Something isn't right with my nephew Ben's eyes, and my sister Joan has been worrying herself sick over it. I managed to find a Westjet seat sale and hop a plane over to Kelowna last Sunday. Everett's dad anted up with a ticket for him too, so that meant he and his cousin Jordan could play together constantly. I don't know how many 15-year-old boys will entertain 5-year-old girls by the hour, but the two of them had at least one interest in common: internet games, which Everett can't play at home due to our dialup connection's slowness. Usually I'd walk up behind them and Everett would be playing while Jordan watched happily.

~I always feel 100 years old beside my baby sister~

Everett picked up the camera as we were leaving Joan's for the return flight home. He caught Jordan in the laundry room, gathering her stuffed animals for the car ride, and Joan and me in the library. No photo of Baby Ben! Tsk. How did I manage that, after three days in the house? I'm having Ben withdrawal now.

This is the weather we flew home to. Snowy, cold, November. The horses were feeling frisky.

Ben got in to see a pediatrician on Friday, by the way, and indeed there are eye issues and he needs to see an ear/nose/throat specialist.

***

One day as I was leaving our house, I hugged Emil goodbye in the porch and Everett called from the kitchen, "Wait, can I hug you?" and after he'd done so, added "Did you notice I"ve learned not to squeeze you too hard?" He now weighs 200 pounds, apparently, and as he is a big bruiser I am thankful he has laid off the wrestler hugs.

Recently this big bruiser stepped through a door ahead of me and I realized it was time to teach him some manners. I pointed out to him that he must hold doors open for women. Why? he wondered. Because it's good manners, I told him. If you decide not to display them, you can take the consequences, but it's my job to make sure you know what good manners are. The very next time we stepped up to a door at the same time, he reached out and opened the door for me.

Of course there was some discussion about this whole business. I explained why some women get angry if a guy holds a door for them—not that it's ever made much sense to me—and said that if I get to a door first, I hold it for whoever is coming, be it man or woman. It's common courtesy. And I always thank whoever holds a door for me; I don't take it for granted.

~Mom's wedding/engagement ring
set, safely out of dishwater when I
work in the kitchen~ the little holder
came from Grandma's house after
she moved to the lodge~

Grandma is so small. I should measure her for the hell of it. She was only 4'10" to start with, and has been shrinking. She weighs 82 pounds. I always kiss her goodbye—she holds her face up and purses her lips—and say "I'll talk to you tomorrow." When I telephone, it's rare to catch her in her room. She doesn't miss anything that goes on around there: church services, bingo, exercises, card games, you name it. Mix that in around three square meals and afternoon tea time, and she's busy.

Her hair has a tendency to spread out flat on the back of her head and sweep forward. She can't see the back and probably doesn't realize how it looks. I brushed it and said, "You've got Einstein's hair!" and she laughed. It's white and frames her face in a halo of fluff.

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