Happyness

Let your mind wander

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One of Debbie’s favorite activities is to look at houses for sale. She sends me a link from the real estate broker site and refers to it as the house of the day. I tend to find it on Google maps and sometimes look on the county auditor’s site to examine its history both pricewise and ownership.

One little house we examined became a writing prompt and the following story came out.

Porter and Fannie

Porter and Fannie met in the summer of 1980. There was a neighborhood party that welcomed Porter to the neighborhood and celebrated July 4th.

Porter was a common sight shortly after he moved in to the apartment building down the block from Fannie. He had a well mannered corgi that he walked twice a day once in the early morning before going to work and once, sometimes twice, after dinner, both his own and Marshall’s. Marshall was the name of the corgi. Its full name was Howdy Marshall which was what Porter said when he found him wandering in his old neighborhood.

Marshall was so well mannered and friendly Porter was certain that his owner was nearby. That started a thorough but unfruitful search for its owner. No one near where Porter lived at the time recognized Marshall.

Porter was a walker and a sometimes jogger. That day he was walking and enjoying the January sun. Marshall appeared from behind some bushes in a nearby front yard wearing a collar with a star shaped badge that had no identifying information so Porter assumed the dog belonged to the house. Marshall reinforced that by following him up the steps and sitting beside him as he pressed the doorbell.

“Good morning! Just walking by and I think your corgi has gotten out.”, he said to the young woman who answered the door. Marshall sat happily nearby with a big dog smile and his tongue hanging sideways.

“Nope. Not mine. He’s cute though. I don’t think he belongs to anyone around here. I’ve never seen him before.”, she replied. “I’m Tammy, by the way.”

“Porter”, he replied. “No one that you know of has a corgi?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Well, I guess I’ll keep looking. Thanks for your help.” Porter turned to go and Marshall followed him.

“I know you want to be here but I can’t keep you. No dogs where I live. I’m not sure I can have a pet. And why aren’t you wearing any ID?”, he said to the dog. Some of this was vocally and some of this conversation was mental but as he knelt down to examine the corgi more closely he realized that Marshall was injured on his hind quarters. “Did some one snatch you and you got away? Does that hurt?” He reached out to pet the dog and examine his injury. The little animal stood patiently while Porter did his examination. Porter picked the dog up and crossed the street towards the block that his building was on.

When he got home he tracked down a nearby vet and found that he could take Marshall there that afternoon.

Marshall’s injuries where minor. The vet remarked that the injury to it rear leg could have easily happened when the dog was shoved out of a car door. And after listening to Porter’s story about how he came to be in possession of the dog he remarked, “No charge.” Porter left with Marshall happily wagging his tail. The vet had given him no shots.

Porter spent the next few weeks posting printed notices and placing the same information on Facebook and other social media platforms to no avail. Perhaps the vet was right. Some one had tossed Marshall from a car when they were done taking care of him. Who could have done such a thing? Marshall, Porter was by this time calling the dog Marshall and the dog would alert to that name when Porter said it out loud, for his part acted as though he had found his master back. Lots of tail wagging and excited play demonstrated this behavior daily to Porter.

Porter had not owned a dog before and had not even considered it but something in him now extended an attachment and connection to this creature smaller than him. His landlord, when Porter inquired, told him that dogs where not allowed but that he could temporarily house the dog while he sought out the true owner. As it became more and more apparent that Marshall was a castaway, Porter started looking for a new place to be with the corgi.

He found an apartment in a building in a neighborhood with which he was unfamiliar. This area was closer to his office and fortuitously he could, if he chose, ride his bike to work. As he settled into his new situation he walked Marshall everywhere he could nearby. This neighborhood he usually drove his SUV through on the way to and from work. As he roamed with Marshall, he looked at the buildings and houses. He said hello and talked to the people.

There were several other neighbors with dogs. Marshall also made contact with much butt sniffing and sometimes friendly, sometimes unfriendly noises. These encounters consumed enough time that eventually Porter became known to the neighborhood and conversations beyond a hand wave were commonplace. Dog owners have a special bond and that camaraderie extends to other owners.

A few months after Porter had moved in, he passed by Fannie’s house. She was weeding her garden and Marshall gently crept up next to her to examine her activity. Porter was distracted by a phone call as he was walking the dog after work. Marshal had taken his extendable leash all the way to the end before Porter noticed. Porter almost tripped over it. Fannie petted Marshall.

“Aren’t you cute!” she said to Marshall. Marshall wagged his tail in response.

“His name is Marshall”, said Porter. “I am Porter. I hope he didn’t surprise you.”

“Howdy, Marshall!” said Fannie to the corgi. “I’m Fannie. It’s a great evening for a walk.” she said to Porter taking off her glove to shake hands.

“Howdy Marshall is his full name. It’s what I said to him when I found him walking in my old neighborhood.”

They chatted for awhile about dogs and flowers. Marshall politely stretched out the leash to get mostly out of site near a tree to defecate.

“I’m sorry about that.” Porter told Fannie as he stooped to recover Marshall’s business into a plastic bag he brought with him specifically for the purpose.

“It’s okay. The neighborhood dogs like that spot. Not everyone cleans up after their dog. Thank you for doing that.”

It was an early summer evening in late June. Fannie and Porter talked for almost an hour during that first encounter. When the neighborhood 4th of July celebration was announced by her neighbors she volunteered her backyard which was on the corner and the next time she saw Porter and Marshall, she invited him and Marshall to the party.

In the evening dusk of the 4th when the neighborhood children were agitating and nagging their Dads to start the fireworks show. Porter and Fannie drifted off the corner porch to watch the show. Marshall sat for a minute and looked at Porter. Eventually the corgi positioned himself under their side-by-side chairs and waited anxiously while watching several kids with sparklers. If corgis could speak he might say, “Keep those sparklers in the street!”

The universe put them together at just the right time.

Love bloomed at that party. Marshall had a home with humans. He was unafraid of the fireworks show. He felt safe and fell asleep.

Where does fiction come from? This little story just came out of my fingers thinking about Porter and Fannie. Their names are on the county auditor’s site as previous owners of the house that Debbie sent one morning.

Carpe Diem.

A Couple More Days

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Seems like every time I want to close my eyes for a small little tiny nap some health person is encouraging me to get up and move around.

Today the occupational therapist had a gap in her schedule and just as I pushed my chair back to NAP position the phone ran.

May I come and assess your functionality? Sure why not. I will be here.

It actually makes me laugh. All the attention about a little thing like cardiac arterial bypass graft surgery. CABG “cabbage” is the term used by the cutters. All week long I have kind of complained a little that I did not feel all that bad and that is true. Most of that seems to be due to something described as a freezing nerve block that will wear off over time as my body heals.

Every day is a bit better and today is much better.

Today on the way home from the cardiothorasic surgery visit we stopped at one of my favorite diner chili parlors to get a 5-way for lunch. If you live in southwest Ohio you do not need more description.

Carpe Diem.

3 AM Sometimes

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Day Six and Beyond

A major surgery makes one think about things one might not think about.

I awoke from a nap this afternoon wondering what God had in mind. I imagine that we all have these thoughts occasionally. What is the big picture? Or is there a picture? I could feel the love from people near me in my life.

Love is a powerful emotion. It is freely given.

The person that I am with, Debbie, is staying with me to help me through this piece of the recovery journey. After Cheryl’s death I did not think that I would feel the same way for anyone again. Debbie makes me happy. It is that simple. Loving someone is a connection between souls. It is deeper. She is here with me through this recovery and I am more concerned for her health and well being than my own. Love is a two-way street.

Last night a spontaneous gathering arose as David, doing his master chef on the grill, invited his brother and family to join us. Love was in the air then too.

My sister and I talk every day. This is something we have not done since we were children. There are three time zones between us which adds certain amount of thought process on my eastern end when I want to initiate a communication. It seems to work out though. Love figures into the process.

It is as though the love that I radiated out during my previous life before my heart attack is returned as I need it. A simple beautiful concept, love the people around you and they will love you back.

These past few days as I recover post-surgery, I am overwhelmed by love.

I am grateful.

Carpe Diem.

A Summer Day in Winter and other Thoughts

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A Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean —

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

These words by Mary Oliver send my thoughts in many directions. The last two lines seem to be very popular with the counted cross stitch and embroidery set. These are words of inspiration to the young.

The previous two lines “Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?” seem a lament for the old. We tell ourselves, we have lived life as best we thought at the time.

Do I have regrets? “Tell me, what else should I have done?” hides in the back of other thoughts. What could I have done different that would put me in a better place today? How would I define “better place”?

Grief, that missing another, that emptiness for love’s object, that restless lonely, that longing, is often with me at seemingly random times. It will always be there. It is smoother on some days. I noticed this past evening as I talked to my son that I could tell stories and talk about Cheryl without choking up. Cheryl and I had many great times.

In the now, my son and his wife are splitting. My girlfriend’s daughter is very ill. She is hospitalized with an undefined infection. My girlfriend’s youngest son has split with his significant other and that is a remarkable similarity to my son’s situation. He has snapped back to his savior and supporter, Mom. (She has pushed him out of the nest several times. It is hard (but time) for him to fly on his own.) I have interest and concern for all of these people in my life. They give me a place to send my love and support.

“Tell me, what else couldI do?” is a question I ask of myself but it is an unfair question. Simply being present to other’s needs and being there as they sort through their difficulties is enough. I do not volunteer a solution if I have one. It would be my solution, not their solution. The same heartfelt commitment would not be there. (My mother would say, ‘Pull up your socks!’, which was her way of saying you have to be the designer of your own way out, otherwise you are not committed to it.)

My son is staying with me in the guest bedroom while he sorts through moving vehicles, furniture and just plain stuff accumulated over time to his new rental digs.

Debbie’s daughter is in the best hospital in town. They are committed to finding out what is wrong in her anatomy and doing their best to fix it or mitigate it.

Debbie’s son has a short term solution for housing and a wonderful employer that seems committed to his success. Maybe her consultation support is of greater value to him than monetary support. Maybe he will come to understand that. Maybe he will be able to move on from this former girlfriend who suddenly turned physically violent toward him. Maybe he will realize what he feels is grief of a sort for a lost relationship.

I do know how to pay attention, and listen and offer advice when asked and pray that God will provide a stable solution to the currently evolving dilemmas.

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? If not die, at least, stop?

Maybe not soon enough? Was that snarky?

I love them all.

Carpe Diem.

The New Pot

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Life is certainly off to a good start this week. I cooked dinner last evening for Debbie. Her day was filled with grandma activities with one bunch and then the final solution of the car that turned into a tumble weed in a snow storm. It turned out to be the best roasted chicken I have had in awhile. Using the right equipment makes a big difference.

As I reported in an earlier post I purchased a new Staub cocotte from King Arthur baking. My original thought was to go all in on sourdough but I am thinking about stews and other pot recipes while we are still experiencing cooler temperatures in Ohio.

Roast Chicken in the NEW pot

INGREDIENTS

  • 1 (3 1⁄2-to 4-pound) chicken
  • Salt
  • 1 1⁄2 pounds fingerling potatoes, cut in half lengthwise if large (or quartered if larger)
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • Freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 lemon, cut in half
  • 1 head of garlic, cut in half, horizontally
  • 1 red onion, peeled and quartered
  • 1 tablespoon assorted chopped fresh herbs, such as thyme and rosemary
  • 1⁄4 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

HOW TO MAKE IT:

  1. Place the chicken on a baking sheet fitted with a wire rack. Liberally sprinkle salt all over the chicken, loosely cover the chicken with parchment paper, and refrigerate for 24 hours. — [I started and stopped the preparation of this a couple times and eventually allowed the chicken to partially thaw overnight in the fridge. In the morning I thawed it the rest of the way in a bowl of brine,]
  2. Preheat the oven to 500°F. Let the chicken come to room temperature for about 30 minutes before roasting.
  3. In a medium bowl, toss the potatoes with 2 tablespoons of the oil and a big pinch of salt and pepper. Arrange the potatoes in a single layer in the bottom of a large cast-iron cocotte. Add the lemon halves, garlic halves, and red onion quarters. Drizzle with the remaining 1 tablespoon oil. — [I skipped the lemon and added cloves of garlic.]
  4. In a small bowl, stir the herbs into the butter. [no butter here, just olive oil and Old Bay seasoning. My favorite shortcut.] Gently separate the chicken skin from the meat and rub the butter mixture under and on top of the skin and all over the thighs and breasts. Place the chicken on top of the vegetables in the cocotte [smush the potatoes to the side to get the chicken it – breast side up] and roast for 20 minutes.
  5. Decrease the oven temperature to 350°F and continue roasting for 30 to 40 minutes, until a meat thermometer reads 165°F when inserted between the thigh and the breast. [mine was actually 180 or so because of extra snuggling]
  6. Remove the chicken from the oven, tent with aluminum foil, and allow the chicken to rest for at 10 minutes before carving and serving.

As a side dish I was able to successfully replicate Debbie’s Green Beans. This signature dish of hers is only served during holiday dinners and requires two trash can sized cans of green beans. During an emergency run to a close by Target for coffee, I purchased two smaller regular sized, not-for-feeding-many-kids sized cans of Delmonti green beans. In a 3 quart pot I fried a strip of chopped bacon and a little of the red onion from above. I drained one can of beans of its water and then added both to the pot after sizzling the onion for a bit in the bacon fat. I put the lid on and let them simmer while the chicken was doing its thing in the oven and we snuggled on the couch and talked about the day.

When I got up to change the oven temperature, I warmed up the giblet gravy that I had started previously and finished it with some cornstarch to thicken a bit. I am a big fan of gravy and meat broths. This version to me is heavenly.

A good sourdough would pair perfectly with this dinner. And perhaps a nice Chardonnay.

Carpe bon appetit Diem

Little Women

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I stood on the scale and as luck would have it, no weight loss and no weight gain either.

Huh. Alas. Alack. Oh whoa is me. Or is it?

The new snow is coating the grass.

The early morning sky is azure blue as the sun blazes near the eastern horizon.

The chilly birds are dive bombing Jane’s feeder next door.

It is a new day!

These thoughts come to me in rapid fire as I awaken more fully while drinking my coffee and thinking about the previous evening. The play “Little Women” was excellent. The production itself is a co-production, a special partnership between two theaters working on a single play. The play was staged first in Portland and then here in Cincinnati. Debbie and I went to see it last night during one of our field trips. The play itself tells the stories within Little Women but focuses on Louisa May Alcott as a writer and her life.

At intermission we had a conversation with a younger man seated next to us. He asked how longer we had been together. I responded with “about a year and a half.” I did not think much of it but Debbie picked up on the fact that he thought I was joking. Debbie talked to him for a bit and found out that he was from out of town.

Later as we drove home she told me that he thought we had been together for a long time, an easy assumption to make since we are both older. When she corrected his notion he was interested in our story. Her synopsis of us meeting later in life interested him.

Yesterday was a pleasant day. The play was well done.

There have been many instances now where total strangers have commented on the love and affection vibe that they perceive between us.

I feel that way about Debbie and she feels that way about me.

It shows.

Carpe Diem.

Friday

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This day of the week has over time become special to me and to Debbie and I.

Last year the part time teaching job I had with a local community college involved maintaining an open lab on Wednesday and Thursday evenings as well as Tuesday mornings. Debbie works in her profession on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday also. I remarked once to her that our Friday came on Thursday, so our Saturday came on Friday. It was our day of relaxation, dinner or lunch and other dates.

The movie theaters are very uncrowded on Fridays. Sometimes in our favorite theater us and one other couple are watching the film. I like that.

When I bought tickets to the play we are going to see tonight I specifically picked the Friday performance.

When we started dating, that term seemed foreign to me. I referred to our outings as field trips. I think, I am certain, I was hunting for a term that would not hurt Cheryl’s feelings. Cheryl had passed on from this earthly existence but then as now she is still in my heart. Field trip is a term Debbie and I still use to describe our date activities. Much like a term of endearment it is a code, a phrase with a personal meaning for being together and enjoyment of an activity.

“We need a field trip.” she will say. My reply is yes we do and off we go to dinner and a movie or something.

Today the field trip is an afternoon luncheon and later this evening the play at Cincinnati’s Playhouse in the Park. The performance is “Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women” an adaptation by playwright Lauren M. Gunderson. I am looking forward to it for several reasons. It is coming to Cincinnati directly from Portland where my sister lives. Some of the actors are from there. I could not get through the book earlier in my life so I am inclined to find it in the library and read it again to see if my reading tastes have changed as I grow older. However, the real reason is that I have an opportunity to spend time with Debbie.

We will talk and muse about the past week. We will discuss Florida again. It is currently snowing in our part of the world so we will complain a bit about that. Afterward we will discuss the play itself over a glass of wine and maybe a snack.

We are going tonight because our trip to Florida bumped this play from our schedule last week. Another field trip is what we both need during this snowy season in Ohio.

We could stay in and whine about the weather or we could ignore it and rejoice in life and its pleasurable attributes. Soon the snow will be over.

Snow-mageddon be damned. We are going to the play.

Carpe Diem.

Ohio is Home

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Reflections After a Wonderful and Pleasant Trip

While waiting for the dryer to finish up I sat in my guest bedroom for a bit to think and reflect and simply enjoy the quiet for a bit after returning from a very pleasant trip to Naples Florida with two of my favorite people. We planned this trip before the holidays. In a bit of universal serendipity the late January snow-mageddon that blanketed the Midwestern section of the country remained aloof until we were settled in our little rent-a-cottage near old Naples.

We are back now. No matter what I may think about cold Ohio temperatures, it is great to be home. I have lived in this part of the world all my life and have had the opportunity in my working career to travel to many other places in the U. S. and abroad. It is always great to be back home.

Over the weekend as I was watching the newsy shows, a weather guy reported that temperatures in the 20s were expected in Miami on Sunday. Alas for them. They will need long pants and socks.

Later, folding and rolling and putting away, I thought how many pairs of socks does one need? Immediately behind that came a thought about T-shirts. We do live in a great place. Again is not an issue.

Fortunately, not all of Florida is beaches and crowded restaurants. Fortunately also, there are direct flights to Naples, Florida from Cincinnati, Ohio (and back). The car started easily. Very little snow was on it after having been parked in an open lot for eight days.

Debbie and I made it safely home. Joyce is back in Portland. It was a nice respite.

Carpe Diem

Thankful

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This time of year I think of the things, people and situations in my life for whom and which I am thankful. The positives outweigh the negatives. Do this for yourself and assess were you are. (I am rarely thankful for negatives.)

People: (Be careful here. It is easy to miss someone.)

  • Anna & Eric & the kiddos
  • David & Melissa & the kiddos
  • Scott & Mavis & the kiddos
  • My sister Joyce
  • Debbie Joy
  • My cousin Bob (also Tom)
  • All the Nancys
  • Sr. Carren
  • Sr. Janet
  • The stock club guys
  • Grief Share support
  • Bea, Bev, Marg, Peggy, John and Peg and the back pew support crew

I stop after this list because the people who have saved me is too great for me to remember and the people who are so very special to me crowd my thoughts. It is remarkable that Cheryl is talking to me in my head; “you forgot… and what about…“ After three rounds of Grief Share group support I can hear her voice with almost perfect clarity. So, I tell her, “okay maybe I shouldn’t try to list everyone. You are right someone I missed will be sad I did not list them and they will think I forgot what they did for me.” She just said, “I am (right)!” I laughed out loud at her.

Things:

  • A place to live
  • Bike paths and a car big enough to put my bike into for travel.
  • No mortgage or loan payments
  • Enough cash to last until the end of me
  • Enough food and the ability to prepare it
  • Pie and coffee cake
  • Blueberry sorbet (I am listing the truly important things now.)
  • Also pecan pie. Mavis sent me her pecan bars recipe with the note that the filling makes THE BEST pecan pie. I have made it twice now and she is ABSOLUTELY CORRECT.

I am thankful that in our society I think I will get by with the means at hand. I am pretty sure I will get to the end of my life before I get to the end of my money. We (Cheryl and I) have always been fiscally frugal.) Tricky to do raising three kids but they all turned out perfect and these days their families are perfect. (I am thankful for them too.) I think the little pile of money Cheryl and I put together will last until the end of me.

Situations:

  • Good health
  • Bike paths and the ability to ride on them
  • Loving family
  • Wonderful friends
  • I have decided and have started the process of complete retirement. I hope to have enough time to pursue my own interests and hobbies without interruption of commitment not of my own decision.
  • Mental relief of making that decision and starting the process.
  • Wearing pajamas until noon

One of the reasons for retirement – maybe one of the best – is wearing pajamas until noon. On baking days and writing days I do this. No one is here except me. I do not concern myself with good looks when no one else is about. Lately there have been fewer writing days. My school schedule has picked up. All of that changes at the end of 2025 and I look forward to it.

Carpe Diem

Late Summer Early Fall

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Dear Dad,

I was thinking about you today. I realized that I have not written to you in awhile.

How are you doing in heaven? Have you and Mom found each other? I suspect it is crowded there. I wonder in my own mind how you are able to find her but I imagine that love and connection is an eternal string. You just follow it to the end and there she is.

I am writing this time because I haven’t told you about what is going on in my life. A lot has been happening since you left this plane. That will be eighteen years in a couple months. (Wow.) You taught me well, Dad. I don’t feel like I need you every day but quite often there are things that happen and other thoughts that I want to ask you about, talk to you about, get your opinion.

Cheryl is gone too. You know that, of course. Look around for her too. You know about Bill and Laura. By now you have found them in the crowd there.

I met another girl, Dad. She is nice. She has five kids. Her first daughter is hers. All the rest because of who she is and maybe, because of, what she does are adopted. She is a wonderful woman, Dad. You would like her. I would like you to meet her but as we both know that is not possible right now. Just be on the look out for her. (I do not know which of us will get there first and Debbie does not want me to talk about it.) I love her, Dad. I did not think that possible with all the time I spent with Cheryl but I do. She makes me laugh. Much like when Cheryl was here, I feel an aloneness when I am not with her. Did you feel that when you were away from Mom?

I have been feeling this for some time. It is why I am writing to you.

Yesterday was a working day for her. She called me in the afternoon and told me that she was free for dinner after work if I wanted to meet her somewhere but she was not sure of when our Grief Share group was finished. We met at a restaurant near that LaRosa’s where we used to stop on the way to the playhouse on Sunday’s when we had tickets to the play. Remember? Anyway, this restaurant had the best beef stroganoff. I think Mom used to make that. Isn’t that right? But it was not the food at all, it was Debbie being there. I think it could have been a so-so dinner and I would have ignored all that. It was very good though and that made our conversation all the better. We talked about our day and how it all went. Not a lofty conversation but we caught up with each other about our hours apart.

I forgot to tell you about grief share. Remember the kerfuffle I had with the cemetery years ago when Cheryl and I set up our place there? A woman came to our group session who had lost her son in a flood on a rain swollen creek while camping. A very traumatic experience for her and her family. I remember you telling me about your friend who had drowned in the Ohio river when you were young. But anyway, the cemetery buried him in the wrong place. Can you imagine? (Do you imagine or can you just see it, Dad.) They waited several days for them to recover her son’s body and then the cemetery tried to lose it. Her anger with the cemetery folks is visceral. She is very sad right now. It has been just a few weeks since this happened. I felt sad for her. She was angry and sad and cynical and disappointed and on top of everything grieving the loss of her son. We let her talk for some time. She needed to get it out.

There is a lot of other stuff going on but mostly I wanted to tell you about Debbie. We did go out to Portland and visited with Joyce. Joyce is doing good. We had a great time touring around. We also spent a couple days at the coast. Joyce had found a place to take her dog teddy along. That dog is really attached to her. It took off down the path to the beach and then turned around. Then it ran around the little house we were staying in. then around Joyce and back inside. Teddy took in all the smells quickly and found its owner after the enthusiastic jaunt around the property. It was fun to watch.

There is a lot more for me to write to you about but I think I will save it for later. I hope all is going well with you.

I have one more thing. This deer often visits in the morning. I call him Fred. He has a buddy that I call Frank. Now that they both have their antlers back it is hard to tell them apart. They are majestic animals and I think they grew up in the woods out back. Whenever either of them saunters by they are snacking their way to the old golf course across the street. I think that is where the girls all hang out.

I love you, Dad.

Carpe Diem.