Rainy Sunday

It's been raining for days. On Friday one of our secretaries said she'd seen animals walking past two by two. Reservoirs are at 102%. How can that be?

Last night our orchestra performed at the Bankhead Theatre in Livermore. I had eight fans there! My son was the surprise, saying, "Mom, can my two friends come too?" Of course! I bought the three of them tickets.

This morning, the crew took off for southern California.

Yes, they all fit in the truck. It took some rearranging to get the guy on the left to sit in the front middle. You can guess why. Later, near Bakersfield, I got a call saying that there was some green fluid coming out of the engine, and that there was steam. I had shown Daniel how to add power steering fluid to the engine yesterday, but now I was a hundred miles away. Luckily I had told him not to open caps nonchalantly for fear of loss of limb or face. I got him in contact with a friend who is a car mechanic, and tried not to worry so much. They had the Grapevine to climb, and that is the ultimate in engine blowers. I called later, and they had employed duct tape and had filled the radiator with water, and were going around on Highway 101 instead of 5 to avoid the Grapevine. I'll be glad when I hear from them. The last time the crew went south, they were caught in a snowstorm on the Grapevine, and the seven hour trip took 18 hours. All in the adventure, right? I like what our friend said. "If he waits for the light to go on, and we call that the idiot light, he will be an idiot, because it will be too late and the engine will be blown."

I wish I wasn't the dad, too, right now, but I am grateful that I know something, and that I also have friends to reach out to.

Today I had more friends over, and of course my mom is here. Also talked to bunches of people this weekend, and have lots of good trips to look forward to. However, I feel like I am coming out of a tunnel, and I'm not sure about it. My eyes are blinking in the light, and I'm a bit discombobulated.

I cleaned my closet today. (I thought momentarily about taking a picture of the resulting chaos, but it was over-the-top crazy.) Things are put together now, and there are five black lawn bags full of stuff that will go in my car and then to Good Will. Of course I handled some of Peter's things, and that leaves me melancholic. I smell his clothes, searching for his scent, but I don't find it. I hug the clothes to me, hoping to impart some of him to me, but he is gone. Yet, I do feel him somehow near. I'm amazed at how long it takes to integrate a death into oneself. I wonder if there is some gift in grieving. I think I'll only be able to report later. Much, much later.

Hey - another sincere thank you to friends (and my family members are friends, too) - who are there and continue to be there. Love you all....