I’ll try to do better, but I can’t make any promises. I was always terrible about keeping a diary as a kid, and as an adult, I can only manage to keep a decent journal on trips. Even then, I usually fall way behind and have to catch up when we get home.

Anyway, my big writing-related news is the publication of my first book, Hobby Farms Ducks, this past April. When I opened up the package that held my complimentary copies, my initial reaction was “Wow, I wrote this!?” followed by “How could such a thin little book be so much work?” I know it will never make the New York Times Bestseller List — unless everybody in the U.S. suddenly, inexplicably decides they want to raise ducks — but I’m proud of it nonetheless. I’m also proud of my daughter Kelsey, who contributed a number of photos to the book (so did I). Her digital photography is way better than mine!

You can see the book (it has cute ducklings on the cover) on the Bowtie Press website at http://www.bowtieinc.com/bowtieinc/detail.aspx?aid=19726&sts=all&gobtn=&cid=4182

or on Amazon, www.amazon.com

That’s all I can muster right now. I wonder if anyone will see this?

Happy Writing and Farming and Bicycling,

Cherie

I just read today’s New York Times story about the hunger and AIDS epidemic in Zambia, a country my husband and I passed briefly through during a safari to Botswana some years ago. The United Nations World Food Programme needs donations to keep feeding these people, including about a million orphaned children. They give out bowls of gruel, a watery concoction of grains and hopefully protein-rich legumes, that costs something like 18 cents apiece.

Like most U.S. citizens, I can’t fathom their hunger, real hunger that isn’t just your stomach growling or blood sugar dipping. But the hunger that wastes your muscles away and lowers your immunity and eventually kills you. Yesterday, my family and I cruised up to Seattle for the day, and had lunch at our favorite Greek restaurant in the Fremont District, Costas Opa. I stuffed myself on fragrant lentil soup, dolmades, potatoes, and savory mixed vegetables, and couldn’t finish everything on my plate. Later, we squeezed our way through hordes of people, many of them grazing on the go, and an abundance of food at Pike Place Market.

So now I’m feeling sick and guilty and gluttonous, lucky but oh-so-spoiled, looking at pictures of sad-eyed, starving children. Even my pets and farm animals eat better. My refrigerator and kitchen cabinets are full; I live in a country where obesity (and dieting) is the norm; where people — including myself — think nothing of shelling out $3 or more for flavored coffee and milk. Everywhere I go, there is food.

To assuage my guilt, and because I’ve been to Africa and I know these people are real, that they are part of my world even though they don’t live in my neighborhood, I give what I can. I’ll try not to forget their faces next time Starbucks beckons or I’m faced with thousands of food choices at the mega grocery store.

If you want to learn more about the work the World Food Programme does, click here

I love you and miss you, Nana.