The Baboon Congress

Krakatoa 2

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Today’s guest post comes from Sherrilee

You’ve all heard me say I don’t want more dogs after my current dogs are gone. So when Young Adult called me from the Humane Society, I fought valiantly but after an hour of arguing on the phone, I just couldn’t envision any win/win. Although she did cave to my request that she wait 24 hours, when the time was up she came home with Guinevere, otherwise known as Krakatoa 2. Or The Little Terrorist. Or Troublemaker. Or – well, you get the gist. So now, despite my protests, there are three dogs and two cats in the household.

K2

Zorro, my elder cat has somehow managed to maintain his “alpha dog” status, although I’m not sure how. He’s the smallest and with no front claws, the most vulnerable in the household. I have seen the puppy put her mouth on Zorro, but then stop. Maybe Zorro has a special muscle twitch that makes K2 back off.

The baby kitty Nimue (although she’s not really a baby anymore at 3) gets a good deal of tumbling. She refuses to get out of the way, so is a natural target for the galumphing puppy. She bats out, makes a great deal of hissing noises, but apparently isn’t using her claws or her teeth in defense. I can only guess that she is either A) absolutely convinced that she can’t cede her space one inch, even if being tortured by a puppy or B) she kinda likes it!

Rhiannon ignores the puppy most of the time, however if K2 gets in her face (or near her food), there is a great deal of snarling and growling and barking on both sides. As with the baby kitty, it doesn’t appear that anybody is using teeth in these pitched battles. No scrapes, no crying, no blood.

Thorin is my hero. He loves K2 and they play and play and play. K2 is really rough, but all that white fur of Thorin’s seems to protect him well enough. Eventually Thorin wears out and he’s had a few nights on which it’s clear that he’s a little stiff and sore, but it never stops him from chasing after the puppy the next morning.

Of course, I am the main one who still wishes we didn’t have a puppy. When she’s quiet and calm, she’s pretty cute and I don’t mind her, but she’s not quiet and calm very much. I did make Young Adult sign a puppy contract with a lot of points but the one I’m already looking forward to is the “You can’t move out unless you move to a place that takes dogs”!

How does everybody get along at your house?

The Baboon Congress

Border Conflict

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Today’s guest post comes from Crystalbay

Fifteen years ago, I had the great blessing of moving into the cottage in which my parents lived for over half of a century.  We’d lived in the same story and a half home in Minnetonka for thirty years and been the social hub of our cul de sac. I’d just walk out of the front or backdoor and there were very friendly neighbors happy to see me. Our children grew up together, our parents died, graduations and marriages seeded this small community, bonding us together as only sharing a neighborhood could.

All of that pretty much ceased the day we moved to the lake and I’ve been isolated out here ever since.

The people on one side hadn’t worked in three generations as grandpa bequeathed them a fortune from grain.  She bought a huge boat and named it “Migrain”.  I haven’t set foot on their four-acre property in six years after taking an aerial photo of our properties to show them, being offered a glass of wine, then told, “When you’ve finished this, go home”.  They’ve always had at least four big dogs.  One time, a friend was visiting here with a like-sized dog and the romping dogs next door compelled him to join and have dog fun.  My neighbor took out a garden hose and sprayed him, all the while yelling, “Get this damn dog off my property!”

It’s really the neighbors on my other side, however, with whom there’ve been years of blatant conflict. They adored my sweet, quiet, old parents and were very kind to them throughout the years.  Then came us with home renovations, gatherings of friends and old neighbors, audible sounds of grandchildren, AND five indoor/outdoor fur persons.  They were cat-haters and were given to screaming at any cat who sauntered into their yard as though their lives were threatened.

The first summer after my divorce, I agreed to let a friend use my dock for his 16’ fishing boat in return for mowing.  In my divorce, wasband got the boat with no dock and I got the dock with no boat.  The two sets of neighbors got together and wrote a memo that this was a violation of city ordinances and they didn’t want “To have our property turned into a public marina”.  I had to tell my friend to dock elsewhere.

I’ve already shared the hidden fence disaster.  To show their disdain for us, the first fall we lived here, they had their huge boat house structure hydraulically deposited right on our property line.  This obstructed our view of the lake significantly.  I called the city and was told they were violating the city code of a 75’ setback for anything obstructing a neighbor’s view.  They were incensed that I’d done this.

The next year, they threatened to build a fence along the property line.  I should mention that this line is about three feet away from the cottage.  Again, I called the city and was told that they weren’t allowed to do this.  Again, they were outraged that I’d inquired.  What came next was very creative on their part: they augured holes two feet apart running the length of the property all the way down to the lake so that they could plant arborvitae trees – the ones that grow rapidly up to 40’ tall.  This would’ve created a virtual wind tunnel out of my 75’ wide lot.

A funny thing happened to those baby trees, however.  Late one night, I slipped out there with a toxic solution.

Fightin'tree

I’m leaving out half a dozen similar examples of conflicts, but the big one came last summer when a twin tree (shared rootball) fell across their yard, leaving the huge rootball exposed from the tree still standing. Leaning dangerously over my roof, I might add.  Another one of their trees is leaning toward the cottage has a branch 3’ in diameter which has split 5’ from the trunk.  They refused to do anything about these potentially cottage crushing trees.

I did my homework and learned that my insurance would cover damages AFTER I paid my $5000 deductible.  I wrote them a very civilly- worded letter offering to chip in $500 for the cost of felling the trees.  He called, yelling that I’d broken the law by putting the letter in his mailbox.  I said, “Well then, I should’ve walked it over” to which he replied, “That would be trespassing!” I had four different certified arborists assess the trees.  All of them concurred that they were a clear and present danger to my home and provided estimates of the cost to fell them.  I’d learned my lesson by now that I’d be breaking a federal law unless I mailed the next letter to them.  I included the assessments and estimates in the letter.

He then called saying that my home would collapse before these trees fell because, “Your home is in a swamp!” My home is on the same level ground that his is.  Ultimately, he hired a crew to do the job and told me both trees down would be cut down, but only if I gave them $500 in cash upfront.  The crew came and told me that he’d only hired them to take one tree down.  I told them that he’d lied to me and they left, wanting no part of a neighborhood feud.  He called later that day, yelling all sorts of wild, rageful, and irrational things, ending his diatribe with, “Don’t you EVER call this number again!!!!!”

This is where it stands today.  Two trees about to crash into my cottage and sleepless nights when there’s a storm or a strong wind.  As bad as the potential disaster, though, is the level of contempt I feel towards these people and a fear of unleashing it!  I don’t do anger well and have very rarely even practiced it on anyone in my life.  Let’s just hope against hope that I die before the trees fall.

Question:  What (if any) problems have you had with your neighbors?

The Baboon Congress

Vieux (OLD)

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Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale

We’ve been back from France for just short of a month, and I’ve been trying to come up with a post that would encompass the entire trip. No small trick, as the journey had three very distinct segments: being tourists in Paris, memorial ceremonies for my uncle in a village in Brittany, and a Viking River Cruise in Provence.

What I fell in love with was how OLD everything was, everywhere we went. In Paris, I loved walking in the Left Bank down mazes of cobblestoned alleys (called streets) that have been around for centuries.

The Sorbonne University has been there since the 12th century.

My favorite Museum was the Cluny, officially known as the Musée national du Moyen Âge (Middle Age) – Thermes et hôtel de Cluny, part of which was built around 3rd century Roman baths.

The building that housed our air.bnb flat on Rue Lecruirot (south Montparnasse area) was built in 1893.

The Paris Metro has been around since summer of 1900.

In the village of St. Pere en Retz, we got to stay in a 150 year old manor house, and our suite was a former kitchen that has become a B&B.

In Provence we spent time in Avignon, the center of which is a walled city.  And the countryside sported farmhouses and wineries.

I can’t wait to go back.

What’s the oldest building you’ve seen or been in?

The Baboon Congress, Travel

Feelin’ Groovy in Portland, OR (littlejailbird’s trip, part 2)

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Today’s post is from littlejailbird.

Feelin’ Groovy in Portland, Oregon (littlejailbird’s trip, part 20

Dear Steve and Molly,

Thank you both for the wonderful day in Portland (March 26). It was a golden day from start to finish. Near the end of our time together, when the ice cream server asked how my day was going, I realized with a shock that there wasn’t a single thing I would have changed from the time I woke up until that moment in the ice cream shop (and it held true until I went to bed that night).

After three days and three nights on the train, it was blissful to be outdoors and to be able to walk around. I started my day with a walk to a breakfast place, then another walk to Mt. Tabor Park. Then it was time to be chauffeured around by you.

Steve had told me earlier that the day was going to be all about me and what I wanted to do. I am still in shock from someone telling me that – and then actually doing it. From visiting the world’s largest bookstore (Powell’s) to a buffet lunch at an Indian restaurant to visiting a park and walking around the waterfront to going out for ice cream, there is nothing I would have changed. I know that you thought the food at the restaurant wasn’t as good at it usually is, but you hadn’t been eating train food and snack food like almonds and protein bars for 3 days. It tasted good to me!

Of course, the weather cooperated in giving us such an amazing, sunshiny day, cool at the beginning and end and warm in between; and wherever I looked I saw green, growing things – a far cry from the dead browns I had left in Minnesota. It would have been difficult for me to feel grumpy with a day like that, but I suspect that I would have had a fine time even if it had been cold and drizzly, because you two were very satisfactory companions. I hope you had half as good time as I did. I told the ice cream server, “I’m having a good day!” but I fear that I communicated it better to her than I did to you. So, I’m telling you now: I had a good day – a magical day, a golden day, a day full of simple pleasures from start to finish. Thank you.

Your friend,

littlejailbird
What are your simple pleasures?

The Baboon Congress

life can be easy

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In the header photo: oldest son on left youngest daughter on right all the ones in the middle are in the middle except the old ones in the middle that are not in the middle.

Today’s guest post comes from tim

the art of guest blogging is a mission worthy of pursuit.

when i was a younger man ( i guess i have alway been a younger man havnt i?) i used ot ask people for topics to write songs on. like improv acting. i would take an idea and work it sometimes to my and other delight sometimes to death and with the like i do with potatoes. familiar and i like it but others either do or they dont without much variation. if you liked the least one youve got a shot if you didnt youre likely in for a repeat.

life is a little like that. if you did good you are likely to repeat if you didnt you are likely to repeat. its not like tyou are doomed to goundhog day but it kind of is exactly like you are doomed to groundhog day. unless you are able to swap brains midway through the process the ability to reinvent the essence of you is suspect.

the problem is that if you didnt find great enjoymet in the last version of the sojourn it is unlikely that you will adjust this time unless…… unless you figure it out.

my kids are all coming of age. 28 year old is ready to go make a life, 26 year old is working on hers., 22 year old is fresh out of college and the 16 year old is singing acting and deciding on a course that will allow her to appreciate those things rather than be jailed and a starving artist y looking to find career paths in paying professions that will challenge hr sense of daily heroics and allow her to go for it on a continuing basis.

youngest daughter just got her invite to drivers training and you should have seen the smile. priceless. lord knows what she will end up doing but the 26 year old guesses that emma will likely turn out to be a corporate ceo. just that kind of make up. focused and personable with a take no crap kind of personna.

my job today is to teach them that you never give up.

my wife is form a family where the 9-5 routine is the way it worked. nice folks but a different cup of tea from the roll with the punches life i came from. when we met i was a high rolling young pup on my way to fame and fortune and she bit. we had a kid then two then three and decided to get married and all was grand with a city mouse country mouse kind of theme. then the fan entered the picture and holy moly. it is different when you need to adlib plan

it is a stroke of luck that i can always find a worthy pursuit ti keep me occupied and i have a couple now. the 22 year old told me yesterday when i was talking to him about options i am pursuing right now that he thought i ought to focus on one thing and stay with it. and i told him i have heard that one before and while it sage advice it is not for me. i cant do it. while i am in the midst of one pursuit i a plotting another for tomorrow. multitasking is part of the dna
i hope to show them that if you find a vision and pursue it life will be ok.it works good for me.

i used to work with a guy who wanted me to take a title with his company and i couldnt do it. i told him im a good worker but a poor employee. truer words have never been spoken.

i hope my kids can learn how to find their way in this cold cruel world bt taking care of the things that are important to them as the make therir way throgh the maze and try to find the key ot lifes mysteres. one foot in front of the other a stitch in time saves nine. do sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me and dont let anyone give you a wooden nickle. when someone asks if there are any questions? i always ask for the secret to lifes true meaning. . the response is always worthwhile. every now and again i get a predetermined answer or one off the cuff that the person is comfortable or pleased with and tha tis a good time to pause a moment and reflect.

today was one of the 10 perfect days you get a year in this part of the world and when i went outside at 3 and discovered it was perfect out i went into the office and told my colleague that unless he had something very very pressing he needed to get out and enjoy this perfect day and do whatever the next two hours were going to produce another time and another way.

life can be easy. life can be rewarding, dont think too hard. you know how to do it. just do it.

even nike knows that

The Baboon Congress

Spring Went Sproing in 1965, Part 1

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In the spring of 1965 Morey Amsterdam was in the Twin Cities for a gig, which must have been during the height of his fame. While he was here, he wrote a one-liner about Minnesota that has hung in my mind ever since:

“Minnesotans are people who have snow in their driveways, have water in their basements, are missing the roof to their houses, don’t know what time it is, and can’t buy paint on Sunday.”

The last two parts you may not appreciate if you were not here in ’65. The legislature overdosed on stupidity pills that year. They did not pass a law to define when Daylight Savings Time started. As a result every city set its own time, which among the many cities of the Twin Cities made chaos. That was one of the reasons Congress passed a national law for uniform DST, which the logic-benders of Arizona ignore.

MN alarmed Clock

While they legalized the sale of liquor on Sunday, the legislature also outlawed the sale of many items on Sunday, such as hardware. That law stood up in court for about .321 seconds. Boone and Erickson were doing riffs on bootleg paint and high-speed nuts and bolts runs from Wisconsin. Perhaps the lawmakers were right; a Sunday reprieve from the contagious frenetic pace of modernity would not be a bad thing.

Bootleg Paint

Spring ’65 was, of course, also a time of floods and tornadoes. I was working at the University of Minnesota medical school as a sub-lowly lab tech. On the evening that the tornadoes tore through the northern suburbs, I was working late, not sure why, what with my insignificance, but there I was. The janitor on my floor of Diehl hall, a person who was otherwise impossible to find, invited me to join him and some others on the roof of the highest floor of Mayo Hospital, which at that time was about as tall a building as you could find outside of the Foshay Tower. It was up on that roof that I lost my innocence.

I lost my innocent belief that you could trust other people’s observation, and by extension, my own. Person after person called into WCCO radio, to which we were listening, to report tornadoes. No one called from the northern suburbs where the tornadoes were, because they could not. Many called from places we could see clearly to report nonexistent funnel clouds, such as over the Sears Tower, where a bright shaft of light was streaking down through the clouds.

If I were to serve on a criminal journey, I would mutter to every eyewitness, “Yeah, right.”

When have you or someone else’s observation been proven wrong?

Uncategorized

Rules People

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Today’s post comes from Bart, the Bear who found a smart phone in the woods.

H’lo, Bart here.

So the Ranger on this trail thinks he’s going to take some time off?

That’s OK. I like it when the rules people decide to give it a rest, and that’s what a Ranger is to me.  One of the rules people. Ugh.

Us bears have rules too, but not written.

Bears make it their own business to let another bear know when a line has been crossed. That’s not a job somebody else can do, ’cause one day the line might be in a different place than some other day.

On the parks and trails us bears get to know the different Rangers – their habits and how hard they want to work. The best ones take it easy, but there are a lot of hard cases out there. How close the local Ranger follows the book is the single biggest thing that shapes a bear’s territory.

Yup, you heard that right.

It’s not nature, it’s the Ranger. If he (or she) is a prissy, particular, hard-nosed stickler for the Letter of the Law, no bear will call that ground home.

It’s not ’cause bears are natural beasts that don’t like to be bossed, even though that’s true. It’s not that we can’t stand up to some tin-badge authority figure, ’cause we can! And it’s sure not because we’re afraid of the tranquilizer dart. I love the dart the way campers love beer. The world gets all spinny, and then a bunch of gentle  hands come to lift you up, and then you get a ride in a truck!

Travel expands the mind!

No, the reason us bears steer clear of rules-lovers is that most rules run against our interests.  And every rules person plays favorites – usually they aren’t interested in following ALL the rules equally.

But there’s this ONE rule they all seem to like just fine and they follow it to the letter, and wouldn’t you know it’s the one we hate the most.

Don’t feed the bears!

I don’t know about you, but my favorite kind of trail has no Ranger.

Your woodland pal,
Bart

If you could suspend one rule, which one would it be?

The Baboon Congress

Play Time

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Today’s post comes from Renee in North Dakota 

I believe that the Trail Baboons are a pretty playful bunch, so I thought they might find interesting my tools of the trade as a play therapist.

I am the only therapist at my agency who feels comfortable working with children under the age of 10. At the present time, the waiting list to see me for first appointments extends into September. I find that disturbing, but understandable, given that people don’t want to drive 90 miles to Bismarck for weekly appointments.

Husband is going to start working a second part time job as a therapist for Lutheran Social Services, and will work with children and adolescents, so I hope he can help fill a therapeutic void in our region.

I made a decision long ago that I would purchase all my toys, books, and materials myself, mainly
because I want to get the exact items I need and not have to depend on what might be in the agency budget at any particular time. The Association for Play Therapy has an annual conference and there are loads of vendors selling lots of toys, books, and games. I get what I can whenever I go. I also find lots of things at a local farm/ranch store.

Play therapy rooms need to have materials that allow for self expression and relate to the child’s everyday experience.

I am proud of my room, and I hope that the following photos will prove interesting to the Baboon community.

I have a jail, a school, a hospital, a fire station, a doll house, a kitchen area, baby dolls, a farm, and a sand tray.

I have a castle, human figures, animals, toy coffins and grave stones,miniature alcohol bottles, plastic turds, puppets, a puppet theatre, and costumes.

I have a doctor’s kit,toy guns and swords, and handcuffs.

I have books and therapeutic games. I also have a set of foam bowling pins with foam bowling balls (for irrational thoughts bowling, in which we tape an piece of paper inscribed with an irrational thought or fear on the pin, and bowl it over).

Generally, a toy is appropriate for a therapy room if it can be used to elicit feelings or help a child express feelings or tell their story. It is also important that, if thrown, the toy can’t hurt to therapist too badly.

You will notice in the photos that I have every few toys with commercial associations.

Those commercial links stifle creative play. Superheroes seem to transcend their commercial ties, and end up doing a wide variety of things in the play room.

I don’t see all my child clients in the play therapy room, mainly those age 8 and younger. My therapeutic interventions involve non-directive play, in which I make reflective statements about the child’s actions and behavior, or more directive play when there are specific issues that a child has to deal with and I more actively organize the session.

The large purple doll figure is named Meebie. It has a variety of Velcro-backed facial features and things like teardrops and broken hearts that children can use to display all sorts of faces and feelings.

The pure white cloth doll figure, called a Blanco doll, can be drawn on with washable markers and comes clean in the washing machine.

The large wooden chest is for anything in the room that is scary and needs to be locked up.

I have a new doll house. This one has two stair cases. My old one was very grand but the children were upset that there were no stairs. No one ever wanted my suggestion that they could pretend there were stairs. My new doll house, with stairs, is getting a lot of use.

None of my American Indian clients want to play with the Indian figures. I am still trying to figure that out.

The sand tray is really popular. I get the sand from a guy in Utah who sells beautiful sand in different colors and textures. I use the sand tray for general free play as well as to have children use the miniatures and other objects to show me what their world is like and how they would like their world to be. Sand tray therapy is widely used by Jungian therapists with adults as well as children, and there are hundreds of miniatures that these therapists use.

I found the scared and horrified figures at a recent play therapy convention. Kids really relate to them and use them in the sand tray.

I have lots of animal figures, wild, domestic, and fantastical. The animals are in family groups, with adult and young members.

Some people refuse to have toy weapons in their play rooms. I don’t think banning them from the play room is realistic.

The large wooden structure gets used a lot as a safe place or as a home.

I like the guy with the chain saw. He is so Freudian with the position of the saw!

What are the tools of your trade?

Uncategorized

Recruitment Tool

84 Comments

Baboons – this post launched early yesterday, and some have already commented.  Feel free to add to the conversation – already underway.

Today’s post comes from Captain Billy of the Clipper Muskellunge.

Ahoy, Landlubbers!

Me an’ me boys is delighted t’ hear of th’ popularity of th’ new disaster film San Andreas, on account of th’ fact that it is bound t’ cause landlubbers such as yerselves t’ freak out about dry ground an’ be more open than ever t’ the prospect of switchin’ t’ a life lived on th’ open sea.

That’s right, us pirates almost never worries ’bout earthquakes, since terra infirma is usually quite a piece distant from our location – either far below us or outta sight beyond th’ Earth’s curve.

Them images you see of collapsin’ skyscrapers an’ tsunami waves towerin’ over cruise vessels an’ the like is somethin’ what only happens close t’ shore, an’ we ain’t never close t’ shore fer long on account of various arrest warrants, Coast Guard facilities, an’ heavily armed civilians wi’ a minimum amount of firearms training.

But me boys does love watchin’ that San Andreas trailer, ain’t that right boys?

A long time before this here movie came out, us pirates saw th’ danger what always lies near land. Out where we spends our time, earthquakes is hardly a concern, an’ when they happens, they sounds more or less like the grumblin’ of a large submerged stomach an that’s about it.

Although sometimes that sound is a real stomach, fer sure. Several dozens of ’em, filled wi’ grog, t’ be exact. On Sunday mornin in particular.

An on occasion th’ Saturday night roughousin’ above decks gets things tippy enough t’ resemble an openin’ of a fissure in th’ Earth’s crust.

An’ I admits that random folks does go flyin’ overboard sometimes in a manner not entirely unlike th’ way them dispensable movie characters frequently tumbles into steamin’ chasms that opens up underfoot.

But that’s all in good fun, mostly. Except fer when it ain’t.

But anyone watchin’ earthquake disaster flicks an wonderin’ where safety lay – th’ answer is simple. Look t’ that yonder ragged dot on th’ horizon. An consider joinin’ us!

Yer carefree Capt’n,
Billy

Ever been in an earthquake?

The Future, Words

Five Year Plan

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Following a pattern well established by the Soviet leaders of old, I launched Trail Baboon on June 3, 2010 with a grandiose five year plan for world domination.

I had just been tossed from a job I’d held for twenty five years at the place where I’d worked for more than thirty.  During most of those years I’d been writing fake ads,  joke essays, sing-song poems,  and phony conversations with preposterous characters.

It was fun, and while my employers weren’t exactly paying me to do it,  they didn’t withhold my pay to make me stop.  I took that as tacit approval.

So when the gig ended I felt a strong desire to maintain my daily writing habit in case a sudden demand surfaced for random acts of topical whimsy.

The plan in the back of my mind was this – that the blog would become a widely-read creative and conversational spark plug and the audience would grow to such levels that the entire enterprise would turn into a financially self supporting side industry that could continue whether I was otherwise employed – or not.

Today it is my delightful duty  to declare that thanks to the tireless work of the People’s Blogging Army and a prodigious daily output of pithy remarks by the People’s Baboon Commentariat, our ambitious five year plan has led to spectacular successes on every front and all our dreaded foes have been humbled.

Which is Soviet shorthand for this – not a single one of the above mentioned goals was achieved.

But in the process we’ve had some wonderful fun while a loyal community has gathered to meander down the Trail Baboon. With an occasional hiccup, I have posted either here, or at the companion site, The Baboondocks, six days a week, every week, for sixty months.

The most rewarding aspect has been the fine writing and camaraderie that has developed in the comments section, powered by a diverse cast of characters that no one could invent.

Today you are reading post 1,397. Lest anyone think I am claiming credit for all that, 231 of those posts were written by readers – the famed Baboon Congress.  But at the end of this week we’ll hit 1,400 posts – high time to take a bit of a rest.

So after posting this Saturday, June 6th, I’m giving myself a three month sabbatical – some necessary time and space to take a look at how I schedule my days and where I spend my energy. And an opportunity to enjoy these precious summer evenings doing something other than hunching over a computer – just to see how that feels.

I’ll weigh in from time to time if the moment is right and other commitments align.  Some baboons are working on guest essays – I’ll happily post them when they come in.  But one of the beauties of a blog is that it need not follow any set schedule.  Trail Baboon and The Baboondocks will remain in place and open for comment while I rest.

And the internet is wide and deep and there are many other places to go where like-minded Baboons can have a conversation.

I know I don’t need to remind you of this – but like Dorothy and that thing with clicking her heels to go home, everyone has the power to create a blog.    Some already have – note that in the left margin of the screen we have  existing links to Blevins’ Book Club,  A Neo-Renaissance Writer, and The View From Birchwood Hill.

Describe a sabbatical you took and what it meant to you.