Happy Birthday, Grandpa Buggs


Today is my grandpa’s birthday, the first one since he passed on in June. It’s so odd, such an ache, to not have that phone call to make to Binghamton today, and I know my dad is feeling that void most of all:( I feel as though I should be honoring the day in some special way, and yet I don’t quite know how. (What would even feel close to sufficient?)

So for now I want to share this precious photo of my grandpa (with my dad), a man who taught me so much about what it means to be gentle and kind, hard-working and humble. He always knew how to share a good belly laugh, and he often had an alluring twinkle in those electric blue eyes. He didn’t need much; he seemed to enjoy the simple things (his morning coffee with his neighbors, his afternoon sits under his beloved front-yard tree). There is so much to be learned from him and the way he lived. In some ways, we could relate on so few things (we led very different lives), and yet we shared a bond so very special. I am so grateful to have had a grandparent well into adulthood. I suppose this is the true gift to focus on.

Happy birthday, Grandpa. We miss and love you so much!


The Ride

Last night, I went to bed feeling a little heavy. It had been a hermit-y day full of solitary work and, since the sun decided to scat, some (rare for August) drab, gray skies. I ached for it all—the imminent departure of my brother and sister-in-law from this city/country and the shocking and impossibly sad departure of the exceedingly talented Robin Williams from this Earth. I felt it all.

But sleep changes everything, and today was a new day. I filled it with some of my favorite things—a yoga class of Jessica’s, quality time with my brother, a productive work session in a bright and airy cafe.

What’s more, I encountered kind people everywhere I looked. The baristas. The patrons. Fellow riders on the bus. Just now, on a jam-packed, rush-hour #40, an elderly woman who didn’t speak a lick of English, insisted on carrying my grocery bag on her lap the whole ride home. Her simple gesture had such impact. Thank you, kind stranger, for helping me remember.

“We’re all just walking each other home.”~Ram Dass

Fremont sunset

Our stories

Our stories

A great reminder.



Kindness Changes Everything

Never underestimate the power of kindness.

(Tried to post this Friday, but alas here’s attempt number two. Here’s hoping most of those poor folks have their electricity back by now.)

Hope it’s been a lovely, restful weekend, friends.




‘Never burn your bridges; you may have to cross them again.’~Marie Murphy

(I’ve been reminded of this several times recently…)

Hope the weekends are being good to you, friends.


The one you feed



Moving Day

*Standing at point A, looking across the water to Point B, aka my soon-to-be Fremont home.*

Moving days, by nature, are hectic and sleep-deprived, reflective and a bit of an emotional jumble.

Currently, this is me.


*Nostalgic about leaving Eastlake. Thrilled to move beyond Eastlake. Grateful for what this Eastlake nest has given me over the past many months.

*Sad about what might have been. Excited about what might be. Determined to live in a more permanent, accepting and mindful space of “where I am/whatever I’m doing right now is the best place to be, because it is where I am.” (Grass-is-greener, be gone.)

*Shaken to the core by real-life, earth-shattering diagnoses (and feeling helpless for relatives affected directly by the surreal news).

*All at once surfing fleeting moments of loneliness and even more moments where I feel so very loved, supported and buoyed (and more on the verge of belonging to a community than I have felt since relocating).

*So thankful to live in a place where people are kind. (And where I’ve experienced so much unexpected kindness, from strangers especially, in the past little while.)

*Grateful to have things on the go, a real shift in energy on the receiving end. To have downtime and manageable deadlines and a schedule I control, yet to also feel a real sense of purpose and drive.

(*Amused that Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” is still one of my most favorite guilty-pleasure happy songs. Ha. Should I be embarrassed to admit this? I’m also beyond chuffed that my new 23-year-old apartment manager just gave me a copy of a reggae CD he burned. See? The kindness, it’s everywhere once you look for it…)

Did you all have a happy 4th? I sure did, and summer even arrived a day EARLY (since all Seattleites claim summer doesn’t typically show up till July 5th). What a lovely surprise.

Here’s to moving on, new beginnings, transitions, hopefulness, reserves of strength, summer fun, kind people, news that’s good and independence!


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