A promise is a promise

Aren't you surprised?  Nicole?  

2020!  How the heck did time go so quickly?  Yet here it is, probably the

 strangest year any of us alive now will experience.  And we're only halfway.  Hang on!

We started with snow, a lot of glorious snow.  Not as much as last year so Al missed the fun of being snowbound like I was when he was in San Francisco.  Oh, poor me, home alone for six whole days!  You haven't told anybody how much I enjoyed it, have you?  Sssshhhhh.

 Have you heard of Sequim potatoes?  Apparently a few million years ago these were formed by some freak miracle of nature, and people around these parts are constantly cussing about all the rocks discovered when digging or plowing.   One day Mr. Green Jeans went out to dig up whatever potatoes were still in the ground and look what come up with them!  He thought it seemed a bit to heavy to be a potato, but had disguised itself really well, lurking among the edible spuds.   Maybe it should be Petri-fied for posterity.  Oh, wait, it already is.

Suddenly it was March and the world came to a screeching halt.  Once again, I secretly sort of enjoyed staying home but desperately miss time with friends, plays, concerts, restaurants.  The Patch saw weeks of mask activity and it looks like this isn't going to end soon, but I'm ready for it.  So are friends and neighbors.

Except for the social activities not much has changed with us.  Al reads, walks, gardens and cooks.  I read, knit, needlepoint, sew and eat.  Nothin' wrong with that but it will be nice to get on with whatever life is going to be - how to judge six feet and obey the one-way signs in the store aisles.  

I tried dyeing yarn with ice cubes made with food coloring, plop them on white yarn and wait.  It's fascinating but I had way too much ice so what was supposed to be pink and yellow and orange mostly blended into orange, but I like it.  Next time I'll use fewer and bigger ice cubes.

Now you have to look at flowers for a while.   

They kind of look like everybody else's flowers, don't they?  But they are Ours, damn it.

The daughter of a friend who knows a guy who knows a woman (got that?) who was getting rid of her yarn stash bestowed it on me!  Guess what I'll be doing for the next few years?  You'll know where to find me.  See ya.

Long overdue.

Looks like there is a lot to report, but after all this time, it sort of old news. 

Briefly. 

 In October we went to New York and visited the Guggenheim. 

 Oh, Mandy, the building is marvelous.  But lunch with you and Andy was certainly the highlight.

Then sailed away with Don, Donna and Karl - 

To Boston and autumn in New England. 

Let's go way back in time to reminisce about the good old days of airline travel and TWA.  When men wore spiffy suits and women wore gloves, maybe even perky hats to match the Doris Day dresses.  That amazing terminal is now a hotel and you can have cocktails in Connie.  Many of us have spent a night at JFK, but it's much nicer in a big bed than it is doing contortions across two or three uncomfortable chairs, waiting for an empty seat to get started on an adventure.

Autumn in Sequim is pretty good, too.

  

The Alf was resurrected for one evening of  holiday festivities.  It was serendipity that last year I squealed with delight when I found the the suit jammed in a wine crate in a corner of the dungeon at Alfred's and was revivable.  He's still Aldorable, isn't he?

The annual grandson ornaments.  

 

We got on the ferry in the dark of the night, well the dark of the early morning, for Christmas Eve in Victoria at Butchart Gardens with Chrissy, Bill and Laura.

This is either very interesting photography or the cataract version.

That's enough for now.  I don't want to exhaust your peepers but promise to come back in a few days for more.  Really.  I promise.  Mike, please remind me if I forget.