
Totally splendid lazy day today. With the bonus of an excellent nap. A fine way to prep for another day of feasting tomorrow. Life is very gentle for me today in the 808.
Unfortunately, Madam Pele shut down the show a little before midnight yesterday. The fountains were hitting 1,400 feet — that takes a lot of lava. Maybe next time.
Tomorrow I’ll be busy, so let’s start the gratitude day early. No, it’s never too early to be grateful.
Gratitude
For Carlton, who shared my life and still haunts my heart. For a body that mostly works — creaks, groans, but still gets me around. For being born at a time when women stopped being property and started being people. For every one of my tech-based careers, which kept me fed, curious, and amused. And most of all, for the astonishing group of friends who’ve stuck with me into my eighth decade. At this age, friends are like money in the bank. And I am really grateful for indoor plumbing!
Mostly, I keep this blog for me. It started 25 years ago as a way to communicate with distant friends. But I pay for the server space and keep it up for me. (Sometimes I wish I could print it all out and bind it up in books. But no, it’s better this way, and when I am gone the blog will be too.)
On November 29, 2014 Carlton had been dead about 8 weeks and I wrote this:
You know Carlton, the idea of moving out of Northern Virginia is starting to wander around my brain. Or getting a studio unit at the old ladies asylum – so – I’ll have more travel money. Except for a nice comfy reading chair, I have everything spacewise that I need right here in this hotel room. But, we knew that all along. Where would I move? Honolulu, Portland, Seattle, Key Largo, Paris, Pago Pago?? Do I have to actually live anywhere?
Funny, it sorta turned out that way. I didn’t actually rent a studio at the Asylum. I got the smallest one-bedroom and turned it into a studio. And outfitted it with a fine second-hand comfy chair. And I am truly enjoying the spare travel money.

Did some stair work on this morning’s cardio walk.
