Sonho on the mooring balls at Angel Island. Photo by HBS
It still pains me to say it and I haven’t had the heart to change the countdown on this blogsite yet. It’s not a secret and the choice was made with love, but it doesn’t make it any less hard.
We are not cutting the docklines and starting our circumnavigation on April 16, 2019 as we had planned for so many years.
The reason? Our grandchildren. We adore those three more than anything in the world and we can’t, in good consciousness, leave them alone with their mommy while daddy is away for almost five months. It takes a village to raise that crazy clan and we are needed here to help keep Meghan sane and the kids alive. LOL.
The sour-faced woman raised her eyebrows after scanning my ID card. “I’m sorry, we can’t accept your vote.”
I’m a big fan of one-pot meals. Living on a boat, I have very little counter space and the dishwasher is me for the most part so the less items, the better. My prep surfaces are on top of the sink, stove and fridge so I need to stage all ingredients, chop and measure, and be ready to go. This recipe comes together in about 20 minutes and thickens as it sits: serious comfort food!
Amy stretched languidly, enjoying the morning quiet.
Sometimes the simplest meals are the most delicious. It’s all about using fresh ingredients that pair nicely together. Our local 
It has been brrrrrrr on our little piece of the Alameda Riviera in Northern California this week. We rarely dip below the mid-50s in the winter and we were seeing low-40s … This weather calls for soup! This meatball soup is inexpensive and easy to assemble. Our local 
He considered himself immortal. He’d had plenty of broken bones and visits to the emergency room in his 33 years as a stuntman. In each of the three near-death experiences, he was drawn to a light but it always dimmed before he reached it. And then he woke to excruciating pain.
Today is my wee Nana’s 100th birthday! Agnes Parker McKittrick Hanna passed peacefully on October 25, 2017, just a few months shy of turning 99. I was so positive that she would live to be 100 that when her health began to take a sharp decline a few weeks before she died, I advocated for any and all medications and therapy to make her well. As her conservator, I had her transferred to a skilled nursing facility with a higher level of care options, stopping just short of life-resuscitation measures according to her wishes.
Vivo O Sonho 