I got the news this morning that my grandfather has passed away.  He was the last of my four grandparents…all of whom have died within the last six months.  They were all of an age…all in their 80’s.  Still, eighty-odd years is not all that long a time, is it?

I remember each of these people as vivacious persons…individuals with opinions and hopes and goals.  It is difficult to understand at times that they are all gone, off of the earth, away.

Death always reminds us of how fleeting our time really is.  It makes me hope to leave a lasting imprint on others while I can.  And, as cliche as it may seem, it beckons me to share my affections outwardly with those in my life, to say you are special to me while I can.

Thanks for reading my blog, dear reader.  I hope your day is lovely.

I’ve taken to brainstorming for 20 minutes every night: ideas, settings, dialogue, mannerisms, etc., for the novel.

Then, I go to sleep.

So, I’ve had some intense, vivid dreams these last few nights, leftovers from the brainstorming sessions.  I’m trying to capture these dreams in the morning when I wake up, but it’s not easy: we’re talking STRANGE dreams here.  I’m hopeful that I can glean something from them to help with the book.

As Thoreau said: Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.

…there is nothing quite like San Francisco on a February day, when the sky is a bright, cerulean blue.  It’s almost as though the tall buildings in downtown are part of a movie set, so perfect they are against the backdrop of fluffy cottonball clouds.

I wax this way because I just got back from the City.  It was a gorgeous day, complete with a picnic in North Beach and warm breeze at Washington Square Park.  On the way home, the Golden Gate stood out from the sky like a bonfire.

Sometimes, like today, I am just struck with how fortunate we Bay Area folk are…with our bridges and our coffee and our museums and parks and Italian restaurants and our bay views and the music, the backroads, the artisans and the bakeries, and the farmers markets and the shows and the —

Oh, it’s a sweet, sweet place to call home.

I thought and reflected, on this Saint Valentine’s day, about the nature of romance, about the commerce of the holiday, and about the special recognition of a love that presumably should be recognized all throughout the year.

For me, the best Valentine’s gift is that six years after the first red holiday that I spent with my husband (then-boyfriend), we still celebrate the day.  The notion that Valentine’s is a beginner’s holiday in the realm of love and affection seems to permeate…that my spouse and I resist this idea is the sweetest confection of all.

xoxo

I washed my jeans on the hot cycle.

With my cell phone in the pocket.

I called my cellular company, whose general attitude was “Too bad, suckah!”  I spent several hours online looking for a replacement phone.  I went through serious cell phone withdrawls, complete with the shakes and cold sweats.

Like eMail, I’m hyper-dependant on my cell phone.  I call my husband, friends, son’s school., work, pizza delivery, doctor’s offices, prescription refill service…all on the fly, from the driver’s seat of my car.  I multi-task shamelessly.  I call myself–leaving long messages on my home phone with reminders, grocery lists, ideas for books to write someday.

I’m getting a new phone today, and I can’t wait.  If loving my cell phone is wrong…well, I don’t wanna be a-riiight.

I mean it: Merry Christmas! Not “Happy Holidays” or “Seasons Greetings.” Not “Happy Winter Solstice,” either.  Nope.

I wish you an honest-to-goodness Merry Little Christmas.