Sisters at Baker Lake

"It makes me so sad to see you like this, Gwennie!" Tragedy was written all over my sister Solange's face. I admit, I sobbed for a few hours when it first happened but I know a few people who would trade conditions with me in a second.   Solange was just as upset over  her daughter's curly hair and her son's awkward gait.  Thanks to her influence, we both used to feel sorry for toys we neglected.

"There is a bright side," I countered as I limped to  a lounge chair in my garage and sat heavily with my bum leg stretched out. I dropped my crutch and  smiled at the huge pile of sleeping bags, camp kitchen supplies, tents, loose flashlights, and overstuffed canvas bags in front of me. 

 "I really love your house, Gwen. Wouldn't it be a lot easier if we had the kids sleep in tents in the back yard?  Then we'd still have coffee, we can go running and biking..." Her voice trailed off ...

About 10 minutes later, Solange, Eric, and Summer had loaded everything into the van, the Subaru and the clamshell above the van.  It looked like a miracle to a person who could barely shower or put a bowl in the dishwasher.

"Can I do anything do help, Gwen?" My sunny sister, Judy, had just gotten in from 2 red eye flights with her  8 and 9 year old kids.  It wasn't til she returned with my coffee mug cleaned and filled with water that I remembered that she was hungry and was facing a chaotic garage rather than the homemade lunch she was promised.   Thank goodness, my daughter Emily who refused in no uncertain terms to come camping, brought Vietnamese sandwiches for everyone. Judy actually finished her food for the first time in her life.

It required the full 2 1/2 hour drive to Baker Lake to sever me and my sisters from our phones. My extended absence greeting probably infuriated everyone in my car as well as the poor patients destined to hear it later.  Solange had to log in to find out where her husband biked that day and how his speed compared with their mountain biking teammates.    When Judy signed off, the huge network of people that collaborate with her to employ the disabled temporarily lost their guiding light.

Finally freed from the car, we wandered around Panorama Point Campground. The forest floor was covered with soft mounds of earth pushed up by tree roots.  Soft gray daylight brightened as soon as you stepped from the woods to the beach. The  greenish blue lake water  stroked the pebbles like a whispered version of the ocean's surf.  Rocky peaks with bright white snow filling all but their craggiest edges looked the same size as the wooded hills in front of them. Clouds moved  among these giants as if misty dreams can stand up to  concrete.

Solange would have gladly put up both tents by herself leaving lazy kids and sluggish sisters behind but after struggling to insert the poles into the corner loops, she accepted help from me and Judy. 

"Even mosquitos like younger women better. I don't get it- I dye my hair and everything." Solange complained when we were finally relaxing around the fire. Solange felt older than her daughters but she couldn't stand "old people," who complained about fast bikers. I had been lulled into thinking I'm near retirement myself thanks to all of my retired music and pickleball friends.  And now, I had a handicapped tag. Solange was only 14 months younger than me.  "Women are so useless, " Solange also informed us.  "They get boob jobs, go shopping and complain about their husband's mountain biking. But horrible as some marriages may be, divorce is worse....Every single mass murderer comes from  divorced parents."

"Best camping trip ever!!" interrupted Zachary, Judy's 9 year old son. His  cousin helped him hold his marshmallow just outside the flames.

Judy looked at her sweet little boy laughing.  "I love my divorce, thank you very much."

Raindrops fell on my face, gently waking me from  a deep sleep. I did not want to leave my  hammock cocoon.  It wasn't until I felt the wetness seeping into my backside that I finally rolled out and joined Solange in her pup tent. "Poor Gwen! Get in here!" She said before falling back asleep.  I was the first to wake up the next morning. I dunked my hair in the lake, soaked my good foot, and rinsed my face. I had swum in the lake before and I would do it again. I wish my patients would recover too. David with stage 4 lymphoma. Annette recovering from a self inflicted gunshot wound to face criminal charges.  And 4 year old  Arnav  who fell out his second story window to land in the ICU.  The clouds obscured all the large mountains but I felt them all around me.

Emilene

“When I have children, I’ll love them forever until I die!” Emily was crying. I wasn’t. I had gotten all my tears and sobs out talking to my mom on the phone before Emily came over.

I know it’s healthy to practice gratitude and optimism but black doubts sometime drown those. Emily makes $9.65/hour at Samena. That’s about $360 per week or $18K/year. She’s not ready for grad school and even if she was, she would probably be rejected due to a GPA of 2.5 or worse. “I don’t want to live with random people. I’m a private person!”  If Emily’s lucky, she’ll get to live with Lauren after graduation but will she be able to afford half the rent?

I just wanted to snuggle up under blankets with hot chocolate and watch TV and coddle my daughter forever. But my mom steered me clear of that.  I wanted to adopt her dog for her. So what if she prefers indoor plumbing! Emily would have more time, more money, more friends and more housing options!  But Eric plead against it. (Very rare to hear that emotion in his voice) “We have to let her know we won’t take care of any babies.”  Yowsa. This is about more than carpet cleaning.

“Emily. Daddy and I love you. We love you more than we love ourselves.” I hugged my make up free 21 year old with her brand new case of acne. “If we thought you couldn’t support yourself, we wouldn’t make you…” Emily nodded slightly. “We  know you can do it but you don’t. The only way you’ll know is by doing it.” 

That night, 3:30 AM I was awake.  How much could she amass if she saved $72/week?  At age 22, she should have a lot of time to compound interest. Could a community college certification get her a job that paid better than a psychology bachelor’s degree from University of Washington?   I had ideas for short term goals: resume, choose the best website for job search. Teach cello lessons.  For anxiety run, get into counseling since insurance will cover and it can help long term. Accomplish something to lift mood even if it’s cleaning out the bathroom sink.  Of course, long term ideas occurred to me also: Look at job availibility before selecting type of grad school. Work really hard at job, volunteer opportunities, and possibly grad school or post bac. Do not get married or have kids until you’re confident, happy, and independent. I emailed Emily every link and word.

She calmly thanked me for all that while encouraging me to adopt a more normal schedule. (Sit by fire when cold, and watch Parks and Recreation and Arrested Development for entertainment were her other helpful pieces of advice.)

Today, I received her resume, a cover letter and news of applications to a 911 dispatch job and a physician recruitment firm.

I saw a new patient who wants to restart cigarettes…ever since he quit 18 months ago, his bm’s have gotten less and less frequent. He now goes about once a week. Also, he calmly lies in bed all night without sleeping. He even blames the lack of cigarettes for his shoulder, knee and foot pain. I’m the first doc he’s seen in 14 years and I hope I can help. A one year old patient returned from vacation in Norway to get her shots-calming Chinese conversation from her mom kept her on the right side of hysterics. Another new patient is a communications grad from UW, newly laid off and newly married but pretty confident that he’ll find work in addition to being a basketball official. Luckily, I noticed an urgent request for records… my 42 year smoker patient who just had a stroke will be seeing a neurologist tomorrow morning at 9 AM. Also, my Pakistani patient just discharged from the hospital with urosepsis (possibly due to long term antibiotics for acne?) is safely home with his new wife.

So, at 9 PM with Emily texting me to go home already, I was about to leave. Until I picked up a business card my friend Judy Simon had given me. Unbridled Therapy: traditional or equine therapy by a young licenced marriage and family therapist in Kirkland. I just had to send Emily one more email.  And I really had to thank my mom.

Over the Top

The wisp of metal is cold reminding me that I’m 30,000 feet above the warm earth. It cools my hot irritable hands. When I open it, the bright white letters and numbers invite me to touch them. The blue screen cooly awaits my command.

My old diary is gone, relegated to a closet shelf that’s draped with gauzy swim cover ups, capri pants, summer clothes of every description that will remain completely useless for many months. The downy alpaca sweater I knit too loosely lies on the same shelf waiting for a kind, elderly knitter to help me repair it.

Once again, I’ve overdone it. During the summer, I had to try to speak at least one word in the language of each country so matter how fleeting my visit. “Thank you”  in Icelandic is “tak” which means something in Polish as well so I conserved a scrap of mental energy.  But I struggled in Italy. Something drove me to talk even when the most attentive Italian couldn’t understand a word. I kept listening to my CD, checking my phrase book. Practicing alone and on any slightly sympathetic Italian until success was mine. I asked an elderly resident of Civita di Bagnoregio who spoke no English whatsoever if one could swim in Bolsena Lake and whether or not it was cold. I even understood her answer!  One could swim in the warm water of the lake. If one could tolerate swimming with a bunch of Germans. Giddy with my success, I even quipped that the Germans would speak English as I ran off to share the good news with my family. In Greece, my approximation for their good morning put smiles on craggy faces of Olympian shopkeepers being starved by the dearth of tourists.

Israel was tough too. For at least 5 minutes,  I examined a big bright tourist map on a crowded sidewalk in Holon. I learned absolutely nothing. I couldn’t tell north from south, where I was, or where I came from. Every street was named after a person and people have two names. I couldn’t match the last names on the street signs with the full names on the map. Hebrew letters are familiar to me but not the faithful servants of our alphabet.  Annoyed, I decided Holon was just home base anyway. I scouted the vicinity for half an hour until I figured out where to catch the bus to Tel Aviv.  I’d be back with my daughters and we’d have a day at the beach. A long run followed.

Using my very own key, I unlocked the door to my cousins’ home and skimmed through the heavy hot living room. Quietly, I approached my daughters’ bedroom door. Lauren would be sleeping beneath the quietly efficient room air conditioner. Summer would be tiptoeing around her sister. She went running at the same time as I did 2 hours ago but she doesn’t interrupt her run with silly tourist diversions.  Summer was not there. Lauren stayed half asleep and showed no alarm but her sister was missing.

Twenty minutes later, Summer walked in brushing right past her hysterical mother. The language barrier hadn’t been so kind to her either but she found her way back.  Anee rutzah ledaberet Ivrit does not make it happen.

So in Belgium and France, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut to let my girls use their French. Meticulously taught by Mme Columb, they can retrieve grammar and conditionel tense admirably. But my joy at once again having a language at my command took over. Waiters became penpals. Hotel clerks, my tour advisors. I asked for directions even as I happily tripped along the road I had followed as an 8 year old, thrilled to have Lauren and Summer patiently following behind as we found my old school: L’ecole du Bois de la Cambre. In Paris, les jardins Tuileries with an amusement park and peaceful pond were enjoyed along with the exibit of a S. Korean photographer who’s every photo was taken from the same window. And Summer ran next to me while we biked to Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower. But I still felt most unfortunate, when Summer and I had to fly out of Paris less than 24 hours after our arrival leaving Lauren all alone to  find affordable lodging and brave through her own ambitious itinerary. I stayed with Lauren in spirit for the entire week until she joined her colleagues in Amsterdam.

It was enough for at least a year. My week at music camp, new friend coaxing music out of their instruments from 7 AM to 10 PM when the pianos had to be quiet was already more than enough to make 2012 a year I’d always cherish.  Camping with Eric through Camloops, RevelStoke, Lake Le Jeune, Kicking Horse, and finally Lake Louise  Canada and staying in our van with little dog Fancy in the driving rain with nothing but our books, flashlights, Cracker jacks and sleep.  The morning sunshine showed us that the clean dignity of  northern Idahos hills made us happy to return to the US even after the majesty of B.C. and Alberta.

So, I’ve had a lot of diversion this year and I’ve really earned weeks on end of TV, bathrobes, and simple wanderings about the neighborhood. All my girls are gone to college but Eric is the husband of my dreams and I am ready for my due. A grand piano in the living room,  2 cabinets with assorted music, a kindle, a book club…I have it all. Clunk the YMCA and a good job on top of that and Bellevue is truly a dream come true.

Why then, do I find myself up in the sky? With a computer that’s now as overheated as I am. It’s due to excesses. I  tried the breathing exercises Dr. Andrew Weil advised. Pin tongue to the ridge behind the teeth. Exhale fully through the mouth making a loud breathing out sound. Breathe in quietly through the nose to a count of 4. Hold until a count of 7. Exhale (same loud method) to a count of 8.  Repeat x 3. I’ve cut my caffeine to just a smidge. I tried to dampen my mother Iris’s touristic enthusiasm. She’s obviously the reason I can’t just see the sights and go home. I assumed that without caffeine, I’d sleep through half the lectures at the American Academy of Family Physicians’ 2012 assembly in Philadelphia. Who knew that these lectures would inspire me to network with fellow physicians! Neither my mother nor I had ever been to that city. “Filthadelphia,” right? Who cares.

But my mom just had to talk her way into the Barnes museum where the Renoirs greet you like an out of control rabbit population. Her friend Joan just had to be a brilliant mediator with cascading blonde hair, a white cashmere coat and a black and white flared mini skirt over the legs and high heels that went with it. And Joan had to bring her tragic son who hopes bourbon will still his ambivalence about using his legal education to help Wall Street financiers maintain their lifestyles. Iris’ other friend Joyce,had to be an agreeable and modest  pioneer in inclusive education for disabled Baltimore children. I had to experience the American Jewish Museum with a movie of Leonard Bernstein as a young man conducting the classical music that thrilled America before he proceeded to compose the musicals that that buoy  us effortlessly above our cares. And movies about the Jewish immigrant movie directors that powerfully wove the American dream which we all share today.  A simple run in Philadelphia takes you to all the buildings that were frequented by the white wigged geniuses that wrote our constitution.  Why?

Forget that I visited Princeton before Philadelphia.  The leaves were turning red and Summer loves it. I can’t take it anymore.

This plane is bumping around and the stewardess will scream at me any second. I am going home and putting on a bathrobe.

Goodnight.

Blog Rescued

I gave up on my novel and adopted chamber music instead. Yoga has become my closest link to myself. I thought that was enough until Lauren came over. She gently poked at the near dead writer within me until it rolled over and whispered something unintelligible. 

I want to write a book modeled after Jennifer Weiner's. I know I can because my sister Solange could make Susan Isaacs (hilarious author of cynical books like As Husbands Go) look like a dreamy eyed romance writer. And my other sister, Judy blogs on Forbes.com while she captains her own company through hurricane seas. My failed first book was too ambitious-trying to weave together my view of the future, the evils of the food industry, and the personal lives of all the characters. Plus my best character, was an evil Russian woman. Too many Russians get a bad rap in fiction.

Writing could wait. I'd write after I organize my life (all on a new fast computer), improve my medical practice, become a lightening quick sight reader on the piano and do whatever new project comes to mind. There was no urgency whatsoever until....

My BLOG was LOST!  My little netbook featured blogwriter and not much else. On my new computer, google searches just showed a bunch of doctor rating sites and I couldn't find my blog anywhere. And talk about near dead...nobody wants to hear about the gasping and burping of my poor little netbook when I opened it after months on the shelf under my summer clothes. Anyway, the little gadget came through and my blog is now found. It's site, username, password and everything else will now be organized along with the rest of my life. And it's miraculous return to reality made me want to add a post before the year is up.

Lauren had pictures of the Eiffel Tower, the Red Hot Chili Peppers and her own published book on her bulletin board. The Eiffel Tower came down after she covered Paris during her 10day stay there last summer, the Red Hot Chili Peppers will take a spot in her "accomplished" box (under her bed) after she attends their concert tomorrow night.  So clearly, the publishing of her novel will occur soon .

Furthermore, she keeps a diary (paper journals, volumes by now, kept under her bed), and she now posts a blog weekly. Weekly blogs have made Judy reflect each week on the progress of Opportunity Works (her company). Her powerful voice has inspired me as well as hundreds of other readers.  I love my yoga class. Yogi Susan's clear instructions stretch the soreness out of my muscles and exhaler the exhausting chatter out of my brain. She gently lifts my back towards the sky and relaxes my shoulders to the safety of earth.  Lauren coaches my life the same way. She encouraged my to enjoy a run the other night while she worked on her 4th batch of cinnamon rolls. She reminded me about her life coach: Martha Beck's Book  Steering by Starlight and her blog. And she introduced me to her brand newblog:  my ya life!

This is a disjointed blog but  I'm hoping it can be a rickety little bridge between past and future attempts to write. Even an occasional chronicle will be better than nothing.

18 years

Summer is not perfect. Nobody is. Until recently, she was mediocre at estimating volumes. Sounds trivial but you wouldn’t like spaghetti sauce spilling over their containers or a large bowl with just a little salad taking up space in your fridge. Furthermore, I can tell she’s ready to flee from her ever present parents. Today, she got irritated with my camping trip ideas and  evicted me from her bedroom when I was still addressing invitations to her graduation party.

Summer loves to run as much as Coach Brad Bradquist and her dad like to coach. This means practices are a lot like important track  meets. Times, work outs and mileage are monitored closely by  Summer and dutifully reported to Coach and father.  She doesn’t fall over or puke after running but effort level is just shy of that every day.  When Summer’s national rank in the 800m fell from 58th to 69th, we all grumbled around the dinner table. We talk about track nearly all the time. Chatter about classes and friends fits into small gaps.

So when Summer won the Washington 2A state championship in the 800m for the second time Saturday, we were happy but definitely not surprised. The biggest excitement was actually her 400 m run against Cherish Morrison in the preliminary. Summer was in lane 5. When Cherish, who’s won 10 individual state championships started to pass Summer from lane 4, Summer just stayed with her. They looked joined at the hip from the stands.  After Cherish just barely beat her, Summer thanked Cherish for her help: Summer had just broken her second school record with a time of 57.8 seconds. Summer also takes partial credit for getting Cherish to beat her own record with a 56.09.

Sorry about that. Now you see what our dinner conversation looks like. Anyway…I guess I’m also used to Summer’s academic performance. I know nothing about it except she takes all the hardest classes and gets nearly all A’s.  I can’t help liking her boyfriends and she’s very considerate. She thanks us for her meals, helps us clean up,  gives me tips on make up, loans me clothes, notices if I wear something new. Just now, she remembered to give me a head count for tomorrow’s brunch. I had forgotten all about it! Some of my best friends are her friends’ parents. And last February, I was wondering for weeks what sporting event I could take Eric to for Valentine’s Day. A few minutes with Summer and I found out she was running in a university meet at the UW.  Problem solved. She is going to Princeton, just to cinch the whole parental proudness thing.

But none of the above inspired me to write. Tonight’s birthday party was the thing. I just witnessed 10 beautiful high school/college girls in mini dresses and high heels going out to PF Changs and then coming home to change immediately into shorts and flip flops and play spoons laughing loud enough to scare the cat across the creek. Candy became our newest carpeting. They loudly cheered Summer’s success at blowing out 18 blue candles on chocolate cake. Eric said he wished he had 10 friends who would come over for his birthday. A lot of us do. Summer left a quote on the desk one day…something like, you can’t really understand someone without loving him or her. I’m guessing her wonderful friends are no more an accident than her running speed.

It would have been enough…

Dayenu is a traditional Passover song that lists all the blessings that would have been sufficient. The celebrators chant it faster and faster as they list many  blessings piled up on one another.

The Great Disruption and The Spirit Level are 2 books I’ve read recently that help me make sense of the financial crises, looming ecologic crisis, and large protests in the US and Europe. It all makes sense if you consider that infinite growth of anything is impossible in a finite world. Exponentially growing riches for the top 1% can’t be good for a growing 99%. And propelling a 2 ton truck or SUV in order to carry  a lightweight person (relative to the vehicle) can’t be an intelligent use of precious energy. But these enraging facts of life are spelling their own demise.  Water shortages, climate refugees and tropical diseases like Dengue Fever and Cholera in the US will be among the crises that will eventually change our ways. And when we finally realize that Adam Smith was right and the economay can’t grow forever, then we’ll get on with living life instead of spending decades chasing money.

So, as depressed as you may be from reading my inadequate summaries of these prescient books, they’ve lightened my outlook considerably. And that would have been enough.

But there’s more. The Spirit Level brought my brother-in-law Greg so clearly into my understanding that I asked my dear sister if I couldn’t please speak to him.  She said NO. She was initiating her very own divorce from her husband of 13 years and I could just butt out. But telepathically, he must have heard my pleas and we spoke and spoke the very next day. I told Judy that I only wish my fictional characters could be half as convincing about their love as he was. She was uncharacteristically silent long enough for me to clip my nails.

As I write, Greg has a job, he’s reconciled with my mother, and Judy, has updated her facebook status to MARRIED to Greg!  I still haven ‘t heard a word from Judy but hopefully, she’s enjoying the fact that Greg has become a laundry master,  masseur,  chef, and income earner in addition to his usual role as Excellent Father to Zachary and Sierra.

So, who could want anything more?  Yet…. I had the privilege of treating a 75 year old Mongolian fighting to grab the best American medicine has to offer before returning home. ( I explained that he’s safer at home where there are no cars or urologists). Then I diagnosed pneumonia in my exciting European friend who speaks fluent Chinese, and address multiple issues with French teenagers and their mom while we were laughing and talking so much that  my VERY FAVORITE PATIENT, waiting in the waiting room thought it was a party.

But that’s not even all! A swim partner took to land long enough to play the Brahms cello sonata with me. (It actually DOES sound better with both parts!), I enjoyed SUPER FAST pickleballs with James, Vince, Noel, and David, had a great time talking to Chris and Adrian,  and celebrated Kurt’s 85th birthday with everyone else.

But even that isn’t nearly all. Summer’s been invited to go to Princeton for an official visit by their track coach. Iris will meet me, Eric, and Summer at Newark Airport Dec 8th.

Happily it goes on and on and on…I love my new book club, Thanksgiving was the best ever (Carol, Mer, Andy, Emily, Lauren, Summer, Eric and me) and we had recent visits from Dick and Karen and before that, RINOOOOOOSH, AND we’re all meeting in Arizona for Xmas.

…And progress with Greg unleashed a beautiful loving email from Rafi to Greg…

…and after hiking 8 miles with the oldest woman ever to summit Mt. Rainier (Bronka Sendstrom) a bunch of us crashed in her house. Then she sends ME a thank you for washing dishes and leaving her some fresh beets!  She’s 86 years old.

…and I’ve played TONS of scrabble lately.

Summer sang Xmas carols with me and the piano…

Day dayenu…daydayenu….daydayenu …dayenu dayenU!

tomorrow….I’ll probably mope around all day but that’s OK.

State Champion

When Summer dropped her 800m time from 2:22 to 2:17, one of the track dads (Tom Lucas) quipped that we’d just saved ourselves 40K in tuition. When she dropped it to 2:15 and won the state championship, she received a letter from the Yale track coach and we figured out that her time put her squarely in the middle of nearly all the Ivy League track teams. She’d be the best at MIT and not quite the middle at Stanford but not the bottom either.

She wanted her name to hang in the Interlake Gym in perpetuity and that will now happen. Most girls get really tired by the end of the 800m race. She must also! But she continues to pass girls, even those with a last minute surge. She visualizes her goal clearly and doesn’t let anything mar the image. Her coach Brad described the extreme fatigue you have to push past. Summer minimized this. “ I just keep accelerating.”  I think about her when  I swim 4 50’s in a row, time increasing from 48 sec to almost 60 and I can’t “push” past it and stay “fast.” I can’t imagine how Summer does it.

Tyler’s Grandma said she watched Summer’s race with skepticism. A Newport girl with longer legs was far ahead. Tyler told her not to worry.  Before long the girl looked over her shoulder stunned to see Summer approaching quickly.  Summer powered past Miss Newport with ease, impressing Grandma.

Today, she pulled an Eric. Decided it was homework day. She was never rude but she ignored the chatter around her and powered through physics and French homework til it was done. She had nothing but homework and water for hours on end, interrupting once to offer support for her parents over Emily which she rarely does-Emily felt a quarter’s tuition was too high a price to pay for getting a new dog against our wishes. Summer pointed out that if she’s really worried about $ she could forgo the dog saving the $500 it costs to buy her plus the tuition we’re unloading on her.

Nobody can get mad at Summer but Emily and I didn’t have to hash out that topic after Summer’s clear analysis.

I finished the first draft of my book on Mother’s Day.It’s printed on the backs of Summer’s old homework sheets-helpful in case I need examples of hard work during my edits.  I don’t really want to be finished because it’s my favorite hobby at the moment and I want it to be much better.(I’m trying to ignore the great abyss into which it’s likely to fall when finally complete).  I did scene triage in which I was supposed to mercilessly delete chapters without action advancing character’s goals. I deleted at least 2. Now, I need to do 7 edits. THe first is the character edit. There my protagonist is being outshined by side characters so he needs a makeover. Also, my setting needs more depth. This is my favorite part. Just like Eric nixed pot in college, he  nixed my impassioned conversations on how to re-invent healthcare, transportaion, and city design. So now, I just make it even more radical (cars in my conversation were stuck underground- in my books, they’re deprived of roads and power so they’re basically gone.)

Eric was bitten by a stray dog in Athens. But it’s healing well and he was able to follow my advice for Augmentin and a tetanus shot for $20 from a pharmacist. He also hired 4 people for Microsoft, lifting them out of the soured Greek economy. He thought he’d be immune to the allure of Greece but he was wrong. He compared Athens with Tel Aviv (solar water heaters on the rooves and 4 story buildings everywhere) and Madrid!  Better still, he promised to take me there. He loved his uphill run into a forested park in spite of the irritable dog.

Lauren and Emily are moving out August 1st into an apartment close to campus and on the same level so they don’t have to trudge up any big hills to get to class. (Is that good or bad? ). I’m so happy that they’ll live together. Emily even thought about friends- the apartment is full of UW students with pets and Emily feels totally comfortable talking with another dog owner. Her future dog is now the size of a guinea pig apparently. I’ve promised to spoil Summer rotten as soon as the her sisters leave. They’ve tempered our enthusiasm by  muttering disapproval when we hash out track or college admission statistics too energetically. Next goals for the kids: admission to the majors of their choices: informatics for Lauren and Psychology for Emily. 

I wanted to call my Iris, Rafi, Judy, and Solly today but I biked to UW to hear Tom Gibb’s commencement address to the graduating Civil Engineers then went to Tyler’s graduation party with Summer and Kat’s graduation party alone.  and LIsa left today for Provence and Spain.

Summer found a simple gray dress for under $30 at a Thrift shop in Seattle. Last night she wore it to prom. Tyler’s mother and grandmother thought it was elegant and beautiful- sort of like Marilyn Monroe. About 25 couples and their parents all crowded into the Margolis yard for pictures- I feel like I enjoyed the beauty with Rina since I was on the phone with her and texting her photos all the while. Plus she reminded me how wonderful baths are. I took a bath in my huge tub after biking to UW today. Aaaaaahhhh.