16 March 2015 ... my first entry? of the new year (come on) ... Liz' arrival ... meet the neighbor, Chris, finally ... call U of D parking authority, Wells Fargo debit card ...

So, here goes, after literally months of avoidance, I return to this blog and attempt, the day after, to begin a healthy process of recollection on a single day's activities, to gain some sort of perspective on this all-to-short human life. As I write this on St. Patrick's Day of 2015, a bright overcast day that will rise into the low 60s and as the grass has received a dosed of pre-emergent fertilizer from Nick, who knows Dancer and is greeted by her in the backyard as he takes the machine in rows and my darling

                                                   
                                                              Not Nick, not the front
                                                       yard and not the machine used.

therapy dog is not fearful, only attendant and loving as always, I know that this is a start, like my horoscope spoke of, a way to break out of the morass of inaction (Christine Shaw leads yoga at the YMCA as I type this and I am not there, again, to enjoy her healthy, physical pedagogy and spiritual enlightenment and to tell her how much I enjoyed the Delaware Symphony Concert where her group sang the accompaniment to opera selections ... loved her "Toreador"). 

At long last, I made the trip across the street and introduced myself to the "new" neighbor who moved in at the end of last year, yes, that's right, over 3 months ago. His name is Bill and he is the son of a DHS grad of '75, Cherie (?) Smith, who grew up in Limestone Acres. His wife -- this is 2nd marriage for both of them -- is Nicole and she is due in April with their first child, a boy, but he has a son from his previous marriage, a boy who has cerebral palsy and is wheelchair-bound and will start school next year. The ebullient, singing child in the front yard, on occasion, is Avah, and their loving dog (name I can't recall). She came over and asked to ride her bike around the block. She is forthright, outgoing and just a dear.

12 June 2014: Thursday ... Body Vive ... virtuoso ... rhythm ... stretching ... youth ... Ohio ... DHS walk ... Carousel Western town ... dusk lantern light

15 March 2014: Saturday ... the ides of March ... walk to DHS for first time in months ... talk with Beatrice Webb for Church canvass at Panera's ... Liberty Yoga ... dad's travel journal

Two walks today with Dancer, no trip to the "Y" for spinning because of my Pony Express/Canvass meeting with Beatrice Webb (choir member) from Church at Panera's for coffee and a sweet and two hours of revealing and delightful conversation from 10 a.m. to noon. The walks totaled over 4 miles. 

Realigning the books on the shelf where dad's father's ring and the letter openers rest, I found a gem, words penned by my father, a diary of sorts, from his trip with Doug to Russia. I took it, immediately, to his longtime translator (the writing was his usual scrawl), my mother, and she worked out some of it. Pretty basic stuff ... departure times from New York and Helsinki to arrival time in Moscow. There's probably more but I placed it back where I found it (I will remember its location), it is a rare artifact of my dad's writing outside of his professional duties of myriad patient note taking. 

A rarity -- Dad's words describing Russia trip with Doug.