A quick mid-morning note: queenlake.com has finally shown up on Google search. See http://www.google.com/search?q=queen+lake+phillipston&hl=en&lr=&ie=UTF-8. It should be about half way down the page.

Last night Sandra and I went to the calling hours for the mother of my friend, Don. Lorraine was a wonderful, sweet, and kind woman who'd had more than her share of troubles. The family photos, displayed on a DVD, reminded me of my childhood, sitting around with Don and his brother, Vinnie, playing Pipeline on the guitar. (They played; I listened.) At the calling hours, we got to visit with Don's daughter, Sarah, and wife, Debi. It's hard to believe that it's been a year and a half since we last spoke, since Don's funeral. We just missed seeing Ken. People get away if you let them.

I'm halfway through my contract at work. After I return from vacation, Labor Day week, I need to start serious discussions about a contract extension or I'll be looking for a new job in early October.

Sandra's been talking with her parents and her mother's doctors a lot about her mother's upcoming back surgery. I'm waiting for a call from the social services person in my father's doctor's office. In both cases, it's quite a challenge to be helpful without being presumptious. ("Hi, I'm here to help you.") Remembering one of the basic principles of the Hippocratic Oath, we should, first, do no harm.

This weekend Sandra and I are going in to Boston to see a Red Sox game. Pedro is pitching. We're looking forward to having one of Luis Tiant's Cuban sandwiches for supper.

It's back to the office today. I worked from home yesterday and liked it quite a bit. The weather was delightful, something I don't get to exprience much when I'm in the office. Marley wanted to go out often to warn the squirrels away. Finally, I just left the back door open so that he could come and go as he pleased. With a wireless laptop I can sit anywhere in the house, or even outside.

I have to send several documents out for review this week. That's one of the difficult parts of my job, having others comment on my work. I know that it's all a process of making things better, but sometimes I can be rather thin-skinned. Most people won't bother to complete the review anyway, so I will likely only get a handful of comments.

When I'm not able to sleep, I listen to the BBC, broadcast during the overnight by a local NPR station. Generally, the BBC World Service delivers very good news and feature programming. The news is primarily for a North American audience. (They refer to President Bush and then, in another story, British Prime Minister Tony Blair, for example.)

I often don't sleep well, waking very early and unable to return to sleep. It's been going on for quite while. Although my mood doesn't seem to relate to my patterns of insomnia, my sleep patterns are related to depression. I've been treated for depression for nearly 40 years now, since high school. Most of the time you wouldn't know it. Sometimes, though, it's unmistakable. A couple of times in the 80s I was incapacitated for a month or more. I had a few days last month when I thought I was headed for trouble. We caught it in time, however. With the wonderful support of my family and a good doctor, the episode passed and I'm pretty much back to normal. I'm still wary about pronouncing myself to be healthy, though, knowing the nature of these things.

One of the core challenges in recognizing and treating depression is that it can look like so many other things. It can masquerade as dissatisfaction, sadness, anger, or inattention. I have to be careful, more careful than most, about making big decisions because the emotions that I'm feeling may come from illness, not insight. It's true that events can aggravate depression. I've seen that this year. Looking for a job wore me out, leading to decisions that weren't always the best. In several cases, I abruptly changed my mind and left friends in awkward positions. That led a few folks to ask, "How are you *really*?" It took me a while to catch on. Illness or no, I am still responsible for my actions and feel badly when I fall short with people who are trying to help me.

So how have we treated my depression? As mentioned before, with a wonderful family, dear friends, and good doctors. I take the advice of Norman Cousins (Anatomy of an Illness) and keep laughing. I used to rent Bugs Bunny cartoons to keep the laughter coming. I don't drink, haven't for close to 30 years. Even though I know that I will probably never be cured, I always know that each episode will pass, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, but it will always pass. Sandra's a great comfort, supporting me and helping me to focus on the process of recovery. It is scary for her, but we've learned how to get through it. I'm very grateful.

The birds have come back. We were out of bird seed for a few days and it was strange not to have a crowd at the feeder. The chickadees and sparrows, small birds, are the first to return. And then, while writing this note, a hawk swooped into the yard and found its breakfast, a mouse, in the tall grass near the fence. The other birds will stay hidden for a while until they're sure that the danger has passed.

In the overnight email, I learned that the mother of my friend Don passed away yesterday. She had had to bury her husband and both of her sons. Now, we hope, she can get some rest.

The next couple of weeks at work will be busy as I complete tasks before our vacation. That'll be good. Well-defined tasks bring focus to the day. There's an axiom in business - if you want to get something done, give it to a busy person. It will also feel good to have earned a vacation. As I've mentioned before, this will be the first vacation in many years when I haven't been exhausted.

On Saturday it rained. It rained a lot. Sandra and I spent a very quiet day at the camp, sleeping late, reading, playing cards, talking. A bit of guilt was sneaking in at the edges - how can we take a day off like this when there's so much to do? Well, doing nothing was the right thing to do that day.

Yesterday my father has indicated that he'd consider have more help around the house. I'll call his doctor today to find out what kinds of services are available with his insurance. But this was a big deal, being willing to accept help from strangers. We're not sure how much help he'll need and he may back off from the idea by the time that we've lined up the resources. Nevertheless, it marks a change. Last week, when I asked if it would be ok for us to make a copy of his house key, he said, "Sure. We're a team."

We talked with my father's next-door neighbors to let them know that we'll be visiting more often. A nice couple with a young daughter. They're living in the house where my grandparents used to live. My grandparents moved there when I was about 10. I would get off the school bus and my grandmother would have coffee and pastries waiting for me as my after-school snack.