Hey Pals, We're back! We're filled with new experiences and new dog friends we met in pawson to share as soon as our secretary downloads our gazillion photos.
But first things first:
1. Our many many thanks to all of our friends whose cards were waiting for us when we got home last night. It was so much fun seeing your faces and thinking about the love and friendship that connects us all across the globe!
2. Our warmest wishes to everyone as we enter a brand new decade and -- we pray -- a happy new year. Our hearts hold dear the memory of those we lost this past year -- and those memories will stay with us as we leap into the new year, with a "blue moon" (second full moon of the month) to help us celebrate and commemorate.
3. And, oh yes, tomorrow, January 1, is my eighth barkday and I plan to give my mom and dogdad lots of extra kisses and sniffs for making these eight years so exciting!!!
Lots of wirey love to all,
Jake of Florida (happily warm again!)
This one has the most memories. It's the most traditional, made of brass and a tin-like metal, with the lions of Judah and the ten commandments. It belonged to Mom's grandparents, who came from Russia. When she sees it, she remembers happy times - the lights ablaze, reflecting the joy in her grandparents' faces as the whole family said the blessings and shared laughter and songs.
The next two are more modern versions, the first made from aluminum; the second from hammered pewter and a bit more stylized. We'll be traveling with the second one so we can light the candles while we're away next week.
This one is very special because our sister gave it to Mom - it plays a Chanukah song when you wind it up. The base is wood and the branches are metal.
And finally, this more elaborate menorah was a gift from Dogdad's brother and his wife to Mom last year. It's porcelain and engraved with the word shalom - peace.
Then there are the crazy flamingo tourists (we're in Flori-duh after all).
And these are contrasted with several beautful hand-painted cardinal balls (the birds, not our MVP Albert) and one of the St. Louis Arch.
And finally, Mom's latest love, seahorses. The frosted glass seahorse came back from Galveston with us.
Last Sunday, I escorted Jake and Just Harry to their favorite animal camp 
and then flew with their folks to Galveston for an annual seaport convention. These conventions are scheduled at different seaports in the US and Canada years in advance. Ironically, the year it was scheduled in New Orleans -- 2006 -- was the year after the area was devastated by Hurricane Katrina, and the year it was scheduled for Galveston -- 2009 -- was the year after Hurricane Ike. Next year, it's scheduled for Halifax -- so history won't repeat itself just yet -- but the irony was not lost on the hundreds of convention attendees. As someone said, where the sea meets the land is where people (and we water birds?) like to settle -- and that's where they are often most vulnerable.
Along the seawall, a monument erected to commemorate the 1900 hurricane has been transformed into a tribute to survivors of the 2008 storm. Letters, photos, mementos, dried flowers -- all dot the low fence that protects the statue -- staying there until the new winds fade them or rip them to shreds.
So the sun, when it shone, was a precious sight and more like the spirit of the community
Everywhere downtown are these signs of the community's comitment to the future and markers that show the height of Ike's storm surge and flood waters.
In many instances, the markers compare the level from 1900 with levels from other storms and then -- at the top, -- the high waters from Ike.
I'm five feet four inches -- so you can get a sense of those levels from where the marker is on this brick building (that's not a wig -- it's wind-swept hair!).
One of the events we attended was at the historic 1894 Opera House. I had visited it years ago when I did a cruise study for the port and remembered that special feeling of being surrounded by wood paneling and carpeting and other elements that dated back a hundred years or more. Before the event started, though, we were advised to look around and imagine 13 feet of water where we were sitting!! To the City's triumph over matter, everything has been restored, to the best of their ability -- new carpet, new wood, new seats - - and the Opera House is used for events throughout the year. --its memories surviving in the imaginations of its visitors. 
The same thing is true with the historic Tremont Hotel. The water levels weren't as high as at the Opera House-- but the first floor had to be renovated, with new furniture, and now bears just the slightest lingering whiff of the storm. 
We stopped to see the Bishop's Palace -- which had lower level flooding -- and is still being repaired.
And passed by Ashton Villa -- which looks impeccable.
Ah, but then the last two days we were there, the roar of the sea was replaced by the roar of something quite different: the unforgettable sound made by the 100,000 to 300,000 bikers who had rode into town for the Annual Lone Star Bikers Rally!!! 
Streets leading to the main downtown area -- the Strand -- were closed off so they could be filled with tents and vendors selling street food and BEER.,.
Jack and I ventured along the main drag and drew some curious looks at our inappropriate attire. One "biker babe" approached Jack, who was wearing a sports jacket, and asked:"Did you forget your motorcycle, honey???"
While we were downtown, we stopped in a few shops and talked with Galvestonians -- most of them what they like to call "BOI" -- Born on the Island.
Invisible routines and Christmas music #20
4 hours ago
