Somewhere in Tennessee

It's been a long day.  I got up at 4 a.m. so Millie, our most timid cat (but her sense of her own power grows every day), could take a nap in my arms.  This is her favorite "mom" time, and she won't get it again until a week from this Sunday.

Randy and I are on our way to Colorado Springs to visit my Dad and have Thanksgiving with him. We have the most precious gift for giving thanks--Dad's new lease on life.  He has been on the medical rollercoaster, being diagnosed with emphysema, pre-leukemia, leukemia, and congested heart failure--all within the past two months.  But a bone marrow test has revealed the chemotherapy is working.  His bones are creating blood cells again, and many ancillary problems are nothing more than side effects.  It has been a horrible fright for him, and for the many folks who love him, warts and all.

Liz is the heroine of this saga, though.  The arrival of her usual healthy father was going to be a relief.  Dave was at work in Germany and she was teaching full time, as well as taking Nick and Esther to their plethora of extracurricular activities.  When Dad arrived, she was stunned by how ill he was.  Suddenly, her plate included more, not less, work for her--and she did it with the logistical skill of a professional manager, a profession requiring a cross between a bulldog and a bulldozer!

So, here I sit, in a motel room in Tennessee, listening to Randy sleep after a long day of driving, and pondering on matters of love, mortality, hope, and their devolutions as thoughts trudge the low end of life's continuum..  Love can be a pickle-puckered heart, but hummingbirds and honeysuckle tickle those whom time has roped-a-doped.  Float and sting, butterfly bee, tiredness now conquers me.

A few more pictures are now posted on the picture page.  Don't forget to read Randy's posts!  His are masterpieces and more outward-centered than mine.