Last Wednesday, car packed to the gills, Cancan and I picked up a hitchhiking HBH down the street from his office in the Financial District. Within Baby’s reach were books and toys and food – lots of 1-year-old friendly-food, because I hear you’re supposed to pack twice as much grub as you think you need, and half as many clothes. We alternated, nodding our heads to Wayman Tisdale and then thinking and feeling and laughing with “This American Life” podcasts; I finished reading a Julia Child-Alice Waters biography, and vowed to feel and breathe deeply in the kitchen, knife in hand, olive oil to my side.
We kept driving, past Sacramento and Redding, into the most magical of Disney adventures: your very own, drive-able roller coaster right through the middle of an aqua-green, tree-filled Lake Shasta. We crashed at a hotel in Klamath Falls, just over the Oregon border, and then the next morning we drove two more hours north to Central Oregon’s epicenter, Bend, and then to our destination for the week, Sunriver.
And friends, there are so, so many adventures to tell you: about riding bikes and feeling muscles you’d forgotten you have, and feeling sun, and the quiet perfection of pine trees and crickets chirping and even a mama raccoon and her babies dancing on the roof. I’d make your mouth water at the perfect, simple food we ate, and deliciously close my eyes, remembering the most Italian, American limoncello my sister swears she’s ever had on this side of the Atlantic (or is it the Pacific?). I’d tell you about eating dinner with our childhood pastor and his lovely wife, and about playing Phase 10 till we had to prop our eyeballs open with our fingers, and about how Heaven must involve a Grammie and a Papa for every child there.
But the point of today’s writing is also to say that we’re – me, myself and I – taking a break for the next week or two while we continue to hole up with friends and family, away from San Francisco. I need the time and space to be and rest and think and love, so that I can better approach writing about hope and beauty and love when I return. And – of course, of course, of course – I know I do this best when I turn off from the Internet. [Do it. I double dog dare you.]
So friends, I am grateful for this community that is ever-growing and ever-encouraging and ever causing me to enter into who I really am. But …good-bye. I’ve got some reading and some eating and some biking and some being to do.