Friday, August 18 cab to York

Waiting in Robin Hood's Bay for our cab

The luxury of space, a jacuzzi tub, and a two night stay!  It's the little things. 

Tonight the four of us shared. tapas and wine at Pairings Wine Bar and I prayed (in my own way) for the Spanish after the attack in Barcelona and elsewhere.  The food offerings were just right and we enjoyed a lively "what's it all about" conversation.

On a whim, we stopped a Betty's for a treat.  Famous place!

Our hotel here

Tomorrow is a free day to wander and rest.  And contemplate re-entry.  It will be a day that just unfolds of its own accord.

A wise person a long time ago gave us the advice about our relationship: 

We wait for each other.  Yes, we do.  And it always gets better as a result.

And some sweet words here to end this blog:

The View From Mrs. Sundbergs Window By Mrs. Sundberg

Made some roasted veggies Saturday and they were not bad. Roasted cauliflower, and some red peppers, and Sweet Vidalia onion. It was what we had in the fridge, what I picked up from last week’s farmer’s market. And there were potatoes too, which I did not roast but made into yet another iteration of potato salad as I search for the Perfect Potato Salad Recipe. This one may be it. 6 potatoes, 6 hardboiled eggs, some mayo and mustard and apple cider vinegar, onion powder and garlic salt and half a jar of capers. They’re like little pickle balls and they seem to be just the thing.

We’re about to turn the corner now, lately, with the sun setting a bit earlier each day, and the green of the trees fading a bit. The neighbors are rolling up their hay in big ol’ bales, and the mazillion baby frogs that appeared a few weeks back have become fewer in number but big as walnuts now. And today, as I drove by the school, I saw a whole bunch of teachers out getting some sun over their lunch break. It’s prep week already and they are hard at work. And I imagine they are full of thought about how to go about things with all that’s happening in our country. I imagine they’re thinking about things like bias, and tolerance, and peace and hope and connection and truth.

I know I’M thinking about all that. I’m not one to rant, but my goodness. We each have a line that ought not be crossed. It’s kind of like personal space, and it has to do with how we are treated and how we observe others being treated. It has to do with how we carry ourselves. And, it seems, we have a line Together. The one where the crossing has a bearing on humanity itself. Compassion awakens. Empathy rises up. Time to stand up. To speak, to walk, to write, to talk with each other. Time to reach out, to embrace, to lift up.

Whispers won’t do much good right now, it seems. Nor will silence. We need to talk with each other. Conversations all the heck over. In classrooms and churches and parks and restaurants. On the streets and at home in the living room. On the light rail, airplanes, the phone and in waiting rooms. On road trips, in seminars, over lunch and on the beach.

And by Each Other, I mean every person. Every human. And until we can see that, and talk about who we are and from where we come and where we wish to go and how and why, and feel heard, and listen to Others until they feel heard, well, I just can’t see much progress happening.

Each of us is an Other. Let’s consider making “Other” not about segregating but celebrating.