My house has turned into a beach house, a vacation place, with adults and kids coming and going. This morning we again went to Lovers Point, It was too cold at Asilomar beach. We are into day 5 of a ten day visit. All the adults have their own lap top computers and spend some time every day in silent communication with the rest of the world. The kids have toys, baths, sand, turning on the front hose, flooding the sidewalk and driveway. We seem to do parallel cooking, everyone fixing what they want. I have finally adjusted and am enjoying this beach house experience with my family.
We went to lovers Point Beach this morning. Sun was out, the two small boys were ready to play with the water. We joined the other women with young children, spreading blankets, buckets, snacks, sun screen. The boys approached the water and the mild lapping waves in their own different manner. I found a small piece of tree shade to put up my chair. The sea gulls were waiting for any chance to grab careless food. To the boys the sun is a friend, to me it is the enemy and I struggle to find the sunless spot. Came home tired and satisfied.
In the middle of afternoon rush hour traffic, I was driving to Target to buy children's supplies. Stop and start traffic, windows down. I'm listening to Leonard Cohen's "I'm Your Man", singing along with the CD. I happen to look over to my right and see two young men sitting high in a truck looking at me and laughing good naturedly. It is so startling to remember that I am not invisible when I am in my car. I turn down the music and stop singing. I wish I could have smiled and kept on singing. Maybe next time.
I picked up the two children at school yesterday. The older boy is now in Second grade. We talked as we waited for his first grade sister to come.
He said he was so happy being in second grade because he can now boss arouud the first graders. I asked if he liked it when he was bossed around last year. he said no. But now he does like it because he is the person doing the bossing.
He ran off to stop me from giving him more unwanted advice and taking away his fun. I keep thinking I should do something but I am not sure what. Whatever I do is another form of being bossy.
One more day until the babies come. Except they are no longer babies, they are talkative 3 and 4 year old boys coming with their parents and with their aunt.
I am busy rearranging the house, setting up beds, buying washable color crayons.
My biggest fear is that I will get too tired, maybe if I just remember to take naps I will be fine. I love these kids and their parents. I am glad they are coming.
I had to be out of my house all morning while work was being done. I ran errands, picking up a print order, making copies of the monthly calendar, picking up a check, then I went and parked under the tall eucalyptus trees between Lake Elestero and the Cemetery.
It's a comfort to know that many relatives are buried there and that I too will be buried there if I die. IF I DIE? or more accurately when I die.
I used to hide out in this shaded spot when I was a social worker and feeling desperate. Listening to too many painful stories, understanding how little control we actually have in our lives. Here looking out on the cool water, sitting in the shade, watching the various families and tribes of birds, all seemed well. I was glad to revisit and remember this shady grove.
Went to a friend's birthday party last night, sitting outside in the Carmel Valley warmth, bar-be-cue, conversations, jokes. I drank one beer when I arrived, I felt relaxed and confident and talkative. Then I drank Hansen sodas. I do have a fear of drinking too much and keep close watch.
I've been attending these August birthday parties for years and know most of the participants They make birthday parties look easy and fun. I had given up on my own birthday parties but now I am beginning to be inspired. Maybe parties are really meant to be silly and talkative and full of good food. Maybe I just didn't understand before.
Some days I don't know what to say here.
The wind continues to blow the long thread of worms through the air. People in my neighborhood walk around with brooms held up high to push the worms away.
I'm reading Oracle Bones by Peter Hessler, a wonderful collection of unromantic essays about living in China.
We had a half day sitting this morning, lots of birds feeding on worms, kids riding scooters and us sitting in silence and awareness. Good day.
Long thin threads hang from trees, buildings, lamp posts, threads crawling with wiggly worms, or what we call worms from the oak trees. Probably they are pupa's.
From a distance they look like beaded curtains but when you walk in them they cling to you and the rest of the day you are finding these worms on your clothes, in your hair, on your skin. I shudder every time I have to pull one of them off me.
Are they harmful. My body acts as if they are. They are definitely creepy and one of the scourges of nature in my neighborhood.
The Oak trees look dead now that all their leaves have been eaten. I don't want to be eaten by the oak worm.
Last night after lying in bed for several hours I realized that I had forgotten how to fall asleep. How could I have lost it. Twisting and turning in my bed unable to push that last button to sleepland.
I got up, fixed a snack of cookies and milk and read for several hours finally going back to bed. The next think I knew the beeper was buzzing and it was 6am. Time to go to the Hospital for work.
Now how did I do that? Will I remember tonight where that button is?
The big news in the hospital today was HAND WASHING. We each received a flier with huge red words saying wash your hands. You are being watched. Then in bigger print, this means doctors too So it must be serious.
Professional people with clipboards were roaming the halls.
I made a point to do public hand washing in front of anyone who wanted to watch. For the first time I had to wait my turn to use the sink. Yes, my hands are clean.
And the patients, how are they? Just fine. I actually found time to visit folks between sessions of hand washing.
No loose germs at the hospital today. sigh
I went to the movies this afternoon with a friend. We wanted to laugh and eat popcorn, but instead we saw the Bourne Supremacy. Of course I had agreed to go and I knew what it was about and still in some ways I enjoyed it, I didn't laugh, I cringed and slunk down in my seat as the violence moved through the air.
It was like being hit by lightening, my nerves are jumbled and jumpy. All my nerve passageways have been cleared of any clutter as the adrenalin raced through my body. My friend and I decided that we would not tell where we had been.
I noticed in the theater that most of the matinee audience were seniors. Don't we get enough violence on the News hour? What is wrong with us. Maybe we are fighting fire with fire.
The gang of first and second grade boys have created a fort, clubhouse, junk pile on the edge of the street under some small live oak trees. They have scavenged the neighbors junk piles finding treasures that only they can see. They race up and down the street on old bicycles, rusted scooters. Their moms make sure they wear shinny new helmets.
The neighborhood high school is gearing up to start next week, alarms, fire drills, sound system, new yellow lines, cars, delivery trucks.
I warn the boys that the high school kids return next week and they need to protect their clubhouse.
They hear that sharks and elephants are coming to torment them.
Later I see the trash piled in wagons as the boys diligently move their fort to the safety of one of the boy's yard. These little boys know that they are vulnerable to the older boys and are learning to take care of themselves.
I love Richard Diebenkorn's art.
