My nephew was hit by a car. He’s okay, thankfully. Like a crumple zone, his sinus cavities collapsed and absorbed the worst of the impact. 

Before the reconstructive surgery to reopen the sinus, the doctor mentioned there might be some scarring. Then, with a straight face, the doctor turned to my brother-in-law and said, "If he had forehead wrinkles like you, we could have gone in though one to hide the scar." You can imagine my brother-in-law’s reaction. 

In San Francisco this week for work. The days are long and packed, but it's great to catch up with everyone.

C2 and I caught up. He knew Andy as well. We shared our commiserations over friends who have passed on. This is happening more as the years go by.

C2 expressed embarrassment about the state of his kitchen when I last dropped by. He is also maneuvering a little to keep me away from his house-- we met at a restaurant instead of his place.  I'm pushing him to have deeper conversations on this. Slowly.

After that it was a social weekend. We have friends within mutual walking distance of good coffee shops. Saturday and Sunday we had an early coffee with them.

Saturday evening we had dinner and games with a group of Friends. Sunday we had dinner with a coworker of my husband.

My husband and I have much travel over the next couple of months. It took us a couple of hours on Sunday to line up our schedules to arrange dog care and so we ciould spend some time with each other. First world problems.

My friend Andy has passed away. COVID hit him hard early in the pandemic and he never fully recovered. The official cause of death was pulmonary fibrosis.

I am heartbroken. 

Andy and I met each other 25 years ago. Rereading my old posts of him is embarrassing. We drank too much. We hooked up too much. We were a mess. Fun times, but I will never do that again. 

I’m worried about C2.

Friday, we decided to have breakfast together and agreed to meet at his place. Saturday morning, my husband and I arrived a little early. C2 and I had been texting—he knew we were on the way. When we knocked, C2 didn’t answer, so I let my husband and I in. I have a key. He was in the shower; we shouted hello.

We walked into the kitchen.
The sink was full of dirty dishes—rancid smell.
Flies hovered.
Counters stained.
A large bowl of uncovered compost sat on the counter.

I filled the dishwasher and wiped down the counters. It only took a few minutes while C2 was getting ready.

He looked embarrassed when he came out. Said he’d been really busy. No time to clean.

So—my worries.

First, that he’s not keeping his kitchen clean. Not even close. It’s attracting insects.

Second, that he always says he’s busy, though he has no job. And yet he struggles to do the things that matter— training, applying, cleaning.

It’s been a wild week. Work hit like a fire hose starting early Monday. The executives decided to hold an on-site at my office, which meant dressing up and spending time with them. They reaffirmed that they’re happy with how my org is running, so their attention is focused elsewhere. I suppose I’ve earned their neglect.

While we were away, an old friend—FL—and her daughter watched our dog and house-sat for us. FL ended up staying an extra week. She worked remotely during the day, and we spent the evenings together. It was genuinely pleasant.

Still sorting through the photos.

Lisbon and Porto....

The Douro Valley where much port wine is grown.

The Azores...

 

Travel day. Pics to come…

More travel notes…

Portugal and the Azores are very easy to travel in. The water and food are safe. Alcohol is inexpensive—beer and wine often appear at buffets, and in the Azores the local wine is both lovely and affordable.

Portuguese food tends to be heavy, with a lot of meat, dairy, cheese, and fish. Even so, it was easy to find restaurants serving good meals at reasonable prices.

The islands operate on their own time. For one excursion, we arrived twenty minutes early, only to be told to come back at the scheduled time. When someone asked if five minutes early would be better, the answer was the same: “At the scheduled time.”

On another tour, our guide announced we would have ten or fifteen minutes at a viewpoint. He said Germans like to ask, “Which is it—ten or fifteen?” He enjoys answering with something even less specific.

If we return, we’ve been told more than once that Mosteiros is a wonderful place to stay, and that September and October are ideal—fewer tourists and a warm ocean. I’d also like to stay in Furnas. It’s off the coast, but looked lovely.

Travel notes for future me…

July 25 – Arrived. Rode a tuk-tuk—a great way to get a feel for the city and decide where to explore.

26 – Tile museum.

27 – Explored historic parts of Lisbon.

28 – Sintra with friends. Charming city.

29 – Took the train from Lisbon to Porto—comfortable and efficient. Explored Porto. Dinner at a Fado restaurant (live music). The Fado was excellent.

30 – Visited a few museums. Dinner out. Good restaurants are common here. Food and water are safe. Prices are reasonable.

31 – Toured the Douro Valley. Much of Portugal’s Port wine is grown here.

Aug 1 – A driver took us along the nearby coast. Helpful for deciding where we might stay on a future visit.

2 – Explored Porto on foot.

3 – Flew to the Azores.

4 – Toured Sete Cidades. Gorgeous.

5 – Whale watching on a zodiac. Saw Sei whales, a sperm whale, and common and spotted dolphins.

6 – Whale watching again, this time with a larger group. Saw sperm whales, bottlenose dolphins, and spotted dolphins.

7 – Hot springs and tea plantation.

8 – Jeep tour.

9 – Resort day.

 We've all arrived safely in the Azores. These islands are quieter and more rural than the mainland. Their beauty is breathtaking.

Being here, surrounded by friends, has been a welcome time for catching up. It’s also made me realize what a minor miracle it was to get us all here. For some of my friends, travel is an ordeal—a source of stress that saps their patience and energy. They’d rather be home. For others of us, these new landscapes and experiences are what we live for. This trip isn't just a destination; it's a testament to our friendships, bridging the gap between those who find comfort in the familiar and those who find it on the road.

Azores trivia… Hydrangeas are an invasive species here. They grow everywhere. 

Lisbon and Porto are lovely. Easy to walk. Easy to like.

Both cities are centuries old and well kept.

You turn a corner, and there it is: something centuries old you hadn’t seen before. No sign. No announcement. Just there.

Our trip to Portugal is special. Decades ago, after graduating, my group of friends decided to form an investment club whose purpose was to pay for travel later in our lives.

For years we met to invest a little bit of money, and to catch up with each other.

Then, two years ago, one of us passed away. We decided it was time for our club to actually pay for travel.

After much debate, we settled on the Azores. before we head to the Azores, My husband and I decided to tour the Portuguese mainland— Lisbon and Porto. Other of our friends are taking similar trips… to France, or Amsterdam or London. This Sunday we are all flying into the Azores.

Lisbon… 

 

I have resolved to visit my father more often. I can work remote, though I’ll need to coordinate with my husband. 

Today, my husband and I are flying off to Portugal for a couple of weeks. There, we will meet up with many of my old college friends and see the sights. 

My father, a widower in his 80s, lives alone on his farm. For decades, he and the DVs were friends. But then Mr. DV passed, leaving Mrs. DV a widow as well.

Apparently, my father asked Mrs. DV to move in with him—not as a couple, but as friends for companionship.

Mrs. DV declined the offer. My brother has a few speculations why; he thinks Mrs. DV, being very conservative, found living with a man out of wedlock unacceptable.

My brother has sworn me to secrecy on this. If my father learns that I know, he might not talk as freely with my brother.

I've always respected that my brother has a deeper relationship with my father than I do. My brother can get my dad to open up. My father will still have deep conversations with me, though they tend to be about practical matters like money, legal issues, and business management, since that's my area of expertise.

My main concern is for my father. How lonely is he? Is visiting a few more times a year truly enough?

We are in Seattle's peak of summer. So we are attending festivals and BBQ's as well as hosting visitors. 

I say "BBQ" but my friends from the south would gently correct me. These are cookouts and potlucks. 

Saturday evening we hosted and a dinner for some old college friends, and their kids, of my husband. My husband felt little uncomfortable that the kids are all in their late twenties. The passage of time is creeping up on us.

Sunday we hosted a large BBQ for our social circle. I would guess around forty people showed up. The crowd was a combination of friends and people in the program... or friends who are now in the program. 

And we are back in Seattle. 

The flight home had a little drama. One of the passengers wouldn't comply with the safety regulations. She had a long argument with the flight attendants about her luggage and not wanting to check an extra bag even though there was no space. The attendants eventually called the police who escorted her off the jet. 

We just enjoyed a wonderful side trip to Picton, Ontario. I didn't know much about it, but our old friend PB runs a B&B there, and it's a popular weekend spot for Torontonians.

My husband, our friends G and J, and I met up with PB for dinner. As a local expert, he gave us fantastic recommendations for our weekend.

PB mentioned the locals sometimes refer to the Torontonians as Torontidiots. The growing tourism industry has raised prices as well as providing jobs. This mixed blessing doesn’t always land well with the locals.

Friday, we went e-biking. The weather was perfect. A long bike trail connects many nearby small towns. We spent hours cruising the trail, stopping to snack at local bakeries and ice cream shops. Exhausted but content, we enjoyed a great dinner after resting up.

Friday evening— back at our rental house we saw many fireflies around the property. My husband has never seen them before and was enchanted by the little glowing bugs. 

Saturday was more of a road trip. We had a delicious French-style lunch at a small restaurant PB recommended, boasting incredible views. We drove around, visited a lavender farm, and explored Picton's shops. That evening, we all had dinner at the superb Royal Picton restaurant . PB, always seeking to help his B&B guests, quizzed us on our experience, eager for our recommendations.

Beyond the activities, we had many good conversations over the weekend. G, J, my husband and I are all navigating aging parents, a topic we discussed at length. PB offered a great perspective on the "retirement" question. He observed that we high-achievers are often on a "hamster wheel" of work and rewards. While goals and purpose are crucial, he noted they don't need to be corporate-driven. Having been in our situation, he approached retirement like a new job, intentionally finding meaningful ways to fill his time. He still spends his time productively, but he spends it how he chooses— running the B&B in the summer. Travel the rest of the year. 

It's been a pleasant week here in the valley, filled with visits to old friends and a bit of adventure.

On Tuesday, we went white-water rafting with a local guided tour. It was a great time, and I definitely needed the exercise—I slept really well that night!

Wednesday was Canada Day, which meant more visits with relatives and catching the local fireworks display.

During one visit, an uncle directly asked me when I was retiring. His philosophy is that if you're frugal, it doesn't take much money to live well, and that your body will slow down much faster than you anticipate. So, he believes in enjoying life while you can. My father quickly chimed in, "But you have to have something to do."

Have something to do. Don't become that angry old guy who does nothing but watch TV all day and complain that no one listens to him.

  

What's Growing in My Father's Garden?

In my father's garden, you'll find potatoes, red beets, and even stray sunflower seeds from a nearby birdfeeder. Honestly, my dad has eaten a remarkably consistent diet of boiled potatoes, pickled beets, some meat, and other boiled vegetables almost every day of his life.

At 81, he still lives on his farm. While he's slowing down, he continues to manage things well. Nature is beginning to reclaim parts of the fields, and he no longer fights it back. He recently retired from his job as a school bus driver and is even making arrangements for someone else to clear the snow this winter—a task he's done for himself and his neighbors for years. These small but significant changes have led his sons to speculate about the future.

The fate of the farm has been a slow-moving discussion among my brothers, my father, and me for many years. Dad would love for one of us to take over the farm, and it truly is a wonderful place. Realistically, though, we'd need to take a significant pay cut to move back to the valley. As peaceful as the farm is, I have built a life for myself in Seattle. My friends and opportunities are there. 

Personally, I'd be happy if my father sold the farm and moved to a nice retirement home. But he's just not there yet.

My middle brother and I are eating like spoiled toddlers while we are at my father’s. We are both greedily eating dad’s cookies, ice cream and chocolates and then stocking him back up again.

I’m glad neither my brother nor I have a thirst for alcohol.

Ice cream sandwiches though…

The weather is pleasant. There has been plenty of rain of late. The valley is very green. 

Sunday, a guest preacher spoke at church. Afterwards my husband and I introduced ourselves. The preacher became slightly confused or uncomfortable when he discovered we were gay. I’m fine with that. If I can make adults uncomfortable by just being normal, then so be it. 

In the afternoon we attended a large family gathering with many of my relatives. It was great to see everyone. My husband ask if I was more happy in the Ottawa Valley. I had to think about it. Later I responded, not that I was happier here, but that I was more at peace. I get the feeling that our world could blow up, perhaps literally, that the disaster would pass the Valley and we could rebuild here.