is finally here. Two weeks ago we had snow, last weekend it was sleet and hail. Today I awoke to sunshine, and the realization that the heater hadn’t turned on once last night.

So today I am gardening. I have several new planters that I am installing on the front porch. After a run to the nursery, I’ll be adding dirt, then planting jasmine and clematis. There should be enough sun to make them happy, and I want a shaded porch during the summer. Lavender and allysium seeds will go into various pots to make this year’s garden, and more allysium seeds will be sprinkled at the roots of the vines (clematis doesn’t like to have too much light at its base) for ground cover as well as to provide some interest while the vines settle and start growing. And the foxglove I tried to plant next to my rose bush made it through the winter, but it wants a big pot to settle into — the ground is too hard and full of clay for it to be really happy.

I have a number of houseplants that want re-potting and some cuttings that want to find a new home. The hardest part here is that I’m not quite sure I have enough space for them to live inside the home. It may be time to give some away to friends.

What a great way to get into spring.

J. will be planting a series of window boxes along the railing on our back deck. He knows exactly what he wants to plant there, but can’t tell me the name of the flower. (I think its geraniums, but it might be marigolds.) He’s also going to try planting a rose bush for me to go along with the lilies that are doing just fine and starting to grow once again. (I point this pout because we’ve never dug up the bulbs or split them or anything. They just got planted and grow, bloom, then die only to regrow the next spring.)

Hmmm. I wonder if we have enough pots?

Day 2 of the conference, and nice memories of my visit here with my father. At dinner last night (at the always exquisite gem of Matyson) I found myself reflecting on the fact that my family spends a great deal of its time together focusing on meals. We’re not quite so bad as to be talking about dinner while eating lunch, but we do gather around meals, and so meal time (and location) is very important. Food centers us, locates us, and binds us (in positive ways). We all like food, and we’ve tended to bring new people to the family who also enjoy food. So it is a part of our visiting one another; our celebrations shared. Perhaps this comes from the divorce so early on – we quickly found ourselves spending time with our extended family only at the holidays. Holidays, of course, means meals shared . . . and so the pattern was created. (So clear, in retrospect.)

This is not a terrible pattern to manifest, although I can see how it might lead to horrid problems (eating disorders and the like) if the family dynamics are overly warped. (Let’s be clear, shall we? My family, including me, is crazy (aren’t all families crazy?). But we’re working on communicating with one another and healing the wounds of childhood. Not actively, we’re not in therapy, but we are having conversations through the years, and have been since I was in college. That’s about 20 years for those of you who keep count.)

I hate having wireless access, but not connectivity – the corporate world of hotels is quirky that way. At lunch I’ll have to inquire as to whether I can access the hotel’s network for a fee.

I’m in Philadelphia for the 2008 RTM conference. Three days (although I’m only here for two) of discussions on sustainability, deal-structuring, and new trends in the brownfield redevelopment segment of the real estate industry. It’s not my usual gig, in that most of these types of conferences are attended by other people in the office. But its been interesting, I’m learning some things. Not a lot, but some. It’s more a matter of confirmation of concepts that I’ve carried around for awhile. Frankly, better me than someone who could be doing billable work right now.

As with many of these events (no matter the topic) some speakers are better than others. There is also a widely va rying level of passion (and expertise). Overall, day one is worth it. (Even if I just count the morning sessions.)

(The following is a re-telling of the story J. told me.)

I was do some errands with Sasha — she loves going for a ride, even if it’s not anywhere she’ll actually visit — when she started to get very pushy about getting into the front seat. Her current joy is to ride with her front paws on the armrest between the seats, looking at where we’re going. Getting her to stay in the back seat, even to lie down, is a thing we’re working on right now, lots of commands along the lines of “get in the back,” “BACK,” and “lie down” accompanied (usually) by firm elbows pushing her back.

Today she was rotten about it; getting very pushy and wanting to climb into the empty front seat. Very distracting for the driver, to say the least. So I reached into my pocket where I’d stuck one of her balls before we left the house. Thinking it would keep her happily rooting about in the backseat, I tossed it over my shoulder. In a flash, she scrambled back and started trying to get it.

It took her awhile, and I was just starting to congratulate myself on successfully keeping her in the back seat, when I felt a weight on my right shoulder. Looking down, I saw the sweetest brown eyes and a big mouth holding her ball. Which she then dropped — right into my lap.

For the rest of the ride, if I didn’t move quick enough to toss that ball into the backseat, she’d do her best to climb into my lap to get it and play with it herself. (And she has a +20 bonus to her wiggle and root).

Ah yes, silly me, she’s a  retriever. I guess I’ll eventually remember that. For now — no tossing the ball in the car.

Heading home, and not too soon. The last three nights I’ve been unable to get to bed ‘early’ and it’s getting ridiculous how little sleep I’ve gotten each night. On top of which, I’ve watched a lot of TV. My brain is buzzing.

Let me say, btw, that DTW has the WORST security checkpoints – not because they aren’t doing their job, but because the layout is seriously insufficient for the traffic volume. I got to the airport at 6:45, and spent nearly 30 in the checkpoint line. There were literally hundreds of people in line, and it’s the worst I’ve seen since the just-post-9/11 days. 

I’m glad to be going home. Despite being tired, I feel rejuvenated . . . ready to get back into my passion (writing and speaking). I even have some new ideas for future presentations.

“Just days before parliamentary polls in Pakistan, leading Prime Ministerial contender and anti terrorism crusader Benazir Bhutto was shot dead during an election rally in the garrison city of Rawalpindi, near Islamabad. “She has been martyred,” said party official Rehman Malik. The Associated Press, citing Malik, reported that Bhutto was shot in the neck and the chest before the gunman blew himself up. ” from the news article: “Making a Martyr of Bhutto” (http://news.yahoo.com/s/time/makingamartyrofbhutto)

I had seen the news about her assasination on the news this morning, and it shocked me, more so because one of the world’s few powerful female political leaders had been murdered. On top of that, she was an elegant woman, a powerful speaker, and one who looked like a woman — with makeup and long painted fingernails and occasionally garish jewelry. For the world, she was a moderate, one who could have helped balanced that country’s upheavel and provided comfort to the many many poor.

But, she was not — IS not — a martyr. A martyr deliberately gives up her life for the greater glory of ‘god.’ (God is in quotes because it may be for a cause or other thing of great value, not just religion. It’s more rare, but it happens.) A better word might be sacrifice, but because she was an unwilling sacrifice, I do not like it much better.

Sadly, she was mostly a victim and we — the world — is  poorer for her death.