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Know Them Going In Screw Bay to Breakers. Let 'em run. I bought the papers, had breakfast, put gas in the car and decided it was, indeed, time to move to a new place and put off this buying a car routine until the old Toyota grinds to a stop. I'll worry about getting something else then. I've been playing with this and talking about this and worrying about this for weeks and and now its done. Get the hell out of here into a better place (with ADSL access and room for a cat), pay off the doctors and settle down at work into the web development stuff and worry about buying a car when the current one blows up. And I'm not sure my old Toyota is ready to die, having been declared dead or almost dead or dead pretty quick now for years. It's a Toyota. It was waiting for me beside the road on my way to Schramsberg Vineyards one day six years ago and we've been together since. I went to Santa Clara and found the swimming center after some driving around. There was no entrance fee. There were 2,000 swimmers competing from age 18 to 80, men and women, from all over the country without a lot of spectators who weren't swimming in one of the events. I shot one or two pictures, missed the one event my sister competed in while I was trying to figure out where it was running and wandered around observing those present. Swimmers. Everywhere. When my sister and I moved with our parents to New York, we lived near a family in Westchester County that had two children our age. And they swam. Competitively. So we swam. Competitively. Or at least my sister did, because when I learned the methodology involved, a lot of time on a kick board in a clorinated pool, I moved on to billiards and bowling. My sister, however, liked it. She liked working out on a kickboard doing laps, and here, in Santa Clara County California, were two thousand people who understood. Laps. Kickboards. In a clorinated pool. Swimmer heaven.
That's good. I shot pictures and talked with my sister. How was mom
A dispassionate observation from my sister who hasn't seen me since the operation: my jaw is clearly much farther forward and everything around my mouth including my nose is puffed up. And, based on her experience with having some cosmetic surgery done on her jaw, I could look to another four of five months before it felt right. Good to know these things after the fact. Not sure I wanted to know them going in. |
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doing? Were they really planning on spending July with her husband's
family in France? Was the youngster really learning Visual Basic? (I
may recruit the kid for my company when he turns 14. The market for
programmers is tight.) Yes to all of this. We finished with
dinner at the Marriott where her swimming club (The Oregon Fish Sticks)
was staying and just generally cruised out the rest of the day. I like
that. Not a lot of stress. I returned on Highway 101 going in the wrong
direction (up toward San Francisco instead of Oakland), but what the
hell, a couple more miles to cut across the Dumbarton Bridge watching
the sunset and arriving home half tired and ready to sleep.