From one lily pad to the next

The Bay Area is a little harder for me to take in than Humboldt was.  I look at the cars and wonder, "Where are you all going?" There are so many houses. Everything is big.

It's beautiful here. We went to Muir Beach the other day and burrowed into the sand. The kids made friends and dug some big holes with people. Chinua went for a little walk around to the next cove and accidentally discovered a nude beach. Why is that man wearing no pants? he wondered, before spotting another dozen people with no pants.

The strange thing about staying in this house with our friends is that the last time we did this, their kids were our kids age, and ours were either babies or not even thought of yet. Then they moved overseas and rented this house out.  And we moved overseas later, and in the meantime, they came back.

Now we are back here together.  They have teenagers and we have young kids. I remember trying to stay out of my friend's hair while she did school in the morning with her kids. Now they are in the local middle school, and I'm the one at the table, homeschooling. At the table beside the window that looks out on the lovely valley with all the houses.

The oldest of their kids turned eighteen yesterday. We had a party and I volunteered to make Indian food. Another old friend came by who is probably the best cook that I have ever met, and she assisted me in making chapattis.  I joked that I'd come up in the world, having her as my assistant. It was fun.  It felt like home, like Goa with all the food on the rooftop.

I'm working on necklaces.  I hope to have a bunch more in the shop by Wednesday.  It's so lovely to have handwork to do.  I sit and oversee Math and make knots, thread beads, play with tangible things. In the early morning I play with intangibles, the world of words, trying to put what I see in my head down on paper.

Making necklaces is a more reassuring practice, but I guess craftwork and writing go hand in hand.