I'm still waiting for United to repay my mistakingly upgraded airfare--we are on Day 16 now United! Where is my refund? But we are home, well, at the latest in a series of homes. We are housesitting for my wow-has-she-never-looked-better friend Gina who is gallivanting around the south of France with her new boyfriend. I am enjoying her sunlit house set amid strawberry fields and we ourselves are gallivanting around Santa Cruz county, the beach is one freeway exit away.
My parents are with us, playing cards, up early waiting for pancakes made with blueberries we got at Trader Joe's. My eighty-seven year old mom is on her cell phone all the time. Yesterday we showed her how to text, so I expect this morning I'll have to tell her, "Mom, not at the breakfast table."
My slightly confused dad pushes his walker around, I think a circularly-laid out house is not a good idea for our advancing years. In spite of how long it takes him to put on his shoes, we pushed him around in his wheel chair at the farmer's market where we loaded his lap with baby lettuces and nectarines then parked him in front of the band, we took him along to see a Toy Story 3 on Stefan's birthday, and to the beach in a balloon-wheeled sand chair, provided free by Parks and Rec. Thank you California!
Camille has rainbow cotton lanyard bracelets going up both arms and tie-dyed a t-shirt at her horse camp. When's yoga?