Month: December 2013

Never Enough

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The cashier is chatty so I join in.

“I have soo many hooks because each of my teenagers have a thousand sweatshirts from thrift stores and 500 of them are on the ground”, I explain.

She says, “I know. It’s the same at our house.”

That catches me as we are outwardly so different in lots of ways. Yeti it’s the same at her house.

We have longer than an moment of eye contact. I note her perfect eyeliner but mostly we look into each other’s eyes for a second or two. Then we look down at the hooks.

“No matter how many hooks I buy…” , I say.

“it will never be enough”, she finishes.

The Lenses We See Through

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After talking with Ilana, whom I’ve just met at a party full of eclectic people, I am starting to wonder about her glasses. I don’t have on my glasses because I am not reading but, truth is, I should be wearing those progressives all the time as there are quite a few subtleties passing me by.

Ilana, a wildly talented San Francisco Art Institute grad student is talking about her hispanic childhood in LA and how she devoted twelve years of her life to throwing the discus. She’s got the body for it. She’s funny and is rambling on in a I’ve-got-this-conversation-covered kind of way. I’m fine with that and enjoying the ride as are my two teenagers. It’s Christmas eve and even the food is eclectic because a lot of the party works at Rainbow grocery, one of the first large co-op health food stores in the nation.

I am feeling friendlier and friendlier with Ilana as we get smushed closer together when still others feel there is enough room to sit down on the large couch.

I become more suspicious and say, “Let me see your glasses!”
She shies away and says, “No, you can’t see my glasses!” but in a smiling way.
“Come on, take them off”.
“I can’t see without them”.

Close enough now on the couch for almost anything I grab her glasses. There is no glass in them!

I comment on this and she says, “I’ve got a pair of sunglasses at home just like these”.
I say, “But there’s no glass in them!”
I’m liking her more than ever when she says, “I Know. They’re prescription!”

Happy Holidays

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This isn’t the road I was on when it happened. This is the road I rode by bike after I got home to calm my nerves.IMG_1703
Christmas had started fine. More than fine was prepping my older teenage kids that we were taking consumerism to an all time low this year. I decided this not because I had to but because I was sick of meaningless stuff feeling a space.

We opened presents late and calmly. Everyone liked what they got.
Slowly I baked a cake and got together personal items to go down South a bit where we yearly spend Christmas with a 27 person odd group of alternative type friends, all ages.

It’s satisfying mostly because conversation is interesting, we are in the country surrounding by large trees and the food is deliciously plentiful.

Unfortunately I burn my right hand. I take the teapot off the wood burning stove and go to the sink to fill it. The teapot is hot hot from being on the stove empty so when I put the water in, it streams furiously and burns by hand. Though not dangerous, it is painful. Years ago when blowing neon, I learned to put a hand in cold water if burned. Despite everyone’s well intentioned advice for different methods, I keep changing the water to cold (no ice) until finally when I take my hand out, it no longer hurts. For me this cessation stops at 3 am., long after we’d finished with desert and caroling.

Tired, after breakfasting with more interesting slow conversation, Me and the teenagers set out on the long country driveway to the road to the highway home.

It happened on the highway. 880 north is as ugly as any with six lanes each direction. I didn’t see him in the lane next to me. He was in my blind spot and I wasn’t paying serious attention. All of a sudden I brushed up (at 60 mph) against the car on my right while starting to go in that lane.

There was nothing jarring or dramatic about it. However, it was still an accident, It took me a little while to figure out where to get off and talk as I knew we must. I was in front of him and pulled off on a large shoulder off the next exit. I stop. He stops behind me.

I get out and say, “How are you?” Looking at his truck which has ladders on top and miraculously, no damage.
He says, “Fine. How are you?” I say “Fine.. well a little a little scraped up but I’m not going to do anything about it…. It was my fault, right?”
He says, “Right.”
I say, “How about we give each other a hug, and wish each other a Happy New Year”
He says, “Okay” so we do that.
Then I hold his hand for a moment and say, “Thank you for being a person.”
It was kind of a stupid thing to say but that’s what came out. I think he knew what I meant.

I walk back to my car and get in. I wave as I drive away.

I continue until there is an intersection where I can turn around and get us back to 880. There is a beggar with a sign at the intersection as the cars stop. I give him a five. I can afford to.