Howard warned his son that when you are young, all you get is a hangover. When you get to be our age, you have a near-death experience.

I sit here under the big table umbrella in The Garden sipping my Diet Root Beer, blissed out after a long walk on the beach earlier this morning. It’s quiet and peaceful and I’m in Post Son’s Visit rehab. Where we live we usually can’t hear any traffic – the only sounds are the wind in the trees on the adjacent lot to the back, the fountain, the hummingbird dive bombing past my head and… oh no, Navid, the gardener from next door, just fired up his lawn edger. Oh well, can’t rain on my parade, the garden is filling out rapidly, the bamboo is shimmering in the breeze, the poppies are blooming and the allium have flower heads a foot in diameter. I’m not making that up, I measured. The new little fig tree has a single fig ripening and the lavender buds are about to explode in purple madness causing the bees to go berserk. Flip flops and pedal pushers. Summer is here and the living is definitely easy. Continue reading →