almost finished with the book, and pulling together pictures to put in it (see below). At the end of elizabeth mansfield irving's life, she accepted an offer from her son, who had left toledo much earlier, and gone out to pasadena california to run the mira monte hotel (below). it appears to me that his uncle, her brother, used his money to fix up old places in pasadena knowing that there was a steady market for tourists arriving in pasadena and needing places to stay indefinitely. the weather was warm, there was access to all of the la area, there was good social life outside and in their fancy ballroom-type main room, and there were good times all around. to her, a steady supply of bridge partners and not having to drive icy streets to get to them was definitely an attraction.

they had apparently bought this old mansion - not downtown, but set back a ways - and fixed it up to be a fine hotel, and her son now ran it - not a bad job, just making sure there were plenty of sheets, towels, silverware, plates - I'm not sure if they provided meals or not, but in any case one had to be on the grounds at all times, so they made sure that wasn't a bad option. when she got there, of course they got her her own room, and that was where she spent the last ten years of her life. traveling was not hard, though i'm not sure they flew all that much those days - this was the depression, in the thirties, and she had enough to go back east once in a while, to see her daughter and her sister - but in general money was tight, especially in toledo where she'd spent almost fifty years - and now she was in her eighties, and didn't get around as easily.

her son had a single daughter who grew up, apparently, in this same hotel, so she was able to spend her sunset years presumably around this granddaughter.

i think of this sometimes as we are way too far away to visit our grandchildren, but may do something about that before too long. much as we love new mexico, in some ways it has become impractical, especially the part about driving steep mountain cliffs in icy snowy weather. the situation has come up now where it might be best for us to deal with this particular problem so that as we get to the end game, we are a little closer to our loved ones ourselves.

some of our children of course don't especially want to hear about that. in the big picture, they're somewhat tired of moving all the time.

elizabeth mansfield irving, my great grandmother; i'm writing a book about her.

This is Elizabeth Mansfield Irving (top) and Kate Brownslee Sherwood (bottom). Elizabeth is my great grandmother; the book I am writing is about these two.

still yet another cold spell coming around, and i feel like the short spring that got us outside and got us a bit of fresh air, is retreating again. though we will probably have less than half an inch, it will cover up greenness that was coming out in the grass.

no pictures on this site for a while - i have to do something about that. i've fallen into a minimal advertising, minimal production mode. and that's not good.

haven't even done my book, not for several days, and that shows, if anything, tiredness at trying to scrape a few minutes together during the day, and being unable to. things are happening quickly here. our family may or may not stay together.

without going into great detail, it is such that teenagers, who are now old enough to make their own way, may or may not be doing that soon. we don't know quite how to deal with it all. extreme measures may be the only measures.

whereas i used to do my book-writing as somewhat of an escape from all the drama, now there's nothing but to force the drama, and do something about it. the book will go to the back seat for a while.

but spring is around the corner, both here and wherever we go.

another bitterly cold morning, but now it's groundhog day, the groundhog says plenty more winter coming, and there's a light snow outside. that snow is a precursor to what is supposed to be a whopper storm tonight and tomorrow that will bring only five inches of snow (here) but frigid temperatures. ranchers and farmers are busy worrying about how and whether their animals will survive.

i myself am thinking that it is probably overblown although it will doubtless be cold and make me want to curl up in the back where it's warm. i'm running around getting wood under decks and awnings so that a supply of wood will last through the cold spell, but really we are sitting around feeling lucky that we don't have to get up and drive in it every minute. when it's this bitter cold, what snow there is gets turned to ice in the sun and the mountain roads, with their steep cliffs and harsh cutbacks, become pretty dangerous.

i'm floundering deep in the turn of the 20th century, around 1900, when my ancestors were running around trying to survive tough winters and noticing the kinds of things electricity could do for them. little did they know that i would be using it today to find out everything i can about what they were up to.

one would, as far as i can tell, take the train from toledo to various other northern cities, speaking at veterans' reunions and making newspapers report accounts of well-received recitations. this was her life. she was a performer. her children grew up somewhat used to the latchkey life.

the statistics grind goes on with two of them rolling over yesterday, tuesday and the first. but they don't say much, only that progress in becoming known as an author, actually having a readership, is pretty slow. i'm bogged down in this mauve-age book, and haven't been cranking out the sexy novels like i probably should be if i wanted it to sustain me. but i may back off and change that general pattern. one has to do what one has to do, after all.