cassie came and went, in a 3 day blur of being sick, laughing really hard like i do with no one else, getting teary about old friends, and finding myself toughened up a little and not bawling when we took her back to the airport. cassie, wish you were still here. we could go see browntown west at the eagle together thursday and think about tedd and laugh hysterically at my husband's band.
ajax the guinea pig was very ill, almost dying from seizures on easter sunday but the vet saved him. he is nibbling on a carrot right now. maybe it took a near death to make me love the little guy.
now the blog telegram, or maybe a bad poem...
big wheel race down vermont st last night, streams of 2o somethings racing down the hill on plastic tricycles, barbie cars outfitted with cheetah print pillows, the same small asian lady ninja turtle we saw last year, they reach the final stretch and jump up and out of the way so the big wheels following don't hit them. miles on my lap, checking out the outfits, the helmets, the sexy easter bunnies, the man slurping vodka from one of those hikers water tubes, the bikes. these riders are whooping with exhilaration, the ride down is so good. my sciatica hurts just from walking up the hill.
in sonoma my mom drove us around, bought us expensive pre-cooked food, played pick-up sticks with miles. we went to a trout farm and i threaded hooks through fat squirming worms and pulled in 2 10 inch and 1 11 inch trout. miles cried and yelled in the car going back to the city when he realized we left his fish skeleton in the refrigerator. he wanted it for science.
easter sunday ajax is in the animal hospital with rich and i am in gg park with my kids and brother and friends and miles is so hyped up about the upcoming sugar that he gets wacky and just smacks a big open bag of bagels right out of his uncle's hand onto the ground and barely notices. i am becoming a bad mother at times, and yank him up by his arm and tell him to go sit across the field for a minute and calm down. he does. i need to be aware that i am big and strong and i shouldn't yank anyone no matter how annoying they are being.
maya is being a baby, again and again. me want up she says. she falls apart crying, down on hands and knees in angst, several times a day. she screams and folds her arms in fury. she is going through a phase. she wants to be little again. littler. even when having an angst-filled tantrum she is adorable. miles says "i like the age i am, i don't want to get any older." miles asks "after i die will it still be monday tuesday wednesday thursday friday saturday sunday?" miles says "love isn't always a good thing because if you love someone and they have an accident or something then you can't love them anymore and that's when love is bad." a friend emails after his 40th bday and says he is getting old. we all want time to stop. i remember crying about growing up, around age 15.
i have a moment of pure pleasure holding my friend's tiny wide-eyed smiling baby boy.
and after school today i took the kids to check out warm water cove. people trying hard to make natural a place devastated by people. a patch of wildness with cement paths through it and lots of broken glass. butterflies and birds singing sweet songs on that scary curly sharp barbed wire. we eat bananas and tortilla chips on a table looking out over the bay. two large cement stones turn out to be parts of baby head statues our artist friend dave from the warehouse on third discarded years and years ago. they are still here. miles and maya stop to sketch on a bench and when i look down they are sitting on top of some graphic cartoon porn someone has sharpied on there. a beautiful young man and woman walk by and it turns out they are going to be trying to build a beach here. as an art project for california college or arts. they get my email and we talk about community building. there is glass everywhere and maya has another tantrum when her brother draws ariel's hair scribbly black.
i tied together some cool hard dried seaweed in a circle and hung more curvy pieces on it. black and white, odd shapes, this wierd mobile is hanging from our beautiful old light fixture. i like it.
maya told me this was a bee-YOU-tiful day.
this is not a telegram at all. i don't know what it is. we flee the city and return and do it again. i'll be more organized next time. how many times have i said that in my life?
love you, jamie
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