Watching people cross the finish line was really amazing. I mean, some runners were definitely fit, and yes this was a challenge, but there were others who you know were really struggling at the end. They hobbled, they walked, they paused to stretch, but then kept going --all while a crowd along Broadway cheered them on. Neat.
This morning, immediately following a computer funeral march at the Apple Store, I came into my office to a pretty terrarium in a vase on my desk. I am fascinated with terrariums --- there were mosses, rocks, ferns, and even a wee bit of shell. Although it had a pretty purple ribbon, there was no card, no note. Hmmm.
Joyce moved to South Carolina. So now, our writing group involves skype. Shenanigans ensue.
Somewhere around twelve years ago, Crosby and I were sitting in AP History contemplating Quakers and in walks Anna---new at Amador from Ithaca, New York. She walked in and an awesome vibe came with her: super intelligent, unconsciously cool and big curly poofy hair. Crosby and I were like Yes. We are going to be friends with her.
A bunch of folks loaded into a rather large van and went to see Motley Crue. Dressed for the occasion, we drank $12 coronas and watches with quirked eyebrows while Tommy Lee ran around with his "titty cam." The show was entertaining (mostly), the music was pretty terrible (entirely), and most strong was the awareness that things that seem awesome and carefree to do when you are 25, look a tad sad when you are late 40s. And wearing your own bands teeshirt.
Bill and I went up to the Sierras, to the cabin and Lake Alpine. We caught a Steely Dan concert at the Ironstone Winery in Murphys and watched middle-agers get reprimanded because their lawn chairs were too high. It was pretty rad.
I flew to San Diego to spend time with my Crosby. Fun fun undiluted girl time, we dancy danced, laid on the beach, shopped till we actually almost dropped, and ate the most fantastic breakfast: strawberries and ricotta on cranberry-orange-walnut toast, topped with drizzled honey. Color me happy.
There were Italians in our housing that couldn't believe her name was "little betty" and always insisted on saying it twice. Bettina! Bettina! Their enthusiasm was contagious and only slightly indicative of the energy and vivacity of this woman who's small stature could barely contain her. In Dublin, we ran around, giving bananas to street folk and walking way too far in a given day. In Davis, we hid from stuffy rooms and I gave her mugs. In San Francisco, we had our Tarot cards read in the early morning hours and a woman told her to stop wearing dark brown and black. 
Holly and Kelli (photo by Sam)
Rachel's new hair! (photo by me on Holly's camera)
December 14th-ish, 1997. In our high school gym, games, a bouncy house, a dj yadda yadda...all set up to celebrate the class of 1997. I bought my fun hat at Raley's with Anna an hour before the evenings festivities. My dad chaperoned (he worked the gate by the parking lot) and as Anna, Af, and I walked up, Af remembered he had a bottle of alcohol in his backpack. Purely by accident. I remember in his panic, he totally told my dad abruptly about the illegal cargo. My dad just sighed with a wee chuckle, shaking his head...like hell would his daughter be drinking it. They walked and put it in my Dad's truck. We all drank soda.
Tequila night vision
decorated af
Matt and baby Lane
Holly and Bridget. dual fashionistas.
Miss Erin. She's so pretty. I'm so glad. (no. that will not get old. ever.)
I should dedicate a posting to my recent obsession with hand gestures in photos. It's beginning to get ridiculous.
Bill lovingly looking at me, telling a joke that has me giggling. Or teasing me as I try to hide a zit. Either, really.
hostess with the mostess.
