Stephanie says

My cousin Gayle (and her husband) bought the McGilchrist Building in Salem and invested a couple of long years restoring the monster; just a little something to do in their retirement. It should be noted that they are not retirement bound after all because they've opened an Italian restaurant/grocery/catering business on the ground floor. Lovely, lovely job.  I'm very proud of Gayle, (and Doug, but to forgo any appearance of political correctness and save typing so many extraneous pronouns, I am hereby assigning all credit to Gayle.  So sue me.) Eschewing my hermit tendencies, with Baby Henry in Salem (unseen for a couple weeks), an invite to a wine tasting at a much loved cousin's new restaurant, and committed sherpa duty transporting Tyler's new couch and chair, I drove the 120 miles to Salem.   And thoroughly enjoyed myself at the wine tasting.  It is an Italian market and has a wide selection of Italian products, of which I'm thoroughly enamored....

By now my readers (and hopefully I do have readers,) know I work at an accounting firm.  Wait a sec, I'm the only employee, so perhaps "firm" isn't the right word. Whatever.  Rather than be distracted by semantics, here's the story I'm trying to tell: The local Methodist Church is my client and Mary Lou handles offering deposits and church mail.  By default, as church membership has declined in the past twenty years due to aging and a declining population.  Mildred Whipple, a person I wish I'd known, grandmother to my boys, (figuratively speaking) established an annual endowment for the church.  That's tidbit isn't relevant to this story.  I just wanted to get it in writing that Mildred had much foresight and was a generous, generous woman. On task:  Mary swings by on the Monday.  Sometimes again later in the week should she need a check.  A tiny woman of octogenarian age, (mostly) salt and pepper curls, and a thorough hoot. I'm delight...

Browsing Facebook, an infrequent pastime (hmpft;   I have much better things to do with my time, no judgment of course…), I click through various links and drill down here and there and happen on a previously unseen page for my boy, Don.   Damn, I think he moved to Nebraska.   I feel an immediate loss.   He’s lived in Oregon since college, transplanting from Nebraska a long, long time ago.   I am bereft.   I’m nonplussed at this feeling. I shoot off an email.   Get a reply post haste.   Phew, he’s still here. I can't really express this but  Oregon would be emptier without him.  How do you know when you first meet someone that they’re going to impact your life so tremendously?   I had no clue the first time I laid eyes on Don Willey, a new friend then of my (first and likely only) husband.   We were at a trade show?   My husband had a landscaping display, (he was truly gifted in this trade) and people were...