Christmas letter: Sharon.

Blog time for you, my reader of one. This is the Christmas letter I never wrote, in small doses.

How about Sharon? Sharon made a glorious book, a flip book called The Garuda does the Shuffle and wow, there she is holding a chicken, in her farm back yard, walking towards me and blowing me a kiss. Now that is a fine way to start a day. She has been keeping the post office on Saturdays for awhile which makes her feel more a part of the community of Fountain Green, Utah. She continues to type at 120 words a minute or more as she transcribes for a neurosurgeon in California. I think that she prefers to do other things more. Sharon is wise for her age, always was an old soul, my bonus for having ten children. She tells us, "the reason for parents is for them to remind us of who we are and what we can do" I'm paraphrasing. She attended a Buddhist retreat in Colorado for a month last February or so learning how to meditate, and learning that wherever she goes she is loved.

What else: Her household looks like a picture book of paintings and quilts and special objects, sometimes a pen full of baby chicks in the front room. She has a huge birds pen on her porch that she keeps open with food for the birds who stop by. She makes butter by rolling around a large bottle of cream for awhile, passing it and throwing it more and more until suddenly it is butter. She worries that the amount of alcohol in pure vanilla might be too much. She practices love.

I'd love to have her visit and meet Don who wants to meet her as well, and bring along her husband Jon and son David and daughter Beth. She will like our place, our shack in the mountain woods.

You come by if you would like to see the Garuda do the shuffle.