No-bituaries

Two weeks ago, my friends, the DeVaans, surprised me with a full week's worth of meals when I started a new project. So when my writer-buddy Martha told me that her 79-year-old adventurer of a dad jumped off his ATV before it launched into a ravine in Tahiti (yes, you read that right) and critically injured himself, I thought I'd supply her family with a few meals, too.

Which sounds easier than it is. (Need I remind anyone about my crock pot adventure? Who knew that most crock pots don't survive stovetops?)

Lest I food poison my friend, I dropped off some FROZEN MEALS over the weekend and then trekked around Madrona. Martha took me along a fabulous secret path connecting a series of streets, wending through gardens, one chicken coop, a sliver thin house, and a unicycle mounted on a tree stump.

Which, of course, got us talking about miracles--and the miracle of surviving a near-fatal accident the way her dad did. Which led to Martha writing her dad a Nobituary--all the reasons why he had to stay alive.

I love that. However, I am not sure a Nobituary for my crock pot would have done much good.