Tuesday, March 2, 2021

My Octopus Teacher

My Octopus Teacher / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you want this little painting

A WHILE AGO, I asked friends on and off Facebook to give me names of what I call "feel-good movies," which, in my mind, are generally (but not always) smaller movies, generally but not always with lesser-known actors. 

My friends assembled a great list, which I've included below. I'm not sure that all of these qualify as "feel-good," but I've included even the ones that I think maybe are just comedies, and not necessarily feel-good movies. I'd put "A Fish Called Wanda" in this category, for instance. 

I am not sure that "My Octopus Teacher" qualifies as a feel-good movie, mainly because the octopus dies. The narrator (who is the only other character in the movie) tells you right at the beginning that the octopus is going to die, so I was prepared. But I have avoided all sort of movies because it is clear to me, sometimes even from the titles, that the dog/cat/squirrel/whatever was going to die. 

The movie so enchanted me, octopus death notwithstanding, that I made this painting. 

OK, here's the list. If there are movies on it that you sort of remember from a while ago, but haven't seen in a few years, I encourage you to go back and take a look. I've been delighted when I've done that. 

Big Night

The Thomas Crown Affair

My Octopus Teacher

The Birdcage

Enola Holmes

Bread & Tulips (available on YouTube)

Legally Blonde

October Sky

Shirley Valentine

American Dreamer

Must Love Dogs

City Island

Strictly Ballroom

Tin Cup

Radium Girls

The Goldfinch

Don't Let Go



Just Mercy

Penguin Bloom

My Big Fat Greek Wedding

A Model for Matisse

Waking Ned Devine

Billy Elliot

The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill

Four Weddings and a Funeral

Big Little Farm

Little Miss Sunshine

Funny Farm

Keeping Mum

Lars and the Real Girl

Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Baghdad Cafe

Harold & Maude

Notting Hill

Love Actually

Dear Frankie

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day

Mrs. Palfrey at the Clermont

Tea with Mussolini

Madame Souzatska

A League of Their Own

Hunt for the Wilder People

Whale River

Garden State

School of Rock

Julie and Julia

Something's Gotta Give


Inn of the Sixth Happiness

The Holiday


Hamlet 2

What About Bob

Someone Like You

Crazy, Stupid Love



Silver Linings Playback

The Fisher King

The Princess Bride

When Harry Met Sally

My Cousin Vinny

Joe's Apartment

Angel in the House




The Station Agent

The Dig

Nobody's Fool

Keep On Keepin' On

The American President


Romancing the Stone

Please Don't Eat the Daisies

The Hundred-Foot Journey

A Knight's Tale

The Intern


It Happened on Fifth Avenue

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Operation Petticoat

Some Like It Hot

any Studio Ghibli film


Planes, Trains and Automobiles

While You Were Sleeping

Sleepless in Seattle

When Harry Met Sally

Finding Your Feet

Grumpy Old Men

Peanut Butter Falcon

Second Hand Lions

The Proposal

Nothing to Lose

The Magic of Belle Isle

Slumdog Millionaire



Fool's Gold

Blow the Man Down

Shakespeare in Love

Book Club

Enchanted April


Under the Tuscan Sun

Mr. Holland's Opus

The Secret Garden

The Full Monty

Two Family House

Say Anything

Begin Again

Truly, Madly, Deeply
Singing in the Rain

Heaven Can Wait



"Your aspirations are your possibilities." 

- Samuel Johnson

Thursday, February 18, 2021


Chicken / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

LENT STARTED WEDNESDAY, and for the first time in my life, I am participating. The particulars of my journey aren't important, but in general, I am giving up my obsessions for the next 40 days.

My initial idea was to give up candy. That sounded sensible and like something that I could do. Difficult but not impossible, and good for me. I have a very addictive personality, and my craving for candy was getting a little out of control. 

Then I began thinking about Lent, faith, spirituality, the sense of and opportunity for renewal, here in the depths of winter, and I began to see a different path, a more sweeping one that could have more resonance. 

This morning, as I contemplated the next 40 days, as I thought about what obsesses me, and how to leave those things behind - or at least leave them alone - for the next days and weeks, I began to see the amount of time and energy they take in my life, and I was sort of stunned. So even in contemplating all of this, even before starting, I have received a gift - of vision and understanding and, honestly, of time. 

And so the other side of this is to figure out what to do with the extra time and space in my life. During Lent, one is supposed to give more, and give more of oneself in service, and so I am thinking about that, too. 

Are you on a Lenten journey? What are you finding out about yourself, your faith, your spiritual state of being? 



"The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves, too. All sorts of things occur to help that would never otherwise have occurred. A stream of events issues from the decision, raising unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, 
which no man could have dreamt would have come his way." 

-William Murray

Wednesday, February 17, 2021


Muskrat / Oil on black canvas / 5x7/ $68, including shipping

TUESDAY AFTERNOON, the sun shone, absurdly bright after 10 days or more of rain and gray sky. It was a single day's respite, and it was a beauty - nearly 60 degrees, windy enough to dry some of the huge puddles covering neighbors' lawns, and to blow the rich scent of springtime through the tang of the marsh air. 

Sunrise came well before 7, and sunset at 5:45. And as the afternoon warmed and lengthened, I heard peepers singing! 

Today,  it is cold again. Thursday, the rain returns. But Tuesday, for a moment, spring drew a breath, and here on the shore, we all exhaled in joy together. 



"We have more strength than will; and when we say things are impossible, 
it is often just excuses we make for ourselves." 

- Francois De La Rochefoucauld

Sunday, February 14, 2021

Two Snow Scenes

Above, Bridge in the Snow l, oil on black canvas sold. 
Below, Bridge in the Snow ll, oil on black canvas, 8x10, $120 including shipping. 
Please email me at carrieBjacobson if you would like either of these paintings! 

IT'S HARD TO PAINT SOFT WITH A KNIFE. Soft works much better with brushes, though even as I type this, I have a new idea for soft snow scenes. 

I've done a couple interesting fog pieces - softness is required for fog - by making a painting, letting it dry a little, then putting some gray white over the fog areas, and rubbing it off. Of course, it's pretty scary to do this, especially if you like the initial painting. Now I am wondering if a tactic like this might work, also, for snow. I think I will try a third piece, and post it here, in a bit. 

This painting came from a photograph on a plein-air painters group on Facebook. The person who took the picture (I think it's of a scene in Colorado) gave permission for people to paint it, and so I am including it below. 

I really love making snow paintings, but typically - for me, at least - they haven't sold. I was surprised and delighted when this one did! Who knows? Maybe the lower one will sell, too. 


"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; 
and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again." 

- Lewis Carroll
 Alice's Adventures in Wonderland / Through the Looking- Glass 

Friday, February 12, 2021

February Bouquet

 February Bouquet / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68, including shipping
Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you'd like to buy this painting! 

SOON, THERE WILL BE FLOWERS. There will be gardens, and sunshine, hummingbirds and the smell of lawns being mowed. 

Already, here on the Eastern Shore, sunrise is before 7 and sunset after 5:30. Already, I have smelled the scent of spring - unmistakeable, indescribable - on the morning breeze. Already, I've heard the songs of springtime birds. 

Garden catalogs have arrived. Daffodil greenery has poked through the soil on the protected east side of the house. The tips of the trees and bushes along the roadways are starting to redden. My mind has turned to thoughts of mulch. 

We will make it. Spring will come, bringing warm days and new flowers, lush lawns, dogwoods shimmering in deep woods, laughing gulls calling on the breeze, the marsh grasses changing to that thin yellow green, tender with the season, with new life, with rebirth. With survival. 



(love is more thicker than forget)

love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky

- e.e. cummings

Thursday, February 11, 2021

Gotta Love a Snail

Gotta Love a Snail / Oil on black canvas / 5x5 / $68 including shipping
Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you'd like this little guy

A SNAIL MUCH LIKE THIS ONE was the very first painting to sell in the Love series on the Oil & Water Facebook page my friend Susan McGuire and I started recently. (https://www.facebook.com/Oil-Water-104885681569296). 

Not only did it sell about a minute after I posted it, but directly afterwards, several other people contacted me, wanting it - so I made more. 

Here is the final snail Love piece. All my Love paintings had hearts hidden in them (or not so hidden). This one won't be dry in time for a Valentine's Day delivery, but love late is still love, isn't it? 

It always interests me, and often surprises me, when people clamor for certain paintings. Crab paintings took off in somewhat the same way, and the little mountaintop pieces I make up from my imagination, and the leftover paint on my palette, seem to always find a home. 



After all, there's no need
to say anything

at first. An orange, peeled
and quartered, flares

like a tulip on a wedgewood plate
Anything can happen. 

Outside the sun
has rolled up her rugs

and night strewn salt 
across the sky. My heart

is humming a tune
I haven't heard in years! 

Quiet's cool flesh -- 
let's sniff and eat it. 

There are ways
to make of the moment

a topiary
so the pleasure's in

walking through. 

- Rita Dove


Wednesday, February 10, 2021

Nuthatch, Perched

 Nuthatch, Perched / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping
Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you'd like to have this cutie! 

IN THIS LIFE ALONE, and with the covid, and with the terrible memory I've always had, I've had to find ways to remember to do things. 

A calendar, of course, is a great start, but doesn't work unless I first remember to write stuff down on it, and then remember to look at it. 

I've come to terms with my Alexa device, and use her more and more often to remind me about things - including feeding the dogs. Peter always fed the dogs, and many times after he died, I couldn't remember if I had or hadn't. You'd think they would let me know, but dogs are all about the food. A second dinner would not be a problem for them. Any time during the course of the day, if I rattle their food bowls, they are ready and barking. 

I've learned to count the dogs out loud, not only when they come in, but also when I give them their we-came-in-the-house cookies. Yes, several times, I left one or two of them outside for longer than I should have. Same with leaving the studio. Poor Woody was locked in there for hours on several occasions. Luckily, he is pretty much blind and pretty much deaf, and sleeps pretty much 23 hours a day, so he didn't know - but I was in a panic. 

I have learned that when paintings sell, I should move them from one side of the studio to the other. From the drying wall to the sold wall. More than once, I've sold a painting twice, and have had to make amends.

Lately, I've developed a few tricks to keep myself more or less civilized. I leave the bathroom light on in the morning to remind myself to brush my teeth. 

I load my pockets with gloves and fresh tissues when I come IN from walking the dogs, since I can't seem to remember to make sure I have those things when I go out to walk them. 

But still, I lose things and forget. Months ago, I put my favorite coffee cup somewhere, and have never found it. Last week, I took out a can of potatoes (did you know they made such a thing? I didn't, but got a few cans a while ago for a recipe that required them. They did the job, but are really not very good, so I've been feeding them to Woody, who needs fiber in his diet.) I put that can of potatoes down somewhere and have yet to find it. 

What tricks have you all learned during this covid year, to keep yourselves from slipping off the edge? 

I Go Down to the Shore

I go down to the shore in the morning
and depending on the hour the waves
are rolling in or moving out,
and I say, oh, I am miserable,
what shall--
what should I do? And the sea says
in its lovely voice:
Excuse me, I have work to do.

- Mary Oliver

Tuesday, February 9, 2021

Coffee Jones

 Coffee Jones / Oil on black canvas / 4x12 / special $68 including shipping! 


SUSAN MCGUIRE AND I recently started a page on Facebook called Oil & Water (https://www.facebook.com/Oil-Water-104885681569296). She paints in all media, but primarily watercolor. And I paint nearly exclusively in oils. 

The page is mainly for projects we do together, to challenge ourselves and each other, to mark a season or an occasion - or just for fun. We agreed that everything on the page will sell for $68, including shipping. 

For Valentine's Day, we did a Love project. My plan was to hide a heart in each painting, and I had a good time coming up with the ideas. This is one I've wanted to do for a while. I always enjoy watching the cream make its way through iced coffee - the abstract designs intrigue me, and I enjoy the feeling that twisting cream gives me of floating, of movement, of space and time. And I am a little bit of a coffee freak. 

Usually my 4x12s are more expensive, but I'd run out of 5x7 canvases, so there are a couple on the page that are less expensive than they might be otherwise, and this is one of them. 

You can never really count on the post office, I know, but if you let me know today that you want this painting, it might get to you in time to be an on-time Valentine's Day gift. No guarantees! (And if your valentine really loves you, he or she won't mind if it doesn't reach you quite on time...)



say sleep

shall we

have an apple

you are
as I need

shall I move?
do you dream? 
shallow snow


melt this

- Tom Pickard

Monday, February 8, 2021

Sunset Through the Trees

Sunset Through the Trees / Oil on black canvas/ 8x10/ $120 including shipping


I AM HEALING. I see it nearly every day, sometimes in big steps, sometimes small. And while I am glad for this - because, who wouldn't be? - there is part of me that feels a bit of sorrow about it. Does this make sense? In grieving Peter, in mourning him, I am close to him. Respectful of the life he led, the life we led together. I am with him. 

In healing, I am moving away. I am taking steps on my own. I am learning to live without him. I know this is necessary, and it is what I want, but in a way, I rue my burgeoning independence, my quickening heart, the delight I feel in new adventures, new ideas, new friends. 

I will continue to heal, I know, and to grow and prosper, and find my way in this world without him. I'll  probably never be entirely without sadness, and that is OK with me. That little bit of sadness is as much a link as the memories of joy, of love, and the sharing of our lives. 



You, Therefore

For Robert Philen

You are like me, you will die too, but not today:   
you, incommensurate, therefore the hours shine:   
if I say to you “To you I say,” you have not been   
set to music, or broadcast live on the ghost   
radio, may never be an oil painting or
Old Master’s charcoal sketch: you are
a concordance of person, number, voice,
and place, strawberries spread through your name   
as if it were budding shrubs, how you remind me   
of some spring, the waters as cool and clear
(late rain clings to your leaves, shaken by light wind),   
which is where you occur in grassy moonlight:   
and you are a lily, an aster, white trillium
or viburnum, by all rights mine, white star   
in the meadow sky, the snow still arriving
from its earthwards journeys, here where there is   
no snow (I dreamed the snow was you,
when there was snow), you are my right,
have come to be my night (your body takes on   
the dimensions of sleep, the shape of sleep   
becomes you): and you fall from the sky
with several flowers, words spill from your mouth
in waves, your lips taste like the sea, salt-sweet (trees   
and seas have flown away, I call it
loving you): home is nowhere, therefore you,   
a kind of dwell and welcome, song after all,   
and free of any eden we can name

- Reginald Shepherd


Thursday, January 28, 2021

Sunset Through the Pines

 Sunset Through the Pines / Oil on black canvas / 18x24 / $700, including shipping

(I'm trying the PayPal button again, but if you want this painting and the button doesn't work, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com!) 

BACK IN THE FALL, Doc and I went to dog school. Really, not only went, but more importantly, graduated from dog school (and below is the photo that proves it!). 

Dog school was put on by Eastern Shore Dog, which is basically Beth Ann Sabo and Anna Malik, and if you're here on the Shore, you can find Eastern Shore Dog on Facebook, or at its website here

Doc and I learned a lot in dog school, and it helped my scared and snappish fellow begin to learn to co-exist with other dogs and people. He also learned to walk nicely (most of the time) on a leash, to come when I call him (most of the time), to sit and stay, and - most recently (post graduate work!) to lie down. 

All of that is great, but dog school took place on Mondays at 5:30 p.m., at the Barrier Islands Center, about 30 minutes from here. It was October and November, the days were short and cold, and each week, I had to fight my entropy, to get Doc and myself up and out. One of the things that motivated me was a good chance to see the sunset. 

That's where this painting came from, a beautiful sunset through the trees, on the way to dog school.

The Real Dr. Cooper

YES, FOR WHATEVER nutty reason I had at the time, I named Doc after my dad. I want to report today that Dad is back home - yay! - and sounded happy and hopeful when I talked with him this weekend. 

Turns out his swallowing problem was a side effect of AFIB medication he was on. I share this in case you or a loved one ever encounters the same issue. We are all grateful and relieved that Dad made it through this crisis, and is doing so very well. Thank you for your prayers and good wishes. 


Of the Dark Doves

For Claudio Guillen

In the branches of the laurel tree
I saw two dark doves
One was the sun
and one the moon
Little neighbors I said
where is my grave --
In my tail said the sun
On my throat said the moon
And I who was walking
with the land around my waist
saw two snow eagles
and a naked girl
One was the other
and the girl was none
Little eagles I said
where is my grave --
In my tail said the sun
On my throat said the moon
In the branches of the laurel tree
I saw two naked doves
One was the other
and both were none

- Frederico Garcia Lorca
Translated by Sarah Arvio

Monday, January 25, 2021

Magpie on a Curved Branch

Magpie on a Curved Branch / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

I FIRST ENCOUNTERED MAGPIES when Peter and I moved to Idaho. They're such amusing birds! They're large - or at least the ones we had in Boise were - bigger than crows. They look quite formal, their coloring always making me think of tuxedos. The black of their feathers is a deep, deep blue-black, flashing turquoise and even a little green in the right light. 

And they're very smart - according to Wikipedia, one of the few non-mammal species able to recognize themselves in a mirror. Heck, some days, I can't even do that. 

They used to strut around the yard, squawking and carrying on, and they knew our schedules, knew the dogs, knew when we would fill the feeders and take out the trash. It was fun to remember how we laughed at and about them. 


Was It Necessary to Do It? 

I tell you that ant is very alive!
Look at how he fusses at being stepped on. 

- Mary Oliver


Wednesday, January 20, 2021



Hawk / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

MY FRIEND SUSAN MCGUIRE and I are have launched a painting-project page on Facebook. Susan is a wonderful painter, who uses all media but mostly, these days at least, watercolors. So our page is called Oil & Water, and you can find it on Facebook. Everything on the page, her work and mine, is $68 including shipping - and for you bird-painting fans, there are some bird paintings there that I haven't posted here yet. Click here to go to Oil & Water on Facebook! 

Some of the bird paintings on the new page come from a challenge I gave myself, early in January - to paint 10 birds in a day. I did it - but just by the skin of my teeth (and that is an odd phrase, if you stop to think about it!) 

You artists might consider making some nearly unattainable challenge to yourselves, especially if you are feeling dull or blocked. I had been painting a lot, in November and December -  all commissions. I love commissions, but a steady stream of them - painting other people's ideas, other people's desires - can blunt my own ideas, and somehow shorten my sense of direction and flow. For me, at least, there's nothing like a huge challenge to kick out the jams. 

And it needn't be a challenge of numbers, of quantity. I've challenged myself to use odd colors, minimal colors, only yellows, only large knives, only small knives, only straight strokes, only curving strokes, only 30 minutes, only 60 minutes. 

Once I tried to make a painting with strokes that went in a huge spiral out from a spot that was off-center. My aim was to stick to the pattern, while putting the colors, light, shadow in the right places. It didn't work, but continues to interest me as an idea. I think it involves too much planning for me, and feels too much like math. One of you might like to try it. Please send me the photo if you do! 


An Old Story

Sleep comes its little while. Then I wake
in the valley of midnight or three a.m.
to the first fragrance of spring

which is coming, all by itself, no matter what.
My heart says, what you thought you have you do not have.
My body says, will this pounding ever stop?

My heart says: there, there, be a good student.
My body says: let me up and out, I want to fondle
those soft white flowers, open in the night. 

- Mary Oliver

Tuesday, January 19, 2021

Bald Eagle


Eagle / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping
Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you would like to own this painting

SOMETIMES, I HEAR an eagle call, here in Wachapreague. They are around - I've seen them flying over the yard several times, and, many times, in the fields nearby.

 One Sunday morning, I watched one devour a deer that had been killed on the Wachapreague Road. He stayed there for longer than I could, and he was apparently unafraid of me - or at least, willing to tamp down his fear in the face of such bounty. 

The bald eagle was chosen as the emblem of America on June 20,  1782, because of his strength and good looks, and because it existed nowhere but on this continent. 

Benjamin Franklin derided the selection, calling the bald eagle a bird of "bad moral character." The bald eagle, Franklin wrote, "does not get his living honestly, you may see him perched on some dead tree, where, too lazy to fish for himself, he watches the labor of the fishing-hawk, and when that diligent bird has at length taken a fish, and is bearing it to his nest for the support of his mate and young ones, the bald eagle pursues him and takes it from him..." 

Franklin goes on (you can read more here) and suggests that the turkey would be a better choice. 

Lazy carrion-eaters though they may be, their majesty always captures my heart. 


"A year from now, you will wish you had started today." 

- Karen Lamb

Monday, January 18, 2021

White Hawk

White Hawk / oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

LAST NIGHT, AS I WENT TO BED, red lights started flashing on the tree limbs first, then the houses, then the street itself, and I watched as an ambulance and then a police car pulled up at the corner of Pearl and South streets. 

It instantly brought me back to the night that Peter had his heart attack, here, in the living room. The ambulance came - and was there a police car? I have no idea. EMTs came in and hustled to Peter, did things to him, put him in some sort of gurney chair. The lights flashed and flashed and flashed. Dave, a neighbor who has moved away, just walked in through the open door, and in the moment, I hated him, for intruding, for coming in uninvited, for offering to help. 

Last night, all of this rushed back and I turned away and went to bed, hoping only that whichever neighbor was in trouble would be OK. 

Today, I found out that it was a very nice man, Gene, and that he apparently had been badly dehydrated and would, indeed, be alright. Whew. 


DAD IS BETTER, after a pretty scary few days. He is still in the hospital, and is still far from well, but he was sitting up today, and I hear he watched football on Sunday. 

There is no talking to him. He has a phone in his room but it only calls out, and he apparently can't make it work without help. And there is little to no help. The hospital seems to be tremendously overloaded, probably with covid patients; it took my stepmother five hours the other day to get anyone to answer her call. 

Thank you for your kind words and for your prayers. I believe it all helps, and I hope you will all keep thinking healing thoughts for Dear Old Dad. 


Alone I Stare into Frost's White Face

Alone I stare into frost's white face.
It's going nowhere, and I -- from nowhere.
Everything ironed flat, pleated without a wrinkle:
Miraculous, the breathing plain.

Meanwhile, the sun squints at the starched poverty --
The squint itself, consoled, at ease ...
The ten-fold forest almost the same ...
And snow crunches in the eyes, innocent, like clean bread. 

- Osip Mandlestam

Thursday, January 14, 2021

First Robin of Spring

 First Robin of Spring / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping! 
Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com if you'd like to own this hopeful little painting

I HAVEN'T SEEN spring's first robin yet this year, but this week, I heard the songs of spring birds, sweet and warm on a sunny, frosty morning. 

Last week, I saw snow geese high above, calling to each other as they soared. I haven't seen a field full of them yet this winter, but I always look. It is such a miracle. 

And in the theme of bird miracles, there are two hummingbirds still in town. Honestly, I thought I was losing it a little when I caught a swoop out of the corner of my eye, but the homeowner came along and said yes, a pair of hummers was seeming to spend the winter in Wachapreague. Some trees and bushes still are flowering, and though it's been cold (to my now-wimpy-Southern but former tough-New-England-girl self), I guess it's not been cold enough to do them any harm. I hope they don't get trapped here and damaged by an Arctic blast. 


"Change your thoughts and you change your world." 

- Norman Vincent Peale

Wednesday, January 13, 2021

Carolina Wren

Carolina Wren / oil on black canvas/ 4x12 / $88, including shipping

MY DAD IS 92, and right now, is in the hospital in Tucson. He has aspiration pneumonia - not covid, according to four covid tests, all of which have been negative. 

Sunday, he was doing better, sitting up, watching football. Today, he can't swallow. 

He is 92, and before this, was doing well. A couple days pre-pneumonia, he and his wife went out and walked a mile, and Dad said he was feeling great. Pain that had plagued him for the past few months had gone away, the day was beautiful and he was happy. 

He has had a good life, and neither he nor Paula, not any of us, is ready for it to be over. Who among us ever is? I am concentrating on how strong he is, what good genes he has, how remarkable his optimism and resilience are, and how he cherishes his life and his wife.

So, think a good thought, say a small prayer, hold your loved ones close and live every moment as fully and richly as you can. 


"Life isn't about getting and having; it's about giving and being." 

- Kevin Kruse