Day 789: Too much stuff

When I woke up this morning, on my first day back in Boston after a two-week adventure in California, I KNEW I had left something behind there.

I don’t mean that I left my heart in San Francisco, although I love that area of the country so much, I am instituting a 1.5 year plan to move there, after my son graduates high school and leaves for college.

No, when I woke up, I thought

I left the power cord for my laptop at my friend Lawry’s house.

And I could visualize and play back the exact moment when I needed to remember to pack it, but didn’t .

So, while I’m writing this, I have 20% of my laptop battery left, so I need to act fast and efficiently to get this post out to you today, people.

Ooops!  It’s 19%, now.

So, I can’t put too much stuff in this post. But I will say these things:

1. We have too much stuff to keep track of, so it’s inevitable that we’re going to forget and leave things behind, sometimes, and
2.  I’ve had too much stuff on my mind lately, and I really appreciated the time away in California as a way to breathe, relax, learn, connect with people, and get back in touch with my priorities.

Ooops!  17% battery power and the indicator on my laptop had TURNED RED!

I have too much stuff I wanted to show you visually today, too. But I’m just going to show you this, which I saw from the “airtrain” I took yesterday from the rental car place to San Francisco Airport:

That’s a good sign, isn’t it?

My battery is at 13% (my laptop battery, NOT my pacemaker battery, thank goodness), so I’m going to publish this sucker for you all. Next step?  Finally, making it to the Apple Store, where I have other business to take care of.

And since one of my priorities and relearned goals from this trip is to ask for help, could somebody post an appropriate song in the comments?

12% … so I just want to thank each and every one of you, for visiting here today.

Day 788: Turning bad into good

Yesterday, it was a relief for me to:

1. attend my third and last day of a group psychotherapy conference in San Francisco,
2. listen to one of my heroes — group therapy expert Irvin Yalom — give a down-to-earth, soulful, and moving talk,
3. participate in a “medicinal drumming” workshop, given by Sal Núñez from City College of San Francisco,
4. go to a very interesting  panel discussion about “Group Psychotherapy Practice of the Future,”
5. hear from one the  esteemed panelists afterwards — much to my surprise and delight — that she considers the therapy groups I’ve developed and facilitate  at a Boston hospital a “Practice of the Future” (and that she would have described my groups in her talk yesterday  if she’d had more time),
6. get a free, stress-relieving 10-minute massage at the conference,
7. see and talk to other group therapists I feel I’ve connected to in  authentic and important ways,
8. use this incredibly cool app to easily drop off the car I drove to the conference  and then miraculously get it back when I was ready to leave San Francisco at 9:30 PM, and
9.  discover and read this amazing blog post by esteemed and admired WordPress blogger Randall Collis.

Here’s the comment I left there, in response to Randall’s gorgeous words and images:

Randall, this story and your images are so beautiful and important to me, right now. Your post is the only thing that has cut through my negative thoughts and feelings about returning home tomorrow to Boston after my two weeks in sunny, warm California. Now I actually feel strong and hopeful about what lies ahead for me. Thank you for your spirit, creativity, and talent; you make our world better with your gifts.

Here’s the last sentence of Randall’s response to me:

Thank you very much Ann, nothing like a little creativity to turn bad into good.

I have to admit that I was feeling bad two night’s ago, about

• returning to the cold, dark, and snow of my home town of Boston, Massachusetts and
• health uncertainties and possibly scary recommendations from doctors about my heart, which I will surely face soon after my flight home today.

However, as Randall wrote, a little creativity can turn bad into good.

Here’s just a little photographic evidence of  bad-into-good creativity, from yesterday:

Because of all the things I learned (or re-learned) yesterday, I hereby resolve to turn bad (New England weather, fears about my health, etc.) into good  (self-care,  in-the-moment acceptance and joy) by:

• seeking out the sounds, sights, and places that sustain me (like the ocean, which — despite how cold and gray and snowy New England may be — is NEVER silenced),
• asking for help, when I need it, from the people around me,
• looking into a drumming class,
• continuing to help myself and others let go of  old unhelpful messages and images from the past, and
• facing my immediate future with hope, resiliency, and clear vision.

I hope I turned this morning’s post into something good (enough). Gotta go catch a plane back to Boston!

Before I go, here’s some good musical creativity for you (found here on YouTube):

Thanks to Irvin Yalom, Sal Núñez, all my esteemed colleagues at the group psychotherapy conference, Randall Collis, the massage guy, the local dudes who took care of my car yesterday, the Beach Boys,  everybody everywhere who has ever turned bad into good with a little creativity, and — of course! — special thanks to you, for turning things better for me today, with your visit here.

Day 787: Relief

I’ve had two intense days, so far, at my group psychotherapy conference in San Francisco. It’s been quite a relief to share thoughts, feelings, and authentic connections with so many kind, wise, and experienced people. And — as is true, for me, with any intense experience — it’s also been a relief when each day’s been over.

This morning, I’m going back into San Francisco for my third and final day at the conference. I’ll be seeing one of my group therapy heroes — Irvin Yalom — speak. Then, I’ll go to a workshop and a panel discussion.  I’ll be driving in to the city by myself, so it will be a relief once I get there.

Speaking of relief, here’s some visual relief I saw on my travels, yesterday:

 

Because relief can be so important (especially during times of stress), I’m going to repeat the first image in this post, which I saw on the beautiful ferry ride from Oakland to San Francisco early yesterday morning:

Ahhhh!  What a relief!

Since I’m flying back to cold and icy Boston tomorrow, it’s important for me to be aware of those things that provide relief for me.  Here’s a quick “relief” list, off the top of my relieved head:

• people I love,
• people who love me,
• cats (who I experience as loving creatures),
• beautiful scenery,
• the moon and the stars,
• speaking my mind,
• balancing my needs with other people’s needs,
• writing blog posts,
• doing work I love and believe in,
• taking care of my basic needs, including having enough water, nourishing food, and sleep,
• accepting all the different parts of me,
• accepting the beautiful differences in other people,
• a good cry, sometimes,
• having all my feelings,
• recognizing my fears about the future, letting them go, and then refocusing on the present moment,
• recognizing any regrets about the past, letting those go, and then refocusing on the present moment,
• staying in touch with my self-worth (which does not change, no matter what is going on, inside of me and outside of me),
• forgiving inevitable human mistakes (from myself and others),
• letting go of any need to be perfect or to be immediately good at anything new,
• connections with other people,
• down time for myself to be alone, and
• music.

What music might provide relief here, today?

This is the first “Relief” song that popped into my head:

… but that’s an old Alka Seltzer commercial (on YouTube here) and I don’t how much of a relief it is.

Since most of my photos today are from a ferry, it’s a relief for me to find “Ferry Cross the Mersey” as performed by my favorite musician, Pat Metheny (here on YouTube):

For those of you who like music with lyrics, here’s the original by Gerry and Pacemakers (found here on YouTube):

What gives you relief? I’d be relieved to hear from you, in any way.

Thanks to Irvin Yalom, to my friend Lawry (pictured above), to Pat Metheny, to Pacemakers of all kinds, to people attending the group psychotherapy conference in San Francisco, to ferries everywhere, to all those who can be kind as best they can, and to you — of course! — for getting whatever relief there is today.

Day 786: High Anxiety

I’m having a little high anxiety writing this post this morning, because I don’t want to be late for the second day of my group psychotherapy conference.

I don’t know about you, but I can have very high anxiety about being late, especially for something like a therapy group, where being on time is

• expected,
• important, and
• affects many other people.

Am I alone in this high anxiety about being late? What can trigger high (or other levels of) anxiety in you?

The San Francisco Hotel I need to reach on time, this morning,  also caused high anxiety for Mel Brooks in High Anxiety, as you can see in the movie trailer I found on YouTube:

Here are some photos I took yesterday, at that “High Anxiety” Hotel:

 

I had some High Anxiety at The High Anxiety Hotel yesterday, because:

1. I’m afraid of heights,
2. I revealed some vulnerable and sensitive information about myself in a therapy group of people I had just met, and
3. I talked about my recently higher anxiety about my very unusual heart, including the likelihood of heart surgery in the near future.

My anxiety might have been high at times yesterday (especially when the changing light in the group room made it temporarily difficult for me to see the faces of the other people), but it was also bearable, because

1. the other people in my therapy group also revealed vulnerable, sensitive, and important things about themselves,
2. people offered helpful feedback about each others’ anxieties (and other things),
3. I learned a lot about my anxiety, including how to trust others more fully, and
4. I met up, during the lunch break, with a former student of mine, who works next door to the High Anxiety Hotel:

That’s Chris, who previously appeared in this blog post from last year and whose friendly, smiling presence is good for reducing anxiety.  I told Chris — as I’m telling everybody else around here — that I am sick of my High Anxiety about the high snows and low temperatures in my home town of Boston during the winters.  My proposed cure for that high anxiety?  Moving, within the next couple of years, to the home town of the High Anxiety Hotel — San Francisco.

I captured that on-high shot of San Francisco last night, after the conference, from the building next door to the High Anxiety Hotel.  I had very low anxiety when I snapped that because

• coincidences don’t scare me, and Chris and my long-time friend Lawry coincidentally work in that same building,
• I had dramatically lowered my high anxiety by talking about it in the therapy group,
• beautiful and warm locations are natural anxiety reducers for me, and
• I’m pretty good at helping people (including myself) move from high anxiety to low anxiety.

What about you?  Is your anxiety high, medium, low, or non-existent? What tends to make your low anxiety high and your high anxiety lower?

Do I have any anxiety about what music to choose for this post? Well, I’m letting go of any anxiety I might have about repeating music I’ve posted before (see here), so I’ll share this with you again:

The theme music from High Anxiety — written and sung by the incomparable, anxiety-reducing Mel Brooks — is here on YouTube.

Okay!  I’ve got to go face a day of low, medium, and/or high anxiety, along with many other people.

Thanks to the Hyatt Regency San Francisco, to all those attending the group psychotherapy conference there, to Mel Brooks, to Chris, to Lawry, and to you (of course!), whether you’re feeling high, low, or in between today.

Day 785: Smiles

Yesterday, I spilled to my college roommate/dear friend Marcia that I probably would be writing a short blog post this morning. She said, with a beautiful smile, “I like your short posts.  Those tell me you’re going out into the world with a lot to do that day.”

I hope this short blog post makes Marcia and my other readers smile, even just a little.  I’m smiling now, because

1. I’m going to a group psychotherapy conference today,
2.  group therapy is my livelihood and my passion,
3. I’m still in sunny, beautiful, and warm California, and
4. I’m traveling to and from the conference location accompanied by my long-time friend, Lawry.

Friendship, adventure, familiarity, sunshine, warmth, hope, safety, and a sense of purpose all make me smile.

Speaking of smiles, here are some I’ve seen since I started this trip to California:

 

That last beautiful smile belongs to my friend Amy, who lives in the San Francisco area and whom I haven’t seen for many years. We shared some smiles (and some tears, too) when we spent time together, yesterday.

I don’t know what kinds of faces I’ll have and see at the group psychotherapy conference today. I’m assuming there will smiles, frowns, and many other expressions as people go through a range of experiences and emotions. I’m looking forward to it all.

I’d like to leave you with a musical smile, but I know I’ve used the song “Smile” in this blog post, before.

How about this?

R.E.M. and The Muppets are smiling, frowning, sobbing, and having lots of feelings here on YouTube.

Smiles and thanks to Marcia, Lawry, Amy, the Mona Lisa, R.E.M., the Muppets, all the other smiling faces who helped me create this post today, and to you — of course! — for bringing a smile (or any face) here today.

Day 784: Spilling

Yesterday, when I was in San Francisco Bay area with my friend-since-single-digit-ages Lawry, I spilled some things.

I spilled:

• olive oil,
• water,
• thoughts, and
• feelings.

Much to my relief and delight, Lawry and his wonderful wife Patty did not seem to mind any of those spills. I hereby award them Best Supporting Oscars for supporting me in my spilling during the Oscar Ceremony.

Sometimes, I have spill-o-phobia (mentioned before in this here post). As with any phobia and fear, I would like to let go of that, especially since I’ll be attending a group psychotherapy conference in San Francisco, starting tomorrow.  During that conference, I will be learning about group therapy by participating in group therapy with other group therapists. And, like any other group therapy member, I will benefit greatly if I let go of the fear of spilling in front of strangers.

Here’s something else I want to spill:

It’s my son Aaron’s 17th birthday, today!

This is the first time Aaron and I have spent his birthday away from each other. And we are VERY far away. Right now, he is spilling in the land of ice-and-snow on the East Coast and I am spilling in the land of warmth-and-beauty in California.

More spilling, from me:

No matter how far apart my son and I might be, I love and respect him, very much.

Now I’d like to spill, in this post, some warmth and beauty from yesterday:

        

      

 

I hope you know you can spill whatever thoughts, feelings, and other reactions you have, in the comment section below.

Gotta go spill in the Bay Area, during another beautiful day!

A huge spill of thanks to Aaron, Lawry, Patty, San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge, all the people and creatures I saw  yesterday, and an extra spill of gratitude to you, for whatever you’re spilling, wherever you are.

 

Day 783: Best supporting Oscars

Tonight, I’ll be watching the 87th Annual Oscar Awards in California, 3000 miles away from Boston, where I’ve been watching the Oscars for less than 87 but more than 57 years.

For the past 7 years or so, I’ve been personally supported by this Oscar while watching the Oscars:

Tonight, my Oscar will be in Boston, which is currently being supported or unsupported (or please support me, now, by filling in your own word here _____) by lots and lots of this:

Because I took that last photo a couple of weeks ago — before Boston got “supported” again by yet another blizzard — I’m probably not supporting this post with the most accurate representation of what Boston looks like now.  But, doesn’t it look impressive or outstanding or record-breaking and maybe even a bit glamorous?

Speaking of impressive or outstanding or record-breaking or maybe even a bit glamorous, let’s get back to the Oscars, tonight. I haven’t seen all of the movies this year. Usually I do, but I’ve been distracted lately by many things, including the supporting role played by some recent health uncertainties in my life.

The movie I HAVE seen which I most support for an Oscar, right now, is Birdman, which has a soundtrack by Antonio Sánchez (who supports my favorite musician Pat Metheny on drums) and which I have previously supported in this (I hope) supporting blog post, right here.

Anyway, in honor of the 87th Annual Oscars, I shall now  award — as non-judgmentally* as possible  — my own personal Best Supporting Oscars for ME, yesterday.

Best Supporting Oscar for best long-distance support by a cat:

Oscar.

Best Supporting Oscar for best supporting performance by a dog in the Bay Area of California:

Thatcher.

Best Supporting Oscar for best supporting performance by a Bay-area dog toy:

Thatcher’s Shark.

Best Supporting Oscar for best supporting performance by brick in the Bay Area:

The brick wall outside my friend Lawry’s garage.

Best Supporting Oscar for best supporting ghost in the Bay Area:

The ghost inside my friend Lawry’s garage.

Best Supporting Oscar for best supporting artwork in wine country, California:

The nominees are:

     

I’m not an expert on art, so I’m going to leave it up to my supporting academy (pssst!  that’s you!) to decide on the Best Supporting Oscar in that category.

Best Supporting Oscar for best support provided to a crocodile in wine country, California:

Best Supporting Oscar for performance best supporting the biggest wooden structure supporting wine in the world (at Sebastiani vineyards and winery):

Lawry (being supportive in the first photo), since I don’t know the name of that guy who works for Sebastiani, supporting that giant wooden wine receptacle.

Best Supporting Oscar for best support provided to replicas of famous people supporting a wine country vineyard:

 

Again, I call on the venerable WordPress Academy to decide on that Best Supporting Oscar.

Last but not least, Best Supporting Oscar for the best mutual support of a delightful woman, fountain-swimming dog, and a wine country vineyard:

Patricia, Fergie (also known as “Fergilicious”), and Sebastiani Vineyards, Sonoma Valley, California.

If you leave a question or any other kind of comment here, I completely support that.

Many supporting Oscars to all those who helped support me in creating today’s post and to you — of course! — for the Oscar-worthy support you’re giving, here and now.

---

* As you can tell by the title I support for this blog, being non-judgmental is the way-of-being I support for me (and others) to strive for. However, I also support this: humans, even very supportive ones, are naturally judgmental, especially when it comes to giving and receiving awards. Do you support me, in that?

Day 782: How to look at things

Because each one of us is unique, with different experiences and assumptions,  we all look at things differently.

So, Jeepers!  How can I possibly have the nerve to title a post “How to look at things”?

Well, dear readers, let’s look at the suggestions in this post more as guidelines than rules, okay?

Guideline #1: Be open to seeing unexpected similarities.

For example, be open to this sort of thing when you’re visiting two old friends who live in very different parts of the Bay Area of San Francisco:

 

Guideline #2:  Be open to seeing cause-and-effect connections.

For example, if you see roses, where might the roses come from?

If you see a daily activity chart, what might be the cause of that?

Guideline #3: Be open to the possibility that your first assumptions about what’s in front of your eyes (also known as “peepers“) might not be complete or correct.

For example, an activity chart for dog-walking might refer to a dog different than the one you’re seeing right now.

More examples for Guideline #3: what are YOUR assumptions when you look at these photos?

What assumptions do you have about the who, what, where, etc. of each of those photos?  I’m sure that if I did not have my privileged knowledge as the chooser and taker of those images, I would be making all sorts of assumptions about them — some “correct” and some “incorrect.”

Which leads me to the next guideline:

Guideline #4: Be open to letting go of assumptions, but also trust your own eyes, instincts, and experience.

Nobody else can tell you the “truth” about what you see and what you have seen with your own eyes, and about what all those mean to you.

For example, when we look at art, we each see different things and have different thoughts and feelings.

 

Nobody can tell you or me that what we see in that artwork is right or wrong.

Guideline #5: Be open to seeing things through somebody else’s eyes.

For example, if you’re with somebody who is different from you (say, younger, different gender, different style and perspectives), let that person make choices about what things to look at, even if those choices are different from yours.

Guideline #6: Be open to seeing new things you’ve never seen before, even if you’re not sure how they work and fit in with the rest of your known universe.

Guideline #7: Be open to seeing mundane things as special.

 

For example, if you first saw somebody very important to you at Peet’s Coffee in Cambridge, Massachusetts USA several years ago, feel free to look at similar images, 3000 miles away, as important.

Guideline #8: Be open to how the past affects how you see the present.

For example, I might see things in a retro-style diner that evoke images of my childhood:

Guideline #9: Be open to transforming disappointments about what you see into opportunities.

For example, if something you wanted to see is closed, appreciate and accept all richness there is to see in the present.

 

Guideline #10: Be open to identifying with what you see.

For example, when you’re using the closet of the flown-the-nest daughter of a beloved friend, see how you might have some things in common with her:

In general, this is how to look at things:

Be open.

I hope you know I am very open to questions and comments about anything you’ve looked at here.

Thanks to Margaret Keane (who created those big-eyed paintings shown in Guideline #4, above), to my son, to my boyfriend back home in Boston, to my friends (including Marcia and Lawry, who have both opened up their homes to me on my current travels), to every person, place, and thing I’ve looked at recently in the San Francisco area,  and to you — of course! — for looking at things your own unique way, today.

Day 781: Jeepers

Yesterday, I wrote about keepers. Today, I shall attempt to write a post that’s deeper about keepers, non-keepers, sleepers, peepers, creepers, etc.

Yesterday, I saw these keepers with my peepers at my college-roomate Marcia’s home, after my son and I had both been sleepers:

    

Most of the artistic keepers we saw there, with our peepers, are by Marcia’s talented son and daughter, Owen and Ellen.

Here’s a keeper of a story that Marcia told me about her daughter Ellen (who created that last beautiful creature, above), when Ellen was very young. Cast your peepers on these:

There used to be a baby bear next to those adults,  but the grim reaper of breakable objects (actually a live animal) knocked it over. Jeepers!  No more baby bear. Marcia then witnessed, with her peepers and her ears, her little daughter Ellen creeping up to those two bear parents and breaking it to them gently: “I have terrible news.”

The rest of this post will show photographic peepers of keepers I saw when two of my favorite keepers — Marcia and my creeping-up-on-17 son, Aaron — and I got deeper into Palo Alto and  Stanford University:

 

Do your peepers peep anything special about that sleeper of a house, above? Jeepers, that belonged to Apple-keeper Steve Jobs.

Jeepers!  Somebody in Palo Alto likes to ask a lot of questions.

I don’t think you can get much deeper than the keeper motto in that second photo, do you? 

 

Jeepers!  Does anybody REALLY think that Love Sucks?

As always, dear readers and post peepers, let me know if you have deeper questions or comments about anything here.

Jeepers! I’m so glad I was able to leave behind, in the Northeast USA, the following:

• any on-call beepers at work, so I could be more in the moment with my peepers and  all these keepers and sleepers in sunny California and
• deeper, deeper, deeper snow.

Keepers of this post (pssst! that’s you!)  might go deeper, now, to remember something they read with their peepers at the beginning of this keeper/jeeper/peeper/sleeper/creeper of a post:

Today, I shall attempt to write a post that’s deeper, about keepers, non-keepers, sleepers, peepers, creepers, etc.

Is there anything missing here, all you keepers and peepers out there?

Jeepers!  I didn’t include non-keepers, so far.

For me, the non-keeper is THIS constant creeper:

Worry.

I’d like to give worries, right now, over to the reaper of unhelpful thoughts.

Jeepers!  Wouldn’t it be great to let go of all creepin’ worries about:

• not doing enough,
• pleasing everybody,
• sleep,
• perfectionism,
• illness,
• death, and
• everything else that looks scary to these peepers?

If I did that, fewer weepers from these peepers, for sure.

Let’s do it, peepers and keepers!  Join me in letting go of those creepin’ non-keeper worries!

To help us do that in a deeper way, here’s a keeper of a song:

“Jeepers Creepers” sung by keeper Ethel Waters is deeper into YouTube, here.

Here‘s another keeper of “Jeepers Creepers,” by keeper Louis Armstrong:

Jeepers!  Look at the time! Gotta leave the keeper home of my keeper friend Lawry and his lovely wife Patty, to cast these peepers (and the 20/15 peepers of my sharp-eyed son) on the keeper city of San Francisco.

Thanks to Aaron, Marcia, Owen, Ellen, animals real and fantastical, Steve Jobs, Palo Alto, Stanford University, Ethel Waters, Louis Armstrong, Lawry, Patty, and every other keeper, peeper, creeper, weeper, or sleeper who helped me write this post. And Jeepers! Thanks to you for casting your peepers on this here post, today.

Day 780: Keepers

Yesterday, amazing WordPresser Maureen wrote this comment as a leave behind on my post:

Aaron is such an extraordinary leave-behind, Ann, and such a keeper.

Thank you, Maureen, for being (1) so perceptive about my son Aaron, (2) a keeper yourself, and (3) the provider of today’s blog post title.

On the same day that Maureen left behind that keeper of a comment, my son Aaron and I left behind the keeper city of San Luis Obispo. I wanted to keep a memory of Sol, the manager of our keeper hotel — who moved from Leicester, England to Nashville, Tennessee in 2008 and then to SLO  in 2014 — so I kept notes and this photo:

I think people are the important keepers, so it was Sol and the rest of his friendly staff that made The Avenue Inn a keeper, for me.

I first visited the Hearst Castle, at San Simeon, California in the 1970’s, when I was in my 20’s and that visit was such a keeper for me that I took my son back there, yesterday.  William Randolph Hearst considered a  LOT of objects and people in his life keepers, and he loved surrounding himself with as many of those as possible, until he died in 1951. I’m glad people have been working hard to keep those objects there, to this day.

Here are some photos I took and kept yesterday at the Hearst Castle, which I hope you think are keepers:

         

I mean, really, people, isn’t that a KEEPER pool?

Here’s something I don’t want to keep to myself: It’s taking me so many steps and so much time, these days, to keep photos in this blog, I KNOW my current process is NOT a keeper. As soon as I can figure out a way to make and keep an appointment at an Apple Store and show them my non-keeper photo methods, I’m sure I’ll get some new keeper ideas from them.

Or, here’s a possible keeper thought:

If I can remember that I’m a keeper to the people I’ve kept in my life, I can keep asking for help with using my mac, posting photos, and all sorts of other things I want to keep doing, and those people will probably have helpful advice I can keep.

Can you keep up with me if I show you one more keeper photo from the Hearst Castle, yesterday?

That photo is not the usual kind of keeper for me. Indeed, I almost forgot to keep it in today’s blog. However, if you keep looking, there’s a piano in that photo and — according to our keeper tour guide, Eric — George Gershwin and other keeper musicians of the day all played on that very piano.

Perhaps those piano keys keep a memory of Gershwin playing this for William Randolph Hearst’s gathered guests, decades ago:

That keeper version of Gershwin playing his “Rhapsody in Blue” is kept here by YouTube.

After Aaron and I left the Hearst Castle, we gathered many more keeper memories as we drove to Palo Alto, the home of my college roommate, Marcia. If Marcia is not a keeper, I don’t know what a keeper is. Personally, I find the objects in her home even more valuable keepers than those I saw at the Hearst Castle yesterday, but seeing some of those will just have to keep, until tomorrow.

Thanks to Maureen, Aaron, Sol, Eric, William, George, Marcia, and all the rest of those keeper people who helped me create and keep this blog post. Also,  special keeper thanks to you, for being keepers and readers here, today.