Saturday: It’s Halloween. As usual, we need groceries. I get into my car and head down to Trader Joe’s… la la la… right into a Trump Truck Train. There are flags. With guns. Long beards. Instead of our beautiful backroad, I’ve driven into the parking lot of a Monster Truck Rally. …
Recently Nate was like, “Remember when you thought I couldn’t feel pain?” And I was like, “Oh yeaaaaaaah…. remember that?” It was last summer. Right before I got my new car. I went through a phase where I noticed Nate wasn’t responding to pain like most kids. He could be bleeding and…
Sometimes I think that if the Rat Mobile had just held out a little longer, I could have had a kitchen instead of a car. Especially since my car is practically on blocks in the pandemic parking lot that is our driveway. Yeah… first world problems I know. But then…
Over the past week the unbearably smoky air has cleared, at least temporarily, and it’s beginning to feel like fall. On Monday, James drove home to Merced to help Nonna, Auntie Erin, and Uncle Brett move Papa into his new place. It’s an indescribably hard transition surrounded by, understandably, many emotions. James described…
Last night we’re driving home and Jacob points out the Christian’s Mattress Xpress. “I don’t understand. How can they be family-owned and operated since 1992 and they have like, five stores? How many people do they have in their family?” I love that you analyze these things.
Nate’s the kind of kid that doesn’t appear to be listening that intently, and yet, he is in fact soaking it all in. His teacher, Maestra Iron, noticed in kindergarten that she couldn’t tell if he was engaged, and yet he’d surprise her with his accurate responses to her questions…
My dearest JJ, I started writing this letter on Coronavirus Day 74, which was 11 weeks after your birthday, only to succumb to the pit of time quicksand that is quarantine. It’s Day 185 and here I am, finishing my favorite letter of the year– your birthday letter. Or shall I…
There’s something about lockdown that makes you desperate to treat yourself. It must be the endless withholding of normalcy that makes one inclined to declare, “Strap on your masks, we’re headed down to the Woodstone Market for mint chip It’s-Its, stat. Let’s do this.” Meanwhile, we’ve just finished two riveting seasons…
Somehow we’ve cobbled together three extracurricular activities a week. Mondays are safe Soccer Academy with our British buddies. And Tuesdays and Thursdays are evening recess at Pacheco with our All Star mates. On Monday I noticed the Academy attracted the likes of Modric, Pusilic, Ronaldo and De Bruyne. It’s a…
People are saying we’re not working from home– we’re living at work. Yesterday I came out of the front door of the barn… straight into a flock of six wild turkeys. Living at work is that special combination of herding cats and chasing turkeys.