I ordered Chinese take-away on Monday, and in the brown paper delivery bag were two fortune cookies.
“Remember three months from this date. Good things are in store for you.”
“You will soon bring joy to a close friend.”
So I am banking on August 29.
Now I must confess that the genesis for getting Chinese food was the documentary I watched Sunday evening. The Search for General Tso. Funny. Mouthwatering. And easily capable of creating a yen for General Tso Chicken.
From my recent trip to Hong Kong, a sample of the dumplings at a street market:
From Christ Church Cathedral, Saint Louis, on Sunday, May 28:
And from various cemeteries:
My paternal grandparents.
Great-great-grandparents Gutshall, my mother’s great-grandparents.
Gram Blocher and her husband, my mother’s paternal grandparents. I have the vaguest recollection of Gram Blocher, for whom I would have been the second great-grandchild. And I have a couple of her teaspoons in my kitchen drawer.
Great-grandparents Charley Gutshall and Fannie Ficklin Guthsall, my mother’s grandparents. Fannie went blind in the 1920’s. I need to ask my father if this great-grandfather ever saw me. (I remember both of my paternal great-grandfathers.)
John Summers, my great-uncle by marriage. He is Esther’s husband. And very much loved and missed.
My maternal grandparents, Ruth Gutshall and Edwin Blocher. G-ma died on my 40th birthday in 2001. Poppie Blocher died in 1967 of a stroke; he was buried in my sister Karen’s 6th birthday.
Jacob Blocher, my great-great-grandfather. He was born in Pennsylvania, married in Illinois to a woman born in Pennsylvania, and fathered 11 children. His eighth child was the father of my grandfather.
Sarah Riffle was safely delivered of child at 11.48 a.m. Lily Margaret Riffle is ten weeks early, and won’t be coming home from hospital for a while, but eldest nephew Blayne reports that all are doing well, especially in the circumstances of premature birth.
Lily weights 2 lbs. 6 oz., and is 15 inches long. Or is it 15 inches tall?
I am continuing to re-read all of my travel journals.
From my musings whilst on my second trip to China in 2005:
I wonder if we all harbor a secret fear that life really will go on without us, that we’re really not needed, that our absence will show no hole at all?
Maybe we’re really only here, not to be necessary, but to be a plus, a help, an addition that makes things more pleasant. A greater good.
The context to this was that I had been gone for ten days already, to Alaska and then to Shanghai, and life was going on back home without me. Rehearsals were happening. Schooling continued. And I was needing to be needed.
Since I only have two and a half weeks off after one show closes and the other begins rehearsal, I’m packing in trips on my days off.
I go to the office only three days a week during summer months (at least until August, when the pace picks up), so I’m scheduling a lot of local things. I don’t eat out much, but I’m setting my eyes on a half-dozen local restaurants I’ve never visited, and treating myself to some luncheons on days when other events also take me out of the house. Among those:
photo trip to a covered bridge in Jefferson County