqKhbHZl/s2048/IMG_5013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1521" data-original-width="2048" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7F5tln13kidh-ufPMsA3Ky3-9J_zHayXIW7sf6TcPbJ0lzdN-i1jI5_IFRnzr2YW2ZwM118Yl3hws016P8fFd8OxRFPPBOVDD-AUauppSMyNLPWIkcBtFvD__t0L0EWFTm5VOqKhbHZl/w640-h476/IMG_5013.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>That was March 11.</p><p>Laurel came home for spring break, and we all went for a hike. On the way to the hike, we talked about the wedding and wondered if it would still happen. On the way there, it was recommended that gatherings stay less than 100.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-2Ze2OHLvG2t9ymAwtfG7RPOBjzMxCXnLIbJa5nZ80i-zCCJQtLAgmqinF7HuzzcEk7J81omJrJMKY0T_ARBtahGRUDSv3T4-kkePPOhw7BR4OBdJlUyhX9JwlmwyiNLweFcye1W9ogV/s2048/IMG_5103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1647" data-original-width="2048" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-2Ze2OHLvG2t9ymAwtfG7RPOBjzMxCXnLIbJa5nZ80i-zCCJQtLAgmqinF7HuzzcEk7J81omJrJMKY0T_ARBtahGRUDSv3T4-kkePPOhw7BR4OBdJlUyhX9JwlmwyiNLweFcye1W9ogV/w640-h514/IMG_5103.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyv4cnDcCPL_VGXAvl2CXRwPVZPYJIBrEUC0rVpFDpZfnWdiFEiGwfuviFvvTWIcBbqnUsdOQEgMZx-mULrP1PmgFwD583E0hEb21AL0agFVRHcOF5tJqpziCL2SOoap7IRwpTM85_4K5/s2048/IMG_5106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1416" data-original-width="2048" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyv4cnDcCPL_VGXAvl2CXRwPVZPYJIBrEUC0rVpFDpZfnWdiFEiGwfuviFvvTWIcBbqnUsdOQEgMZx-mULrP1PmgFwD583E0hEb21AL0agFVRHcOF5tJqpziCL2SOoap7IRwpTM85_4K5/w640-h442/IMG_5106.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRM4t7k21gP9KDMKaViqin5oqh6SFg65G8-q5KPQiuBlXOIUHAEUtmBhu40YjkurJudgMwflq6-doE-4ooKXJHhyphenhyphen7NQ_5Vqmu9KmPuz98Ff-LeJ1E6mHuphyfWf9llyJ03MUxYhBeIH_X/s2048/IMG_1607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRM4t7k21gP9KDMKaViqin5oqh6SFg65G8-q5KPQiuBlXOIUHAEUtmBhu40YjkurJudgMwflq6-doE-4ooKXJHhyphenhyphen7NQ_5Vqmu9KmPuz98Ff-LeJ1E6mHuphyfWf9llyJ03MUxYhBeIH_X/w640-h480/IMG_1607.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>On the way home, the governor recommended that gatherings stay at fewer than 50 people. The virus was officially and certainly in Tennessee. And everywhere.</p><p>And Duncan was in Peru, doing research on the Amazon River, totally off the grid. Imagine how happy we were when our boy made it home, getting out of Peru just two hours before the borders closed! Like so many students, he finished up his semester at home. Here is is climbing the house, because it's the best climbing wall we have here!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6AI-_uWDlzNGtZvYrMqH9xfXmLIRUDp6rxURxLOKeNnQLBg6JQBUnh1YvqPUsoxcTvCwrIdFh6wtcF8a2Fv0CZK6_KbGr3qkg9zYttnsHL2Xz_652epJdee6OD29YsnD8NBtS23KCIrpE/s2048/IMG_5369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6AI-_uWDlzNGtZvYrMqH9xfXmLIRUDp6rxURxLOKeNnQLBg6JQBUnh1YvqPUsoxcTvCwrIdFh6wtcF8a2Fv0CZK6_KbGr3qkg9zYttnsHL2Xz_652epJdee6OD29YsnD8NBtS23KCIrpE/w640-h480/IMG_5369.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>And then there was this...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEHwFN7gfb-PuYMdPeMA6Y1jpYc6IUEDi_eWb9K88o2r7WBS_mkyTts8xEXUrppiFIfDGvbWgVF6fohnYGdp3GKxmTUwd3qPKcBXvbsKYxsmUv7xd0sS5LlcsIgHpZu8-H_D6ivComGL06/s1334/EA31A459-2A03-41C1-9267-85FEB7961FFF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEHwFN7gfb-PuYMdPeMA6Y1jpYc6IUEDi_eWb9K88o2r7WBS_mkyTts8xEXUrppiFIfDGvbWgVF6fohnYGdp3GKxmTUwd3qPKcBXvbsKYxsmUv7xd0sS5LlcsIgHpZu8-H_D6ivComGL06/w360-h640/EA31A459-2A03-41C1-9267-85FEB7961FFF.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><br /><p>Answer: YES.</p><p>And Jesse's birthday on Zoom...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gGr2lPCT8KqViJglDarKMyhN0iPcArx5dbsjzPW-0iJKU5MK0DRRuKdgEumAVydVTs9Qm6Iiw44Ql9BTHW95YDhMKML5y9NCDOwIQL5U2YLg8cvc8vJ9OgLCEDdK0r7pq-aD3vFPohc1/s2048/IMG_5360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3gGr2lPCT8KqViJglDarKMyhN0iPcArx5dbsjzPW-0iJKU5MK0DRRuKdgEumAVydVTs9Qm6Iiw44Ql9BTHW95YDhMKML5y9NCDOwIQL5U2YLg8cvc8vJ9OgLCEDdK0r7pq-aD3vFPohc1/w640-h480/IMG_5360.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />And lots of cocktails.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1dO0HDWMeAgz6c8bcr5rJ0jOeLzhigglUEcDNy8o1dKFtlhq5Hoh2mrYqPKtr1s6Pb2JpfUY_pZGIWXhKEk-KOMQahuX797x8_MKiG9MvY-DKUs5VOPzWe6-d7s959xyRB_MWBsdnZn3/s2048/IMG_5336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1dO0HDWMeAgz6c8bcr5rJ0jOeLzhigglUEcDNy8o1dKFtlhq5Hoh2mrYqPKtr1s6Pb2JpfUY_pZGIWXhKEk-KOMQahuX797x8_MKiG9MvY-DKUs5VOPzWe6-d7s959xyRB_MWBsdnZn3/w480-h640/IMG_5336.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p>So many cocktails.</p><p>And we worked from home, like everyone else.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNPIV5U4aPTBSmUAvbiY-pnMefZdP9EH-zKipY8QszxELy1Up3BHfmIs8fb_j1ZK6xEWeW0br6dU3pCT4xSH2OxqCs8ktG4wtk8anYdk_rhzun_RLJ5voM507WRjSRONFKzh1QvAiE22h/s2048/IMG_5683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNPIV5U4aPTBSmUAvbiY-pnMefZdP9EH-zKipY8QszxELy1Up3BHfmIs8fb_j1ZK6xEWeW0br6dU3pCT4xSH2OxqCs8ktG4wtk8anYdk_rhzun_RLJ5voM507WRjSRONFKzh1QvAiE22h/w640-h480/IMG_5683.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpJs4SPqRbRku42kMrab_YSI75FHKV2Z4mEh6Fx8YK9_KHECXvO93hNs4tI3sbAmo5AiDgQWXtHkvq57MkTypPIkq3xv97AYBC45xETp7oxbIEENwUejba7McuvqF7nhYIOSoYX3U7Uqre/s2048/IMG_5886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1494" data-original-width="2048" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpJs4SPqRbRku42kMrab_YSI75FHKV2Z4mEh6Fx8YK9_KHECXvO93hNs4tI3sbAmo5AiDgQWXtHkvq57MkTypPIkq3xv97AYBC45xETp7oxbIEENwUejba7McuvqF7nhYIOSoYX3U7Uqre/w640-h466/IMG_5886.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>And bought a lot of toilet paper.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAcyuc86GhtzsJUsuL8w7BmVH_sTD7zPmulwuBC2TKPsd-12hqi3YmdfBAZhjAypP1PBsVt3n9dd00WHFotpZDCt3QG4k-QjqazP69jE7r-HjwkBb0krp0B9XxnZGaQbKl9feDhNgrpHc/s2048/IMG_5596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1771" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAcyuc86GhtzsJUsuL8w7BmVH_sTD7zPmulwuBC2TKPsd-12hqi3YmdfBAZhjAypP1PBsVt3n9dd00WHFotpZDCt3QG4k-QjqazP69jE7r-HjwkBb0krp0B9XxnZGaQbKl9feDhNgrpHc/w554-h640/IMG_5596.jpg" width="554" /></a></div><br /><p>We played games and took walks and lounged in hammocks.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3Y8qS-Jba6xaFnZEyG7gIsagVoomw1SDu3x3rIOjgW9m-bFMNFV-amn8wGo82VFoyDUvDVSswNr2gYQbxhiVrAURoCV9MOr15E7dzFpMyO3iXZidjMPbTPI6q_mYP5u3nDZGh97dLNjm/s2048/IMG_5186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU3Y8qS-Jba6xaFnZEyG7gIsagVoomw1SDu3x3rIOjgW9m-bFMNFV-amn8wGo82VFoyDUvDVSswNr2gYQbxhiVrAURoCV9MOr15E7dzFpMyO3iXZidjMPbTPI6q_mYP5u3nDZGh97dLNjm/w480-h640/IMG_5186.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqmK916A1fHanM1xd8ymEBX2Bh68b7H4bogSM96coXRtHgqPME-q_50R5_Xye7s4UkFWkA8EoEGvNjqzGHr8SC9cgtKnWh67XNsHIjX8IbOz2-AMto6mDUe7kOc0iaMCIDdTKXWFfg26l/s2048/60964190995__C325086B-FB95-4433-B5BE-5325EE68F019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqmK916A1fHanM1xd8ymEBX2Bh68b7H4bogSM96coXRtHgqPME-q_50R5_Xye7s4UkFWkA8EoEGvNjqzGHr8SC9cgtKnWh67XNsHIjX8IbOz2-AMto6mDUe7kOc0iaMCIDdTKXWFfg26l/w480-h640/60964190995__C325086B-FB95-4433-B5BE-5325EE68F019.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfjuW0BXBATdEEK36ShAS02l8tPmW0JG44BZoF2NiR7razuXsbVmVr4U6-pqtiGk5diZHSegsDb3YSkVDRD2oYtDLcZQNDhzFjF_EixmIaLT7t1mABhgMxVqtnaOYe-yogCQK8nUKFJnO/s2048/IMG_5566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1423" data-original-width="2048" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfjuW0BXBATdEEK36ShAS02l8tPmW0JG44BZoF2NiR7razuXsbVmVr4U6-pqtiGk5diZHSegsDb3YSkVDRD2oYtDLcZQNDhzFjF_EixmIaLT7t1mABhgMxVqtnaOYe-yogCQK8nUKFJnO/w640-h444/IMG_5566.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GHZDhfVB-PXXHmx3agxAo2XKOcbyZTibI9HmopJkCTT7U4oD9IY7tm4Ls5_kEBjcUbeAgGR9DPkrRPjVWqdDypTuL5_CzdhPPRh42Vd6b5pgRSYJeFPq4aUR7gTv3YFESXwYBOViTJ0b/s2048/IMG_5914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GHZDhfVB-PXXHmx3agxAo2XKOcbyZTibI9HmopJkCTT7U4oD9IY7tm4Ls5_kEBjcUbeAgGR9DPkrRPjVWqdDypTuL5_CzdhPPRh42Vd6b5pgRSYJeFPq4aUR7gTv3YFESXwYBOViTJ0b/w640-h480/IMG_5914.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rfEObh_so80S3I2PNZLTRJts1xuOxJhngsrg51QbQdp3_9TuU3d2L449cjtexF6zSU3k3B1qUTNUtquRgxaNR5IHdMS_FjVSAOj5UoRtN1v4LDPbxrARaTSVOfhNOTLj09rhhuMBDaLI/s2048/IMG_6557.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rfEObh_so80S3I2PNZLTRJts1xuOxJhngsrg51QbQdp3_9TuU3d2L449cjtexF6zSU3k3B1qUTNUtquRgxaNR5IHdMS_FjVSAOj5UoRtN1v4LDPbxrARaTSVOfhNOTLj09rhhuMBDaLI/w640-h480/IMG_6557.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-XY1BROQkQpe3Zgvn2KCAVgt2ez85pKOxAs4Ncl6yfJAFv9uhaOpQE7rCrYzID1G2StRiZGE2isdtW0cVEb2MIo6dfyGsQ-icpNBo8vchBFJLmRdxZuqMA2Cy3XUI6Dcm68zs_40E3_e/s2048/IMG_6616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-XY1BROQkQpe3Zgvn2KCAVgt2ez85pKOxAs4Ncl6yfJAFv9uhaOpQE7rCrYzID1G2StRiZGE2isdtW0cVEb2MIo6dfyGsQ-icpNBo8vchBFJLmRdxZuqMA2Cy3XUI6Dcm68zs_40E3_e/w480-h640/IMG_6616.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>We Zoomed.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCFQwOYJ8ykXsZAADiWt2turuDU1TLAk8oHUa5DB2IiwCMpy_f-ZqAQyLvHadGPG-SFJLiQuENhk3v9CTgbCUE-tw372t1EpwfrRy_tsKcerook9nKObWqYYuIRNrwtM1_QE8zkoNzEdY/s2048/IMG_5919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCFQwOYJ8ykXsZAADiWt2turuDU1TLAk8oHUa5DB2IiwCMpy_f-ZqAQyLvHadGPG-SFJLiQuENhk3v9CTgbCUE-tw372t1EpwfrRy_tsKcerook9nKObWqYYuIRNrwtM1_QE8zkoNzEdY/w640-h480/IMG_5919.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p>We put on masks.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGeaQAoa_oxg77N9cMn-If9wi1XMczMZkKnhZq1rARUq6_aZxv-L9BxwJCdRulG-wb2Yqfs2b6MDZ879pR7Ql58TO0n3I9bM_FmifhDc90gICGaj1cQQipGJ4rBmYWrmNzsiDfwAKna5R/s2048/IMG_5590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1766" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhGeaQAoa_oxg77N9cMn-If9wi1XMczMZkKnhZq1rARUq6_aZxv-L9BxwJCdRulG-wb2Yqfs2b6MDZ879pR7Ql58TO0n3I9bM_FmifhDc90gICGaj1cQQipGJ4rBmYWrmNzsiDfwAKna5R/w552-h640/IMG_5590.jpg" width="552" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxgY7B4j_LDkDWv72rZMOA8oIc0xkia3wEzBTX8_BOGgrTfc12xkeQ3sQXv024NfHVHDnV5vevPuiFA12jOzoGZOfq3hKfG1al33KlultevKitlQUrQULPe2rx95SsSCKyuAUZAYcdc-2z/s2048/61066753369__F1F3CD42-A7DB-453B-9B40-41324CF8C654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxgY7B4j_LDkDWv72rZMOA8oIc0xkia3wEzBTX8_BOGgrTfc12xkeQ3sQXv024NfHVHDnV5vevPuiFA12jOzoGZOfq3hKfG1al33KlultevKitlQUrQULPe2rx95SsSCKyuAUZAYcdc-2z/w480-h640/61066753369__F1F3CD42-A7DB-453B-9B40-41324CF8C654.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89CFGQA21DNbyS9-f4pUO-mB1POWvEXFlGmHjhQcpAXb_Sh_nB5h_YL3ogc3i9-dMYCJ3pNrpQRh9NPtyOinM5DhTPlz256y8kCMV98j9JlGdSoSY2Gj_ln5c0MsS4k5JMmgOqc83f7uS/s2048/IMG_4973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1471" data-original-width="2048" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89CFGQA21DNbyS9-f4pUO-mB1POWvEXFlGmHjhQcpAXb_Sh_nB5h_YL3ogc3i9-dMYCJ3pNrpQRh9NPtyOinM5DhTPlz256y8kCMV98j9JlGdSoSY2Gj_ln5c0MsS4k5JMmgOqc83f7uS/w640-h460/IMG_4973.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And that's just up until May. This is when it really began to set in that we were in this for the long haul. The wedding was off. Our trip to NYC was long ago canceled. Graduations were canceled. Concerts postponed. Cases were so low in Tennessee -- just a handful in our county. We settled in and waited. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-31216394704849509742021-01-09T12:54:00.003-05:002021-01-09T13:00:11.908-05:0015 Years of Blogging<p> It is hard to believe, but I have now been blogging for 15 years. How our little family has changed throughout those years! </p><p>Here are a few excerpts from my blog post on January 9, 2006, exactly 15 years ago today. The post was called "Why We Homeschool: The Intangible Version," and gives a wonderful peek into what our lives were like then, when Jesse was 12, Laurel 8, and Duncan 5. </p><p>***</p><span style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.84px;">We homeschool because....</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.84px;">* of days like today, when we had a spontaneous winter picnic. That in itself is lovely. But every aspect of it adds to the delight of homeschooling: my daughter made pbj's cut into perfect triangles; my 12-year-old son pushed my 5-year-old son in the swing so we could prepare the picnic; my parents joined us, making it a three-generation spontaneous winter picnic; my kids don't think it's weird to have a picnic on a rickety table in January. They're used to stuff like that.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.84px;">* of days like today, when my son had fun doing pre-algebra.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.84px;">* of days like today, when my dad came to hang out and read my son's math book.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.84px;">* of days like today, when my daughter gave her little brother her "squishy pillow" to sleep with because he was upset.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.84px;">* of days like today, when my littlest guy said, "Can I have these pennies to send to the poor children in Africa?"</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.84px;">* of days like tomorrow, when we can just drop all our "regular" studies to take advantage of a wonderful wildlife program that's going on all week.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.84px;">* of hundreds of yesterdays and tomorrows, filled with yellow rainboots jumping in puddles; mouths smeared with cookie dough; tears shared over sad books; lightbulbs flashing when a concept is mastered; muddy clothes and huge smiles; popcorn and movies; little prayers said; brothers and sister huddled over a game; sweet kisses on my cheek; fights over who loves Mommy most; happy yells when Daddy comes home; sweet friendships with other homeschooling families; and a million other little day-to-day treasures that might never be captured without homeschooling.</span><br /><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; text-align: left; width: 648px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; text-align: left; width: 648px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">***</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Cardo; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Cardo; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7mf1nB1HWIEDJZxsxRPQTIsL1y-n5m0WUzuX5JcpchI7tJNMM9RN4BuMVUWhCL3fbLTg0Hk9abW59fOUzWNg0J-YooJ3Woexryz-tEeULSbeb8dRJML3U5O1JEo2hWqNrllo0YpZ5yKK/s4032/IMG_9861.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7mf1nB1HWIEDJZxsxRPQTIsL1y-n5m0WUzuX5JcpchI7tJNMM9RN4BuMVUWhCL3fbLTg0Hk9abW59fOUzWNg0J-YooJ3Woexryz-tEeULSbeb8dRJML3U5O1JEo2hWqNrllo0YpZ5yKK/w640-h480/IMG_9861.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;">The five year old is now 6'4". He's majoring in Outdoor Education in college. He still has a big smile all the time. He's one of the most pleasant people I have ever been around. <span style="font-size: 15.84px;">Today we waved goodbye to him as he drove off to college. </span><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">I miss him already.</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><br style="font-size: 15.84px;" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNx93gPCAIRymq4EP1YRqhbqueU61GuIn2x7mEL5Wr_2AUcnJ2uTqC2_xB-7ziDfbLOhy4PUvrspdNyOOkSwlLZHoRUqAK21YTbwk6l9ViEaNN4XfxrdAzWIPSgzbjf0kGaon0eoPu0HJK/s1440/2DA90EB8-A01E-44C1-AE5C-5DE2E854EB45.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNx93gPCAIRymq4EP1YRqhbqueU61GuIn2x7mEL5Wr_2AUcnJ2uTqC2_xB-7ziDfbLOhy4PUvrspdNyOOkSwlLZHoRUqAK21YTbwk6l9ViEaNN4XfxrdAzWIPSgzbjf0kGaon0eoPu0HJK/w640-h640/2DA90EB8-A01E-44C1-AE5C-5DE2E854EB45.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">Before he left, my parents (95 and 93), whom we are so blessed to still have with us, came over for brunch. We ate biscuits and gravy. Mom said the same things over and over again ("Randy, did you make this? Jim has started cooking too!" "Duncan is so tall!" "Duncan, do you cook?"). Dad gave us all a lesson on eskers and drumlins — landforms left behind my glaciers. He is still teaching us, still sharing his expansive knowledge. And sweet Mom will always be the party girl.</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgu9FkvvP7Q5VDHnVHTF0XZccPJGk2vCSZsUAeg8IU90wZ-cSl_heHXkw3ntTe1ZXPA2GNlV5Ch4ctQvLm92l7KnhtVJbsRQYVEhSu0UjWsWkiG-FeKm3RjVw9dnd5MHra6UoDErE5ctRe/s1440/CA1FA27B-3A62-42FB-A843-EFA13B97EA71.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1081" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgu9FkvvP7Q5VDHnVHTF0XZccPJGk2vCSZsUAeg8IU90wZ-cSl_heHXkw3ntTe1ZXPA2GNlV5Ch4ctQvLm92l7KnhtVJbsRQYVEhSu0UjWsWkiG-FeKm3RjVw9dnd5MHra6UoDErE5ctRe/w640-h480/CA1FA27B-3A62-42FB-A843-EFA13B97EA71.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />That sweet little girl who comforted her little brother is still, at 23, comforting people, still making the world a softer, more beautiful place to live. She's in her second year of graduate school, getting her master's degree in marriage and family therapy. She and her husband live in a cute little apartment in Nashville. They were here for nearly a week over Christmas, and my heart nearly burst with joy at seeing my daughter every single day. I can never get enough of her. She is strong and capable, gentle and compassionate, funny and so much fun. Hunter has fit so nicely into our family. I can't wait to see where they go next in their lives!</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQaylC5lThyWGmk2E38hGxPYMHIObeylr9lETJFQw6BmF-IZtYqNnEUM3Gk57vXLg8rkfYg_cVQC88MgcgzY1waLP7GjFhPvq6rQW3Rf-KKYKLH9dRAvtp-OlIHaAUvMBY5vIZcWeALG_/s3088/IMG_9678.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBQaylC5lThyWGmk2E38hGxPYMHIObeylr9lETJFQw6BmF-IZtYqNnEUM3Gk57vXLg8rkfYg_cVQC88MgcgzY1waLP7GjFhPvq6rQW3Rf-KKYKLH9dRAvtp-OlIHaAUvMBY5vIZcWeALG_/w640-h480/IMG_9678.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">And that 12-year-old who was having fun with pre-algebra is now 27 and in his second year of law school, having fun writing briefs and memorizing cases and working on the law review. He and his fianceé, Summer, decided to postpone their wedding because of COVID, but it is something we keep looking forward to, one of these days. Summer is lovely and funny and seems like she's been part of our family forever. We can't wait until the threat of COVID is over, vaccinations are had all around, and we can resume our monthly dinners with Jesse and Summer.</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">We're so proud of all our kids. Those three little people have grown into lovely adults who we consider our closest friends. They are compassionate, intelligent, and fun to be around. They care about making the world a better place, about justice, equity, and caring for this beautiful planet. And while they don't fight over who loves Mommy the most anymore, at least not that I know of, they clearly love us and enjoy spending time with us. Randy and I do not take that gift lightly. It's probably the great prize of parenting yet —having kids who like to hang out with us.</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvDovi-yWbTAfIZ2lFjp8En5Mz_qahE0h1J30fIokidkb0tJs6nRPrUWzvOBIRDB5vz0rvNV4bHN_5tzNRcngD4l0ZpYncCHDSrZegaEEvb6lucwetiW2IjAVpAdklR3PLW0iSPXDzpzZB/s3088/IMG_9874.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvDovi-yWbTAfIZ2lFjp8En5Mz_qahE0h1J30fIokidkb0tJs6nRPrUWzvOBIRDB5vz0rvNV4bHN_5tzNRcngD4l0ZpYncCHDSrZegaEEvb6lucwetiW2IjAVpAdklR3PLW0iSPXDzpzZB/w640-h480/IMG_9874.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><br /></span></div>As much as we adore spending time with our kids, Randy and I have adapted to empty nesting well. He continues teaching at the University of Tennessee (21 years now) and I am now an adjunct instructor in the English department at our local private college, Maryville College. With the pandemic we are both working from home most of the time, Zooming, grading, and preparing lessons from our own favorite spots in the house. In the evenings we do what pretty much everyone else does: watch something on Netflix or Hulu. We will celebrate 32 years in March, but honestly, we celebrate each other every day. This year, like last, we will probably forego our anniversary trip, thanks to COVID. </span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">One of these days, we'll travel again.</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><span style="font-size: 15.84px;">And so here we are, 15 years later. All grown up, but still treasuring all those sweet, intangible things.</span></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2731787858302782269" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #5e5e5e; font-family: Cardo; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 648px;"><br /></div>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-75875072587784689832021-01-02T11:13:00.004-05:002021-01-02T11:13:56.352-05:00Books Read in 2020<p> I read 60 books in 2020: 8 more than my goal of 52. I probably have the pandemic to thank for that, right? Here are the books and some comments about each collage.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAcqDa31VYiTW-oQuEIAj21AWNkPcEFvcq0fkjmTkthdcMcMOBYu-dMzL-NRvFEY59xiqo7M8Thn6KyosIZyN4YOjiZnqYOiEcmQBSnAarU71VmE9wfGgoPcsHZjgVqUx7hkrPgAb5XSlu/s1416/Screen+Shot+2020-12-31+at+8.24.44+AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1416" data-original-width="1266" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAcqDa31VYiTW-oQuEIAj21AWNkPcEFvcq0fkjmTkthdcMcMOBYu-dMzL-NRvFEY59xiqo7M8Thn6KyosIZyN4YOjiZnqYOiEcmQBSnAarU71VmE9wfGgoPcsHZjgVqUx7hkrPgAb5XSlu/w446-h498/Screen+Shot+2020-12-31+at+8.24.44+AM.png" width="446" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is a particularly good set of books! Some of my favorites of the year (a 4 or 5 star ratings on my Goodreads) are here: <i>Dear Edward, The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek, The Gifted School, Stay, The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell, Writers and Lovers, Defending Jacob, Your Perfect Year, </i>and <i>Between the World and Me.</i> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Persuasion</i> and <i>The Bean Trees </i>were both re-reads, and both were for book clubs. <i>Persuasion</i> still bored me, and I still loved <i>The Bean Trees</i>. It's been 30 years since I read them! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Prep</i> was one of my least favorite books of the year. The main character was intriguing and I had high hopes for her, but ultimately....she just turned out to be self-absorbed and without any sort of growth. <i>Pizza Girl </i>was horrid. Unfortunately, it was the book I picked for book club for 2021, as it sounded rather fluffly and fun! I have already taken it off the list, begging my fellow clubbers not to read it. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAuLNkevGLUE6lQ0-lL5HueXaFrSvnUIme1kk2rMtopnkQtUNe8L0a8o-6TSRPY3qlIM1Kb-gbX2dJ69D6eHRFlLmCDNJ50Bz1LI_aT3afnro5DUVOOF8ix4cPHA6brB6B5nSK5Al55Nl/s1412/Screen+Shot+2020-12-31+at+8.24.26+AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1412" data-original-width="1280" height="505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAuLNkevGLUE6lQ0-lL5HueXaFrSvnUIme1kk2rMtopnkQtUNe8L0a8o-6TSRPY3qlIM1Kb-gbX2dJ69D6eHRFlLmCDNJ50Bz1LI_aT3afnro5DUVOOF8ix4cPHA6brB6B5nSK5Al55Nl/w458-h505/Screen+Shot+2020-12-31+at+8.24.26+AM.png" width="458" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This collage has more of my favorites and a few I did not like at all. <i>The Silent Patient, March, The Other Wes Moore, Where the Crawdads Sing, The Vanishing Half, The Islanders, </i>and<i> The Silent Treatment</i> all garnered 4 or 5-star ratings from me on Goodreads. I also really liked <i>The Operator </i>and found Carole King's autobiography fascinating.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, Messy Grace, </i>and<i> the Lager Queen of Minnesota </i>were three of the five worst books of the year for various reasons. Death Cleaning was actually interesting, but it was a terrible book to read in the midst of a pandemic. Also, one of our best friends had just passed away as I was listening to the audiobook, and it really just made me cry a lot.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvFU1RsVA0DWiz52p0xGnBbedhMLogTh9qBIX1w5Uf662gfUYqD8ZwYILHWBSvSWm4vLn4vq2rw2Bup9FnxjvNaMX9dEoNWopD1q8hUo1o40c4Hjpg6sGjbHKj_l7nPr67vlT0p4lw3Uyf/s1408/Screen+Shot+2020-12-31+at+8.24.06+AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1408" data-original-width="1270" height="535" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvFU1RsVA0DWiz52p0xGnBbedhMLogTh9qBIX1w5Uf662gfUYqD8ZwYILHWBSvSWm4vLn4vq2rw2Bup9FnxjvNaMX9dEoNWopD1q8hUo1o40c4Hjpg6sGjbHKj_l7nPr67vlT0p4lw3Uyf/w483-h535/Screen+Shot+2020-12-31+at+8.24.06+AM.png" width="483" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>And this last collage is full of wonderful memories! These are actually the first 20 books I read of the year, pre-pandemic. Remember those days? I loved <i>Dear Mrs. Bird, This Is How It Always Is, Matchmaking for Beginners, The Sweeney Sisters, </i>and<i> Southernmost. </i></p><p><i>Becoming, Just Mercy, </i>and<i> Born to Run </i>were my favorite nonfiction books of the year. Oh man. I loved each of those so much!</p><p><i>Things Fall Apart</i> was a re-read for me. I used to teach this in high school literature classes and decided to re-read it, as my college sophomore was reading it for a class. What an amazing book!</p><p>I really disliked <i>Mrs. Everything</i>. I don't remember much about it except that way too much happened. Snow took a long, long time for me to plow through. It was a book club choice, and I think we all agreed that we wish we had understood it better. The prose was beautiful, but the topic was difficult and the history largely unfamiliar to us. <i>Dear Mrs. Bird </i>and<i> Courting Mr. Lincoln </i>were also book club books. <i>Heart in the Right Place</i> may have been also, but I do not remember that one.</p><p>Here is my 2020 Top Reads List, although really, I could have added many more for fiction!</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Top 10 Best Fiction:</b></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Edward by Ann Napolitano</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell by Robert Dugoni</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">The Gifted School by Bruce Holsinger</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">Stay by Catherine Ryan Hyde</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">The Sweeney Sisters by Lian Dolan</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;"><b></b></div></div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Nonfiction</b>:</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">The Other Wes Moore by Wes Moore</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;"><b></b></div></div></blockquote><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Memoir</b></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">Becoming by Michelle Obama</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="font-family: inherit;">March by John Lewis</div></div></blockquote><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, system-ui, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><p style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: medium; white-space: normal;">What were your favorites for 2020?</p><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"></div></div></div>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-9179658118202421012020-10-25T19:07:00.000-04:002020-10-25T19:07:09.314-04:00October Camping and Canoeing: Henry Horton and the Duck River<p> The weekend began perfectly. The weather was lovely: cool enough for a fire but warm enough for just a t-shirt. We chose Henry Horton State Park because it's close to our Nashville kids and, frankly, it was one of the few TN State Park campgrounds that had any spaces left when we reserved this over a month ago. The pandemic has definitely brought more and more folks out to campgrounds! </p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwZp05LPsgVA64aA2u6VwcGj7t2OMtjJYl9td6yB7OFrqyQdigZh7tLE6yGWOTLHGDIhmiAZLxd4A0x3GWAf-4n-0AZUD9BvIpp0CAnbPVSTselMVxkAcXC0tQvlWaw_FJVHu11l6oVQK/s4032/IMG_8789.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwZp05LPsgVA64aA2u6VwcGj7t2OMtjJYl9td6yB7OFrqyQdigZh7tLE6yGWOTLHGDIhmiAZLxd4A0x3GWAf-4n-0AZUD9BvIpp0CAnbPVSTselMVxkAcXC0tQvlWaw_FJVHu11l6oVQK/w640-h480/IMG_8789.HEIC" width="640" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_vYBz2E_DEpSTeJo9Sj0P8M2wTvi9G8aewipPSI8CD_drocgqVERSbfv_o3tG_2YoBIRmXgfusLbJKOocixm77C1Y4CqaNh8B6pKuNdaym1mpKZPuLCRDgZiidpwiqXXvpi2Kvar7wXD/s2048/62518711621__ABE10EA8-4432-44E8-9BF3-74325227AB88.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS_vYBz2E_DEpSTeJo9Sj0P8M2wTvi9G8aewipPSI8CD_drocgqVERSbfv_o3tG_2YoBIRmXgfusLbJKOocixm77C1Y4CqaNh8B6pKuNdaym1mpKZPuLCRDgZiidpwiqXXvpi2Kvar7wXD/w480-h640/62518711621__ABE10EA8-4432-44E8-9BF3-74325227AB88.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>We set up our mansion tent, and Laurel and Hunter set up their cute little tent. Randy built a fire, made his fabulous paella, and we just enjoyed catching up with our kiddos. And then the rain began. Man, I love camping with the sound of the rain gently falling on the tent! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmVnLjqGMt5ZvM8brR1VkHP4h0OwDSbvnRp3KOu3Dgp79uGQPR8zd4xeSZWt046IdlafbZRgpNEa4F6OtGgxOjCJ1twRpCAEnxNY4zKRBi1L1wNDCy_0WutJ9IoT3RKFZKgwsAsfskUeX/s2048/62518709937__B2422292-25FC-4335-A474-00FA7161B966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1675" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifmVnLjqGMt5ZvM8brR1VkHP4h0OwDSbvnRp3KOu3Dgp79uGQPR8zd4xeSZWt046IdlafbZRgpNEa4F6OtGgxOjCJ1twRpCAEnxNY4zKRBi1L1wNDCy_0WutJ9IoT3RKFZKgwsAsfskUeX/w524-h640/62518709937__B2422292-25FC-4335-A474-00FA7161B966.jpg" width="524" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>Or in this case... on the roof of the car.</p><p>Because our mansion leaked! When we headed off to bed, we discovered that our blankets, cots, sleeping pads, and pillows were soaked. The tent floor was full of puddles. The only thing we could do was sleep in the car! We kind of missed the van, yep.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOblIb_kwdYsHtTsLsNlUmQQKra2cRTgJ6SRvjeTuk91p2sTxb_COEtW92sf9VoaIGuxahZHKHzsNTXvjwn7yFt5oGaLc5iRWNF0vkDc1s8SS9DHl87HYmdGS_oh1wpipo9PFaqubeSSD/s2048/IMG_8799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAOblIb_kwdYsHtTsLsNlUmQQKra2cRTgJ6SRvjeTuk91p2sTxb_COEtW92sf9VoaIGuxahZHKHzsNTXvjwn7yFt5oGaLc5iRWNF0vkDc1s8SS9DHl87HYmdGS_oh1wpipo9PFaqubeSSD/w640-h480/IMG_8799.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgru1xQ_BKHYmtVzedokdHG8nFl1wKQSzzRwG3_GVqAs0n3wFirX8_2n6tdeWxwoOfv41OC1ZRcxheRXKxV4qYpiHrT8bneZ-uWlaD1MrABLTd0uglG_oHNLeaCsF3zG_yNmH3VRYTQ0glA/s2048/IMG_8803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgru1xQ_BKHYmtVzedokdHG8nFl1wKQSzzRwG3_GVqAs0n3wFirX8_2n6tdeWxwoOfv41OC1ZRcxheRXKxV4qYpiHrT8bneZ-uWlaD1MrABLTd0uglG_oHNLeaCsF3zG_yNmH3VRYTQ0glA/w480-h640/IMG_8803.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p>But we're all about adventure, right? Fortunately, I'd packed a couple of extra blankets, and our pillows weren't totally soaked, so we made it through the night. The rain stopped before we awoke, and we enjoyed a fire and Randy's delicious breakfast bowls. I'm so lucky. He's the absolute best camping chef! It was a chilly morning, but fortunately, I had a big towel for a blanket. This picture is for Duncan, who thinks it is hilarious that I use a towel for a blanket when I'm sitting around in the house. But I mean, come on! It's a perfect size and weight for warm weather! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_glpSKuXAKVQDr91W2P0pF1mKWj9taOJB2czNIHDykCZbR3-nriC9YOSzJmvxcR2UVKjR8eQNYBVxyfz8VhxztyEbkKDhWqxis8sjsRTXg2YUUexoIUJAQVaZg_Phg5w4g6xCsPs2e17/s2048/IMG_8801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_glpSKuXAKVQDr91W2P0pF1mKWj9taOJB2czNIHDykCZbR3-nriC9YOSzJmvxcR2UVKjR8eQNYBVxyfz8VhxztyEbkKDhWqxis8sjsRTXg2YUUexoIUJAQVaZg_Phg5w4g6xCsPs2e17/w480-h640/IMG_8801.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwZBmfzgfp43qoElPGSaDhhZ85i5-IFFKoZdqGda8Gak0aq1qV1yo1f2H-oUYCPH4Bb4FMuAB9d7LxHBKZMxysc6aLUbTzosPWFE5Z0j_VHYM0DixvQ5t-1QuFakf5ozr6i-r4orc5Pf3/s2048/IMG_8805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVwZBmfzgfp43qoElPGSaDhhZ85i5-IFFKoZdqGda8Gak0aq1qV1yo1f2H-oUYCPH4Bb4FMuAB9d7LxHBKZMxysc6aLUbTzosPWFE5Z0j_VHYM0DixvQ5t-1QuFakf5ozr6i-r4orc5Pf3/w640-h480/IMG_8805.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>But I digress. Note the blankets and such hanging out to dry. We had canoes reserved for the day, so we left all our stuff out drying and headed to the Duck River. We had a perfect day for canoeing! It was a bit chilly, but we were the only people on the river. The leaves were just starting to change. We stopped on an island and had lunch about halfway through, then hopped back in our canoes. The whole afternoon was perfectly quiet except for a few kingfishers and blue herons.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3AwTKO3p7zTd4NlaYK7JEEQcrCJEcpXgxU76Vpj8aWIEyVcXdpV_O-03gIQ70SaZsTTa341M0APehZ5sy9QvT17Vzz58aj64hFELG_oleev5lpkQByM9OI63O4F-X9FDmqgoGeMxU1CK/s2048/122842904_10108975920704845_1652132465922552757_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1538" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3AwTKO3p7zTd4NlaYK7JEEQcrCJEcpXgxU76Vpj8aWIEyVcXdpV_O-03gIQ70SaZsTTa341M0APehZ5sy9QvT17Vzz58aj64hFELG_oleev5lpkQByM9OI63O4F-X9FDmqgoGeMxU1CK/w640-h480/122842904_10108975920704845_1652132465922552757_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrtOGG6VoXumTWbwqot7FyKJ83ZS1bOVvWcnkCa9Sn0xZsZSAaB54VcIpCQ6juRK2ASH6iFddyLsPBh2HMHroS4C1uQGAhZs7_OKVgf4VAhy8zjxg6v8XZ1ekDOpmDsEc78mlMfnk-vX7/s2048/122821127_10108975921024205_1429878383577646130_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrtOGG6VoXumTWbwqot7FyKJ83ZS1bOVvWcnkCa9Sn0xZsZSAaB54VcIpCQ6juRK2ASH6iFddyLsPBh2HMHroS4C1uQGAhZs7_OKVgf4VAhy8zjxg6v8XZ1ekDOpmDsEc78mlMfnk-vX7/w640-h480/122821127_10108975921024205_1429878383577646130_o.jpg" width="640" /></a><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHno_PrDK2wHY9IzxlOEvCwwGVvDullsqY7VA10UMRX9_-F0tI5qS6D4bW5lldquKe22xdS2UjTK-kFBkG7eqvZH01eRmDcJguFXwi9a2K3a6Yq9mC52P-VFquIuU2Rsl50zFqqfo_UMjm/s2048/IMG_8826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjzDpRbMWLaMvOn1bNt7cs6vVCF5Af61VkNIjN3650CQuP-3upxO0vXapSeYZRvQLi2rdHfIglfpcBi-yHQkXzpCn8E5mTHftGD2b-Smctq4MAkiGDY2lTOBQkMnH1tdnllJ9nrfzXnSjB/s2048/IMG_8832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjzDpRbMWLaMvOn1bNt7cs6vVCF5Af61VkNIjN3650CQuP-3upxO0vXapSeYZRvQLi2rdHfIglfpcBi-yHQkXzpCn8E5mTHftGD2b-Smctq4MAkiGDY2lTOBQkMnH1tdnllJ9nrfzXnSjB/w640-h480/IMG_8832.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTR4b_6wH41PUwbxSOOba8dBk_7YEFPXb-6W5YIaqnXKGT8ax7fxGPmM1ARC2Q9kCHuXA_i37OCBi-nJXmKTxVOQeRCbffDFAL3y0m9nXXFUx5rFFx2pUl3gnJmP8ruQapDyPJiL8FUKo/s2048/IMG_8835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1402" data-original-width="2048" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTR4b_6wH41PUwbxSOOba8dBk_7YEFPXb-6W5YIaqnXKGT8ax7fxGPmM1ARC2Q9kCHuXA_i37OCBi-nJXmKTxVOQeRCbffDFAL3y0m9nXXFUx5rFFx2pUl3gnJmP8ruQapDyPJiL8FUKo/w640-h438/IMG_8835.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>The whole trip took us way less time than we thought, which turned out to be a really good thing. As we headed back to camp, the rain started pouring again... and we'd left all our stuff out to dry. We decided it was time to pack throw all the wet gear in the car and head to Laurel and Hunter's warm, dry apartment, just 45 minutes away in Nashville. </p><p>So, we had hot showers and ate our steak at the table, warm and dry. It was all incredibly fun, honestly, from the rainy night to the lovely canoe trip to the unexpected night at Laurel and Hunter's sweet little home. </p><p>We got home early in the afternoon. Load two is in the dryer and load three is in the washer, and we have all the gear outside drying. Can't wait to do it all again!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoC-Qjn4T8qtoo8GU_fRNry-QjxvOOb4Vwxq1gS8mud_iJ3_pcSCoc0Y2hgrzN-fPT92XyBl5HLFd9sQZnl_HhRSDAXquhUw-KdUJ08-WBPtYARyDFc_3vmO31cWbVYp7atTQruY4S8V7T/s2048/IMG_8839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoC-Qjn4T8qtoo8GU_fRNry-QjxvOOb4Vwxq1gS8mud_iJ3_pcSCoc0Y2hgrzN-fPT92XyBl5HLFd9sQZnl_HhRSDAXquhUw-KdUJ08-WBPtYARyDFc_3vmO31cWbVYp7atTQruY4S8V7T/w640-h480/IMG_8839.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-3870173859597704182020-08-07T11:16:00.002-04:002020-08-07T11:17:05.002-04:00Waterfall Chasing: Piney Falls<p> Summer 2020 has been all about exploring waterfalls, mostly in Tennessee but with a few trips over into North Carolina. We probably averaged an adventure every-other-week. Every single falls has its own personality. Some are exuberant, some gentle. Some shout, some sing softly, a few just whisper. I love hearing the water's voice and knowing we are almost there, and then getting that first glimpse of a falls through the trees. Our waterfall explorations have been a way to soothe our souls during these past many months of the coronavirus pandemic.</p><p>We visited Piney Falls State Natural Area in mid June. Duncan joined us for this one, which made it even more of an adventure! </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsmoXlY9HTKYgHBqQ34LaJwgjnX6Pe4bxapAOh_U9X09jxzNWPkIqbYiButqg5zXJYsTDhgfdkPOP-ER6PiF63qKB2HwER-XK4xGFmP0zkqX9FB0hl7OeUIiAi9GFGhfZ9eiKPdW1g1Rfn/s2048/IMG_6863%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsmoXlY9HTKYgHBqQ34LaJwgjnX6Pe4bxapAOh_U9X09jxzNWPkIqbYiButqg5zXJYsTDhgfdkPOP-ER6PiF63qKB2HwER-XK4xGFmP0zkqX9FB0hl7OeUIiAi9GFGhfZ9eiKPdW1g1Rfn/s640/IMG_6863%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /> </a></p><p>We love our Tennessee State Parks and of course the Great Smoky
Mountains National Park, but there are also <a href="https://www.tn.gov/environment/program-areas/na-natural-areas/list-of-natural-areas.html" target="_blank">85 Natural Areas</a> that are
affiliated with the TN State Park system. These absolute treasures are
guaranteed to be less crowded than the parks.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4NKsumVWTW0Dqxxo5o_6WXbqlc-r5htWiqmFzdD7JIPlt2GivQWbkyiBHET6Nt15UQmgDtlcuR4V949skOte3CNdtVZeqIac5smo2x3tUrNEyyRkhcSMt8p47mxobASzsjEGB7fD-dCY/s2048/IMG_6886.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Cable trail down to the falls" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL4NKsumVWTW0Dqxxo5o_6WXbqlc-r5htWiqmFzdD7JIPlt2GivQWbkyiBHET6Nt15UQmgDtlcuR4V949skOte3CNdtVZeqIac5smo2x3tUrNEyyRkhcSMt8p47mxobASzsjEGB7fD-dCY/w375-h500/IMG_6886.jpg" width="375" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHx3O3lgG6YiS7p9r7NL21sXF0AVRMnZaWYkL4HRNyrhauaqpHIknMHqoUDy8r9im5r9EHQFDKoaVxznt7MATomQqlSKbTJTRWXHQzTew9UIM_H7RlQ74Das2OFIYMxmWiU02bkNyL43yJ/s2048/IMG_6893.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1505" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHx3O3lgG6YiS7p9r7NL21sXF0AVRMnZaWYkL4HRNyrhauaqpHIknMHqoUDy8r9im5r9EHQFDKoaVxznt7MATomQqlSKbTJTRWXHQzTew9UIM_H7RlQ74Das2OFIYMxmWiU02bkNyL43yJ/s640/IMG_6893.jpg" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The trail was an easy 2.5 mile loop that included two falls, lots of climbing spots—and we only saw about 5 other people the entire day. <br /></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXl1r0tp4qeu7p0vUafciObvrznyFuM1PoQcaNOzhUmMWrz3KFwU-H4e00UAN5tSGaPyeKSMtriuexfY3EbP5NcfqiFaulzew0_O0M1us1rP6ErTWf9r4eYiOogsj4W_Y98gAystvKsBx/s800/IMG_9010.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLxE7DcDdroWAbkGi6cq6TMdadEo8DbDbepwm-4wx6ZVzbeY6pirJ3w3aa3Zruhks7kMu0JsdtmlhwWmY_MpsWbNUjSS-fNavaGn8eCQRKkHzMd6uwg6cAmxHOuR3eO7C7wt547NT1NWg/s2048/IMG_6875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLxE7DcDdroWAbkGi6cq6TMdadEo8DbDbepwm-4wx6ZVzbeY6pirJ3w3aa3Zruhks7kMu0JsdtmlhwWmY_MpsWbNUjSS-fNavaGn8eCQRKkHzMd6uwg6cAmxHOuR3eO7C7wt547NT1NWg/s640/IMG_6875.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd0RrHGXEbCJfaPuiTQs3RQcspYK1dusySva2jok_1yo3aweXU4uLBPicTBWbIuFyYGO2tAoxQsm9NVkZlk5aJeQV3tSHZas9oPs3j31bh1PZBU1iUcb1myK_3683tLpv_8phXrMnCRBvM/s2048/IMG_6864%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>The trail takes you first above the falls. I always get a little woozy on the top of falls, and Upper Piney Falls is an 80-foot drop. Of course, I still get a little nervous when one of my kids stands on the edge, even if he is 19.<br /></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRv1ZtB0d9e6KwAZkqjVzwC8eQZ1GaGHX5AuUfEWIBo7uYhHH9CdbgzVHWAid86upwuC7YoI38MaTU_kIOIkLXVjRj5D9_csAoZQY-VJH8MEKfFR-BmoH1UppfOUhNTEivBdmaXc0XG7oi/s2048/IMG_6929.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRv1ZtB0d9e6KwAZkqjVzwC8eQZ1GaGHX5AuUfEWIBo7uYhHH9CdbgzVHWAid86upwuC7YoI38MaTU_kIOIkLXVjRj5D9_csAoZQY-VJH8MEKfFR-BmoH1UppfOUhNTEivBdmaXc0XG7oi/s640/IMG_6929.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudOeVIyxgT7AeqqZMoYpEkpJOGFaVcsiIQPPCGmKeRNrEAuLNpZ3PTCUIANOZ2mVcXkYd5HLQYi_blGb-25yOJ9Ye2HzqulO82fvWCYBCsAz90o2FzOu52gyj347Vnj8h2gDXNTsSD1qE/s2048/IMG_6919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiudOeVIyxgT7AeqqZMoYpEkpJOGFaVcsiIQPPCGmKeRNrEAuLNpZ3PTCUIANOZ2mVcXkYd5HLQYi_blGb-25yOJ9Ye2HzqulO82fvWCYBCsAz90o2FzOu52gyj347Vnj8h2gDXNTsSD1qE/s640/IMG_6919.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFKQ08WyFN1L7HrTF4MjCF-jTWhKrmsmRj-EX31vEvJn34CuXQ53rR9eczoNSIHX_xOVwkqAImNqf4IWI-_XKElQ9umRY5txfaR3XvsnZnJbMDx30ekFhBmhbEFtUcrN2cQKcagRymMjJ/s2048/IMG_6904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrFKQ08WyFN1L7HrTF4MjCF-jTWhKrmsmRj-EX31vEvJn34CuXQ53rR9eczoNSIHX_xOVwkqAImNqf4IWI-_XKElQ9umRY5txfaR3XvsnZnJbMDx30ekFhBmhbEFtUcrN2cQKcagRymMjJ/s640/IMG_6904.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXl1r0tp4qeu7p0vUafciObvrznyFuM1PoQcaNOzhUmMWrz3KFwU-H4e00UAN5tSGaPyeKSMtriuexfY3EbP5NcfqiFaulzew0_O0M1us1rP6ErTWf9r4eYiOogsj4W_Y98gAystvKsBx/s800/IMG_9010.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXl1r0tp4qeu7p0vUafciObvrznyFuM1PoQcaNOzhUmMWrz3KFwU-H4e00UAN5tSGaPyeKSMtriuexfY3EbP5NcfqiFaulzew0_O0M1us1rP6ErTWf9r4eYiOogsj4W_Y98gAystvKsBx/s640/IMG_9010.jpeg" /></a></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeOImSQmIN560rSWJiQK3cQVSUhvJOrkhvPKxITR8JBb6Hcq5AquZgBoo_qzumb1fCtCabECBZK2K9hR2EPfeEYgli3ZYwrnLiW7CjWbPQzpfqx8DhRdBq0QPQFBfU43KMQEJnGClR2Ud/s2048/IMG_6953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLeOImSQmIN560rSWJiQK3cQVSUhvJOrkhvPKxITR8JBb6Hcq5AquZgBoo_qzumb1fCtCabECBZK2K9hR2EPfeEYgli3ZYwrnLiW7CjWbPQzpfqx8DhRdBq0QPQFBfU43KMQEJnGClR2Ud/s640/IMG_6953.jpg" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Upper Piney is a gorgeous falls, especially after lots of rain. There is a terrific swimming hole there and lots of good rocks for picnicking upon. When you're done looking at the falls, you can follow the trail right behind it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUf4z50SeD8DVEgM1_TckykOMq9eV8z3ZNkUvTXbCIJWl-4ji1HH3_PcpzliWI2JLqmWtj2kpnWeGqg9P3ik_DzlKOYBvcqgO_ymBUlky6CCJWaUrTv6V1K0CbjmK7xa0HtHfRADlim-ma/s2048/IMG_6970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUf4z50SeD8DVEgM1_TckykOMq9eV8z3ZNkUvTXbCIJWl-4ji1HH3_PcpzliWI2JLqmWtj2kpnWeGqg9P3ik_DzlKOYBvcqgO_ymBUlky6CCJWaUrTv6V1K0CbjmK7xa0HtHfRADlim-ma/s640/IMG_6970.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJwWhe2HWF6qBmyil7pdMCLCrs6o3EQRcbhrB_LB5Ip2X5_akFzrUUask2O9n-4N1HIPJ9SoyyI2FlQ3sAFEm3v7jLWmfUxIZ3AbF84URi_f2hg3jzszPCIYpOzTL2P-i1QJUR43arbbq/s2048/IMG_6984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJwWhe2HWF6qBmyil7pdMCLCrs6o3EQRcbhrB_LB5Ip2X5_akFzrUUask2O9n-4N1HIPJ9SoyyI2FlQ3sAFEm3v7jLWmfUxIZ3AbF84URi_f2hg3jzszPCIYpOzTL2P-i1QJUR43arbbq/s640/IMG_6984.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXl1r0tp4qeu7p0vUafciObvrznyFuM1PoQcaNOzhUmMWrz3KFwU-H4e00UAN5tSGaPyeKSMtriuexfY3EbP5NcfqiFaulzew0_O0M1us1rP6ErTWf9r4eYiOogsj4W_Y98gAystvKsBx/s800/IMG_9010.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fo0oKD3_4cd1L6qvRgqxnqPHO9gCBwiKRw6Wuo0sU_AMEG1EjP5O_MaDyqq0dsx_AF5dIlofMBfMjSxCmJRiNHeqWih1D3YxgMMhlFwhzwrSQ3pnEtim2qBXXtaIM0U3v1_zcTFsokrf/s2048/IMG_6995.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fo0oKD3_4cd1L6qvRgqxnqPHO9gCBwiKRw6Wuo0sU_AMEG1EjP5O_MaDyqq0dsx_AF5dIlofMBfMjSxCmJRiNHeqWih1D3YxgMMhlFwhzwrSQ3pnEtim2qBXXtaIM0U3v1_zcTFsokrf/s640/IMG_6995.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> From there, the trail follows Piney Creek downstream to Lower Piney Falls, with this amazing sandstone wall on one side. Duncan would definitely like to come back and do some more climbing here!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lUqvHB91_g94Zccy2v8dXOSU8U9sQ1U9184kJ1fJAieIG7xOGAhbjYMHyTFhpLtGPemhPbZkdmWmrBu8ImZLxIE9MarakcwKuI0eQJE03sBWva1hfmCHWK8yXQFp6vedEzX-j80Ra1W_/s2048/IMG_7030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1538" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6lUqvHB91_g94Zccy2v8dXOSU8U9sQ1U9184kJ1fJAieIG7xOGAhbjYMHyTFhpLtGPemhPbZkdmWmrBu8ImZLxIE9MarakcwKuI0eQJE03sBWva1hfmCHWK8yXQFp6vedEzX-j80Ra1W_/s640/IMG_7030.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhD0mrEPiUxu6qFno0t7qmkEqLkdTdwwVFrHc9EHWumsk6tjanCcZMVlj3q9ioYMdKoiQA2U_mMjxuFJ0_g4u03pyltPq6mjkwBORlePERx8PjS1Gre-Bp93U1_XZXnIUwmz8JwvmvqDN/s2048/IMG_7024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLhD0mrEPiUxu6qFno0t7qmkEqLkdTdwwVFrHc9EHWumsk6tjanCcZMVlj3q9ioYMdKoiQA2U_mMjxuFJ0_g4u03pyltPq6mjkwBORlePERx8PjS1Gre-Bp93U1_XZXnIUwmz8JwvmvqDN/s640/IMG_7024.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Lower Piney Falls is less impressive.... from the top, anyway! There's no access to the bottom of the falls, so you have to peer over the top of the cliff. Still the cascades were pretty!<p></p><p>This was definitely one of my favorite falls....although I'll probably say that about most of them! This is just a little over an hour from Knoxville, on the Southern Cumberland Plateau.<br /><br /><br /></p>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-74504548417857653682020-05-23T12:02:00.003-04:002020-05-23T12:02:58.715-04:00Sheltering at Home: March and April in a PandemicI want to remember this strange time, and how we were during a pandemic.<br />
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Largely, we were the same.<br />
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Outside the window, the bright red male cardinal and a special guest towhee perched on the black hook of the feeder while the red-bellied woodpecker hammered at the drain pipe, all spring long, marking his territory. Squirrels clung like acrobats to the feeders, and Randy periodically yelled, "Hey, squirrel! Scram! You're a jerk!" The flowers bloomed in their usual order: daffodils, forsythia, hyacinths, tulips, daisies, roses, irises, sweet William, peonies. Spring has been exceptionally long and beautiful this year, with cool evenings and temperatures only reaching 90 once so far.<br />
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Inside the house, I read, kept all the household things moving along, taught a class from couch or table, fixed meals, played mindless games on my laptop, watched Netflix. Like everyone else everywhere. Randy worked mostly from the sunporch, teaching classes and having meetings via Zoom. Bonus: I get to go outside, walking around in my big yard or in our neighborhood, with its wide lawns and streets. Randy and I both did lots of yardwork—he even conquered our side yard, which was an absolute jungle of weeds, ivy, and honeysuckle. What victory! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teaching a Brave Writer class from home</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Randy conquering the jungle</td></tr>
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Duncan arrived home toward the end of March. He had been in Peru on a spring break ecology trip when the world went crazy. He was off the grid in the Amazonian rainforest and had little idea of what was happening. He got out of Peru just two hours before the country closed its borders, and they made it back to North Carolina safely. They quarantined then, having been in four major airports. We were so happy to see him when he finally got back home. He was sad, of course, to leave college with just six weeks left, but he's such a happy guy. He diligently did his online classes and connected with his friends daily. He's definitely made the best of a weird situation.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duncan arrived home from college with an extra roll of TP</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When all the climbing walls are closed....</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lots of hammocking</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching the quiet world</td></tr>
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Once a week or so, we ventured outside for hikes. Before the national and state parks closed, we headed there. After, we had to settle for less scenic city parks or just the neighborhood.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stinging Creek Falls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">East Lakeshore Trail </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMntUoO-y4hCFh9q3GbSOM4yHRZ8XoD3HaXJAETYAiaRevJPIZdTFD5rPH-MoRgROTVLVzNDWwtezm_iSjkKUpbTNRO_LLTcv_bkuLumy4wmdkBA1zpqaMWpDPCMX_B5JC8epeCE0XdzPU/s1600/obedclimbbest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMntUoO-y4hCFh9q3GbSOM4yHRZ8XoD3HaXJAETYAiaRevJPIZdTFD5rPH-MoRgROTVLVzNDWwtezm_iSjkKUpbTNRO_LLTcv_bkuLumy4wmdkBA1zpqaMWpDPCMX_B5JC8epeCE0XdzPU/s640/obedclimbbest.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obed Natural Area</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9YzwcaVdZg-kdTbp0Pq9zV7wkEI3ITsaznLZgp_5l8E9hpXhXleJ96Ms47UoDWsP5QcvA5g_bI57bbVsCfc-3DB8umJWPAJrps7XAEX6rBq12paelPz6sNgEd-4a641V2_xRK2ry1p4-/s1600/obedfam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA9YzwcaVdZg-kdTbp0Pq9zV7wkEI3ITsaznLZgp_5l8E9hpXhXleJ96Ms47UoDWsP5QcvA5g_bI57bbVsCfc-3DB8umJWPAJrps7XAEX6rBq12paelPz6sNgEd-4a641V2_xRK2ry1p4-/s640/obedfam.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Obed Natural Area</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We celebrated birthdays, worked, chatted with family, held book club, and gathered with friends via Zoom. We talked to Randy's mom, who is quarantined at her senior care facility, via FaceTime each Tuesday.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hz-1mjp3uBH9L29OvIZUBg2f_KaLF3v8fnPbrd3R3EEgmBZzTuhiveyKBTbPKKLykAoLIm7EX0k4G9py8o2h6-r-MdaJ5_gZL99YOfxVreeKcjYzJ5kcc1844BGziSIllDK3lc85FGe0/s1600/hbd+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1236" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Hz-1mjp3uBH9L29OvIZUBg2f_KaLF3v8fnPbrd3R3EEgmBZzTuhiveyKBTbPKKLykAoLIm7EX0k4G9py8o2h6-r-MdaJ5_gZL99YOfxVreeKcjYzJ5kcc1844BGziSIllDK3lc85FGe0/s640/hbd+mom.jpg" width="494" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom turned 93 </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyN3rp28fRQZXQmquCXLBGRwAmRKdqChjGuHRV3WQfxGEXcncZ9ughv0ASw61NlNqi_cchV0tcS_2zI57kCVAl8RPEhyphenhyphenY4GwP5ToCel8d__xk27OkqSTx2Cd_pKOVdt47-knlGryrZuxpE/s1600/hbdzoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1195" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyN3rp28fRQZXQmquCXLBGRwAmRKdqChjGuHRV3WQfxGEXcncZ9ughv0ASw61NlNqi_cchV0tcS_2zI57kCVAl8RPEhyphenhyphenY4GwP5ToCel8d__xk27OkqSTx2Cd_pKOVdt47-knlGryrZuxpE/s640/hbdzoom.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The entire family joined her Zoom birthday celebration!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6bdq6m5F4J66-HjtRgL-8KHuTeSd-LlWA-jtJVMzqc8sDzwP2XGMdrK6ir8xuPmXJrv523WfkVM3jAj_TSeK2GqXbbSPJ3Joy70sDCFmOtvLxrnk9p0r4CkHR_C9h-xwS6vJpBkFy1O6/s1600/IMG_5565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="1600" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6bdq6m5F4J66-HjtRgL-8KHuTeSd-LlWA-jtJVMzqc8sDzwP2XGMdrK6ir8xuPmXJrv523WfkVM3jAj_TSeK2GqXbbSPJ3Joy70sDCFmOtvLxrnk9p0r4CkHR_C9h-xwS6vJpBkFy1O6/s640/IMG_5565.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Book club!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5ymcNQ64fNxsDlf6Fu3ha-7LATvqoDYPoGX6Biksiv_Jr9P3xIwychXLX_AzdCsafWC1F-CvxoYy2MCll6t3NVzEAbiZMygouxFMVBtTMr5QCE8wpTGlCSpfDKvV-cYwi7vlHKECFu26/s1600/Pat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5ymcNQ64fNxsDlf6Fu3ha-7LATvqoDYPoGX6Biksiv_Jr9P3xIwychXLX_AzdCsafWC1F-CvxoYy2MCll6t3NVzEAbiZMygouxFMVBtTMr5QCE8wpTGlCSpfDKvV-cYwi7vlHKECFu26/s640/Pat.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tuesday FaceTiming with Randy's mom. Thanks to her awesome nurse, Leslie, for setting this up each week!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmE7uFpfcid8sMtVMYl7KZImQNcjSm98e-r-aD2JZMocoquQKdSKwsGtcaoy9hvmhHzsuJvUd50fdJNWWfDXbvjMGEPeTxxWVUcNgEtqOo8eHUSMGnKSoAFCbOKfFbvMWJZ5F1TqxW5xi/s1600/famzoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1017" data-original-width="1600" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmE7uFpfcid8sMtVMYl7KZImQNcjSm98e-r-aD2JZMocoquQKdSKwsGtcaoy9hvmhHzsuJvUd50fdJNWWfDXbvjMGEPeTxxWVUcNgEtqOo8eHUSMGnKSoAFCbOKfFbvMWJZ5F1TqxW5xi/s640/famzoom.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating Jesse's 27th birthday!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINYZ-rKcVkQB7D0xzmdaohEHWx7l0qMdiqrIB5LYiLUjkj1iu0Cwti6awD4O35i5mbBc4x4oYeb8fxQoL35H0cYpuTvPKFfg8TZ44ajSNKh1iWRAsazn301FIPjwzafeVwdY70Dx82oQF/s1600/famcorona.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1112" data-original-width="1600" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINYZ-rKcVkQB7D0xzmdaohEHWx7l0qMdiqrIB5LYiLUjkj1iu0Cwti6awD4O35i5mbBc4x4oYeb8fxQoL35H0cYpuTvPKFfg8TZ44ajSNKh1iWRAsazn301FIPjwzafeVwdY70Dx82oQF/s640/famcorona.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Weekend family chat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Randy has been our ambassador to the outside world. Once every week, he puts on mask and gloves and heads out to the grocery store for us and my parents.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofZq651p7zWmOJyfD7BcevJqqTmyN9AeF-Q2KU0hzi2NB7mFop2NiTENgWz0FGOU_bnhaq8xS04PUdgJ6eYx6iO6yj1Nrg0qjzGdmXtkuP0jAlMGd7pcY_LE7xxddsce2GcfKxHfGTsvT/s1600/rmask.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1380" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofZq651p7zWmOJyfD7BcevJqqTmyN9AeF-Q2KU0hzi2NB7mFop2NiTENgWz0FGOU_bnhaq8xS04PUdgJ6eYx6iO6yj1Nrg0qjzGdmXtkuP0jAlMGd7pcY_LE7xxddsce2GcfKxHfGTsvT/s640/rmask.jpg" width="552" /></a></div>
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We visited our Knoxville kids once, bringing bread and flowers and wine. It was sooo good to see them, from a distance, of course. The streets of Knoxville were empty and quiet.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjHRVNrpM019qDW-4IwkQrXBQNoB0ncID3jIkRD1oc7qSpnvVwTTdJ57IpxmB33aLkmKSwZgOWANpD626a1aGLcGOCF8zf2b2Fn5oNUgozp9amBZSBpwYH6jtyUWSkvrxiYAKlxqCdsrI/s1600/flowers+j+and+s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1197" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMjHRVNrpM019qDW-4IwkQrXBQNoB0ncID3jIkRD1oc7qSpnvVwTTdJ57IpxmB33aLkmKSwZgOWANpD626a1aGLcGOCF8zf2b2Fn5oNUgozp9amBZSBpwYH6jtyUWSkvrxiYAKlxqCdsrI/s640/flowers+j+and+s.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhIsxG0BPWq5i_RbYf_rX236VkDbYuQV4ejS94i5-5ibbUh4cQzfvGBNSToTwkW7Z3FWaNXoo_kafHGzZmMvIhTlhir0KVJo-bGgiZzSm9eIkSteo0lWMYYyLwrDKuK8y0OSxuhZykHMQ/s1600/flowers+to+summer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1444" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhIsxG0BPWq5i_RbYf_rX236VkDbYuQV4ejS94i5-5ibbUh4cQzfvGBNSToTwkW7Z3FWaNXoo_kafHGzZmMvIhTlhir0KVJo-bGgiZzSm9eIkSteo0lWMYYyLwrDKuK8y0OSxuhZykHMQ/s640/flowers+to+summer.jpg" width="576" /></a></div>
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Like so many couples, one of the first questions when this began was:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0x6EBCyPiar3KDTIPBmbWwdgtrbpvJozH7YcCnxj5YmeVIYMZxXHG48pxKsvLkXZ7SlryhBoRGABlkwKj3_YT8AsR8aMX4PL8kaO09Oaf5t52EYu07Lfljdv8quIbXxucVzdDDPpP781r/s1600/weddingquestion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0x6EBCyPiar3KDTIPBmbWwdgtrbpvJozH7YcCnxj5YmeVIYMZxXHG48pxKsvLkXZ7SlryhBoRGABlkwKj3_YT8AsR8aMX4PL8kaO09Oaf5t52EYu07Lfljdv8quIbXxucVzdDDPpP781r/s400/weddingquestion.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>
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<br />
They've decided to postpone their wedding until next summer because they really had their hearts set on getting married July 4. I totally understand--it's so weird to plan a wedding during this time when we all feel in limbo.<br />
<br />
Limbo. That's how March and April felt, as if we were suspended in time. It's been a sweet time, honestly, for the most part. There is certainly an underlying, uneasy feeling of uncertainty, of course. A restlessness. And yet we have enjoyed more time together without the pressures of having to go anywhere. We are among those who have secure jobs that can be easily moved to home. We have shelter and food and reliable internet access and financial security. Our parents are safe, our children are safe, our friends are safe, and we are all healthy. As of today, our county has had 77 cases of COVID-19. We're still rising a case or two each week. Everything has opened back up now, so we are watching the numbers to see what happens next.<br />
<br />
And that's life in the first two months of coronavirus.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-51052389576276047282020-03-26T11:18:00.002-04:002020-03-26T11:18:55.798-04:00January-March Books Read<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVpHexrLmthb73AhpvnsWTPh1227cBtYTxTTFn6EmUfJrRgI62UaYi2qfeoys9t5Z6ipfK6LTHgsUY6q4DmnlWT5GQd5Zz73yL03dm4cBg9cSKg24KVAwuYnGW9X5SKtjOBFiiThmjGWj/s1600/booksread.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="653" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVpHexrLmthb73AhpvnsWTPh1227cBtYTxTTFn6EmUfJrRgI62UaYi2qfeoys9t5Z6ipfK6LTHgsUY6q4DmnlWT5GQd5Zz73yL03dm4cBg9cSKg24KVAwuYnGW9X5SKtjOBFiiThmjGWj/s400/booksread.tiff" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<h2>
Top of the List</h2>
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Just-Mercy-Story-Justice-Redemption/dp/081298496X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=J1T1K7NRDAOE&dchild=1&keywords=just+mercy+bryan+stevenson&qid=1585233691&sprefix=Just+mer%2Caps%2C187&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Just Mercy</a> by Bryan Stevenson: Stevenson's story of starting out as a young lawyer defending impoverished, innocent people who were unjustly convicted of crimes and sentenced to death row or to serve life sentences, including women and children. Stevenson is the founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, and every single story he tells is heartbreaking—but lots of redemptive stories, too. Everyone should read this!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Becoming-Michelle-Obama/dp/1524763136/ref=sxin_1_osp144-01232fab_cov?ascsubtag=amzn1.osa.01232fab-e373-4259-9cf5-89188e7f5c0e.ATVPDKIKX0DER.en_US&creativeASIN=1524763136&crid=1VDEJI75DXKHE&cv_ct_cx=becoming+michelle+obama&cv_ct_id=amzn1.osa.01232fab-e373-4259-9cf5-89188e7f5c0e.ATVPDKIKX0DER.en_US&cv_ct_pg=search&cv_ct_wn=osp-search&dchild=1&keywords=becoming+michelle+obama&linkCode=oas&pd_rd_i=1524763136&pd_rd_r=270e2428-f8e7-415b-8e52-1d7343b10215&pd_rd_w=YoTGo&pd_rd_wg=zHi7L&pf_rd_p=8d4ea52f-0019-4c13-93a0-8a7be587641d&pf_rd_r=HTBRG4C7M4D85FSQ96B3&qid=1585233746&sprefix=becomin%2Cdigital-text%2C182&tag=tdbscouted-20" target="_blank">Becoming</a> by Michelle Obama. Michelle Obama for President. Please, oh please! My admiration for her quadrupled after reading this memoir.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Matchmaking-Beginners-Novel-Maddie-Dawson-ebook/dp/B076CJX3YN/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3MBDI6AIIVOD4&dchild=1&keywords=matchmaking+for+beginners+by+maddie+dawson&qid=1585233777&s=books&sprefix=match%2Cstripbooks%2C190&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Matchmaking for Beginners </a>by Maddie Dawson. Total surprise! This is a book I "found" on my Kindle that I must have downloaded as part of Amazon Prime's free monthly book program. I loved this sweet, charming, and fast read! This is absolutely perfect as a lighthearted, happy ending but totally engaging book. In brief, Blix has the gift of matchmaking—of seeing people who would be perfect matches. When she meets Marnie, her nephew's fiancee, she realizes two things: Marnie and Noah are not meant for each other, and Marnie has the same matchmaking gift. Super sweet book.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Born-Run-Bruce-Springsteen/dp/1501141511/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1I45VDOUIE1T1&dchild=1&keywords=born+to+run+springsteen&qid=1585233822&s=books&sprefix=born+to+run%2Cstripbooks%2C183&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Born to Run</a> by Bruce Springsteen. Bruce for Michelle Obama's running mate! I've loved Bruce nearly my entire life. I love him even more now. Utterly open, honest, engaging....and I watched a whole lot of Springsteen videos while reading this book. I love him. The only thing that would have made this book better is if I had listened to Bruce Springsteen actually read it in his gloriously gravelly voice on Audible; but alas, I didn’t know this was a thing until too late. Sorta side note: Bruce Springsteen was THE BEST CONCERT ever.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/This-How-Always-LAURIE-FRANKEL/dp/1250088569/ref=sr_1_1?crid=39LXZUGYQ1YR&dchild=1&keywords=this+is+how+it+always+is+by+laurie+frankel&qid=1585233847&s=books&sprefix=this+is+ho%2Cstripbooks%2C185&sr=1-1" target="_blank">This Is How It Always Is</a> by Laurie Frankel. Parenting is hard. Being a boy named Claude is hard. Being a girl named Poppy is mostly wonderful. Claude or Poppy? This is a novel that tackles a tough subject with love and candor and puts us right in the midst of a wonderfully complicated family.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dear-Mrs-Bird-AJ-Pearce/dp/1501170074/ref=sr_1_1?crid=YZ5EQDXAIRE5&dchild=1&keywords=dear+mrs+bird+by+aj+pearce&qid=1585233876&s=books&sprefix=dear+mrs+%2Cstripbooks%2C186&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Dear Mrs. Bird</a> by AJ Pearce. I adored this debut novel, set in London amidst the bombings during WWII. Emmaline Lake accidentally finds herself working for the intimidating and terribly proper Mrs. Bird as an advice columnist for a sinking women's magazine. Emmy is gutsy and sweet and this novel just made me warm and happy, in spite of its moments of tragedy.<br />
<h2>
</h2>
<h2>
</h2>
<h2>
Thoughts on the Others</h2>
<i>Such a Fun Age</i> and <i>If Only I Could Tell You</i>: Both were engaging and definitely had good moments, but something about each one fell apart for me. Too much tragedy in the latter, and the ending was off in the former. <br />
<br />
<i>Snow</i>: I really wanted to love this book but it was too dense. I don't know enough about Turkish history to truly appreciate it. Beautifully written though—and I felt triumphant and enlightened upon finishing it.<br />
<br />
<i>Mrs. Everything</i>: <span class="readable reviewText"> <span id="freeTextreview3071046624">I didn't hate this book, but it super annoyed me. It felt extremely forced. Practically every Big Issue between 1950-2016 is covered in the lives of Jo and Bethie, from sexual abuse to Civil Rights to interracial marriages, the Vietnam War, women's rights, sexual identity, drugs, sex, rock and roll, rape, cancer, abortion, on and on and on. I don't mean to be flippant about ANY of these issues, and she isn't flippant about any of them, either. But tackling them all in one book? To one family? Too much happens. Way too much. I stuck with the book because the characters interested me enough to keep going. </span></span>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-19235045197065523532020-01-20T08:43:00.003-05:002020-01-20T08:43:57.392-05:00Books Read in 2019<br />
I read 54 books in 2019. My goal was 52, so I am definitely
pleased with myself. I was on what amounted to bed rest for six weeks
this summer, so I no doubt got more reading done than I would have
otherwise. We'll see if I can meet that same goal this year, without
being sick!<br />
<br />
Here are all the books and my brief remarks about some of them.<br />
<br />
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Thoughts on this set:<br />
• I loved <i>Valencia and Valentine</i> but I don't remember anything about it.<br />
• <i>The Known World</i> took me a looong time to get through. It was a book club book, but I didn't make it to that particular book club.<br />
• I absolutely LOVED Kristin Hannah's<i> The Great Alone. </i>I
was hesitant to read her again because I was so disappointed with
subsequent books after reading the incredible The Nightingale. But this
one was one of my favorites of the year.<br />
• <i>The Music Shop</i> was definitely worth reading.<br />
• <i>Pachinko, Fred Rogers, The Tattooist of Auschwitz, </i>and<i> Girls Like Us </i>were
all for book clubs. 1) Pachinko was AMAZING but took me weeks to get
through. It followed several generations of a Korean family, and I
learned so much about the relationships between Japanese and Koreans, as
well as cultural information, throughout the book. 2) I wasn't crazy
about the Fred Rogers book. It was poorly written and rather boring. 3)
Tattooist was amazing. It's hard to imagine a happy story about
Aushwitz, but in many ways, it was. 4) Girls Like Us is an incredibly
important book, detailing the lives of girls in the commercial sex
industry.<br />
• <i>The Quintland Sisters</i> was fascinating. I've
always been a little obsessed with the Dionne Quintuplets, as they were
contemporaries of my mother's. She had the Yvonne doll when she was a
little girl, and I still have a pin with the name "Yvonne" inscribed on
it from that doll. Really interesting story.<br />
• Mary Oliver. Enough said.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Thoughts on this set. Ooooh, these are some of my favorites of the year.<br />
• I don't remember a lot about <i>The Wedding Date, The Woman in the Window,</i> and <i>Sometimes I Lie, </i>but I know I really liked them.<br />
• <i>The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane </i>was
absolutely stunning. The story follows one mountain girl from her
impoverished childhood through her adulthood as a tea seller, and it was
all fascinating and beautifully written.<br />
• <i>The 57 Bus</i>—
WOW. This is the true story of two teenagers in San Francisco who
inhabited totally different worlds: one white one who attended a private
school, one black one who lived in a neighborhood with high crime. A
single, impulsive event changed both their lives forever. This was an
eye-opening book for me. Powerful.<br />
• <i>An American Marriag</i>e
was one of my favorite fiction books of the year. A beautifully told but
heartbreaking story of race, love, and how quickly a life can be
derailed.<br />
• <i>Walking to Listen </i>was our first book club book
of the year. It was a wonderful and fascinating story of a young man who
walked across the country just to hear people's stories and, of course,
find himself.<br />
• <i>Nine Perfect Stranger</i>s started wonderfully and ended horrendously. My least favorite Moriarty book.<br />
<br />
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<br />
When I look at this set, I go from one extreme to the other. There are some that were absolutely wonderful:<br />
• <i>Evicted</i>:
nonfiction account of eight families in Milwaukee as they try to avoid
eviction. Provides an incredible perspective on poverty and just how
hard it is to keep from being on the streets.<br />
• <i>Once Upon a River</i><br />
•<i> Eleanor Oliphant:</i> can't wait for the movie!<br />
• <i>Americanah</i>: I never wanted this one to end<br />
• <i>Born a Crime:</i> Trevor Noah's memoir of growing up a child of mixed parentage during apartheid in South Africa<br />
<br />
And some that make me feel tired and frustrated:<br />
• <i>Maid</i>: felt inauthentic. Too many things unsaid.<br />
• <i>The Dollmaker of Krakow</i>: weird<br />
• <i>Bridge of Clay</i>: too obtuse<br />
<br />
All the others in this set were enjoyable but not quite up to the level of stunning.<br />
<br />
And finally...<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<i>Snowflower and the Secret Fan </i>was a re-read for book club. I loved it the first time AND the second time. <i>Sworn to Silence </i>was also a book club read, and that was chilling but satisfying! I loved <i>The Homecoming of Samuel Lake,</i> and all the pscyhological thrillers are fun. But my favorite out of all these is <i>Where'd You Go, Bernadette? </i>What
a weird and wonderful novel, much like Eleanor Oliphant. I love quirky
characters like Bernadette and Bee, Eleanor, and The Rosie Project's
Don Tillman.<br />
<br />
I wanted to love <i>City of Girls </i>and <i>Searching for Sylvia Lee</i>, but meh.<br />
<br />
<h2>
<b>Top Ten Books of the Year:</b></h2>
1. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Eleanor-Oliphant-Completely-Fine-Novel/dp/0735220697/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1VM5RUAETUH8Q&keywords=eleanor+oliphant+is+completely+fine+by+gail+honeyman&qid=1579527065&s=books&sprefix=eleanor+%2Cstripbooks%2C178&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine</a> by Gail Honeyman<br />
2 T<a href="https://www.amazon.com/57-Bus-Story-Teenagers-Changed/dp/0374303231/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=57+bus&qid=1579527095&s=books&sr=1-1" target="_blank">he 57 Bus: A True Story of Teenagers and a Crime That Changed Their Lives </a>by Dashka Slater<br />
3. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Evicted-Poverty-Profit-American-City/dp/0553447459/ref=sr_1_2?crid=1MX4MWUAXHV7G&keywords=evicted+poverty+and+profit+in+the+american+city&qid=1579527152&s=books&sprefix=evicted%2Cstripbooks%2C191&sr=1-2" target="_blank">Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City</a> by Matthew Desmond<br />
4. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1616208686?pf_rd_p=ab873d20-a0ca-439b-ac45-cd78f07a84d8&pf_rd_r=NN3JXMX0RSPVG64ZZN6N" target="_blank">An American Marriage</a> by Tayari Jones<br />
5. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Americanah-Chimamanda-Ngozi-Adichie/dp/0307455920/ref=sr_1_1?crid=11XJ80I3XJYWC&keywords=americanah+by+chimamanda+ngozi+adichie&qid=1579527200&s=books&sprefix=americanah%2Cstripbooks%2C177&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Americanah</a> by Chimamandah Ngozi Adichie<br />
6. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Born-Crime-Stories-African-Childhood/dp/0399588191/ref=sr_1_2?crid=J1V7FVHKCXW8&keywords=born+a+crime+by+trevor+noah&qid=1579527277&s=books&sprefix=born+a+crime%2Cstripbooks%2C182&sr=1-2" target="_blank">Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood</a> by Trevor Noah<br />
7. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Great-Alone-Novel-Kristin-Hannah/dp/1250229537/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2MCB645LMEJZ1&keywords=the+great+alone+kristin+hannah+paperback&qid=1579527314&s=books&sprefix=the+great+alone%2Cstripbooks%2C182&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Great Alone </a>by Kristin Hannah<br />
8. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Tea-Girl-Hummingbird-Lane-Novel/dp/1501154834/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1E845M56A7GSH&keywords=the+tea+girl+of+hummingbird+lane+by+lisa+see+paperback&qid=1579527343&s=books&sprefix=the+tea+girl%2Cstripbooks%2C178&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane</a> by Lisa See<br />
9. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Tattooist-Auschwitz-Novel-Heather-Morris/dp/0062797158/ref=sr_1_1?crid=18CODA7XBZT56&keywords=the+tattooist+of+auschwitz&qid=1579527373&s=books&sprefix=the+tattoi%2Cstripbooks%2C176&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Tattooist of Auschwitz</a> by Heather Morris<br />
10. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Walking-Listen-Miles-Across-America/dp/163286701X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2BQQNPBDPC97Q&keywords=walking+to+listen+by+andrew+forsthoefel&qid=1579527400&s=books&sprefix=walking+to+listen%2Cstripbooks%2C178&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Walking to Listen: 4,000 Miles Across America, One Story at a Time</a> by <span class="author notFaded" data-width=""><span class="a-declarative" data-a-popover="{"closeButtonLabel":"Close Author Dialog Popover","name":"contributor-info-B06XKK3S9P","position":"triggerBottom","popoverLabel":"Author Dialog Popover","allowLinkDefault":"true"}" data-action="a-popover">Andrew Forsthoefel</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="author notFaded" data-width=""><span class="a-declarative" data-a-popover="{"closeButtonLabel":"Close Author Dialog Popover","name":"contributor-info-B06XKK3S9P","position":"triggerBottom","popoverLabel":"Author Dialog Popover","allowLinkDefault":"true"}" data-action="a-popover">What about you?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="author notFaded" data-width=""><span class="a-declarative" data-a-popover="{"closeButtonLabel":"Close Author Dialog Popover","name":"contributor-info-B06XKK3S9P","position":"triggerBottom","popoverLabel":"Author Dialog Popover","allowLinkDefault":"true"}" data-action="a-popover">(Visit me at <a href="https://smallworldreads.blogspot.com/2020/01/books-read-in-2019.html" target="_blank">SmallWorld Reads</a> for occasional reviews throughout the year!) </span></span><br />
<br />
<br />Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-38289597893630748922019-12-31T23:01:00.002-05:002019-12-31T23:01:39.313-05:002019: It was a doozy<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I came across last year’s Christmas letter, and I had to laugh at this line: "I think 2018 was a year for us to breathe a little, because 2019 is going to be a doozy. “ <br /><br />I had no idea just what a doozy 2019 would be. So many changes, both expected and unexpected. Amazing, joyous celebrations and not-so-fun health issues. We had lots of endings and some amazing new beginnings—an unusual number of milestones in 12 short months. And so, here we go:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>1. Randy and I celebrated 30 YEARS of marriage.</b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">THIRTY! All I can say is: I do, I do, I do.</span></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>2. The end of homeschooling.</b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For
19 years we’ve been doing this. A whole career! These pictures still
get me weepy: Duncan during his last week of school, curled up on the
couch, reading, like hundreds of other days; Duncan and me on his last
official day; and all three kids on <a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2019/05/last-end-of-school-ice-cream-outing.html" target="_blank">our very last, last-day-of-school celebration.</a>
I could write pages and pages and pages about these nearly 2 decades of
homeschooling, but I’ll save that for a blog series…one of these days.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>3. Two graduations: </b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Duncan from high school (<a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2019/05/our-last-high-school-graduate.html" target="_blank">our last high school graduate!</a>) and Laurel from Lipscomb University with her BA in psychology (summa cum laude).</span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyz-RQ_1VIxldrHjE-Fn4ELyvZ2GaOWEovNiR4Sx2RIq52vbz3lrARELWpA9eLfEj-xTx2WZsE055UK5ETEZY7d4v_2nupa0r7JN9UHPkdBxFfCm6KLU-X2l8HXRWXb9rIpPE7DSJ8PFg2/s1600/81237902_10162849960525241_3921838765164724224_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1440" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyz-RQ_1VIxldrHjE-Fn4ELyvZ2GaOWEovNiR4Sx2RIq52vbz3lrARELWpA9eLfEj-xTx2WZsE055UK5ETEZY7d4v_2nupa0r7JN9UHPkdBxFfCm6KLU-X2l8HXRWXb9rIpPE7DSJ8PFg2/s640/81237902_10162849960525241_3921838765164724224_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>4. Wedding!</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Our daughter, a beautiful bride…and our new son-in-law. This was <a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2019/08/the-most-perfect-wedding-ever.html" target="_blank">the most perfect wedding,</a>
the most glorious, joy-filled day. What a celebration! I’ll never get
tired of looking at these photos and remembering this day.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
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<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>5. S I C K. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I spent a few days in the hospital and then the entire summer recovering from pericarditis. It was a long, slow recovery that basically required me to do absolutely nothing but read and watch Netflix for six weeks. Trust me: that sounds a lot more fun than it actually is. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <b>6. New floors! </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">While
I was recovering, Randy was renovating. Not only did he rip up the
carpet and refinish the hardwood floors we found beneath, but he painted
the whole living room and gave us a gorgeous new space to create our
new life of empty nesting.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>7. School, school, and more school. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">August
brought new adventures for all our kids. Duncan started college; Laurel
and Hunter both started graduate school; and Jesse started law school.
So proud of all of them!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKI6SLBa0LSjk7gTyq16GBakX3gjBOxEkthaDoUL-v7CoI8T0Q1SDFVYqeSOx1bINjCGUSokDXOFtkgS3-M7yLV6pcGoxKgTOj_VvrZYLwlxIoyXd3YtorEn_oc6AOiAXCxBxmUSuvE4GT/s1600/80715446_10162849961225241_196469675477958656_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1440" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKI6SLBa0LSjk7gTyq16GBakX3gjBOxEkthaDoUL-v7CoI8T0Q1SDFVYqeSOx1bINjCGUSokDXOFtkgS3-M7yLV6pcGoxKgTOj_VvrZYLwlxIoyXd3YtorEn_oc6AOiAXCxBxmUSuvE4GT/s640/80715446_10162849961225241_196469675477958656_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>8. Engaged! </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We recovered from Laurel and Hunter’s wedding just in time to start planning Jesse and Summer’s, coming on July 4, 2020!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJ0xgrOAKyLTrys021wMSpbglEAg77ltpKzDRQ8lVLqJfbg4icwDuuoLEv06N2usE3lpCED1P8JH1XKWC-KzGEqR56XOiOHZtFRAP9oljntOF0BzzaOk_aiBigkm8Jrjj7Tg_jwE_uvKh/s1600/80756738_10162849961385241_5006837981915381760_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1440" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiJ0xgrOAKyLTrys021wMSpbglEAg77ltpKzDRQ8lVLqJfbg4icwDuuoLEv06N2usE3lpCED1P8JH1XKWC-KzGEqR56XOiOHZtFRAP9oljntOF0BzzaOk_aiBigkm8Jrjj7Tg_jwE_uvKh/s640/80756738_10162849961385241_5006837981915381760_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> 9. Fix ‘em up! </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Our
precious parents: broken arm, broken ribs, broken-ish toe. We’ve become
well-acquainted with doctors’ offices, home health care, and rehab
facilities this year. Mom’s all healed now; Dad and Pat (Randy’s mom)
are works in progress. We love them all so dearly.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUc2HuHX9C8RWVxNnZorfnugrC4HdM6PriQJ0Bfq-_dCuH1K9h-1QiPfdBhPhZf4ZDs5xamMKNAuZApei-W2EJk-4fl4GwMiN6wa4hmUzBHZ9Ku__9VQKKlk0vGdf7aFUaXzEtZb7w64fp/s1600/80842295_10162849961580241_7299120465115611136_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1440" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUc2HuHX9C8RWVxNnZorfnugrC4HdM6PriQJ0Bfq-_dCuH1K9h-1QiPfdBhPhZf4ZDs5xamMKNAuZApei-W2EJk-4fl4GwMiN6wa4hmUzBHZ9Ku__9VQKKlk0vGdf7aFUaXzEtZb7w64fp/s640/80842295_10162849961580241_7299120465115611136_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>10. Empty nest. </b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
could share of photo of Randy and me sitting on the couch, watching
reruns of ER every night, to illustrate our empty nest; but I’ll go with
this. For the first time in over 20 years, I’m no longer driving a
minivan. And I have to say: I don’t miss the van one bit! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjq6K3CFSjb3N_DrOh9UFZT4RGIsnA95ZuAvw3DrF7L3akxzQSawX4Z6ueQKSJtwigCBGwaGws0vIlXNjYUwz3HFgYGB1MZoQ_e1RGLNARPbBK3XnVHbdE5PbAygt-8gGTBcLiXbohidP/s1600/81973103_10162849961760241_597447358376050688_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1440" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjjq6K3CFSjb3N_DrOh9UFZT4RGIsnA95ZuAvw3DrF7L3akxzQSawX4Z6ueQKSJtwigCBGwaGws0vIlXNjYUwz3HFgYGB1MZoQ_e1RGLNARPbBK3XnVHbdE5PbAygt-8gGTBcLiXbohidP/s640/81973103_10162849961760241_597447358376050688_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /> So there we go. What a year! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Can’t wait to see what 2020 brings…I think!</b></span></span><br />
<br />
Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-39274144148033854762019-11-29T20:14:00.001-05:002019-11-29T20:14:45.617-05:00Thanksgiving, All Grown Up<span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfh3fY0eaQ2K0E6qh4HOOwM8ag-j30SAgUUfrkD2eea66THGSzl2KRd4_SUA3XpNxOD_5aj0kyt26c2IVJaUaZCaq6NusLIp-1nHGjrcBq9ixoHqdK3zqPbF1f6DNz3UTSpmFIIOD90oYu/s1600/IMG_3855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1389" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfh3fY0eaQ2K0E6qh4HOOwM8ag-j30SAgUUfrkD2eea66THGSzl2KRd4_SUA3XpNxOD_5aj0kyt26c2IVJaUaZCaq6NusLIp-1nHGjrcBq9ixoHqdK3zqPbF1f6DNz3UTSpmFIIOD90oYu/s640/IMG_3855.jpg" width="554" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ZSOLuvXX6QRpGrTY4WSVJ3u8_E8Qja-Ipi3zQHBo9ulvGvNYzkrdQ7rXTZa_MFkQAoWmBDx_mle-XKQsDFyR23f1vZrvVl9J2d1tD_nrlXxd5PZa6roHa-gHP-Ps8GCtpagRfu3ukH-1/s1600/IMG_3871.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ZSOLuvXX6QRpGrTY4WSVJ3u8_E8Qja-Ipi3zQHBo9ulvGvNYzkrdQ7rXTZa_MFkQAoWmBDx_mle-XKQsDFyR23f1vZrvVl9J2d1tD_nrlXxd5PZa6roHa-gHP-Ps8GCtpagRfu3ukH-1/s640/IMG_3871.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yJVcI0EI2Gy8tRm2BFlSMEnGWlqPS76-e-GirEwQ5RTiBlrBMDwrhVALoG8_vbzAXmtjxMgVLwPeIPYmuKmnPhBnXFvAVvT7GdjsKZWsVF7qPtfuPc77__0XxV26Z-r9juN_IbTkm5Pq/s1600/IMG_3855.jpg"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times; text-decoration: none;"><br /></span></a><span style="font-family: Times;"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">No
melted crayon leaves shining in the windows. No "I'm thankful for..."
tree decorated with orange, yellow, and brown leaves that say MOM, DAD, CANDY,
and PLAYSTATION. No storybooks or history lessons or discussion about the real
meaning of Thanksgiving. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">There's
no "Pick up your Legos" or "Do NOT make a mess in the living
room! I just cleaned!" </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">None
of that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">We're
all grown up around here.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">***</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">The
day before Thanksgiving, I bawled my eyes out. I mean, I sobbed and sobbed.
It's because of music. I had the grand idea to listen to CDs while I baked. And
then a whole album made me think of when were first married, and all our
college friends and how much fun that was. I didn't cry then. Not even close.
Thinking of college friends comes with pangs of anxiety and betrayal, almost
always. Not that day—I just had a happy feeling.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">But
then I put in another CD--a compilation—and suddenly I was hit with such a
longing that I just sobbed. Because this is the first year that my daughter
wasn't home, and I miss her. I miss how pretty she'd make things, and I miss
asking her opinion and, sure, I miss her help. I love when she would be dusting
in the living room while watching Netflix, how she'd make things just so.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">But
we're all grown up around here, and she's in Nashville with her husband and his
family this year. She's making her own pies and figuring out how to roast a
turkey and cleaning her own house. She's making her own traditions.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">I
stopped listening to music and watched New Girl instead while I baked a
cherry/cranberry pie. And I thought about my father, as I always do when I make
pies, and how every holiday feels like it could be the last one with him. And
how will I cope... how will I... how? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">And
back to New Girl, which is silly and sweet and utterly not sob-inducing.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Thanksgiving
day started quietly. No Macy's Day parade, no dog show. Those were things the
kids became enamored with just the past several years, so without them here, we
left the TV off. Duncan went to his girlfriend's house early. Randy prepared
the food; I prepared the house.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">I
drove across town to pick his mom up. This past month, she's fallen deeper and
faster into dementia. Alzheimer's most likely, like her own mother. She was
"so surprised" to see me; she had "no idea" we were coming
for her. We tried and failed to find her purse, her keys, and her phone (she's
taken to wrapping things up and putting them in suitcases), but we successfully
found the cat. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">All
grown up now, parents to our parents. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhic02Q8pZa2Yh4NTy078Y6v3E6q5m83_B_Vk_QhkRdMybzbONghpqEfhP2bc1-HHTjR5qZjyqdQ91gak59w1vMKPqDaMuIf4GO6Nv0QwMNc6XHmRitvsxUpYKdkKJNPxwm75xMp487dwsV/s1600/59666164213__B0285EA6-9414-4830-9DE4-DB89E04681C3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1187" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhic02Q8pZa2Yh4NTy078Y6v3E6q5m83_B_Vk_QhkRdMybzbONghpqEfhP2bc1-HHTjR5qZjyqdQ91gak59w1vMKPqDaMuIf4GO6Nv0QwMNc6XHmRitvsxUpYKdkKJNPxwm75xMp487dwsV/s640/59666164213__B0285EA6-9414-4830-9DE4-DB89E04681C3.JPG" width="474" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">One
by one the cars pulled in: Jesse and his fiancée, one family, another family,
Duncan and his girlfriend, my parents. Champagne punch all around, and the
house if full to bursting. Dad turns off his hearing aids; it's all just
mumbling noise to him. Mom, the original party girl, is thrilled. </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">"How
many people are here?" she asks over and over.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">"Fifteen,"
we remind her.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">"Fifteen!
I beat our neighbor. He was having 11 people over. I can brag to him!"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">"You
can!" we encourage her. A few minutes later she asks it all again. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNscn_xDZ4UqyYWKbDP0L09tTY865_6ckt4D3rzKRTD1k2jvm908uf4AyPaFG6qp2Rw5Nd-1Bferlt1yYjNRe7IL3LM3eU0qTvgb1dvJO1MshIP_3E76tc7gnAD_xX-TsfEfnQHPNrfOl/s1600/59666164213__B0285EA6-9414-4830-9DE4-DB89E04681C3.JPG"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times; text-decoration: none;"><br /></span></a><span style="font-family: Times;"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">We
pray, we feast, we exclaim over each and every dish. It's glorious, this mix of
family and friends who are family. </span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0laM1YKIaOC8OtalwYoqEfRh_CZ55TCILss25P2e5Fi5XTd9ugwvAhLPk0iKrFhb80-KbcbVt3H8XqgW1IoRgNFBGKXPQU_SEHukwYwi7RK09Nes6p9WtxCvleVsvpVyu24PvxoN-4Er/s1600/IMG_3866.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1197" data-original-width="1600" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0laM1YKIaOC8OtalwYoqEfRh_CZ55TCILss25P2e5Fi5XTd9ugwvAhLPk0iKrFhb80-KbcbVt3H8XqgW1IoRgNFBGKXPQU_SEHukwYwi7RK09Nes6p9WtxCvleVsvpVyu24PvxoN-4Er/s640/IMG_3866.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLGOLr6n7CPKTn3MpE34Naq9X3RDvhbuSrjbPZF2F2KRxdgv8uJtmtRB1hyphenhyphens8cZakTgv0SmuwHPuFM-YJvysI1Isa-HvKK1ZVd5GIVxKPfPcgukdvQvS3w-vpC9Q6O_rA22VbuvWkk__t/s1600/IMG_3866.jpg"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Times; text-decoration: none;"><br /></span></a><span style="font-family: Times;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">I
don't let myself think too often of our girl. I don't let myself think that
this may be the last year my parents, now 92 and 94, are with us, or how far
gone Randy's mom might be by this time next year. I look at my handsome boys
and listen to stories. We laugh a lot.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">It's
not so bad being all grown up; in fact, it's lovely for friends to stay late
and play board games. The punch bowl gets refilled again and again. We nibble
at the turkey again, have more pie and whipped cream, break out the cheese
board and homemade Chex mix. The teenagers go out Black Friday shopping but
return within an hour or two. "It was boring," they report. "No
fights. No lines. No crowds."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Before
I go to bed, I text my girl. She's had a wonderful day, she says. She's sent
photos throughout the day, so I've seen her turkey and pies and, most of all,
her beautiful smile. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">I
was dreading it just a tiny bit, this first Thanksgiving all grown up, but it
was actually one of my favorites ever. I am deeply blessed by this life, by the
sight of my parents across the table from me still, by my children love to come
home and be with us, by friends who make themselves at home and linger well
into the evening. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times;">Grateful,
as always, to the giver of all good gifts.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Times;">The Gift</span></b><span style="color: #45818e; font-family: Times;"><br />
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Be still, my soul, and steadfast.<br />
Earth and heaven both are still watching<br />
though time is draining from the clock<br />
and your walk, that was confident and quick,<br />
has become slow.<br />
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So, be slow if you must, but let<br />
the heart still play its true part.<br />
Love still as once you loved, deeply<br />
and without patience. Let God and the world<br />
know you are grateful. That the gift has been given.<br />
{Mary Oliver}</span><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span></span></div>
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</font></style>Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-28324646197706459252019-09-03T20:09:00.002-04:002019-09-03T20:09:21.323-04:00Things I Learned This SummerI can't begin to count the number of times Randy and I looked at each other these past few months and said, "This is the weirdest summer ever." Here are a few things I've learned this very strange summer.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">1. You <i>can</i> make it through your daughter's wedding <a href="http://smallworldathome.blogspot.com/2019/08/the-most-perfect-wedding-ever.html" target="_blank">(the most perfect wedding ever)</a> without sobbing uncontrollably.</span></b><br />
When I imagined my daughter's wedding day, I was sure I would have these moments throughout the whole day when I would not be able to stop the tears. Happy tears, tears of melancholy, tears of joy—all the tears that come when your child transitions to a new season. Because we all know that a new season for a child changes the shape of the family. But when the day really came, I was filled with joy. Sure, I had moments when I got choked up, but I never wept, never had mascara-running tears. I distinctly remember smiling as my handsome sons walked me down the aisle, looking at all the guests and loving each one of them, appreciating our village, our family, our new friends. I made it through with joy and gladness, from these first moments to the toasts to the father-daughter dance. What a beautiful evening it was.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfz8tJFZ55l108txLVlzv1NhiO8UGsOemwfCDC8U0zsVESYwC-EXPQUPdhs2g5J7YV4QIemjlhufcEwxgc_-cPOBI4PFVPXAxqkaGDX4nIhM00wwI1SQH52Cwpro2YK9eF0UaS74wwt2b8/s1600/01+19%253A51%253A53_image2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfz8tJFZ55l108txLVlzv1NhiO8UGsOemwfCDC8U0zsVESYwC-EXPQUPdhs2g5J7YV4QIemjlhufcEwxgc_-cPOBI4PFVPXAxqkaGDX4nIhM00wwI1SQH52Cwpro2YK9eF0UaS74wwt2b8/s640/01+19%253A51%253A53_image2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">2. I was not having anxiety attacks.</span></b><br />
When I first went to the ER with chest pains back in late April, I was assured that I was not having a heart attack. A follow-up visit with my doctor confirmed this. She suggested that I was most likely having an anxiety attack, which made total sense with all the huge things in my life in the past year: planning a wedding, planning a graduation ceremony for our homeschooling group, Laurel's graduation, Duncan's graduation, coming to the end of 19 years of homeschooling, all three kids starting new chapters, caring for my aging parents as well as Randy's mother, becoming empty nesters, and on and on. Anxiety made sense. But, I told her, I am really not an anxious person. I am relaxed, laid back. Even though I certainly feel stress, I've never been incapacitated by it. I've always been thankful for this gift of optimism and trust that things will work out. My doctor explained that sometimes the most relaxed people could experience the worst cases of sudden anxiety. Again, that made sense.<br />
<br />
So when it happened again at Laurel's graduation, I attributed the pains to stress and moved on. When it happened a couple weeks later, between Duncan's graduation and Laurel's wedding, it made sense. I prayed that I would not experience that searing pain on Laurel's wedding day, and I did not. I breathed easily, enjoyed every minute of the day, and hoped that, with all the big stresses now done, the pains would be done, too.<br />
<br />
And then a week after Laurel's wedding, I had another episode, and this time the pain didn't go away. I went back to the doctor, really seeking reassurance that this was anxiety. This time she ran another blood test and the results prompted her to send me to the hospital for a possible blood clot. A WHAT? CT-scan, x-rays, a heparin drip, and finally the diagnosis: <a href="https://www.heart.org/en/health-topics/pericarditis/what-is-pericarditis" target="_blank">pericarditis</a> (in short, inflammation of the pericardium). Pericarditis feels like a heart attack, or, as one friend put it, "torture of the torso."<br />
<br />
{Y'know, I should have trusted my gut more. I just couldn't get on board with the anxiety attacks, but it really did make sense. TRUST YOUR GUT. Will I ever learn that lesson??}<br />
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And so, after being in the hospital for a couple of days, I was released for my long recovery: some anti-inflammatory meds and 6 weeks of rest.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">3. A whole summer of reading and watching Netflix isn't as blissful as it sounds.</span></b><br />
No housework, says the cardiologist. No heavy lifting. No yard work. Sounds like a dream, right?<br />
No working out. (Like, none?) Nothing that will raise your heart rate.<br />
No hiking. No walks with friends in the park. No <i>anything</i>.<br />
<br />
I sat on the couch all summer.<br />
I read a lot of books (17 between June-August). I watched many hours of Netflix, Hulu, and Prime. (My favorite: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Oh, how I love that series!! Also, I only watched season 1 of Outlander but I really hated the last episodes so much that I couldn't watch but one or two episodes of season 2.) And that's about all I did, for real. I thought I would use that time to do a lot of writing, catch up on photo albums, publish lesson plans, etc. but I was just so tired all the time. Brain tired. Heart tired. I napped a lot.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">4. It is wearisome and worrisome to be sick.</span></b><br />
I have developed tremendous empathy for people who are chronically ill. I have friends who struggle with this, and I will admit that I have been annoyed sometimes, thinking "Just get out and DO something and you'll feel better!" I have learned that, even as you begin feeling physically better, it is just hard to get back into the swing of things. You feel lonely, anxious, and just not yourself. I can see how my sick-self could take over my "real" self, how I could succumb to choosing a nap over coffee with a friend, even when my body says it is okay. When you are sick all the time, you live way too much in your own head. We need friends to shake us out of that, to remind us of what we have to offer the world. I have been re-entering the world these past 4 weeks—going to church, walking with a friend, even going on a short trip with another friend. Those things have been so healing for me!<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">5. This is a BIG one: Preparing to be empty-nesters was one of the smartest things we have ever done.</span></b><br />
Last year, Randy and I looked at our very tall baby and realized that he would be leaving the nest soon. Your baby leaving home is traumatic enough, but I have been homeschooling for 19 years—and that meant that I would essentially be out of a job. Retired. We have been blessed with an incredible homeschooling community, and my ties with that would essentially end. (But we have an amazing group of friends—a whole village—we've cultivated from that group over the years. That certainly hasn't ended!) So we started getting ready. We began embracing our soon-to-be empty nest rather than dreading it. Our son was working 25 hours a week and finishing his senior year of
high school, so he wasn't around much, providing us with a perfect
practice year. We joined a hiking challenge group. We called friends to meet us for drinks at a local brewery. We started being regulars at a Wednesday night music event. We kayaked and walked and went on a few weekend trips, just the two of us. We were intentional about moving into the next season of our life with anticipation and joy, rather than feeling lost and lonely. Our son left for college nearly three weeks ago, and this has by far been the easiest transition. We miss him, of course. We have moments when we look around our house and hear the voices of our children shouting to each other, imagine their laughter and their little feet. But we DID it! We raised three beautiful human beings who are kind, compassionate, and truly enjoyable adults—people that we love to hang out with.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is taken right before we left our youngest at college! We're not crying!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">6. "Normal" is elusive.</span></b><br />
Oh, it is so very, <i>very</i> slippery.<br />
For months now, we've been saying "After the wedding, things will get back to normal." Hahaha! Hello, pericarditis. Or after I'm feeling better, things will be normal. Yeah, well, I forgot to mention that we ("we" being Randy) launched a massive renovating project right after the wedding but before my pericarditis diagnosis. I mean, I was planning to help him, but instead I watched as he prepped and sanded and painted. We slept in our attached apartment, ate dinner with boxes of books piled all around us, and said goodbye to 19 years of carpet and wallpaper. Our living room is livable now and, while it's not quite finished, I absolutely adore it, by the way.<br />
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But things cannot be normal when your last child is leaving home. We purchased and packed and had a goodbye party or two and then dropped our sweet boy off.<br />
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We were ready to embrace our new normal. But wouldn't you know it? Just as we pulled out of his college and got back on the interstate, we got a text from my Dad saying that Mom had fallen and was in the hospital with a broken arm. That's a big deal when you're 92. Normal slipped away again. The next couple weeks were a blur of overnights in the hospital and then the rehab center with Mom. My brother, father, and I took turns sleeping in the room with her, as we were afraid she would get up at night and fall. Also, she just really loved our company.<br />
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She is home now, and I hesitate to say it but... life is feeling a little more <i>normal</i> this week. We are developing a rhythm to our new life, just Randy and me. I know, I know. It's only been a few days, but somehow life seems just a little slower this week, and I can almost feel a sense of normal. Almost.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">7. My kids have grown up.</span></b><br />
<br />
I mean, look at them.<br />
One started college. Our baby!<br />
My daughter and her husband (HER HUSBAND! My baby girl is married!) started graduate school.<br />
Our oldest (he was our little Jesse Bear, our first little love!) is now in law school—and planning a wedding!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFzYtd4fPCCm0bW0ozpEM_jHW4ufSJfBJSXqilsEGVxY_qaXBjp4tdzb2rAmC8oi8067BX1DSTCO3m-Zysh7ivLVSroPngMrSguAzrj0_UIi71GtdfDP-dZVFNThSd6IIL5aF_fYLv_Gh/s1600/IMG_2654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1405" data-original-width="1600" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAFzYtd4fPCCm0bW0ozpEM_jHW4ufSJfBJSXqilsEGVxY_qaXBjp4tdzb2rAmC8oi8067BX1DSTCO3m-Zysh7ivLVSroPngMrSguAzrj0_UIi71GtdfDP-dZVFNThSd6IIL5aF_fYLv_Gh/s640/IMG_2654.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duncan and his girlfriend, as he moves into his dorm room</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4DTm856lPMRTi1OC2in8BgjYtFXcoWGVm7gdOD0g62Hs-PHTfjbOE0cixi_ZCqnlbM9I2cS7XCpfDl0JZ1CXoTr7XgW7BSYbYlmATfvN6ckbjUyyj-iMRydmOX8SOWyaXxKZSk9GUFRg/s1600/IMG_2776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz4DTm856lPMRTi1OC2in8BgjYtFXcoWGVm7gdOD0g62Hs-PHTfjbOE0cixi_ZCqnlbM9I2cS7XCpfDl0JZ1CXoTr7XgW7BSYbYlmATfvN6ckbjUyyj-iMRydmOX8SOWyaXxKZSk9GUFRg/s640/IMG_2776.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hunter, who began his MDiv, and Laurel, who began her master's in marriage and family therapy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rO8pwYanmk2n74bkjByMgZiPoep4yxo8uax8vfKtSR3LvBWqbSJ-8L_QDw8bIiucOTp57IogmMHf_tqjgiskSl7qZmV3InMaUmCnkWVC672AmjQF_HP1cVDVxiS_IdH-E-rTmWqCPlv0/s1600/IMG_2775.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rO8pwYanmk2n74bkjByMgZiPoep4yxo8uax8vfKtSR3LvBWqbSJ-8L_QDw8bIiucOTp57IogmMHf_tqjgiskSl7qZmV3InMaUmCnkWVC672AmjQF_HP1cVDVxiS_IdH-E-rTmWqCPlv0/s640/IMG_2775.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our future lawyer!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYpSKaoGlaM_lzz3Ic0bqARrVD4sz4y_IGzDS191DR1h3ZOEIc1R8p3aufcup0QX5wbDRvJNCHlnV4dd3CWzQBoUTmmZ8UG3UM6hO4SJfnXw6XT4OTkxlCrW23onD4z_N0H_0L5QAYYTL/s1600/IMG_2890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOYpSKaoGlaM_lzz3Ic0bqARrVD4sz4y_IGzDS191DR1h3ZOEIc1R8p3aufcup0QX5wbDRvJNCHlnV4dd3CWzQBoUTmmZ8UG3UM6hO4SJfnXw6XT4OTkxlCrW23onD4z_N0H_0L5QAYYTL/s640/IMG_2890.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And also, Jesse and his future wife!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />They are grown, and they are such wonderful people. We like them SO MUCH! We are still adjusting to having adult children, but I am really liking this concept.<br />
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What a crazy summer this has been. What a blur, what a time of transition! Things have just been weird, and I have to say at this point how incredibly grateful I am to my husband. He has been an absolute ROCK through all of this. He's made me laugh, cooked nearly all our meals, sanded and painted like crazy, held my hand, encouraged me and our kids, taken care of his own mother, and so much more. He is the kindest, gentlest, and funniest man I know, and I am so glad he is mine. I learned that a LONG time ago, though.<br />
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And so, that's what I've learned this very weird summer. I'm joining lots of others at <a href="https://emilypfreeman.com/learned-summer-2019/" target="_blank">Emily Freeman's blog,</a> sharing what they've learned, too!<br />
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Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-13745655928036085252019-08-15T11:22:00.001-04:002023-12-14T08:34:38.783-05:00Surprise! Scoutmaster Retirement/Appreciation Party<br />
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SURPRISE!<br />
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It's hard keeping a secret (although much less so as I get older, which is kind of interesting).<br />
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Tremendous thanks to all the Scouts and leaders, past and current, and
families who organized and came out to surprise and celebrate Randy with
a night of appreciation and lots of storytelling about things Randy
didn't actually know, including <span class="il">alligator</span>
wrestling, 2 a.m. covert trips to Waffle House, and how the phone really
got dropped in the submarine.<br />
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It's no surprise to me that he has
impacted so many lives in his 20 years of leadership in Scouting, but
hearing these boys/men and parents express his influence was truly
extraordinary. We're so blessed to have raised our kids in this amazing
village.Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-6239639116550442312019-08-07T15:33:00.001-04:002019-08-07T15:33:53.311-04:00The Most Perfect Wedding Ever<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg233QzYK9V4lKVKJclHvVy5z5Qu7Etp02k76aY3IZvN_4zJmEC7TFGKO-7yiZA4lNsWXdJ0o2TK0wAQhXsIBFiRO4HSHiJRs0G0gUsCpPevhxSYPaPwKyIzLogj-4K-a953OO1e_6EO6WD/s1600/jamie-pratt-lh+%2528195%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg233QzYK9V4lKVKJclHvVy5z5Qu7Etp02k76aY3IZvN_4zJmEC7TFGKO-7yiZA4lNsWXdJ0o2TK0wAQhXsIBFiRO4HSHiJRs0G0gUsCpPevhxSYPaPwKyIzLogj-4K-a953OO1e_6EO6WD/s640/jamie-pratt-lh+%2528195%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<i><b>It seems like a dream, really. </b></i><br />
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Every time I think about their wedding, I see a floating white veil, shimmering summer green grass, and smiles so bright they could light up a city.<br />
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I see my daughter, excited and nervous, too, but with a confidence that speaks volumes: she is more than ready to marry this man. She is radiant. She glows, she floats, she beams. She sees herself in the mirror and knows she is beautiful.<br />
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She laughs, cries, prays with her bridesmaids; they wait on her hand and foot. This is her day.<br />
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On this day, I don't think about the little girl she was in cowboy boots and a ruffled dress. I enjoy every single moment, immersed only in the day. I can't keep my eyes off her, to be honest: the wave of her hair around her face, her brown eyes like some exquisite piece of art, her smooth skin, her beautiful smile. Her wedding dress is perfect, and for just one second, I let myself glimpse her in a white Cinderella dress, age three or four—just for one second.<br />
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My princess.<br />
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I zip her up. I put the flowers in her hair. She gives me a delicate mother/daughter necklace, with a card that makes me cry.<br />
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She meets her father, taps him on the shoulder. He turns and breaks into a smile as he sees his girl transformed into a bride. She gives him a gift she used to give to him when she was a little girl: handkerchiefs she embroidered with tiny hearts. He cries.<br />
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<b><br /></b>
<b>And so the day progresses, from moment to moment...</b><br />
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<i>The details, </i>so tailored to fit their personalities, who they are as individuals and as a couple.<br />
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<i>The first look</i> between Laurel and Hunter.<br />
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<i>The incredibly fun wedding party</i>. What fabulous bridesmaids and groomsmen!<br />
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<i>And then the ceremony. </i>Walking down the aisle with a son on either side, seeing chairs filled with friends and family who love us. My mother, the flower girl, and Laurel's cousin (the second to youngest grandchild), the ringbearer. And then the walk down the aisle, my daughter and my husband.<br />
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<i>The readings by their brothers.</i> Poems read by Laurel's brothers: "I Carry Your Heart With Me" by e.e. cummings and "Coming Home" by Mary Oliver. Scripture read by Hunter's brother: 1 Peter 4:8-11, "Above all, love each other deeply..."<br />
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The ceremony was truly a perfect blend of smiles and tears, laughter and solemnity. Their precious vows that they had written (seriously, the best I've ever heard), their shared communion, a few jokes, and lots of blessings: what a joyful celebration!<br />
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<i>Ah, and the reception. </i>What a party! The food, the drinks, the music, the toasts, the cake, the dancing: everything about the evening was wrapped in happiness, tied up with joy. So much dancing! The June evening was clear and just warm enough, the lights twinkled, we soaked in the love of tables filled with our friends, our families, and their joy in our joy. <br />
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It sounds idyllic, I know. I could go into all the details—the months of planning and all that entailed— but the end result was the most magical day without, for me, one single moment of stress. I will say that I'm so thankful for our wedding planner, Megan. She made all the difference between a stressful event and one in which all the parents could just sit back and revel in every moment.<br />
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The wedding was glorious, it's true. But a hundredfold more than the candlelight and the flowers, the tender toasts and the exuberant dancing, are the vows these two made to each other, before all of us, as they committed their lives to each other and their marriage to God. Their trust in each other and their faith in Christ is tangible and strong, and they are clearly excited to grow together in every way.<br />
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I think of the words of Hannah from 1 Samuel 27: "I prayed for this child..." Of course I covered my girl in prayer since before she was born, but I also prayed for her future husband through the years: that he would be having a happy childhood, that he would be kind and generous and compassionate, gentle and funny and Spirit-filled. The rest of the verse goes like this: "the Lord has granted me what I asked of him." Hunter is all of that and more, and I love to watch them embracing this life together.<br />
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<span class="text 1Sam-1-27" id="en-NIV-7240"></span><br />
<span class="text 1Sam-1-27" id="en-NIV-7240"><sup> </sup></span>Our family of 5 is now a family of 6, and I couldn't be happier.<br />
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And we got some pretty amazing in-laws, too!<br />
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If you read all the way to the bottom of this, THANKS FOR SHARING this special day with me!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photography: <a href="https://www.jamieprattphotos.com/" target="_blank">Jamie Pratt Photos</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Planning, Coordination, and Decor: <a href="https://www.margaretclaireweddings.com/" target="_blank">Margaret Claire’s Weddings and Events</a><br /> Venue: <a href="http://strawberrycreektn.com/index.html" target="_blank">The Stables at Strawberry Creek</a>, Knoxville<br /> DJ: Margaret Claire’s DJ Services<br /> Floral Design: Echelon Florist<br /> Catering: Best Bites<br /> Bartending: The Pour Guys<br /> Bride’s Cake: Publix<br /> Groom’s Cake: Bees Knees Bakery</span></div>
<br />Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3512642049971207057.post-23632110407629380382019-05-25T11:36:00.000-04:002019-05-25T11:36:04.783-04:00Our Last High School Graduate!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So proud of this guy. Our baby. Our last graduate. Oh, so many emotions—most of them ones that I will have to take out, one by one, and explore later.</div>
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We. Are. Done. We've been doing this for 19 years. A whole career! </div>
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So grateful to these three for their good cheer, their humor, and their incredible love. And for this man... he is my rock, my best friend, and the most incredible father any child could imagine. </div>
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And now for a few shots of graduation day itself...</div>
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Duncan with some of his best friends. Wow-- it was hot on graduation day!</div>
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Duncan's senior table-- he's sharing a table with his girlfriend.</div>
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Duncan and Haylee decorated their caps. This was the first year the graduates were permitted to decorate their caps, and there were some super cute ones! I love how their personalities show through here!</div>
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Our support group's Class of 2019. 48 graduates-- by far the largest class ever!</div>
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Duncan and Haylee, waiting for the ceremony to start. That cord he's wearing was a surprise from his Dad. It's the Eagle Scout Honor Cord.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhHc2FjRbAqx2oxbE8EeMJvfrJdZoaZsLQdmFUR4e6Xdzc6u4JT7jpoZocsYsiM9zJBgkdQ2ojg5cCKBqqdp9uhTyod5HzPhJcfjVIrdINzo3S-75pP2tH5KHpsRe6SIHhU6Q86GnH9lo/s1600/BHEAClassof2019graduation-311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhHc2FjRbAqx2oxbE8EeMJvfrJdZoaZsLQdmFUR4e6Xdzc6u4JT7jpoZocsYsiM9zJBgkdQ2ojg5cCKBqqdp9uhTyod5HzPhJcfjVIrdINzo3S-75pP2tH5KHpsRe6SIHhU6Q86GnH9lo/s640/BHEAClassof2019graduation-311.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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What an awesome moment. Duncan received the 2019 Outstanding Senior Scholarship from our support group. I'm so proud of him! He think he isn't a good writer, but his essays have earned him thousands of dollars in scholarship money!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgIvRbqLjcLz4KaKNNU759hWUrqZ0avVXyMdGeIy_BWxLZhC4lQbQNf3fze4jw_PEJrcmM6rUY-cKrb1GgpljHY9kNjFUZvyqibnPglvwMBnRRzYIsSMnSBGJ8vSvC69n87h8no7q_S6g/s1600/IMG_3184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgIvRbqLjcLz4KaKNNU759hWUrqZ0avVXyMdGeIy_BWxLZhC4lQbQNf3fze4jw_PEJrcmM6rUY-cKrb1GgpljHY9kNjFUZvyqibnPglvwMBnRRzYIsSMnSBGJ8vSvC69n87h8no7q_S6g/s640/IMG_3184.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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My three. I've been so richly blessed by these years with them! Can't wait for the ones to come.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilC3-A2hQ_61NmXZFp9SHAe6tHlALwzCzmeFKRICYdcxR5tusXH7xIz8_ugtgMNk-rSp3joGW5EyK0i8QqfeoI8k95MDBdkL7Lz5IcUVEvCTFpBXyuAkMdqDuBEfKIB643WoKAuns4EXD/s1600/IMG_1714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjilC3-A2hQ_61NmXZFp9SHAe6tHlALwzCzmeFKRICYdcxR5tusXH7xIz8_ugtgMNk-rSp3joGW5EyK0i8QqfeoI8k95MDBdkL7Lz5IcUVEvCTFpBXyuAkMdqDuBEfKIB643WoKAuns4EXD/s640/IMG_1714.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Sweet boy, I thank you for your beautiful smile, your kind heart, and your sense of adventure. I can't wait to see what trails you blaze next. I love you!</div>
Sarah at SmallWorldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15306137253094526922noreply@blogger.com0