On Tue, 1 Jul 2003 11:34:37 -0700 (PDT) Cinnabari 
writes:
> eheu... hugs to you, prayers all around...

thanks, Sweeties...

> darkelf, lighting candles

better than cursing the darkness, for sure

(otw, the gathering of the clan was a success -- though we shall simply
not discuss the pathetic nature of my golfball whacking (I hesitate to
call it a game -- though it be rather gamey (in the stinketh in the
nostrils -- my cousin Koral asked if Tiger Woods had anything to fear
from me. "Only if he's playing on the same course," I answered. But,
realize, was in good company --> my bro & his girl were watching the
evening's play and were told that the safest place was not the bushes,
but, rather, the fairways....))... wish it had gone longer (though how,
judging from my current state of near-collapse, is left to imagination).
Met kin I'd only heard about afore.... I think there was in excess of 100
folks at Saturday's dinner.  Though perhaps too many lives in the lasagna
(food was NOT in short supply) -- Russ said the reason we left Sunday
night instead of Monday morning was that Mom had threatened fried lasagna
for breakfast. But seriously folks, a 3 hour drive to make the airport by
9am with rental drop-off and no room to spare.... AND the prospect of a
hot shower and a bed that wouldn't go flat in the night (this was,
despite the RVs of some folks, a "rustic" adventure).....and so it goes. 
        Bends the brain to realize that Russ and I (and my cousins and
brothers) are the age (older! than) our folks were at the height of the
regular clan gatherings. And the twilight is folding in on our folks. It
is as it always was and will be, but woggles a too-too-conditioned brain
nonetheless. 
        And, hey, ALL the mountains were "out" on Friday.  [There's a
pull off where you can see all the peaks from Jefferson to Rainier --
though the stunted St. Helens was ghostly in the haze]
        Makes a body, potted so far from kith and kin and soul-bound
environment, home-sick, it does.... but that's life, too.

        Soon enough the fabric of my day-to-day will reabsorb me.

        And on we go. 'Tis a creaky handbasket, but my own. =tired grin=)

=HUGS=

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