Skye and I were walking down Rodeo Drive finishing our Christmas shopping (ok, we were window shopping, I’m not taking a toddler with candy cane hands into any store on that street). She was utterly unimpressed with the jewelry stores, the clothes, the watches, the handbags. Even some of the more inventive window displays didn’t catch her interest (though the sketchy ice cream van pulled up along the side of the street was a definite draw). She was on her best behavior because we’d just gone to see Santa and she’d asked him for a pair of ballet slippers and he’d told her to be good, be loving, and leave…
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Hurricanes
We’re still not on the boat, which is still in New Bern, NC. Much of this is due to the two hurricanes that tore through the east coast this fall. The first, Florence, came slightly south of the boat, causing significant flooding. Geoff and I went up the week before to secure the boat and helped a variety of other local boaters secure their boats as well. Then we sat back to wait. Sitting in the mountains under a gorgeous fall sun does not make one feel like a hurricane is hitting your home. Myself and two other boat ladies sat on the porch and obsessively watched both spaghetti models…
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Leaving a Legacy
Last week, I took Skye and a friend over to the Carl Sanburg House National Park, a random slice of 1960s privilege and Americana. He was apparently quite the man about the nation, collecting songs, writing thick literature, writing poems. I’ve read some, I know who he is, but even after leaving his house, I’m still unsure why this author, of all the excellent ones we surely have, has his house made into a national park. The house is certainly nice, but not fancy. The land is as beautiful as any other tract of land in the area. He might have been America’s poet, but the legacy left by his…
