A Margin of Time

Rehearsal; Warren is the musician on the very far left

I am penning this out on a pad balanced on my lap, waiting for the Friday night rehearsal of the Mansfield Symphony to begin. My phone is on silent; if it weren't for my elderly father, I wouldn't even carry it. I have a book with me (the one with "sexual content"); I'm not quite at the halfway point in it, so I anticipate getting past that point tonight (the rehearsal runs until 10 p.m.).

I am grateful beyond grateful to be an hour from home, no "tasks" (define that however you wish), no immediate demands on my time, and a long evening ahead.

The last several weeks in our household have been on overload for both of us. Family matters, rehearsals and concerts (Warren is playing in two separate ones this weekend—one up here in Mansfield, one down there in Westerville), classes, doctor appointments (all mine), Warren's booming percussion business, legal clinic matters, and on and on and on. Not all bad, mind you. But not all good either. Not very many of these intersect for us, so I am often heading one way, figuratively or literally, and Warren another, adding stress to stay connected beyond looking at the calendar.

Matters have to be attended to; tasks have to get done. They are what they are; it is what it is.

Through this all, I have to remember to give myself some grace. In whatever size, shape, or form that may be. As we traveled the hour north to the rehearsal, I marveled at the colors in the leaves. The skies and the trees and the temperatures make it clear that summer is over. Those were moments of mindfulness for me; those were moments of grace. 

The conductor has just taken the podium, so that is enough for now.

Saturday Morning Postscript

Last night I read, I listened, I watched the musicians (mostly Warren and the other percussionists; it was a percussion-intensive concert). I got up and walked around from time to time; the hall was cold and the lobby was slightly less chilled. During one of my walks to the lobby and back, I looked outside and saw the rain pounding down, enough that an announcement that some of the water had breached the cargo doors in the back and musicians would want to make sure their cases were not wet. 

Just little bits of a long evening.

Warren has already left this morning for the rehearsal in Westerville (that concert is late afternoon tomorrow) and will head straight to Mansfield from there. He will get home tonight, if lucky, by 11:00, putting in a 14+ hour day.

And yes, I have a lot of tasks today. 

Aging

My friend Tani and I, as part of our long running correspondence by snail mail, often write about the issues of aging: physical, mental, emotional, energy levels, overall health. 

Tani just turned 70; I just turned 70 1/2.

Yes, there are impacts of aging: joint issues, hearing loss, arthritis, other. I get that. But an aging impact hit me yesterday from a most unexpected source: my son Ben.

Ben and I sometimes exchange book titles and he recently raved about Too Like The Lightning by Ada Palmer. He noted that "the book is written in an 18th century novel style and set in the 25th century. Very enjoyable so far." So on the strength of that, I reserved it through our library system. When it arrived and I had it back home, I sent him the above shot to let him know I had it.

Ben replied: "very cool. hope you enjoy. there is some sexual content towards the end of the book, it is very much related to the narrative, just giving you a head's up." 

"[J]ust giving you a head's up"—WHAT??

I stared at that. Ben felt he needed to warn me about sexual content? Good lord. I read Valley of the Dolls in 6TH GRADE!

I texted back: "Trust me, I've read novels with sexual content before, dear one. Thank you for looking after your elderly mother on that regard." 

Last summer we went west and visited Ben and Sam and their/our families. While out with Sam and Georgia, I had what I will delicately refer to as an "accident," not quite able to make the bathroom in time. After I cleaned up, including borrowing running shorts from Sam to make it back to the hotel, I apologized profusely. Sam grinned and said, "Not a problem, Mom. Besides, now I know what my mom is like as an old lady."

Okay, that one I'll concede. But this?

So what's the truest test of aging? When your almost 41-year-old son makes sure his aging mother is forewarned about "sexual content" in the book he raved about.

I'm still laughing.

Watching the Groceries: Wrapping Up the Third Quarter of 2026!

 

With the start of the fourth and final quarter of 2026 just begun (how did that happen?), I have looked at our grocery spending to see where we stand for the year.

And the short version is? Better than I had hoped, given the prices of food and some of the splurges I made. I keep a running spreadsheet on my computer and will sometimes make editorial comments as I go, some of which make me laugh and some of which make me wince when hit the end of a quarter.

So numbers first. In the third quarter, we spent $628.19 on groceries, which for purposes of tracking means food items and common household items such as detergent and toilet paper. Of that, only $23.33 was spent on household items, just under 4% The monthly average for third quarter? $209.40. 

Okay.

Year to date, we have spent $1854.61, which comes to an average of $206.07. 

I can live with that!

Looking back at my second quarter post, I see that I called attention to the price of milk, which was on an upward trend. Three months later, the price of milk has come down substantially. (Good, because I love milk.) Probably the biggest "splurge" was when we were recently at Mayo Clinic I picked out some items at Trader Joe's (and note that the one in Rochester, MN is the only TJ we shop at, period) to help shove more complex carbohydrates into my diet as my doctor and I work with my diabetes. So yes to the wild rice and the penne pasta made from brown rice. 

We will have a large stock-up at Aldi in the coming days as we have been eating out of our pantry and garden much of the summer. I know what we don't need: we have A LOT of frozen chicken in our freezer from some walloping sales at Kroger. But I will grab my Aldi list and check on our supplies of staples so I can fill in the gaps.

There has been a lot (A. Lot.) going on in this household, much of it good, much of it complex (even the good stuff), and a chunk of it in the "just get through it" category. My health is stable, but there are some issues that my personal physician and I are watching. Will that impact our grocery spending? Maybe. Who knows?

It is what it is.

There is one very recent development that takes the first place blue ribbon (our county fair just ended) and has nothing to do with grocery spending, but is too good not to share. Last Friday, Warren's daughter Elizabeth gave birth to Gideon, the first child for Elizabeth and her husband Justin, and the first grandchild for both immediate sides. 

Yes, Warren is over the moon. (As we all are.) 

Let's see how we finish 2026 on the grocery front! 

Autumn Arrives in the Garden

By my own admission back in August, I have not paid much attention to gardening this summer. My energy and attention have been spent on other fronts.

It shows.

The weather while we were recently out of town at Mayo didn't help. It rained a lot—not the torrential rains that hit other parts of Ohio and the Midwest, but enough. Ripe tomatoes split open, others dropped to the mud. The large pots on our deck (which we have spent too little time on this season) are full of tall grasses, courtesy (I assume) of the birds; those grasses are outperforming any of the flowers we planted. The flower seeds I sowed (casually) in the back of the garden came up and have spent weeks shoving one another out of the way. It is hard for zinnias to look beat to pieces, but mine do.

This week, which didn't start until we got a little bit of sleep after arriving home at about 1:15 a.m. Tuesday morning, has been full of all kinds of "must tend to" things—catching up on mail, catching up on email, dropping in to see my dad, a series of appointments and other obligations. But I hit a lull, a space, on Friday afternoon where I took clippers in hand, along with a large bowl, lugged the yard waste container around to the garden, and set to work.

Better late than never?

I clipped a lot of tomato vines, both those done with whatever they had produced or those sending out late blooms that clearly would not mature. I picked up and tossed the rotted, split open tomatoes into the container, some of them splitting even further as they landed. I was grateful to see that there are still a few (very few, but a few!) of the larger tomatoes (Best Girls, maybe) still green on the vine, so I hope yet for a few big tomatoes this season. ("Big" compared to cherry tomatoes, which are still coming on, small compared to beefsteak varieties.) I picked peppers—a peck of them? If not literally, certainly figuratively. Those will head to the freezer for meals all winter.

And then I sat down and took a long break. Blue sky, thin wispy clouds. Crowded flowers. Bees in and out. 

Butterflies in and out.

In the past, I have referred to this time as "bee therapy." As I travel through Buddhist realms each day with Thich Nhat Hanh, with his focus on mindful breathing, I wonder if I shouldn't call it bee meditation?

Whatever I call it, I need it. 

I'm penning this out Friday night, to type out Saturday morning. We have an almost full moon and the thin clouds are illuminated from behind. The daylight has changed as the sun moves south. My favorite season is on our doorstep. In a few more weeks, the changing times will bring the 2026 garden to a close.

And that is enough for now.

Lots of Bits

The dome at the Minnesota State Capitol 

It's been a long several days. I started penning this out Friday night in our hotel room in Rochester, Minnesota (yes, the Emerald City). Over the weekend I added more bits. It is now Tuesday evening and I am finishing this back home in Ohio.

We spent more time than usual in Minnesota because of the way my Mayo appointments fell. The longer time, encompassing a weekend, allowed for some great moments.

So, I have lots of bits.

You cannot drive this distance (660 miles one way) without gas prices hitting you in the face, especially as we skirted around Chicago. Regular gas is how much? We did fine, as we have done this jaunt so many times we know not to fill up in Chicago or, indeed, Illinois at all, but my heart hurt for people who live there and have no choice.

At my blood draw, the nurse, the assistant, and I talked money: the price of gasoline, the price of groceries, the expenses of everyday life. The nurse's husband was coming home from being away on the family farm (it's harvest time) and she said that in his phone calls home he was just stunned with the diesel costs, even though he knew they'd be high.

I walked a lot on Saturday morning before we headed north to the Twin Cities for a full day. There is a massive Mayo expansion going on and even as a pedestrian, I at times had to thread my way very deliberately to avoid street and sidewalk closures. Warren and I walked Sunday and ran into more of the same.

The saddest thing I saw in Rochester on my limited walks? Almost all of the Little Free Libraries that I have stopped at over the years are empty. 

We spent most of Saturday in or near the Twin Cities. We had an early lunch with a blogger friend, Sandy, who blogs as Sam at Sam Squared. You ever "know" someone, then get to meet them in real life and the real person is even warmer, funnier, more thoughtful? That was Sandy and we had a great lunch. We then headed to the Minnesota Capitol Building (Warren and I both enjoy touring capitol buildings) for a great tour where I think I walked up and down at least 5000 stairs (okay, okay, 4999), then headed to the Minneapolis side of the Twins to see longtime dear friends Tom and Tani before heading back to Rochester.

Plans to meet up with family on Sunday in a nearby community did not pan out, so we hung out in Rochester, walking, reading, and such. I saw my wonderful oncologist late Monday morning, then we barreled back to Ohio, arriving a little bit after 1:00 a.m. this morning.

Yeah, it was a lot. And yeah, I'm tired. 

I spent a lot of Sunday afternoon rereading various years of my blog. (I had brought along Thirteen Moons by Charles Frazier but finished it Sunday midday). As I read, I was a bit taken aback at how much I've let go of (activities) and how even THAT MANY YEARS AGO I was dealing with health issues, exhaustion, and yes, my old friend depression. Not to mention overcrowded schedules. Yes, sometimes this household still has full days, but I am so grateful that I can afford not to work. 

I have spent the day catching up: laundry, sorting receipts, catching up. Our county fair is this week and today is Senior Day (free admission for someone in my age bracket). I'd hoped that we'd head over late afternoon and see the sights and enjoy some fair food. But it has rained all weekend and turned the fairgrounds into a muddy mess, to quote my friend Cindy, who is exhibiting. Muddy fairgrounds, damp chill weather, and my being tired make for a combination that shouts "Stay home!" So we are. There is bean soup on the stove, I'm about to go make some cornbread, and life is good.

Bringing In the New Year With Joy

We Jews are in the middle of the High Holy Days, which began last Friday at sunset with Rosh Hashanah  and will end this coming Monday at sunset when Yom Kippur comes to a close.

For me, these are days of reflection and introspection. The last year has been filled with a lot of, well, everything ranging from wonderful moments to stressful situations and everything in between. So some of my time during the High Holy Days has been spent thinking about how I want to move through this year more thoughtfully, more carefully, more engaged. 

I live in a community where there are very, very few Jews. Any significant participation in the larger Jewish community, especially when it comes to religious services, has to be remote. I do not have the capacity, in any stretch of what "capacity" encompasses, to travel the hour to services in Columbus, particularly in the evening and night.

Truth to be told, I have not attended services online during these special days at all this year. 

All the same, perhaps to remind me the universe has a sense of humor, the following video popped up on my YouTube feed last night. Let's just say that each time I watch it, my heart fills with joy and light. Every. Single.Time. 

As Azi Schwartz, the Cantor who arranged and then sings this work, explains:

This year, I set Hayom T’amtzeinu (Strengthen Us Today) to the melody of 9 to 5, as a joyful tribute to Dolly Parton and the goodness she has brought into the world.

           May her life’s legacy continue to remind us to show up every day, do the work, and bring a little more kindness into the world - from 9 to 5, and beyond.

Wishing you a Shanah Tovah - may it be a year of strength, goodness, and joy.

What a gift. 

 

Twenty-Five Years Later

Many of us are thinking of 9/11/2001, when the terrorist attacks on the US was made. Just before 8:46, when the first plane hit, Warren came downstairs and sat quietly next to me on the sofa, holding my hand. 

On the tenth anniversary of 9/11, I wrote and posted the piece below. We are not the same country and this is not the same world that we lived in even 15 years ago, but I think this still speaks for what I still feel.

One Decade

Even if we are not all writing about it today, we are thinking about it. Even if we claim we are not thinking about it, we are.

Those of us who experienced September 11, 2001, carry a psychic wound deep inside us. We know where we were when we first heard, where we were when it sank in this was not an accident.

My law partner Scott came to the office some 20 minutes after I did that day and told me he'd have been there sooner but there'd been a plane crash at the World Trade Center. He happened to have a radio in his office and so found a news station. Minutes later he yelled in disbelief as the second plane hit. Then they were saying something about the Pentagon.

By then, I was in Scott's office. We looked at each other. The Pentagon? What the ...?

The first tower came down as Scott and I were driving to my house to get in front of a television set. We both started yelling in disbelief and shock as the radio blared the news. The second tower came down just as we turned on the television, and we yelled again.

Flight 93 had already hit the ground.

Scott's friend, Bob, a New York firefighter, was already dead. His body would later be found in one of the tower stairwells. He died trying to save lives.

My boys were both in school that day. Ben, then a sophomore, spent the day in the same classroom as they suspended the schedule and kept everyone in front of televisions. Sam was at the 5th-6th middle school, and someone decided to keep the story from the students so as not to alarm them. Rumors leaked out all the same, and finally Sam and others learned the story from the gym teacher.

Sam was only 11.

Ben was only 15.

For the next 24 hours, everyone everywhere stayed in front of a television set. Even when I finally slept, I saw the towers peel down in my sleep. The next morning, I snapped the set back on and resumed watching.

Last Friday night I went online and looked at pictures and videos of that day. I was stunned at how much I had already forgotten in a decade.

Two memories I have carried close through this whole decade. The first is the members of Congress addressing the nation that evening from the steps of the Capitol, then singing "God Bless America." Raggedy at first, they finished strong. When I saw it ten years ago, I burst into tears. When I saw it again Friday night, I wept anew.

The other memory is that of Sam creeping into the television room early on the 12th while I watched international coverage. The story was delivered in French; the footage showed military boats racing across the water. Sam watched intently, then turned and asked "are they coming to bomb us too?" When I said no, that was a French story about the US military response, tears trickled down Sam's cheeks and I hugged him hard, my tears falling on his head.

My life has changed in innumerable ways, so very many of them for the better, since that terrible day. Our country has changed in innumerable ways, not all of them good, since that terrible day.

My boys are now grown, now 2500 miles away. If something of this magnitude happens again, I will send my swiftest prayers and hopes to their sides.

If something of this magnitude happens again, I will send my swiftest prayers and hopes to this country.

It has already been a decade.

It has already been a lifetime.

It has only been since yesterday.