Mid-summer's Night Blog

'Transparency.'

If I hear that word again I will scream.

I hate fad words and phrases.

Here are some more:

'shovel-ready'

"I can't wrap my head around it."

'seamless'

'accountability'

speakin' of accountability:

'Bernie Madoff'

'Ponzi Scheme'

'healthcare system'

blah, blah, blah, blah

Mom and Aunt Alice

As promised, a happy day for Alice and Gloria. They loved each other's company, and I loved sitting with them while they talked.

I often communicated with my mom through Aunt Alice. Not sure why it was so much easier to speak to her with Aunt Alice present.

A brief visit with Al, Diane, and Janice, reminded me how close we used to be.

Albabe Did It!

And I couldn't be happier and prouder. Nice job, sweetheart!

Jack, Kack, Lack, Mack, Nack, Ouack, Pack, and Quack!

Seeing as how the love-of-my-life daughter is now 21, I suppose I'll have to find another child to relish this timeless classic.

Every parent should read this to their toddlers, often. It doesn't take them long to "read it to you" by reciting the ducklings' names.

Robert McCloskey is a favorite.

I especially loved the Homer Price stories, and I used to draw them in grammar school.

All those donuts!

First day of summer 2009

My neighbor's blog just reminded me that it's the first day of summer. That means today is the longest day of the year. How did it get here so fast, and did it have to rain so much leading up to these looooong daylit times?

Frustrating, but I'll bet the ducks have been partying for weeks.

Remembering Blog Ideas

Why is it that so many clever, clever ideas that pop into my mind on my morning drive to work vanish before I take the time to jot them down?

Infuriating...

Hmmm...

Waiting...

Waiting...

Something about...

Not happening.

Maybe tomorrow.

Another Precious Aunt

Aunt Alice is in hospice in Florida. I planned to visit her at the end of April but it looks as if I won't have the opportunity to say goodbye in person.

She is in her early 90s. She is one of my mom's best friends. She will be SORELY missed. She is a woman BEYOND "ahead of her time."

I will miss her unconditional love and support, her funny wit, and her subconscious habit of rolling the edge of tablecloths and hems while she speaks.

My thoughts are with her five children, my dear cousins, and her husband, Al. He won't know what to do without her.

She doesn't want an obituarY or a service, as if she never existed...

Sorry Aunt Alice, you're not going to get away that easily!

I love you darling. Say hi to Mom and Dad. Diane and I will catch up with each other in person, very, very soon. I'm sorry I missed you, please forgive me.

I will find a good photo, scan it, and post it. Maybe one of happier days on a cruise w/ Mom and Dad!


xxxooo

Wild Kingdom

Spring is here, so are the deer
Hoofprints near the pussy willow
Buds burst out soft fuzzy sprouts
Announcing the new season

The race is on to keep them on
Such tender fledgling branches
Doe and fawn tiptoe at dawn
Choice time to take their chances

Sprang into action with deer proof plan
Scattered Milorganite with coffee can
Hoping the deer will take offense
At natural, but malodorous, scent

Smelling around as it
Wafts from the ground
The bushes and garden
The house surrounds

Hair-Raising Event - What Are the Chances?

I can't make this stuff up.

I spent the night on the couch again, simply because I was too lazy to "get up and go to bed," a phrase my mom always used when she woke me on the couch at night while we both watched TV.

Anyway, it was 6 a.m. and I had just finished watching an episode of Law & Order. I got up to make coffee and feed the cat.

As I passed the kitchen counter, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, the new Amazon Kindle that I just received yesterday. It was sitting at the opposite end of the counter where I left it last night to charge the battery.

Eager to play with it, I picked it up and brought it over to the couch with me. I was reading the Getting Started info onscreen and wondering whether I should print out the online guide.

In the meantime, another TV show was starting, and, judging from the way it began, I thought it was another episode of Law & Order, so I didn't change the channel.

Turns out the show, called "Angel," is about vampire slayers--they even reference Buffy in it--so it must be a spin-off of her hit series.

The subject matter is not my cup of tea, but my interest in it had already been piqued by its premise: a psychotic woman breaks out of an insane asylum, and goes on a mission to find the man that kidnapped and tortured her as a child.

Yeah, I know, not exactly wholesome entertainment, but it was too early to change channels to the more "wholesome" and intellectual news that's served up daily on the Today Show. :-)

So, I sat there on the couch, going back and forth between watching Angel, and playing w/ the Kindle during the commercials.

At one point, the protagonist was explaining to the victim that she was mistakenly torturing the wrong person, and then he identified the culprit that she should have been after.

Get this.

The man's name was Walter Kindle.

I almost dropped the Kindle in my hand.

What are the chances...

... of holding an Amazon Kindle in my hand at the exact moment a TV character utters the name Walter Kindle, on a show that I happened upon by accident?

Coincidence? I think not.

If the guys in Vegas could calculate those odds, I'd be interested in seeing them.

Really, this kind of "strange science" stuff has been happening to me steadily over the past ten years or so.

I have never believed in the supernatural, but every time something like this happens, I get a sudden outburst of goose bumps. If I could see the back of my neck, the hairs would be standing straight up.

I immediately called my friend Diane. Not only does she appreciate this kind of stuff, she's also heard me drone on about the many other weird coincidences in the past, like the recurring sighting of the three number sequence that just happens to be my birthday month and date, or the driving by a billboard and hearing a word uttered on the radio that just happens to be the same word I am looking at on the sign. (And, no, it's never a common word that could easily be explained by statistics.)

Diane was as incredulous as I was, and advised me to buy a daily lotto ticket today with the three-number sequence of my birthday.

I don't play the numbers, but it's times like these that I figure my odds of winning might be better than those of the average person.

Maybe I should purcxhase the ticket while I'm driving by a sign and listening to the radio, but that would be sort of difficult unless the lotto seller is willing to meet me outside as I pass by, and throw the lotto ticket through an open window of the car.

Wish me luck!

Aunt Millie is Tap-Dancing to Heaven

Aunt Millie passed last night around 8:10 p.m. My sister-in-law, Pearl, and I were blessed to have spent time with her yesterday afternoon.

My cousins and uncle came together in November, and stayed right through to her last breath, February 7, 2009. She was 79.

At the beginning of her treatment Aunt Millie reminded everyone that her mother, Grandma Irene, died at 79. Aunt Millie's 80th birthday would have been February 19.

Throughout her treatment, her youngest daughter decorated her room for each holiday: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine's Day. She made a basket of hugs and kisses and put them by her bedside.

Aunt Millie was a faithful and devout Catholic.

I am skeptical to admit that it may have been her faith that carried her through, but a part of me envies her absolute faith. If faith is what allowed her to stay a little longer so that she and her family could say their goodbyes to each other, I'm all for it.

Aunt Millie's approach to survival was to simply shrug her shoulders and accept that her time on earth was simply coming to an end. Her belief in eternal life must have been a huge comfort.

If she's right about the eternal life thing, I hope she forgives me if I have the opportunity to show up in her neighborhood.

She fought to stay alive as long as she could, alongside a family that respected her decisions, and protected her dignity when she no longer could.

It has been another life lesson for me in how fragile and resilient our bodies can be at the same time.

Sadly, I've become accustomed to witnessing the process of dying from unforgiving diseases: diabetes, cancers of the lung, pancreas, stomach, and brain.

Why are there no preventive vaccines like the ones for polio, small pox, rubella, mumps?

How is it that a wonder drug like Viagra was invented before a drug to prevent cancer? What kind of priorities fostered that research?

I often hear that pharmaceutical companies make far more money from treating cancer than from preventing it.

I pray that it isn't true, but somehow I think it is.

Tap away Aunt Millie, and give a big hug and kiss to Mom, Dad, and Grandma. We love you all.

www.how_much_lazier_can_we_get.com

You say "past" I say "paste"

After reading about the Google "fault" (meltdown) last week, I found hilarious this quote by the author of an article on Telegraph.co.uk:

"Users trying to access search results during the outage were forced to cut and past the links into the toolbar and visit the sites manually."

First, my mind had to get "past" the typo because my innate proofreading talent (annoyance to some) wouldn't allow me to proceed with another thought until it was fixed.

Then I got to thinking that perhaps the error was a Freudian slip on the part of the author. Maybe it was more of a commentary on how lazy we humans have actually become.

In the "past" (less than two decades ago) most internet users didn't even know what the internet was, let alone a URL.

To suggest that copying and pasting a URL directly into a browser is a hassle, reminds me how much we rely on technology to do the simplest things.

For example, have you ever stood with a cashier in a store when the power goes out?

"I'm sorry, I can't complete the sale, maam, because my cash register drawer won't open until the power comes back on."

I am tempted to say, "Well, get a pencil and paper out and I'll help you do the math."

Before Google, circa 1997, Internet users manually typed the address into browsers like Internet Explorer or Netscape.

With the advent of Bookmarks and Favorites, we didn't even have to do cut and paste anymore. Simply click a link to travel the Internet, no need to type a single keystroke.

What would we do without Google? I don't know, but here's a little fun that I found when I looked up Google's history.

Compliments of a link from Google -- the Swedish Chef language version. Who knew?

Thank goodness for Grace Kelly

I used to be afraid of cats. My parents bordered on animal-phobic, so we never had a pet when I was young.

I promised my daughter when she was little that we would get a pet when we bought our home.

Coworkers urged me to get a cat instead of a dog, because cats are so much easier. With Jim's help, Alison and I chose our first cat from a rescue home, and my daughter named her Kitty.

Kitty was affectionate and gentle, but sadly she died a few years later from diabetes.

Our next cat, Marley, came into our lives from a friend's mom who had him rescued from a tree. Jim came home from work one night and found Marley lying at the doorstep, presumably napping. Except Marley had mysteriously died. Jim said he looked peaceful.

We next adopted Emma from the pound. She has striking blue-green eyes and is timid, never thrilled about being touched. Not long after, Henry, a furry black stray cat with light green eyes and a clueless look on his face, simply showed up on Jim's doorstep. We lived at Jim's at the time, and when I returned home to live, I couldn't bring myself to break up Henry and Emma.

Nowadays, living alone, I have Grace Kelly, who was lovingly rescued at 3 weeks by Jim's daughter, Amber.

Grace crawls onto my chest, lays down facing me, and lets me scratch behind her ears. She closes her eyes, purrs in my face, and tickles me with her whiskers.

Sometimes Grace extends her paws and tucks them under my neck. It always reminds me of the vision of Superman, flying through the air with his arms straight out.

Grace Kelly is my Supercat. She rescues me time and again, never failing to lift me back into the present, and put a smile on my face.

The Kindness of Neighbors

Last Thursday I went to see Aunt Millie at the nursing home. She had just returned from the hospital the night before, but was now vomiting, and had to be transported back to the hospital.

She was so disappointed, so tired of all the moves, yet so incredibly strong.

I cried as I drove home, feeling sorry for myself because I had no one to hug me.

A few minutes later, at my lowest moment, my phone rang. It was my neighbor Kathy who must have seen me come home. She asked if I was hungry and whether I would like some lasagna that her husband, Evan, had made.

That simple offer, and amazing timing, lifted my spirit and fed my soul.

The lasagna was pretty damn good too!

Thank you, neighbors, for your random act of kindness at a time that I needed it the most.

Senator Kennedy collapses at Inaugural Luncheon?

Seems that he may have had a seizure. He looked great today. How sad. Hope he pulls through.

The Inauguration

I've already had tears in my eyes while watching the Inauguration this morning. So many people at the Capitol -- it's mind-blowing.



Wow, Al and Tipper Gore following Dan Quayle down the steps to the platform. It took me a minute to remember Quayle's name -- evidence of his lack of an imprint on American history.

George H.W. and Barbara Bush enter. The only exciting thing there is that George is moments away from returning to civilian life, having challenged the entire Middle East with stupid phrases like "Bring it on" and "Shock and Awe." What a maroon.

It's a miracle the world is still intact, in spite of his devastating eight years in a position of power so undeserved and FAR beyond his abilities.

Speaking of inept, Cheney is in a wheel chair today because he hurt his back while moving boxes from his office yesterday. Ha! Karma for shooting his friend while hunting.

Jimmie and Rosalyn Carter, I've always loved them -- epitome of decency.

Bill and Hillary next. Bill's not looking happy, no smiles. You can almost hear his thoughts, perhaps something like "This should be Hillary's and MY day..."

As much as I like Hillary, I hate to admit that if she had won the Presidency, this inauguration day would have been lackluster.

Barack is in a league of his own, able to attract more than one million people on a freezing cold day. The excitement is palpable, the attendance overwhelming.

The military bands and intros of the former Presidents. Their appearances easily emphasize Obama's youth and energy. Nice touch!

The long shot of the mall packed with people is breathtaking.

The moment is almost here, they just announced the Obama girls, what a couple of cuties! And their grandmother. Right on, Mrs. Robinson! Your help as a caretaker paid off in ways you probably never imagined.

Laura Bush and Lynn Cheney, yawn. Nice, but not impressed w/ either. Stepford-like, ya know?

Michele and Jill, the new ladies in charge, looking fabulous! So classy, both of them, and not afraid to share their opinions either...

George and Dick will be next, can't wait to see the wheelchair again. Maybe he'll try to enter walking, out of sheer pride.

Nope, he's being wheeled out and hangs a LEFT to go down the ramp. How sweet is the irony in his being forced to go left?

George makes his last appearance as "President of the United States," or POTUS for "West Wing" fans.

George kisses Hillary, now that's a photo op!

Joe Biden next, looking competent.

The camera takes a peek at Barack as he approaches the entrance and stops to wait for his announcement.

The NBC voice over suggests what a lonely moment this must be for Barack, truly carrying the weight of the world.

Old white guys next, followed by Diane Feinstein and Nancy Pelosi.

Please be quiet and move out of the way. I can't stand it.

Regal trumpet-playing reminds me of a coronation.

And then, an unbelievable ROAR from the crowd, and a shot over the mall of hundreds of thousands little flags waving through the crowd like flocks of birds.

People cry. What a sight for this challenged country's eyes! It is one of the most memorable events in decades.

Diane Feinstein speaks briefly. Love her.

A prayer comes next -- sudden silence.

Personally, I could have done w/o the Our Father--it doesn't belong in politics.

ARETHA, sporting a wild hat with an oversized bow, sings My Country Tis of Thee.

Her finale, "Let freedom ring" brings on another ROAR.

Joe's sworn in at 11:57 a.m., January 20, 2009. Pretty good timing.

Itzhak Perlman and Yo-Yo Ma, holy cow. Beautiful, moving strings.

Lone clarinet plays 'Air and Simple Gifts' followed by a mix of piano, strings, clarinet.

It's here -- THE OATH! Justice Roberts mixes up the words -- how embarrassing for him. Maybe next time he'll bring the cheat sheet. What was he thinking?

Barack gracefully makes his promise, and the Marine band plays.

I think of my father. Wherever his soul is today, he is watching this with tears in his eyes. He was a very proud World War II, Iwo Jima Marine, 5th Division.

President Barack Obama.

Welcome.

Aunt Millie the Strong

Aunt Millie is hanging on. Her strength is unbelieveable.

She has been through more in the past several months than most of us will ever experience in a lifetime: ruptured appendix, endoscopy, discovery of a stomach tumor, aspiration followed by three weeks of a breathing tube, radiation, chemotherapy, and insertion of a feeding tube because her stomach is blocked by the tumor.

Aunt Millie takes it all in stride, fueled by strong faith and a beautiful family: Uncle Joe, their four children, and grandchildren.

She simply shrugs her shoulders when asked how she's doing, as if it's no big thing.

Aunt Millie has a sense of humor. Her children set up a communication system with her, early on when she couldn't speak. They told her to give them the finger when she wants them to leave.

She's a star pupil, waving both fingers at times, as if to emphasize her wish.

She can't eat or drink anything. I can't imagine that.

One afternoon we visited her, and she was sharing a room with an elderly woman. Lunch had been delivered to Aunt Millie by mistake, and she had to tell the aide to take it over to her neighbor.

Aunt Millie went on to tell us that the meal was a hot dog, and how much she enjoyed inhaling the smell of it.

Aunt Millie has good days and bad days. She refused pain medication until just last week, the final days of her radiation and last chemotherapy sessions.

Now she waits, tired, depressed, hurting.

Please, oh please, give her a miracle. Take away her pain, let her enjoy food again, let her thrill her grandchildren, and give us all the finger(s)!

Mostly, let her share her infectious smile.

We love you Aunt Millie.

Poetic Inaugurations

I was shocked today to learn that only 4 poets have ever delivered a poem at a Presidential inauguration. Obama will be our 44th President.

Mathematically, that's one poem for every eleven presidents.

Intellectually, that's a sad statement coming from what is touted as the most powerful country on Earth.

Robert Frost recited at John Kennedy's inauguration in 1961. I was only six years old. Sadly, what I remember most of JFK's administration was two years later, watching his funeral on television, seeing "John John" salute his father's casket as it passed, and little Caroline standing steadfast by her mother.

Maya Angelou recited "On the Pulse of Morning" at Bill Clinton's first inauguration in 1993. I left work for lunch that day to find a restaurant with a television. I watched Maya's graceful delivery of words so stunningly powerful.

Miller Williams spoke at Bill Clinton's second inauguration, 1997. Can't say I remember his poem or his face for that matter. Sorry, Miller!

Elizabeth Alexander will deliver her poem on Tuesday, January 20, 2009. I know her words will be thoughtful, powerful, inspirational.

As she recites, I will again be glued to the screen, remembering Maya's urging to her new President in 1993:

"Lift up your eyes
Upon this day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream."



Hallelujah to the promise of another great President.

Welcome, President Obama. Bless you.

I Want to Be a Bid Coordinator When I Grow Up!

I process technology bids for a living, specifically, formal bids.

Q: What's a formal bid?

A: It's a document issued by an entity that wants to buy something. Examples of entities include state and local governments, elementary and higher education systems, the federal government, publicly-held commercial businesses, etc.

Q: Why can't the entity just go out and buy the item(s) anywhere?

A: Because some entities are legally bound by a specific bid process, a protocol, so to speak, of putting purchases "out to bid".

Q: Huh?

A: Yep, that's what I said when I was offered the job as a Bid Coordinator.

In a nutshell, a bid allows multiple suppliers to submit cost proposals for consideration by the entity.

The entity must follow the formal procedure by issuing an invitation to bid. It then collects and reviews all responses from the bidders, and ultimately awards the bid to one or more suppliers.

Q: How do you get a formal bid?

A: Snail mail, email, downloaded from a website, or handed to me by my boss. Formal bids come across my desk in a variety of different forms: an Invitation to Bid (ITB), a Request for Proposal(RFP), a Request for Quote (RFQ) are among the most common.

Q: What makes it formal? Does it wear a tuxedo?

A: Nope, what makes it formal is that the bid response (proposal) must be delivered to the entity , by a specific date and time of day.

Q: I get sealed envelopes in my mailbox every day at home. What's the big deal?

A: Sealed bids cannot be opened until the specified date and time. Think of it as a sort of "Do Not Open Until Christmas" rule.

Q: You mean, like my rule for not opening my bills?

A: No, meaning that it's illegal to open a sealed bid until the "official" opening date and time advertised when the bid was issued.

Q: Well, how do you know that someone hasn't peeked to see what's inside, like I used to do before Christmas every year when I found my parents' secret "hiding spot" for my presents?

A: Typically, there are witnesses to the event, so that there's no tomfoolery over who wins the bid.

Some entities go so far as to make a party out of a bid opening by inviting the public to view the procedure.

Q: How come I've never been invited to a formal bid opening?

A: (Actually, it's a question to a question): Why would you possibly want to sit around a room with a bunch of stodgy bureaucrats to hear the mind-numbing details of the proposals?

Q: I don't know, maybe they'll serve cocktails and appetizers.

A: Sorry, the imbibing of alcohol, or any other mind-altering drug, anywhere but inside a closet these days, could be misconstrued by the public as questionable behavior.

Just think, if you're a city employee responsible for opening the bids, and you've had "a few too many" by the opening, what's to say that you don't "mistakenly" drop a bid or two in the garbage, or spill red wine on one, making it unreadable?

Q: What's the big deal? You'd just have less proposals to read.

A: Did I forget to say that the tossed proposals were from competitors of your brother-in-law, the supplier that you want to win?

Q: Oh, I'm starting to get it now. It's like an auction. It has to be a fair playing field, so that every body has an equal opportunity to win the bid.

A: Exactly.

Q: Wow, so what made you decide to be a Bid Coordinator?

A: I thought it would be exciting, you know, like getting a sharp-stick poked in my eye.

Two Whos Do I Make the Check Out? or Dodes Hears A Who

Warning: This is a lengthy post. Might want to get a cup of coffee, or even dinner, before committing.

There are a handful of joyful moments in my life that have driven me to tears: getting my first teaching job, seeing fall foliage in Vermont, giving birth to my daughter, and listening to Johnny Mathis sing "O Holy Night," while sharing a warm bath with her at four months old.

Tonight, I enjoyed another magic moment, on the scale of Roy Orbison singing "This Magic Moment," to the same effect.

Flicking through the channels, I happened upon The Kennedy Center Honors, and my finger hovered over the remote control button as I mulled over a decision to keep on clicking.

I was pleasantly surprised to see Roger Daltry and Pete Townsend sitting among the other 4 honorees, high up in the mezzanine, next to George and Laura Bush. Ok, scratch that last part about the Bushes, let's not ruin the flow here.

After a humorous monologue by Jack Black, about his being The Who's biggest fan and calling them gods, devils, angels, or not, four contemporary artists each sang a Who number.

During the last performance, about half-way through, a curtain rose above the orchestra, and an army of New York City firemen and policemen belted out the chorus of "Baba O'Riley" directly toward the two seasoned rockers who wrote it. Daltry and Townsend were visibly moved.



Had I not seen the broadcast of "The Concert for New York," performed by Roger and Pete shortly after September 11, 2001, I might not have been so emotional. At that concert, Daltry and Townsend, in true form, performed for a HUGE audience of NYC fireman and policemen. It was the first opportunity for NYC to smile and enjoy themselves since those dark September days. And, enjoy themselves they did, singing, dancing, merrymaking.



So, when I saw the curtain go up tonight, and my brain-delay caught up with my eyes and ears, I burst out crying. I relished every note, every movement, and every emotion, but I didn't think to record it (by pressing two remote buttons). Sigh.

BUT, thanks to YouTube I can see it again and again.

I thought it would be a great blog entry -- another diatribe on what an emotional nutcake I can be.

As I thought about what to write, I remembered suddenly that at the end of October, this year, 2008, I attended my very first Who concert with a co-worker, Betsey.

Quite the coincidence, eh?

I hadn't planned to buy the tickets, I didn't even know they were still around or performing together.

I just received an email from Live Nation, delivered to me at work one day back in August.

I pondered it, but hesitated to spend the money. Given the age of the performers, though, and an idea of what old rockers sounded like--think Rolling Stones in their Steel Wheel tour--I decided that it was now-or-never-time to see The Who live (in both senses of the word).

(I, on the other hand, haven't aged one minute since I first heard The Who in an unnamed, previous decade, but I digress.)

I asked Betsey if she wanted to go and she accepted without hesitation. bless her spirit.

We drove an hour to an Indian-reservation-turned-casino, and took our seats in the nosebleed section of a medium-sized, indoor arena.

We expected nothing beyond a decent performance from The Who--certainly not as good as the gigs of their younger years.

But, Daltry and Townsend turned out a show nothing short of sensational. They played for two hours, no break.

Their voices and stamina held up amazingly, their energy was intense, and they had Betsey and me shouting lyrics and acting like two crazy ladies, minus the acting.

From the first word out of Daltry's gorgeous mouth, coupled with impish Townsend's windmill, their two instruments, voice and guitar, reached down to my toes like a great glass of smooth, red cabernet.

Wow, there's some cheesy prose for ya.

Simply said, The Who's music inspired me, wowed me, and possessed me. They've had that effect on me since the 70s, and I happily remain their slave, hoping never to be released.

Two Who-related performances, happenstance, that reached my core, and woke me up.

Bravo!

Can we have Thanksgiving earlier next year?

Did anyone notice that we had one less weekend between Thanksgiving and Christmas in 2008?

Talk about cramming 10 lbs of #^&* into a 5 lb bag!

Thanksgiving came and went, and it left me depressed for a variety of reasons: mother/daughter strife, prospect of waking up alone Xmas a.m. for the second consecutive year, and money issues.

I thought seriously about not having my annual holiday party because I simply wasn't motivated. Over the next week or so, I voiced my thoughts and concerns to a couple of close friends, and they all encouraged me to go for it.

I said, "F^@* it." and decided the party would be the only remedy for my malaise.

And so, on a snowy evening, when the roads weren't the best, 30 people still showed up at my house, and life began to look brighter.

Thank you 30 people for the pick-me-up, the pot luck and bottle luck, and especially for the non-perishable food items.

Your good will and generosity heartened me as I dropped off three boxes of canned and dry goods, paper items, and toiletries to the local shelter.

The food drive will be an integral part of my holiday party going forward.

And, the 30 people, plus those that could not make it this year, will forever be an integral part of my life

You're the best!!!!