I remember this house from a trip we took there in 1955 after my uncle was killed in a plane crash. This was my Great Grandfather's house.

After every professional football game, there comes the final analysis. The best is highlighted, the worst is evaluated. And, when you're evaluating yourself, you are your own worst critic. I'm sorry the video didn't come out. There was a lot of background noise and you can barely hear me. The talk was well received though and the people who recruited me said I was inspirational. I think an even bigger highlight than speaking was the incredible, interesting people who attended the conference. These people are changing the voice and public perception of people over 60. I met some wonderful people and networked for two full days.

This conference is being run in a format unlike any I've ever attended. It is entirely conversational. Small groups gather at round tables to hear a speaker present their talk. The ensuing discourse comprises the other half of the session. It offers an open sharing of ideas and allows true connections to be made among the participants.

I attended yesterday's sessions regarding alternative modes of housing for seniors that allow them to age in place. We discussed co-housing, house-sharing, and how to select a proper home-mate. The benefits of co-housing far outreach the obvious decrease in living expenses. Health and safety, security, and reduction of the carbon footprint are all valuable benefits. I've been considering for some time that I won't be able to live the gypsy lifestyle forever so this has at least introduced the conversation in my mind. Short of having another relationship, co-housing answers a great many problems with living alone. And, even if there were another relationship, I've learned all too well not to assume it will last forever. Co-housing is a valuable option for seniors wishing to live independent, happy, and healthy lives for as long as possible.

I plugged the address of my hotel into the GPS, checked my messages one last time in Wi-Fi range, took a sip of my coffee, and hit "GO". Mavis, my lovely electronic travel companion, immediately piped up.

"Follow the highlighted route."

Cool, chica...road trip!

I love to drive. The fact that I've put 42,000 miles on my truck in 23 months should be proof enough. This trip to DC brought me over Shenandoah Mountain with its myriad twists and turns and steep 9% grades. The Virginia/West Virginia border crosses at the peak with a stunning view of the Shenandoah Valley below. Purple mountains' majesty.

As I came around the turn at Pickle Street (yes...it's a real place!), the big red barn caught my eye. The farmhouse looks different now that they added the aluminum siding. (They had to take it off the National Historic Registry for that egregious act!) I first came to this farm as a little girl back when my aunt and her first husband owned it. It had belonged to his grandparents, Grandma and Grandpa Teters. After my uncle died and my aunt remarried, she sold this farm. I was honored she gave me three of Grandma Teters crocks along with the stories on two of them. (The big blue one pulled double duty. The cream was raised in it and the biscuit dough was made in it every morning. They ran a boarding house for teamsters and there were plenty of biscuits made in that crock. The small crock held baking soda. Grandpa Teters had a "sour stomach" all the time so the bowl was filled with baking soda - or "sody", as they called it - and he'd eat a teaspoon of it every time he walked past.) Also, I got a red child's rocker with a woven seat and a curved front oak curio cabinet they pulled out of this barn. It hardly offers basic shelter anymore with great gaps in the wood siding. I wanted to stop and get some pictures while the place is still standing. There is a church a half mile down the road. My great-grandfather donated the bell that is in the steeple of that church. Lots of ties in this area.

I come to the family cemetery several times a week. There is no cell service at the farm, so this is the nearest place available. I bought my mother a low stone that is much like a bench. When I am staying at the farm, I come here, visit, listen to the sounds of nature, and write my post for the next day. It's so peaceful up on this hill.

Yes...yes, the fleas are gone! I am victorious!!! Ok, God and the Dodson Brothers are victorious...but I did my part in the wranglin'! I went back to the farm Sunday night. I went to the bathroom and found a flea on my ankle. I called the exterminator first thing yesterday morning and said, "I still have fleas!"

"Really?" Mr. Exterminator Dude said.

Mary Ann writes: "Happy for you. I know being on the water in my kayak is my happy place and I presume it is for you too. One question...how have you managed to do this alone? I have only been on the water one time since my husband died in June. Going alone just doesn't seem like a safe idea. Even the time I went with friends, wrangling the kayak onto/off the top of my (his) truck was difficult for me. I'm wondering if/how I'm going to keep doing this. Would appreciate any insights."

I am so incredibly blessed. Splitting my time between the farm and the river is perfect. The farm is so peaceful...even though the first couple of weeks has been taken up with cleaning, painting and flea wrangling. My days are so simple. I get up and feed the kitties, put on my coffee, and walk across the road to get the paper. I take my coffee to the porch, read the paper, and do the puzzles. Then it's time to do a good solid 3-4 hours work on a project involving upkeep/improvement. I break for lunch and write for the next 3-4 hours. In the evening, I make phone calls, read, and write.

Change is good. It keeps things fresh. But, we don't like it when others make the changes to our environment without our permission. I learned that lesson when I hung the painting in my aunt's house two years ago. It was the beginning of the end of my foray into home health care. If my aunt returns to live at the farm, I'm trying to keep the freshening up of the house less intrusive so as not to upset her in case she is able to return home. Her brother owns the farm and has asked me to live there if/when my aunt is no longer able to. He knows how much I love the farm and he needs a caretaker for it since he does not live nearby. I don't travel all over as regularly as I did the first couple of years so this works out well for both of us.