It is “just” a Great Lake beach, not the ocean, but it is so calming.

I love Great Lake beaches! I’m supposed to be at one this weekend on our annual family trip to Lake Huron, but we’re rolling out a new LMS, so the manager asked that we all take vacation time before or after Labor Day weekend. (He’s reasonable about vacations in general—it’s just the timing with classes starting that was an issue this year.)

I recorded this quote, but not where it was from or who originated it, but it seems appropriate here: Because time is an illusion and love is infinite.

Hurray for a home-coming, Arthur!

I think I’m going to use “Looking for JoJo” whenever I have to do something I don’t want to.

smonster, I wish I could teleport you to me. It’s amazing right now since the high season is over.

I am now crying because she is going to make sure to wear a hat tomorrow in JZs honor.

Awww! All should wear their hats and tiaras with swagger.

I talked to Jojo late in the day when she interrupted my cocktails at Alembic with my friend Jes.

She said the one field that needed to be filled in JZ's paperwork is: where was she born?

Oakland, California! I said.

What I didn't say was: In the same hospital where her mother was born, which was in the same hospital where her grandmother was born, which was the same hospital where her father died.

But Jacqueline died at home. Not in a hospital. In the house she wanted to live in. She died in San Francisco where Matilda and Emmett were born.

I wore my The Golden State teeshirt Wednesday night in honor of JZ, the California native.

I’m wearing a dress again today in honor of JZ, and I plan on making myself a proper cocktail tonight. I used to be the girl who was overdressed for every occasion, and somewhere along the line I stopped doing that. It’s time to get back to it.

tl;dr existential musings, do not read on an empty stomach or while operating motor functions.

But Jacqueline died at home. Not in a hospital. In the house she wanted to live in. She died in San Francisco where Matilda and Emmett were born.

I am immeasurably glad for this fact, David.

Given recent events in my own life, I've been thinking a lot about generational healing...of all kinds of wounds, some we can't even know.

It's a convenient, and wholly manufactured construct, but it has been doing my heart good.

While waiting for my freezer to heal itself this week, the maintenance guy and I chatted about life. I said to him, what I've said to many, "I am completely satisfied with the contributions I've made to this world. No matter what else I might do, I'm good."

He guffawed. Like a full out, unconscious expulsion of disbelief.

So much of society, families and houses of education and commerce are almost all dedicated to maintaining a level of self doubt and interpersonal chaos that make it impossible to enjoy a perfect moment, much less be satisfied with life.

Of course, I have debt, and things that need to be cleaned up in my life, but the big things, the existential things, have all been resolved. For no other reason than I decided they would be so.

I made myself the buck that stops; choosing to take on the burdens of my ancestors and turn them into something useful. There is so much more I want to do...in particular, the retreat center I've dreamt about since 2009...but whether I make it to WitHaven, or not, the original mission is complete.

Thinking about the loss of someone so dear, and vital and with so much more to do, there simply is no rational place to stand. So, I want to believe that JZ was, and is, a critical part in turning whatever was unresolved through her line into the sweetness and sass that she poured into this troubled world.

And that, especially, the built-by-her family, the house, her comfort, the life she made that led to so many people loving and supporting her, was its own miracle.

I remember her fiercely expressing her grief and anger when her beloved Gerri died. I will get to that place...maybe later today...but for this moment, I am just so grateful.

David, I’m so glad you were able to take her home.

My grandfather was home under hospice care for his last six weeks. We had a some quiet conversations during that time, mostly focused on making sure his affairs were in order and my grandmother would be taken care of. At one point, he said to me, quietly, "I'm square with the world." He was a Freemason, so that term had extra meaning for him.

Hospice care is rare here - I only knew one person who went into hospice care before she passed. It sounds like a good way to go, if you get to choose.