So This is My Second Life

I partied in the city last night with my co-worker Meghan. She wanted to introduce all of us at work to her guy when he came to town. Of course, it sounded like fun to me. I really like Meghan. She is feisty and full of life. Her sense of humor is pretty keen, too.

We went for drinks after work and then to dinner. Since both of us commute to the city from the suburbs at opposite ends of the map, we asked Jeff where we should go. He recommended Hub 51. So that is where we headed off to and once we went in, we loved it immediately. After a couple of liquid refreshments, I ordered some sushi for an appetizer. Meghan had never had sushi. So I asked the waitress what was her favorite and she pointed out a tuna roll that sounded wonderful. She had a couple of pieces and I think she liked it. I thought it was very good. The roll I ordered reminded me of the "Perfect Seven" that I used to order from Yoshi on Grand Cayman. Jake seemed to love everything.

We had dinner, told many stories, laughed alot and decided to go over to the House of Blues for an after dinner apertif. We walked over and found that the club area was closed for a private party. I asked the guy at the door where he would go from there if he were in our shoes. He said they always end up at Andy's, a jazz bar around the corner. Of course, that was where we headed. We got in for the last set of a small combo and had to wait just a bit for the next group to set up. But it turned out to be worth the wait. Sitting at the bar, we were close to the music.

It was a great evening, but all good things must come to an end. Like Cinderella, I had to be at the train station to catch my train. We parted company and I hailed a cab. I did make my train and the ride home was pretty quiet. A perfect ending to a good evening.

I guess I have a lot of toys. You know the kind. No, not THAT kind -- the electronic gadget kind. I have my laptop (such as it is), two iPods, a Kindle, a cellular phone. I carry around all kinds of cables -- just in case -- to recharge them all. I am sure there is a product out there (I'm thinking iPhone) that will do pretty much everything my toys do, but I won't be going out and buying one any time soon. With the exception of my computer, most of my toys are fairly new and in good working order. The laptop, however, is another story.

I am not good at remembering exact ages of people, much less things, but I am pretty sure my laptop is almost ten years old. Techie people have been telling me for years that it is time to get a new one. I have laughed at them and said, "Nooooooooo way! Put that sucker back together and let's keep chuggin'!" You see, I am accustomed to this computer, with its loose keys and hinky power switch. But, alas, all good things must come to an end. Much to my horror, the screen has begun to flicker at me. Even I, in my strongest sense of denial, know that it is just a matter of time before it goes out altogether. With this inevitability in mind, I have begun to take steps to ready myself for that event. I bought a couple of large jump drives and have downloaded my music and photos and cookbooks and bits and bobs of general flotsam that we all collect over the years. Now, it is a waiting game...

Oh, I am not just sitting back on my laurels -- I have earnestly begun thinking about its replacement and one of the things that I am considering is one of those new netbooks. I am sure you have seen them advertised. Most of the cellular phone companies offer a version. I tell myself that it would be a good fit -- I could use it on the train! Think of the quality computer time I could have! I see people using them and it seems so convenient. The keyboard does look tiny, though. And I am not really sure quite how the pricing works. I went online and looked it over and was totally confused. I realize that I am going to have to bite the bullet and actually go in and speak to a real, live person. But, in the true sense of procrastination, I put it off. After all, this computer is still working. For the most part.

The other thing that has kept me from getting a new computer is that I am a PC person and I just didn't want to have to change to Vista. Bill Gates must have known that about me, because he has graciously gone back to Windows. It is a new version of Windows and I will probably have to learn new tricks anyway, but - hopefully - it is similar enough to the old version that I won't be totally out of my element.

So, what, you may be asking, is the problem? I tell myself that the problem is money - I simply don't want to have to put out the money to get a new one. This one, such as it is, is paid for. That means that I have extra money to spend on iTunes, iMovies, and Kindle books. If I buy a new computer, that expendable cash will dry up for a while. But it may be more than that. I also remind myself that I know this keyboard like the back of my hand. I know without thinking about it where the backspace is and where the delete key is. I can type on this keyboard without any qualms. I know it through and through.

So, I type away on my old, decrepit computer. I keep an eye on that "m" key to make sure it doesn't give me more "m"s than I want. And I avoid having to shut off my computer. So you see, in my own little way, I am putting off that day when I shut down my trusty little computer for the last time. After all, we have been through a lot together.

All the leaves are brown.

Those lovely fall colors have come and just about gone. The few remaining leaves are now a golden brown and hanging on by a prayer.

The sun, tenuous at best, is hanging lower in the sky these days. But, today, it is shining. In spite of the sunny rays, there is a chill in the air and the breeze is quite cool. I am sitting in my chair with a throw across my legs, the fireplace is going. I am snug on this quiet Sunday morning. Soon I will rise to go shower and then it is off to church.

I have spent the morning reaching out on my computer, sending notes to friends, both old and new, contemplating life and love.

Last night, we only had two trick or treaters. Only two. We are, apparently, too far from the action. When I asked the young goblin and fairy princess who knocked on my door at 8:30 p.m. where the other goblins and ghouls were, they quickly said on Shore Drive. I ponder this as I give them handfuls of candy and I think to myself that it is just not worth the walk up and down those sandy dunes for a few measly morsels of chocolate. Alas, does that mean I have gotten old? Apparently, I am not alone in my thoughts -- no other trick or treaters came by. At 10:00 p.m., I turned off the lights outside and closed the door.

While we waited for the non-existent trick or treaters, we watched Bram Stoker's Dracula, complete with bad accents and bad acting from fairly well-respected actors, and played on our computers.

I entertained myself by reading the polling results regarding the deer population. It seems that about half of the denizens are unhappy about the deer that freely roam our lands. They complain of deer droppings and half-eaten vegetation and ticks. A few appeared to be afraid of rut-crazed deer and others sounded off about having to wait for the deer to cross the road. I sadly shake my head. I love to watch the deer. They fascinate me. It does not bother me that they ate my tulips before they had a chance to bloom. I will probably plant tulips again, just to feed the deer.

I find myself searching for the deer in the mornings when I leave for work and in the evening when I return. They have been in hiding for a while now and have only recently started to show up really early in the morning or very late at night. How do they know that it is bow season? The fawns I saw in the summer are losing their spots now. Their long skinny legs are no longer wobbly. In another month, when the snows come, I will again put out corn. To hell with what my complaining neighbors think. I would rather have the deer as my companions anyway.

It has been a hard summer.

After I came back from vacation, my office was in turmoil. The two assistants that I worked with were let go and a newbie was hired. The newbie had years and years of legal experience, but did not know litigation. It was way too busy for me to train her from scratch, so after a month, she was let go too. A couple of people were switched around and a few more were let go. It got crazier. In the midst of this, my elderly mother got very ill, very quickly. My world spun out of control, then stopped altogether.

I flew back home to sit vigil with my sisters and my son and nieces and the hundreds of friends she had accumulated throughout her life. To no avail. She died.

Looking back on it now, it was as if she took a big part of me with her.

I eventually came back home and back to work. I went through my days in a sort of fog and tried very hard to understand how someone so full of life could just let it all go. The illness that killed my mother could have been resolved if she had only gone to the doctor when her symptoms first appeared. By not going to see a doctor, she chose to die instead. This information only deepened my heartbreak.

Throughout our life together, my relationship with my mother swung back and forth like a pendulum. At times, we were the best of friends and, at times, we were strangers. Sometimes I understood what made her tick and sometimes I felt I never understood anything about her. The feeling was mutual, I am sure.

I have many happy memories with my mother. Like the time the two of us were on a quest to find the perfect grape leaves for her pickle recipe. The weather was gorgeous and we drove all around the countryside with the car windows down, laughing at old family stories and singing show tunes. One of the things we shared was a love of old classic movies and a love of the music of forties and fifties. Neither of us could be considered a chanteuse, but sing we did and oro rotundo!

My mom and I played cut-throat Scrabble. My son was always delighted when we got out the board. He loved to listen to us snipe at each other and talk our own brand of smack. When we first began to play, I often held back. I didn't enjoy beating her by a large margin. Of course, over the years she began to hold her own and at the end when we played, I couldn't beat her at all -- not even when I tried.

Both of us were crossword puzzle enthusiasts and would often call the other one to work crosswords over the phone when we were stumped by a particular clue. When I was at her house, I would try to get to her newspaper before she could, just to get her puzzle. Of course, that rarely ever happened.

And we spoke on the phone every Sunday, no matter where I was or what I was doing. It was our time. Of course, I called her at other times, but Sunday was a given. Although, I had to make sure to time my calls around the Cowboys' football games, because that was her time to "play" football with my cousin Leslie. She was sitting in her chair at her home and Cousin Les, about a five/six hour drive away, would be sitting in her home. The telephone was the connection. Once when I called during "that time" she informed me that it had better be a "drive-by" call. She was very proud of that one. After that initial use, it became one of those phrases that popped up on a regular basis.

To fully appreciate that "drive-by" comment, one would have to understand my family's wit. I don't know if I can describe that kind of wit and I haven't seen it in too many other families (Debbie O's family is the only one that could hold a candle to us -- and though I hate to admit it, they are probably even better at it than we are!). We loved those snarky comments that we came up with on the fly and we understood that they weren't meant to hurt each other. Zingers were prized in my family. Along that same vein, we bought the sharpest of birthday cards for each other and by "sharp" I mean the one that had the best zinger. No sappy messages for us. We would scour the market for a card that would out-do the one we sent last and the one we last received.

Sunday phone calls. Abruptly stopped. Every Sunday, I get up thinking that I will call. It is just a thought, really. It flashes through my mind. And just as quickly, I realize that I cannot call. She is not there.

I float back and forth between despair and resolve. For seven weeks, I had no good humor. I worked. I came home. I tended to the chores that I had to do. I existed. I was raw. I was numb. I went through the motions.

Work got harder. Another co-worker left and the office hired two new people. I spent August and September training them. And working for eight attorneys. It was my salvation, I guess. It took all my focus and energy. When I came home, I was too exhausted to really care. But the new co-workers are coming around. Work has gotten more normal. I have been allowing myself to grieve. And, once in a while, I look around and realize that life is good and I am very, very blessed. I am back.

I am home from my fabulous vacation along the Caribbean. Seven amazing days of dazzlingly white beaches and gloriously blue waters, with the sun sparkling in the sky (well, most of the time).

Yes, amid all the hoopla about swine flu, we traveled to Mexico. It was a working vacation for Joe, but pure pleasure for me. Unsure of what we would ultimately encounter, we embarked on our trip with excitement and just a wee bit of trepidation. After all, the media was working overtime to make it sound like the pits of hell -- contagion at every turn. Friends and family voiced their concern at our decision to continue on with our trip as planned. They were not merely concerned with our well-being, but were concerned with their own upon our return. Would we be returning home merely to infect them with the newest plague?

At the various airports and shopping meccas we visited, we noticed a scant few people wearing face masks. At many of the restaurants away from the resorts, we found the servers wearing face masks in addition to their hairnets and rubber gloves. But none of the people we encountered exhibited symptoms of illness -- no sneezing, no watery eyes, no phlegmy coughing. Just healthy adults and children. And lots of empty space.

During our trip, we stayed in three separate hotels along the coast, from Cancun to the Mayan Riviera. All of them five star and none of them filled to capacity. We found ourselves in one of the most prized vacation destinations and we were basically alone.

The service we received was exceptional. And the people, always pleasant and smiling, were nervous. Their economy is based upon tourist dollars and thanks to the media the tourists were staying away. We talked to everyone we encountered, seeking information about the flu and its effect on the already taxed economy.

Which brings me to a thought I keep having -- when is the news not really news? When does it cross that line? I notice that now that I am home, the reporters appear to have pulled back on their reporting of the "pandemic" and have now moved on to other news. (The one fact that keeps running through my mind is the one that 38,000 people die from the flu every year -- in AMERICA. The normal everyday flu that we all tend to get. 38,000.) The flu is still out there and more people are having to deal with it, but now less time is being spent reporting on it. However, the damage is already done. Shame on them.

I believe that the Mexican people will pull through this crisis, just as they have done in the past. They are a resilient people, warm-hearted and hard working. I can't wait to return to their country to enjoy their hospitality.

When I woke up yesterday, the sun was shining and the day was absolutely glorious. Joe was working and I had errands to run. I started the day out in a sweater and jeans with a light jacket, but before I got through my first errand, the jacket was left in the car. It was 47 degrees outside but, with the sunshine, I was warm. I stopped in one store and noticed that everyone there seemed to be bundled up like it was freezing. In all honesty, the wind was a bit chilly, but it wasn't blowing that much.

After I finished my errands, I met up with Joe and we went to church and then to Merrillville to have dinner. It was such a beautiful day, we wanted to be out in it. The drive to Merrillville was pleasant. We passed along field after open field -- all of which would soon be sprouting gloriously green crops of corn or soy.

After dinner, we headed to the mall to pick up a few things. After a bit, I was out of steam, but Joe was still going. I sat to wait for him in Macy's close to the formal wear. I watched mothers and daughters and groups of girls and girls with their boyfriends going through the gowns. After all, it is springtime and prom is coming up. I noticed there was one recurring theme for them all, it was the way they were dressed. Almost every teenaged girl was in shorts with flips on her feet. Now, don't get me wrong, I thought it was a warm day. But to me, that just meant I could go without my jacket. Yet, here were these girls, dressed like it was a hot summer day. Wishful thinking? Maybe...

Eventually, we started our drive home. By the time we came over the last hill toward home, the sun was setting and what a spectacular sunset it was. Instead of coming straight to the house, we went to the beach to watch the sun set. It was breathtaking.

From the beaches here, on a clear day, we have a full view of Chicago's skyline. And today was clear and crisp. To our left, the sunset was amazingly orange with hues of pinks and yellows against a blue, blue sky with white capped waves cresting along the beach. The warm colors bathed Chicago's tall buildings with a lovely glow. To our right was unending water. The beauty left us quiet.

We stayed in the car silently watching the sun sink below the horizon. Why did we watch from in the car, you might be wondering. Why didn't we go walk along the shore or out on the promenade? Why, indeed. Because it was cold out. As the sun leaves the sky, it takes its warmth with it. And the change is immediate. The breeze coming off of Lake Michigan is cold. Even in the middle of summer, the warmest of days, this water is cool. But it is beautiful and it draws us to it like a magnet.

This beautiful day has come to a quiet end. Tomorrow, is a new day. Tomorrow, we might have snow and I am sure the girls in the mall will still be wearing their flips.

"I just don't want it to be April and we are still dealing with boxes."

"Give me some credit! Come April, there won't still be boxes!"

Here I stand staring April in the face and yet there are still boxes. My words to Joe, come flying back to me on little winged feet and make me feel defeated.

I am sick to death of boxes. In my own defense, when I spoke those words, I really meant them. I had fully intended to go through the rest of that stuff and sort out the keepers from the tossers (I know, the Brits use that word to mean something vulgar!). And, I did work hard on them in the beginning, but as time passed, I spent less and less time sorting through them.

So, one may ask, why do I drag my feet? Most of the boxes that are left, contain items that would not be considered necessities. They aren't items that will improve the quality of my life. But they are items that remind me of people and places in my life that have impacted me greatly -- the photographs of childhood friends and teen-age loves; old letters and notes; small gifts and trinkets from once close friends; books of poetry that inspired -- most of which only have value to me. To open a box is to endure a flood of feelings and emotions, sometimes too great to endure. Silly, sentimental thing that I am, I cannot let these things go.

So here I sit, time on my hands, my own words echoing in my mind, boxes beckoning me to come finish what I have started -- yet, I procrastinate still. Tomorrow is another day.

They are taking a survey about the deer. They want to know how many are in the herd and how they impact the landscape. They asked us if we encourage the deer to come onto our property. All of the questions in the beginning of the survey were fairly innocuous. But later the questions turned a bit sinister. There were questions about allowing bow hunters and men with rifles onto our properties to take out the deer if it is determined that there are too many. Too many? The most we have seen in the area are 14 and they were in my yard and scattered throughout the woods that are across the road from my house. I should think that an area of this size could maintain a heard of 14 to 20. Yeah, yeah. If we can see 14 does that mean that there are more out there that we don't see? Of course. But this is a lush green area filled with trees and foliage of all sorts. We have so much of the food that they seek.

I know deer stay within a couple of miles of the area where they are born, but I also know that nature has a way of dealing with overcrowding. And the deer in this area have something else to deal with -- freeways. We don't see many deer on the road, but when they do venture across the freeways and meet with the trucks that also share this roadway, it can be devastating.

But do I want the hunters to come and hunt them? No. And that is an emphatic no. I don't want the hunters in my yard or in my neighborhood. I would rather be overwhelmed by the deer than have someone here picking them off like so many flies.

Don't get me wrong. I have cooked many a deer roast. My ex used to hunt and I made sure he ate whatever he brought home. There were years that I bought no meat at the grocery store because of the deer that stocked my freezer. And if people are hunting to put food on their tables, that is fine in my book. But to "cull" the herd because people don't want them eating their flowers and shrubs is crossing a line to me.

Yes, I think nature will take care of the population. They will either run out of food or they will meet up with the coyotes we hear at night or the wolves we don't see. I would rather let nature do what she does so well than have them shot in my vicinity.

We went to the Bulls game last night. I was very excited. I hadn't been to a professional basketball game since I was in college and saw the Lakers play in LA. Of course, the seats were much improved last night. And the Bulls won it! Go Bulls!

It amuses me how much my life has changed over the years. But, I am sure most people could make that statement. While I have always enjoyed traveling to new places and live performances, such as theatre, opera, music, I never really had anyone in my life that I could share that with except for my girlfriends. However, that has changed. Now, I do. It makes a world of difference.

In just the last month, we have been to the opera, seen professional sports games, have tickets to the theatre, and have a trip planned to a part of Mexico where I have never been. I feel a bit like Cinderella after she stepped into the glass slipper!

Life is so good.

I am sitting, drinking one of my favorite teas, Twining's English Breakfast tea, and listening to the rain on the windows and sounds from the kitchen as Joe prepares breakfast for us. It is early morning and I have been watching the deer eat from my feeders, the corn we put out for them and the seeds we put out for the birds. There are four females and they look healthy in spite of the hard winter we have had. Maybe Joe's and my efforts have had a hand in that. The deer have crossed the road now and are grazing in the soccer field across from my house.

It has warmed up here now. The temperatures are in the 50s and 60s. But rhe trees are still bare and the grass has not yet turned green. Today, raindrops are glistening on the tree limbs, stark against the dark, wet wood.

I have enjoyed winter. I know that sounds crazy. It has been very cold here. The coldest January in ages according to the weather reports. And it has certainly been the coldest weather that I have ever experienced, southern girl that I am. But I can appreciate the extreme temperatures and I guess it helps to know that they won't last forever. Spring is coming and I am excited about that, too. I can't wait to see the tulips and narcisis burst from the ground. Even though, I know they will probably be food for the deer.

Yes, it is cold. But not as cold as it was yesterday. At least now we are in the double digits that are on the positive side of the thermometer. The wind is still blowing and hard, something it has been doing off and on for the last few days.

We have had so much snow. Everything is covered in white. The starkness of the trees against the whiteness of the snow is a beautiful contrast. It reminds me of poems by Robert Frost and Gary Snyder.

The other day, Joe and I drove around the neighborhood searching for the deer. We had seen their tracks around, but had not seen them in days. After a bit, we finally found four large does foraging on the side of a dune. We stopped to watch them and they stopped to watch us. Tails up and ears alert, they were beautiful and majestic in their winter coats. We didn't stay long. After a short while, we drove on and left them in peace.

I can't help but wonder where the deer go at night in this cold. The windchill here was around -30 Thursday night. I know that not all of the deer will make it through this winter, but I realize that is nature's way of keeping the herd healthy.

We spent the day on Friday ripping out the kitchen. But before we actually tore out the meager kitchen cupboards, we had to move out the appliances and the few dishes and crockery that we had unpacked. They now reside, albeit temporarily, in the dining room.

By Saturday, we had ripped out everything - including the soffits and the flooring - and found ourselves at the mercy of the carpenter who would be putting up the sheetrock where the soffits used to be. He arrived after 7:00 p.m. and worked for a while, mostly dragging his equipment into the house.

I guess I thought we could replace the kitchen in about five to seven days -- spending a day in demolition, a day in preparation, a day or two installing the cabinets, then a day installing the floor tiles, another day to grout them, then another day or two on the back-splash. But now it is looking like it will take another couple of days just getting the sheetrock work done. Today, he finished putting in the sheetrock. Tomorrow, he plans to tape and float.

So, our little project will take longer than originally anticipated. Which means that we will have to exist on sandwiches and take-out for a while longer. I am going to have to focus on the end product. After all, when the work is done, the inconvenience will have been well worth it. The kitchen will be wonderful.

I am iced in at home. We were expecting 7-13 inches of snow to fall, but instead we have about 2-3 inches of ice. The trees and bushes are lovely in their icy shells. But it is deceptive, especially now that the snow has finally begun to fall. It will merely hide the ice from view.

We have been watching a huge plow go back and forth across the main road. The usual snow truck couldn't budge the ice, so they brought in an industrial plow. So much effort, so little result.

The electrical lines that my train runs on failed inside the city, bringing down the Metra train operations for a while. My train runs on the Metra tracks, so that train was out of commission for a while too.

Today was to be our firm's holiday party. I was so looking forward to it. But they will have to party without me. Even if I were able to get in to the city, I am not sure I would be able to get back home.

We are finally in the house. It has been quite the odyssey -- from finishing up the work needed so that we could obtain the occupancy certificate to moving my belonging from Houston. It has been a wild ride these last couple of weeks. But here we are at last.

On the good side, I got to visit with my family back in Texas and I have been able to spend time with my son. Greg joined me on the journey from Texas. That in itself is another story for another time...

There is still a lot of work to do here. The house definitely could be called "a fixer-upper." And we have been steadily fixing. The main thing is, we are in now and it is definitely starting to feel like home.

Today, it snowed. Outside my home is a winter wonderland. White, fluffy drifts as far as my eye can see. Watching those fluffy, white flakes fall, I stand transfixed -- smile on my face. I am home today recuperating from a small procedure to help me breathe better. I want to play in the snow, but know I can't. I have to be able to work tomorrow. So, I will have to accept the fact that all I can do is simply watch the snow fall. And fall, it does. A foot of snow has accumulated so far.

We have been busy. Every weekend is spent on the house. So much to do, so little time. We closed on the house a mere three weeks ago. Since that time, there has been a flurry of work. Carpenters, plumbers, electricians, painters, carpet layers, and us. The word "circus" comes to mind. But it has been good and we know there will be an end in sight.

Pulling up the carpets, we find hardwoods, beautiful in the bedrooms, a little worse for wear in the living room and hallway. The whole upper floor, we will leave bare. Of course, we now will have to sand the floors. Yet another thing we had not counted on having to do.

We've also decided to go ahead with the kitchen redo. At first, we thought we would wait until next summer, but after a lot of thought and a bit of worry, we determined that there is no time like the present. While the house is a mess, we might as well take on the kitchen too.

It will come together and soon I will post some photos. I promise. Just as soon as I have some free time...

I was hoping to catch the trees changing color, green to yellow to gold, some orange, some crimson, but Mother Nature has had other ideas. Strong winds have blown so many of the leaves from the trees. Some were gone well before they had a chance to change color. And as fate would have it, mostly, I see the trees in glorious fall colors when I am unable to take a picture -- such as on the train or when I am driving.

In any event, I did manage to get a couple of photos and will share them here, even though they really don't do justice to the beauty.

It was my first Christmas on Cayman and I drew JT's name in the office gift pool. I had been there barely two months. But JT was different from most people. He had this way of being himself. I was so glad it was his name I had drawn. Somehow I knew he was a fellow prankster. Instinctively, I could pick the perfect gift for him. He had let me in.

It wasn't long, before I conspired with Lizi and Nicky. Soon I had an idea. Lizi remembered taking a picture of JT in which he was not quite at his best -- it was a moment of frivolity in the office. He was the punkster we all love and remember. The picture was a moment in the life of JT and, miraculously, Lizi caught it in a whim on her cell phone. I bought a picture frame and we set to work.

The day came when presents were exchanged. Most were tasteful, but a bit impersonal. However, when JT opened my gift to him, his eyes sparkled. There before him was his picture -- over and over and over again. The silly JT. The loveable JT. The full of life JT. Our JT.

He seemed to love it. It was proudly displayed in his office on the file cabinet with the silly words we all took turns to display in various phrases and funny sayings. I knew his present had been well received.

Early on, I had recognized in him this mischievous sense of fun. This wonderful love of life. Even now, I treasure the moments he shared with me. This wonderful spark, this delightful gift. JT. I am going to miss him dearly.

I can't believe it has been over two weeks since I last posted. I have been fighting a bad cold and for a while, it appeared that I was losing. Well, it started out as a cold, but then took on a life of its own. It was pretty ugly there for a while, but I have managed to come out on top.

Yesterday, I planted tulips. 60 of them. It is cold here now. Not freezing, but cold. Winter is just around the corner. I keep waiting for the trees to change colors. It is one of those things that I love about fall. But, it has been a little bit odd. Not that many trees are turning. And the ones that are, look a bit spotty. Parts of these huge green trees have turned fabulous shades of orange and red -- only parts of them though. Kind of like parts of my hair that have turned gray. But, of course, it is still early. As Halloween approaches, I am sure the trees will cooperate. I will keep my camera battery charged and catch those leaves as they turn.

Just how cold is it? I have pulled out my sweatpants and I am putting a heavier comforter on the bed. I won't need them all the time, but when I do, they will be ready.

It has been raining for the last three days. And it will continue, Ike is due to arrive sometime this afternoon. Hopefully, Ike will move along at the fast pace he has kept for the last 24 hours. The ground here is inundated with water. It is ponding all over the place. Roads are closed and traffic is horrible. I had hoped to continue shopping today, but I think I will just hang out at home instead.

I have been watching the weather, keeping a close eye on my friends and family. So many of the people I love are in the path of some of the strongest weather known to man -- hurricanes. I have so many people that I care for located in Texas, Louisiana, Florida, and Cayman -- the corridor for so many hurricanes -- I feel almost as though I am there myself.

In an odd twist of fate, the remnants of Hurricane Ike will find me here along the shores of Lake Michigan -- far from the Gulf of Mexico, over a thousand miles, my home for over 25 years. I have been told that all this rain is good -- Lake Michigan is lower than normal. I am sure they are correct, but we have had such a steady stream of water for so many days, that I wonder if it will find its way to the lake or whether it will simply go south and flood those who live below us.

I have been hearing, slowly, from my friends in Houston. It appears that many are still without power. Hard for them to post on-line messages. Thank goodness for cell phones and car chargers.

I was talking to my sister, who now lives in San Antonio, about the first Hurricane we had ever encountered. The year was 1983 and the Hurricane was named Alicia. We were still new to Houston having arrived in 1981. This was our first Hurricane and the first one to hit the area since 1980. We went for supplies and came home with munchies, sodas, and a little bit of water. The veterans among us had picked the shelves clean of more substantial fixins, but with our inexperience it probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway. My boyfriend, who had been born and raised in Houston, was appalled at what we had bought. Looking back, we can laugh about it all, now. We never realized that we could have been without power, and the means for cooking in our all electric home, for weeks and weeks on end.

As Alicia made landfall, during the night as so often happens, we bemoaned our fate at loss of power and lack of air conditioning. On the one hand, my boyfriend, there to protect us, stayed up and fretted with a portable TV and the telephone, a landline, which miraculously still functioned throughout the whole ordeal. Carla and I, on the other hand, attempted to sleep. That was, of course, futile. After all, how does one sleep when it is hot and humid and the sheets are damp and hot? In the early morning hours, I watched out the back window of my apartment. The wind was blowing a full dumpster all around the parking lot as if it were a mere leaf.

Later that day, as the wind and rain died down, we were restless and set out to see what had happened to the city. The damage was amazing. Downtown was a mess. The roofing material had been pick up and blown around the city, breaking windows in the glass facade buildings and scattering office debris around. Street signs were either downed or bent, traffic signals were perilously dangling. Trees were uprooted, power lines were down. Roofs were missing, awnings were askew. Alicia was a category 3 hurricane. She was a fierce entity. Full of malice.

As bad as the hurricane itself was, the aftermath was worse. The heat and humidity left behind after a hurricane is unbelievable. Most people leave the area of landfall because of the storm surge -- water as tall as a two or three story building which comes crashing down and pulling out to sea whatever it lands on. People farther inland leave for a different reason -- the aftermath. From the heat, humidity, lack of power, lack of potable water, and food, to the bugs and debris, it is unlike anything else I have experienced. I didn't sit out any other hurricanes. As they say, I got the hell out of Dodge. There is one exception to that rule -- Tropical Storm Allison. But that is a story for another day.

I am glad that my loved ones have come through this okay with only some minor damage and some inconvenience. They will survive to fight another day.

Love you guys!

I went shopping today. I should have gone to the beach instead. But I had my heart set on finding a few items for the house. So, shopping I went.

It is a beautiful day, about 76 degrees. The sun is shining and a breeze is blowing. I know that there won't be many more days like this. Fall is just around the corner. A real fall, complete with changing leaves and the smell of burning logs.

We went to the beach a few weeks ago. It was a great day for it and it was the first time that I put my feet in the water of Lake Michigan. I have been on many beaches and each of them has its own special qualities. I have seen the beaches of Cayman, the Bahamas, Texas, Florida, Louisiana, New Jersey, Mexico, and California. I loved something about all of them. Maybe it is the sound of water lapping on the shore. Lake Michigan is no different. It is a huge lake. I live at the tip of it. From the shores where I live, I can see the skyline of Chicago off to the west. But I can't see land off to the east.

We went for a ride with a friend. He has a small boat, but it was perfect for us. It was a scary place out on the water. There were boats galore. Big, small, motor, speed, sail -- you name it. And they all seemed to want to ride in the same space. Crazy. Especially when I realized how much space was available for boating...

I still like the water. I guess I always will. It will always be in my life in some way.