I'm back, limping out of my car as I try to get all my body parts to work after being crammed into my car for many hours.

The visit with my two sisters and one brother, and two spouses went well. We mostly remembered that we were adults, more then adults, seniors. We ate, read, endlessly talked, walked, slept.

One conversation that kept circling the room was about upcoming and past travels. I sometimes felt that maybe I had been adopted since traveling for the sake of traveling doesn't appeal to me. But they each look and sound like me so I am glad to know that I belong to this tribe of siblings and spouses.

On my way to Bolinas for a weekend visit with my siblings. I have packed up the car with supplies that will take me through the city and up the mountain and down to the sea.


Although it may only take a couple of hours I am prepared to survive for months, or at least weeks.


I wonder what I have forgotten.

At the beach late in the afternoon I saw an older woman with two preschool boys and several bags of bread. They were tearing pieces and throwing them on the sand for the clustering sea gulls. The gulls moved closer and then backed away as the little boys carefully tore the bread and then tossed it several feet away.

In the background several men were hitting a ball over a net.

Two guys were dragging a catamaran into the surf.

It was a good afternoon for a walk.

Met with a friend at ZiZi's,cafe that has replaced Bay Books. ZiZi's includes a ultra modern chrome and glass coffee house also a health spa and a women's clothing shop.

We drank hot chocolate. Rick read excerpts of his daily journal to me. It was vibrant and alive. I became self conscious about reading mine. I have fallen into slacker habits with my journal writing. I'm encouraged to do more.

I talked Sunday night on Buddhism to an Interfaith Study group. The assignment was to tell about a Zen teaching that was meaningful to me. The assignment was not to do an overview of the tradition.

I spoke on the koan Nansuan Kills the Cat. However the participants wanted to know more about Buddhism and Zen then about the koan.

I spoke, answered questions and had intense conversations and in the end I could not remember a thing I said. The short term memory was just not working.

People thanked me and were kind so I guess I said something interesting. Maybe that's why talks are recorded so one can hear what one has said.

This talk is gone forever.

We stood outside the Temple, 15 minutes early for the study group. It was dark and cold. Where was the person to open the door? Finally we went to the front door and pushed and it opened setting off a horrendous screech, the alarm.

We looked at each other, what do we do now. We closed the door and moved towards the parking lot, shivering in the cold. We waited and waited endlessly discussing whether we should go in with our fingers in our ears.

Would it be better for the police to find us outside or inside. No brainer, we stayed outside.

The Rabbi zipped up in his sports car, jumped out, and turned off the alarm. He called the security service and whispered the magic pass word. He wanted to know the details and it was clear that somebody, not us was in trouble.

The rest of the evening was wonderful, full of kind and thoughtful people and conversation.

Storm is over but still it is mighty cold. Had a zen sewing group at my house this morning at 8am. The heater had been on for two hours but still it was 59 degrees in the living room. We wore our jackets while we sewed.

But now in the afternoon the sun is steaming into the living room warming my body. It feels so good to be warm again. I lie on the couch reading my second mystery story as I cough and blow my nose. It is good to be alive.