Tag Archives: Family

Completing the San Juan Islands Trifecta

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Only three of the San Juan Islands have enough roads to make it work biking. After covering Orcas Island and Lopez Island in the last two years, Erik and I set out to conquer the third, San Juan Island. This year we brought along an entourage – Rich, Katie and baby Saige came and we made a weekend of it staying in a VRBO cottage surrounded by prolific gardens with flowers, vegetables and fruit trees. Our hostess is also an artist. Her colorful paintings covered the walls of our cottage, and we were able to peer into her studio adjacent to the pond in the back yard. Such delightful surroundings!

The day started out with better than expected weather – not too cold, little wind and a bit of sunshine. We headed north first to Roche Harbor which is home to an elegant resort, posh little shops, and yachts galore in the harbor. We coasted down the steep road to get closer to the shore and ogle the immaculate landscaping and fancy yachts and sailboats.

A quiet narrow loop road beckoned on the other side of town so we followed it around a point. Fancy condos and houses perched on the shore, interspersed with stretches of tall woods. Those little lanes would be my favorite rides throughout the day.

Moving down the west side of the island we had plenty of water views, and one very steep hill. It snuck up on us, its pitch increasing as we progressed. As I pumped up that monster I knew I’d hit my limit when I resorted to sashaying back and forth across the lane to make it to the top! Fortunately, it proved to be the worst we encountered all day. Midway down that coast we stopped to admire the view and could see a long thick bank of fog stretching out diagonally across the water. We watched a sailboat heading toward it, then thought better of the idea and turned around. It obliterated everything behind it, and we knew for sure we would soon enter it ourselves.

Turning the corner and heading east, we found another smaller road that led to False Bay Tidelands. A sign informed us that the big round bay was home to a variety of tidal species and was a protected area. We weren’t sure if the water was always that low, or if it was low tide. But the fog was definitely rolling in.

Sure enough, at the next scenic spot we were able to admire the sign that labeled all the islands we could see from there, but in reality our view was just a wall of fog!

We continued on to the very tip of the island called Cattle Point. Beyond the interpretive area another small lane led us to Fish Creek, a narrow natural harbor with a small marina on the other side of the point. It was clear of fog, and we deemed it a good lunch spot. Settling down on a rocky ledge we had a nice view of the dock, boats and houses on the opposite side. It was quiet and unassuming with a bit of activity – folks going to or from their boats, one couple taking out their sailboat, and some movement across the way where the island homes had their own private docks. Under those circumstances, our sandwiches and fruit tasted exceptionally good.

Our trip out to the point had felt like miles and miles of downhill, and knowing we had to retrace that stretch we both secretly dreaded the prospect of all that uphill work. However, it proved to be so gradual that we pedaled up it almost without realizing it!

We were heading up the east side of the island back towards Friday Harbor, which is the island’s only town and the location of the ferry landing, when Erik realized my back tire was decidedly low. Pumping it back up proved to be a futile solution, so we sought a parking lot on the outskirts of town where Erik changed the tire. (I’m always very thankful to bike with someone more skilled at bike maintenance than I am!) We thought it was a most fortuitous spot when we turned in at the sign for the San Juan Bakery, only to be disappointed to learn it was closed on weekends. Sigh.

Back on the road, we chose another quiet lane called Pear Point Road which wound around a peninsula just outside Friday Harbor. It provided a bit of fun and whimsy when we stopped to admire a cycling sculpture!

Entering town, the idea of a treat lingered. Deciding that it was too cold for ice cream, and finding bakeries closed for the day, we headed to a coffee shop opposite the marina. Sipping our hot brews and savoring a raspberry pastry, we watched the tour boats departing for whale watching tours, float planes taking off and landing at regular intervals, and ferries coming and going.

Our final stretch took us up the remainder of the northern side of the island to Egg Lake Lane and our cottage. Just as we reached the driveway, raindrops began to fall which quickly became serious. We made it back just in time! In all, we cycled over 53 miles with 3,744 ft of elevation. Not bad for a day’s outing!

There was just enough time to relax and share our stories before we all headed out for a celebratory dinner at a restaurant on the harbor.

We rounded out the weekend with a visit to Lime Kiln Point Lighthouse where we took a path along the shore to the tower. It opened shortly after we got there, and we were able to go up the tower! Rich was below photographing black oystercatchers, and captured us out on the catwalk. As lighthouse keepers ourselves, we especially enjoyed seeing a very different lighthouse and talking to the volunteer there. That park is known to be a good viewpoint for viewing orca whales, but none made an appearance during our visit.

With the ferry ride back to Seattle, we successfully closed the chapter on our series of San Juan Island cycling tours. Our next job is to come up with a new cycling challenge. However, it’s going to be hard to beat this trifecta!

Vintage Vermilion Reruns

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I often feel that repeating a treasured activity can be disappointing. It just doesn’t measure up to the memories or falls short of the same experience. But that wasn’t the case in our return stay at Vintage Vermilion. After our whole family – Rich and me, our kids and grandkids – took over this resort on Lake Vermilion for a week in 2023, there was a resounding “Yes” when we asked if they would like to do it again.

Once again we rented the whole resort. This allowed us and each family to have their own cabin – space to retreat, a spot for kids who still nap, the convenience of breakfast and lunch fixings, a needed time-out when being with cousins got too crazy. There was plenty of sleeping around – kids commandeered the extra cabin for a bunk house, took turns sleeping over in our extra bedroom plus feasting on Grammy’s pancakes in the morning, and slipped off to the “Retreat” building to read or sleep.

The other big benefit was that we had the run of the place. We took over the big deck overlooking the water, bringing down an extra table and having lakeside dinners. The lodge building was always available for playing games or reading on the screen porch. The big indoors was a mecca of activity and the center of Chelsea’s “escape room” challenge for the kids on our one rainy afternoon. The kids constantly ran around on the expansive lawn between cabins, and it was nice to have the small beach to ourselves for the little ones who still love to dig in the sand.

We rented both the large pontoon boat and the speed boat for the week. Pontoon rides were a favorite activity including a lunch cruise where my “tacklebox charcuterie” made a repeat appearance! We took it on a sightseeing cruise on the larger part of expansive Lake Vermilion, and found a nice bay where we could jump off and swim. And it transported all 16 of us to a restaurant on the lake for dinner – another favorite repeat activity by request.

Of course the speed boat was a big attraction. Some of the little ones bravely went tubing for the first time. Older kids looking for a wild ride were gladly obliged by the dads who gleefully whipped them around the bay. Others just liked riding in the “fast boat.”

On quieter waters, the paddleboats, canoe and kayaks were popular, along with the stand-up paddleboard that one family brought. And of course, swimming was a part of every day.

The fun of having a big family gathering was seeing different groups form and reform all week long. Carl and Chelsea took all the boy cousins to the Tower-Soudan Mine museum, which fascinated them all. A number of us went running each day. Karen, Erik and Ben gathered to do core strength workouts on beach towels. Chelsea organized a scavenger hunt for the kids, which drew in the older ones to help solve the word-game clues. Adults battled with kids playing various board or card games. Rich and Katie each took Ben driving, with his newly minted permit. He even scored ice cream with Katie!

It was a time to cherish being together. Cousins played endlessly with each other. Adults gathered after bedtime for card games. We sat out at the bonfire and watched the embers glow. Each family took turns preparing dinner and we all ate together every night. And of course, everyone scrambled to have a turn holding or playing with the newest family member, baby Saige. Sometimes we wandered over to others’ cabins just to hang out and have a good visit.

And there was one more memory to repeat. My summer Grammy Jammies made a second appearance, including a little onesie for Saige! They did not disappoint, and caused a great ruckus upon distribution. It was great fun to see them appear throughout the week.

A week is a good amount of time. It’s always hard to see it come to an end, and yet that’s a good way to leave. To close this chapter of family togetherness filled with fond memories and special moments. And hope to do it again. Indeed when asked, would you like to come back? Once again the answer was YES! Time will tell. Kids grow and get involved in activities. Families make their own plans for travel or vacations. But schedules willing, we hope for another rerun.

What a difference a year makes

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When I registered for last year’s Grandma’s Half Marathon, I had no idea I would be facing major surgery, learn I had ovarian cancer and face 16 weeks of chemotherapy. I was fortunate to stay active throughout it all by going for increasingly longer walks with supportive family members and friends by my side. So even though the half marathon was only one week after I finished chemo, my daughter Karen and I stood in the starting chute, intent on walking the whole way.

It had to be one of the most emotional and uplifting days of my whole cancer journey. At Karen’s suggestion, we wore T-shirts saying “Straight Outta Chemo” and “I wear teal for my mom” and on the back they said “Usually we run. This year we FIGHT (cancer).” All along the way people commented on them, sharing their own stories, and lending their support. On the sidelines, Rich and all of Karen’s family surprised me with matching shirts that said “Support Squad,” waving Marathon Monkey and showing up every few miles. We powered through the rain under umbrellas and grinned all the way to the finish line. We were 15th from last, but it was far more thrilling than running a PR!

In the year since, I have worked my way back to fitness and reclaimed most of my favorite activities – walking, cycling, hiking, lap swimming, kayaking, cross country skiing, and snowshoeing. But running eluded me. I worked hard with my favorite physical therapist who has seen me through multiple running injuries, with exercises to rebuild my abdominal muscles (which he said were like “mush” after surgery). He gave me a plan for easing back into running, with strict orders not to start before 9-10 months after my surgery. But once I reached that mark, I still was not ready.

While on my long walks, I had to convince myself to take a few running steps. And every time I did I stopped abruptly. I just didn’t like it. My body seemed to rebel, and tell me it just wasn’t ready. Perhaps it was the neuropathy in my feet caused by chemo that objected to the bouncing and leaping from foot to foot. It didn’t feel right. And for once I listened. I continued to refrain for months, and honestly thought my running days might be behind me. What was most surprising was that I was okay with that. I just thought it was part of my new normal.

Until one day. I went on a walk and ventured farther than I’d planned, making it tight to get home in time to watch my granddaughter’s dance competition which was live-streamed online. So I increased my pace, picked up my feet and ran a few steps. Hmm, it wasn’t bad! I continued walking and repeated it with a little longer stretch. Still okay! With a number of short bursts I got home in time to watch her dance.

That was back in April. A few days later I went on an intentional walk/run, setting my sports watch to signal long walking intervals with one minute of running. Over the six weeks, I increased my distances and gradually altered the ratio of running to walking until I was only doing walking breaks for one minute every mile I ran. At that time I thought it would be possible to run/walk the half marathon.

With just 3 1/2 weeks left before the race, I eliminated my walking breaks entirely. I was back to full running! I was slow, but able to throw in a couple 12-mile runs to prove I could go close to the 13.1 mile distance. I was sure I could count on adrenalin and the excitement of the race to carry me the rest of the way. The race was on!

One year after we walked, Karen and I were positioned in the starting chute, ready to RUN! We were just two runners in the crowd, incognito but our hearts were full. Just like last year, Karen stayed by my side the whole way, and we relished all the excitement, the fun of the silly spectator signs, the antics of runners, ogled the fancy houses, and relished the loud cheers. She had words of encouragement as the going got tough, but just the gift of her presence kept me going.

Family members and friends were there to cheer us on once again, and the best part was having Karen’s two youngest run with us for several blocks.

I will readily admit it was the hardest half marathon of my 34 years of running them and full marathons. By the time we topped Lemon Drop Hill my pace slowed with each passing mile. My footsteps neared baby steps and it felt like I was barely moving (probably true!). But I was still in the game.

With the finish line in sight, I heard a familiar voice. It was Arlene, my good friend and running buddy, catching us from behind! What a thrill to see her! The three of us ran side by side, and crossed the finish line holding hands. It was a glorious moment. A triumph. And a rush of gratitude for the family and friends who have been there for me throughout this journey.

As Karen said, “Take that, cancer!” That says it all. My life goes on. And I feel blessed, one year later.

The Importance of Family

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One of the most heartwarming aspects of my cancer journey has been the unwavering support of my family. Throughout my treatment, they came to visit, even traveling long distances, made meals for us, and continually checked in with me by calling or FaceTiming. I just knew they were always there for me. And spending that time with them was especially precious.

At the start of 2025 and passing the one-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis, I set some goals for the year, and #1 was to “maximize time with family.” It wasn’t hard to commit to that, as being with them fills my heart and re-energizes me. Not surprisingly, my grandchildren’s activities are often the driver for visits, and gives me a chance to support them in their interests.

Certainly top of the list for this spring was Saige’s baptism. Erik and Katie wanted to share this special occasion with all their immediate family, so they flew back to the Twin Cities to celebrate it in the same church where they were married. Rich and I snagged some extra time with them to enjoy an outdoor dinner at our favorite restaurant.

The baptism was a private and intimate ceremony, shared by close family members. But the tradition ran far deeper than that. They had 2 vintage baptismal gowns, one made for Katie’s mom and her siblings which was now entering its third generation. The other was made for my dad 111 years ago, continuing its trip through its fourth generation! Saige modeled both, and the emotions ran deep as I felt everyone in my family history sharing in this moment.

At least 11 of us there wore the same baptismal gown

Rich and I got away for a nice weekend in a Bed and Breakfast, and on a whim we visited Carl and Chelsea at their cabin! It was a bit of a detour from our route home, but was worth it to spend the warm spring day watching the kids run around and enjoy the outdoors. The highlight – and source of great laughter – was seeing Maren and Crosby jump in the lake. The equivalent of a Polar Plunge at that time of year!

Dance drew me to the Cities for two additional family weekends. Granddaughters Mya and Isabel are both in dance competition, and I was eager to feel the thrill, drama, intensity and excitement of those affairs. I attended a full day of the weekend-long event. It all started at home with Karen braiding and styling the tight bun in Mya’s hair, and applying all her stage makeup – oh my! I loved seeing Mya in numerous dances, rushing to change costumes, waiting to go on stage and just hanging around between dances. The energy and brilliance of all the dances, from youngsters watching one another to get the right moves to polished high school dancers in near perfect precision. Never having taken dance lessons as a little girl, it was a whole new world to me, and one I loved sharing with Mya and her family.

The end of dance season always brings a big recital, so I was back to see both Isabel and Mya dance. It has been so much fun to see them progress from year after year. At 13, Mya has blossomed with confidence as well as skill, and learned the art of facial expression to express the emotion of the music. 9-year-old Isabel has moved from the faltering back row to front and center, where she craves the spotlight!

Just as important, is sharing time at home with the kids. Playing games, riding bikes, walking the dog, reading aloud, snuggling and just hanging around together.

But there are adult moments too that I savor. Karen took me to a new musical called &Juliet at the Orpheum Theater. We spent a full evening together, starting with dinner at a Thai restaurant. The play was fun, rollicking, colorful, funny and unique, depicting what might have happened in Romeo & Juliet if Juliet had lived. Filled with pop music that rang out with a skillful band and talented singers, it was an evening of uplifting entertainment, pure and simple. As well as precious mother/daughter time.

And finally, Rich and I celebrated our 42nd wedding anniversary. A testimony to the person who has been with me throughout my cancer journey, and most of my life. Last year, we went out to dinner in the middle of my chemo treatments. This year it came during Rich’s radiation regimen. Life is different compared to 42 years ago, and promises more changes and challenges to come. But also more joy. More support, love, and moments to cherish. Because family is so important to me.

It Never Gets Old

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There is nothing like being a grandparent.  Seeing your children become parents and cradling that precious newborn are some of life’s greatest pleasures.

This is our eighth time around, and it is every bit as special as the first.  Our daughter, Karen, has four children ages 7 to almost 15.  Son Carl has three, from 3 to 8.  And this winter our son Erik and his wife Katie welcomed their first child, Saige Elizabeth.  It was such a happy moment for the whole family, as we have long awaited this big event.

Our flight to Seattle couldn’t come soon enough, and I readied myself with knitting needles and yarn to knit a cap for Saige on the way.  Anything to pass the time!  As soon as Erik brought us home from the airport, Katie greeted us with Saige in her arms and promptly handed her over.  It was heavenly, seeing her at last!

I had no expectations for our visit.  My whole goal was to help in any way I could and just be part of their new lives. I’d brought meal plans and wanted to free up Erik and Katie to soak up time with Saige. We would be on Saige’s time, so I was prepared for everything to be low key and flexible.

Erik had returned to work, but we all had a nice weekend together, including Saige’s first dinner out at a restaurant. Rich returned home after that, but I was not even close to getting my Grammy fix. So I stayed on for 11 days as planned. Precious time.

I admit I felt a bit rusty and wanted to get the hang of Erik and Katie’s parenting style. Everyone is different, and there are always new approaches to handling a baby. I was pleased when I mastered the art of calming Saige (deep knee bends were the key!) and was glad when I could free Katie up to attend to her MBA studies when needed.

Being the outdoors people they are, Erik and Katie wasted no time introducing Saige to fresh air. Erik had a 50k cross-country ski race, so Katie bundled Saige into the front pack and the three of us cheered Erik on for a full morning!

Katie and I ventured out for walks with Saige every day. Given Seattle’s propensity to rain, they had all the necessary gear and we headed out no matter the weather!

But the best times were snuggling with Saige. I could never get enough of her sweet face, and the tight bundle in her swaddle (something we never had!). Even in the time I was there she began to enjoy time on the floor, looking at the toys hanging overhead. I could never get enough of just sitting with her and watching.

The end of the week brought a real treat. For Erik’s birthday, Katie had made reservations at their favorite Bed and Breakfast in the Methow, a cross-country ski mecca in the Cascade Mountains. The four of us headed off for a weekend of snow and fun. I loved being part of several firsts for Saige, most notably snowshoeing and skiing! There is no doubt this little girl is going to be an outdoor sports enthusiast like her parents. Nestled snuggly in the front pack, she mostly slept through the adventures, while we relished the winter retreat including downtime in the BnB.

All that was over a month ago now, and I eagerly await photos, videos and FaceTime to see Saige grow and reach new milestones. No matter how many times I watch a grandchild grow, it never gets old.

The Yellow Sweater goes on TV!

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Recently I was contacted by someone from the Minnesota Live TV program on KSTP in the Twin Cities. The woman happened to be a grade school classmate of my daughter-in-law Katie! But what she really wanted was to ask permission to feature my Little Yellow Sweater blog post on their TV show. She found it endearing and wanted to share it with their viewers. After getting permission from my kids to show the photos of them and their children, I responded “Yes!”

You can watch a video of the show.

I feel honored to have not only my writing but our cherished family traditions honored in this way.

My son and his daughter in the Little Yellow Sweater

The Little Yellow Sweater

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I first set eyes on the little yellow sweater over 40 years ago. We were expecting our first child, and Rich’s mom got it out of storage and gave it to us. It was tiny, hand knit with extra fine yarn and tied in front with two white satin ribbons. Rich and his two brothers had worn it home from the hospital – way back in 1953, 1956 and 1959. It was such a treasure, laden with family history, just as my dad’s baptismal gown has been.

Karen was the first of the second generation to wear the sweater in 1984. As proud new parents, we were excited to dress her in the sweater, take pictures and buckle her into the car seat wearing the sweater. Carl came next, two and a half years later. Out came the sweater again, and he too wore it home. After each child I carefully packed it away, so when Erik was due to arrive in 1990, I pulled it out, ironed the ribbons and put it in my hospital bag. Apparently, he and Carl dressed alike for their trips home!

Karen 1984
Carl 1986
Erik 1990

The sweater took a long hiatus as our family grew up, but when the time came, I knew right where to find it. The little yellow sweater was moving on down to the third generation! Karen gave us our first grandchild, Ben, in 2010 – such an exciting moment! And it was all the more precious when she too dressed her first child in the little yellow sweater. Mya followed just 22 months later, and she also donned the sweater.

Ben 2010
Mya 2012

Next the sweater found its way to Carl’s house for his first born. Maren wore it home in 2017.

Maren 2017

To be clear, we don’t have a perfect record here. Somehow the sweater missed the latter two babies in Karen and Carl’s families. But who’s counting? The fact that at least one child in each family works for me. And after all, we all know that life gets more complicated as the family grows.

In fact, with the impending arrival of Erik and Katie’s first child, I almost forgot about the little yellow sweater! It suddenly dawned on me when we were visiting them for Christmas that I had neglected to bring it to them. With their due date looming just weeks away, when we got home I wasted no time going straight to the box where I kept it, only go find it empty! How could it be? How could I have let it stray? I racked my brain for memories of which grandchild had worn it last. I dug through my photo files to see when I last had a picture of it. All to no avail. Frantic texts to Karen and Carl initiated immediate searches, but it didn’t turn up. I too looked high and low in our house with no luck. And then it came. A text from Karen – “I found it!” She mailed it to Erik and Katie in Seattle, arriving shortly before the impending due date. Whew!

Saige joined the line of models for the sweater, wearing it home just over a week ago.

Saige 2025

On a side note, I should explain the presence of the bears. On the day each of our children was born, Rich went out and bought them a bear. It stems from his own Tommy Bear that he received as a baby, and still has. That too is a tradition that has been passed down. I don’t have a picture of Rich in the sweater, so Tommy Bear will have to do!

It remains to be seen whether another grandchild will wear the little yellow sweater. But I have to admit, I hope it makes it down to the 4th generation!

Continuing the Tradition

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I’m up to 12 yards of snuggly fleece fabric. That’s what it takes to outfit 8 grandchildren and 8 stuffy friends in Grammy Jammies. Along with 10 solid days of sitting in front of my sewing machine. But the smiles on the kids’ faces and the love that it brings make it all worth it.

It’s no surprise any more. After 15 years, they come to expect the Jammies, and I love that they do. This year the guesses began in September. “What color will they be this year?” By then the fabric was already stockpiled in my sewing area. But they know better than to expect me to answer. My friends also quiz me on the progress, awaiting the unveiling of each year’s model.

October was serious production month. It started with cutting out all the pieces – the most tedious part of the project, in my opinion. I’m always relieved when I know I have enough fabric. Serious sewing came next. I’m in my own zone when I’m in that mode, ticking off the jammies day by day. Meals and sewing dominate my days, along with easy listening audio books.

Grammy Jammies always come in the same cloth Christmas bags. They were a gift from a dear friend years ago, and I made more to accommodate the growing population.

By the end of the month all was in readiness, at least for Round 1. Kid jammies are delivered around Thanksgiving so they can wear them leading up to Christmas. I was fortunate to find a time when our whole family gathered in November for a baby shower for Erik and Katie, who are expecting their first child in January. Naturally, Baby Girl had to have her first pair of Grammy Jammies!

Round 2 is shorter, as the jammies are a fraction of the size. But they still entail all the detail work of the larger model. Friend Jammies are my special addition, and arrive at Christmas.

And yes, Baby Girl got a new Friend too!

Isabel has already put in her order for next year. “No feet next time.” At 9 she’s migrating toward the next stage. It starts with dropping the slipper feet, then moves on to Jammy Pants. I’m fine with that. Kids grow up, and if that’s what it takes to continue the tradition, I’m all in!

The Holiday Spirit

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After a tumultuous year, I was determined to make the most of the Christmas offerings this month.  For me, it signaled a return to normalcy, and was a celebration of health. 

I kicked off the season with Bentleyville.  That was a huge draw for our grandchildren, and I made two separate trips there with them, relishing their excitement and wonder.  The lights and music never cease to lift my spirits, and I delighted in the new technology fueling the soaring tree with creative designs that changed with the music.  We even happened upon “Mayor Bentley” and had a fascinating conversation with the founder of this light display.

My sister, Susie, and I took in Julebyen, a Nordic Christmas Village with cute little outdoor market stalls offering crafts, food, and friendly sellers.  Big tents offer entertainment, more vendors of handmade goods, and some protection from the cold wind.  All with a prominent Nordic flair.

After an absence of several years, largely due to bad weather for travel, once again Rich and I ventured over to Plummer, Minnesota to see the Holiday Train.  Canadian Pacific Railroad has sent a train across Canada and another in the US for the past 26 years, benefiting food shelves in every community they visit.  The brilliantly decorated rail cars move from town to town, with stops to present top talent in a live musical tribute to Christmas.  The train is best seen at night when its lights illuminate the darkness.  There is nothing like seeing the train approach in all its glory.  This year we convinced friends to join us, and we topped off the evening with a classic bar and grill dinner and staying in a motel that is a converted old-folks home – seemingly a good joke on us.

I insisted that Rich and I resurrect our tradition of attending some kind of Christmas concert, which started when our kids were in high school then college choirs.  This year I chose something different, Mr. Sun Performs Nutcracker Suite.  It’s a string quartet but of a different nature, comprised of string bass, acoustic guitar, mandolin and fiddle.  Performing in the beautiful Sacred Heart church building, their unique take on the traditional melodies was constantly surprising.  From jazz to bluegrass and a nod to improvisation each piece was intriguing.  Sometimes it took me well into the tune to finally discern the familiar melody!  Even though it wasn’t my usual cup of tea, I enjoyed the uniqueness and challenge to my musical ear.  And the subtle humor of individual band members who chatted informally along the way gave me pause to grin and laugh.

Susie and I are ushers for the Duluth Playhouse, and I prodded her to sign up as soon as the schedule for the holiday performance of Cinderella came out.  The shows were packed, and we greeted countless theater goers at the door to check them in, finding a few familiar faces in the crowd.  It was my first time ushering since my surgery, and it felt so good to be back in circulation.  I was pleased that I lasted the 5+ hours of duty that ended long after my new bedtime.  And the play and its performers were amazing.  I do love theater, particularly musical theater, and must make an effort to resume attending.

On the domestic side, my good friend Julie and I got together for our long standing tradition of making candy cane cookies together. It all started in junior high when I joined Julie and her mom for this annual baking fest.  Julie and I struggled to match the perfection of her mom’s beautifully formed candy canes, while her mom diligently tended the oven.  She’d take them out just as the edges showed a hint of browning and carefully transfer them to racks where she’d sprinkle the crushed candy cane and sugar mix on top.  Over time, we brought our own daughters into the fold, and smiled to see them struggle as we once did.  Distance and busy family lives put this activity on hold for many years, but this year we vowed to resume it.  Once again we struggled with the cookie dough, and I insisted Julie take her mom’s place at the oven (to spare myself the fear of messing up!).  We produced a credible if less than perfect assortment of cookies, pleased with our effort regardless.  Just to prove we have mellowed over the years.  It was a morning filled with memories and the warmth of long friendship.  And we are already planning to do it again next year.

With less than a week to go now, I am looking forward to celebrating Christmas with Erik and Katie in Seattle, followed by mini-Christmas exchanges with our other two kids and their families in early January.  Filled with the holiday spirit.

Tackling Lopez Island

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It’s finally time to break the silence. I’m sad to say this poor blog has been neglected while I took a time-out to focus my writing on CaringBridge to chronicle my cancer journey. It filled a need, to be able to focus on coming to grips with cancer, healing from surgery, and working my way through chemotherapy. But even more so to process my feelings, share my experiences, and connect with a caring community that supported me all along the way. I invite any of you to read my story and posts here.

Throughout this time I’ve continued to be as active as possible, first doing a lot of walking then adding cycling, gradually working back up to regular 25-mile rides up the shore. So when I was planning my trip out to Seattle to visit my son Erik and his wife Katie, I couldn’t help but think about last year when Erik and I cycled all of Orcas Island in the San Juan Islands. At the time, we pondered riding on Lopez Island next time, a prospect that loomed large as I packed. Could I manage it now? It had the advantage of being smaller and less hilly than Orcas, and I craved the opportunity to return to some adventure in my life.

Not only was Erik game, but he proposed an add-on. “Why don’t we go over the day before and camp overnight?” We arrived on the ferry in the late afternoon and made our way to Spencer Spit State Park. We had reserved a walk-in site on the beach, and oh what a gem! The local currents had created a sandy triangular spit of land that stretched across the gap almost to Frost Island. There was a log structure out near the end, and a pool of water in the interior. We quickly dropped our gear and set out to explore. We learned that the shape of the spit changes with the currents, but will never reach the far island due to the strong current in the channel.

We admired the sun setting over the trees behind us, then returned to our campsite to set up and make dinner before it got dark. The meal was extra tasty, as it always is in the simplicity off the outdoors with a tent. We bedded down with the lights of yachts bobbing on buoys just beyond our shore and the sound of waves lightly lapping.

Morning brought fog. After a hot breakfast and camp coffee, we packed up and stashed our gear in the car. As last year, our goal was to cover as much of the island as possible, and reach the shore on every side. We had found good cycling maps online that showed us the amount of traffic on each road and whether it had shoulders or not. We aimed to ride the quieter roads, that reached the extremities of the island.

Setting out, the fog was so dense that it obliterated all scenery. Looking out at the water was like seeing a white wall! From the park we crossed over to the east side of the island then headed south through Lopez Village and into more rural landscape. There were numerous farms (surprising to us – who farms on an island?), unique house architectures, and a flavor of laid back island life. Just 7 miles along, my back tire went flat. Erik changed the tube like a pro, and we were on our way again in short order.

We made our way to the southern peninsula of the island, out to Agate Beach where we reached the end of the road for the first time. We’d hoped to get out to Iceberg Point, but it was off limits to bicycles, so we made do with a picnic lunch overlooking Mackaye Harbor. Close up we could see boats anchored, but the fog obscured what we soon learned was a huge rocky outcropping beyond. Fortunately, starting then, the fog began to lift. We could still see it lurking in low-lying areas, but it soon became sunny and warm – a beautiful afternoon!

We tootled around that lower bulb of the island for much of the afternoon, exploring each small road until we could go no further. More than once we hit private land short of the shore. I hesitated at the top of a very steep hill, knowing that if I went down I’d have to come back up again. But the adventurers in us enticed us forward, only to find a dirt road not far beyond! We navigated that as well to reach a glass-walled modern mansion in the distance beyond the No Trespassing signs. And for the record, I did walk my bike back up that hill! It was well worth it though, for the quiet, woodsy small roads we traveled.

We had made plans to take the 4:15 ferry back that afternoon, and after checking the time we decided we needed to beat it back to the car. So we took the main road up the center of the island, which turned out to be fine despite its high traffic designation. We got back to the car with time to change out of our cycling clothes and mount the bikes on the car rack and head to the ferry. But we were mystified to find ourselves first in line for the ferry. It just didn’t feel right. Inquiring at the office, we learned that the 4:15 was strictly a walk-on ferry! Only then did it dawn on us that we’d picked that ferry in the early stages of planning when we didn’t expect to bring the car over. Oops!

We had plenty of time to kill before the 6:20 ferry, so we headed into Lopez Village where we loaded up on charcuterie items and headed out to Otis Perkins Day Park where we planted ourselves on a big log on the beach. There we were content to sit, soak up the sun, enjoy our little feast and take in the views of San Juan Island across the water – the very sights we’d missed in the morning fog.

We easily made the next ferry and enjoyed the setting sun as we motored back toward home. Feeling the sun’s still-warm rays, it was easy to bask in the warm glow of another successful island cycling trip. We covered 36 miles, hit all the coasts and saw the island in both fog and sunshine. What’s more, I did it – my body held up, I felt great pedaling through the miles, and relished the whole adventure. Leaving cancer behind. And the mother/son moments were priceless.

Of course, now we’ve set our sights on San Juan Island…