Summer weather in Berkeley, which means FOG. All week, and it lifts later and later. Is it possible to have Seasonal Affect Disorder in the summer? I may have it.
It's been a couple of weeks of bad news--I mean the kind you read about or hear on TV, not the personal type, thank God. The Supreme Court has lost its mind, Israel and the Palestinians are at it again (sometimes I have the feeling that a firm mother should yank each side back by the collar and say, Just stop!), a homeless woman abandoned her baby at a subway station in New York.
Yesterday at the Food Pantry, one of my favorite clients, an older African American man, seemed more frail than ever (though he still drives his convertible with a jaunty air).
What to do? Delve into St. Petersburg, where we hope to go in a year. Read TripAdvisor. Consult Rick Steves. Order books on the Romanovs. Even if we don't go, I've had a wonderful trip in my mind.
I've finished a quilt I intended to auction here to benefit the Berkeley Food Pantry, but I'm having some separation of anxiety about letting go of it...
...even though I can't find a place for it in my house. Anyone like it enough to make a tax-deductible contribution to the Pantry AND let me come visit it? It's a practical, couch-potato size.
On the up side, Jerry and I went to Pt. Reyes on Sunday to collect our bikes from Elisabeth's house and had an exhilarating ride on the Cross Marin Trail. It was Full-On Summer in the best way: a lazy stream, kids at a swimming hole, people camping, smoking fires leftover from cooking breakfast. I was ready to set up a tent.
Off to the pool for some exercise and bracing chat with my chums, Anne and Val.
1 comment:
Love that binding!, not to mention the quilt.
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