Yesterday Shar and I went to get a door with a big window.

It was on Craig's list. I emailed the seller, he emailed back. I called him to make sure he would be there and to verify his address. We headed out his way, about 10 or 12 miles. About half way my phone went totally dead. (forgot to charge it ). Can't call him, all information is on the phone. Can't remember the address. So I am ready to go back to find a book i wrote it in or get the phone charged.

Shar says No, she has an idea of where the place is. We drive down a road and she says I should have turned right at the last street, so I drove into a gated community (the gate was open) and turned around. Remember that I am clueless of where to go.

So we drive down this street. I look for street names that seem familiar. After a bit of driving I see a street named "Mango." THAT IS IT.

So we drive down Mango Street looking for a house that might house a guy who is selling doors. Nothing looks good, so we circle and do it again.

There are 5 or 6 1st or 2nd graders walking down the sidewalk. Some walk across Mango street. I stop dead, not sure what the last two will do. Their mothers were walking a bit slower and catch up.

"Do you know anyone around here who sells doors?" Shar asks.

"Yes, he is my father-in-law."

So we found the door, bought and it and marveled.

Shar is amazing.

Nice looking door that will go on the pantry I am building her.

Granddaughter Emily modeling one of her mother's paper dresses.

Portland

Today I am in Portland Oregon.

My “undocumented” granddaughter arrived a few days ago and she will go back to Idaho with me for a couple of days before she flies back to New York state.

I used the word “undocumented” it has no reference to her citizenship, but to the fact that we do not have any papers that say she is a granddaughter! Truth is that she is not! We met in a chat room years ago. Her Grandmother and my wife both had Alzheimer’s, hence the common bond. She said then that she needed a grandpa and I figured I had heart room for another granddaughter, so why not.

She was 19 then and I was 70! That was 7 years ago. Since then she graduated from college and has worked at her field of medical photography. She is taking a break before she takes a new job back in her home town of Syracuse.

While in Portland I will see my granddaughter Emily, but not for too long. She is in school with a very busy schedule. And I have a friend I met about 1962 that I will spend some time with Saturday. Meanwhile, Lady S is going to a birthday party today back in Idaho. One of the couple is 99 and both are going strong. Wow. I look forward to meeting them.

Sunday we drive back to Idaho (400 miles) but with a 100 mile side run to see daughter 1. I drove up yesterday alone, but going back I will have company.

I look forward to that!

Lady S

My life is changing.

I will never forget my Miriam, but endless grieving won’t bring her back. With that in mind I joined a dating service, this spring.

It seemed to me that any woman who would talk to me on line deserved lunch or coffee. I had lunch with 5 or 6 women. While all were interesting but sparks were few.

Then I had lunch with a lady who had lost her husband about a year before. We sat and talked just a few minutes and it seemed like we had been friends for ages. We had lunch again. The waitress advised “Don’t you love birds go up to the back row of the theater and smooch through the whole movie.” We were planning on seeing Monument Men.

I told her that this was only the 2nd time I had ever seen this lady. She was amazed. And so it has been.

We are still dating. We still laugh a great deal when we are together.

I have met most of her family, including her 94 year old mother, and have been accepted by them. Her family mostly live locally, but mine is all over the west.

So where are we now? Our friendship deepens. We will see how it goes.

Not yet.
But I can dream.
This week (and last) has been wet and cold.
The Tulips are in full leaf, but no flowers.
I don't bloom right now either.

Wrong house

Today I was scraping mortar from the floor the door bell rang.

When I answered it there was a round faced young man.

“Any carnivores around here?” he asked, with a bit of a humor.

“No,” I said, I am a Vegetarian.

He continued with his sales pitch. Contest. Low prices. Sea foods.

I interrupted: “I really am a vegetarian.” He looked at me like I had just admitted to being a mass murderer.

Then when the usual quiz about it all.

I am not sure buying something as expensive as meat from a pickup vendor is a good idea, but this one time he gave his pitch to the wrong person!