In the week prior to employment I ironed, de-furred, straightened, packed, repacked my clothes. I love being able to walk into my tiny wardrobe room and being able to pull out something that goes together and end up looking like a real grown up. I have given up on my mad hair. Actually, gave it up years ago.
This weekend the Steven & I are going to "The Ranch" for the annual Spring festivities with extended family & friends. We plan on surprising Dad for his 70th birthday. The Ranch is a dry patch of scrub in the Sierra Nevadas. Steven seems to be dreading it. It has been so wet here I reckon the hills will be unusually green and the spring wildflowers might be out. So might the spiders and rattlesnakes. Might be fun.
The job is great so far, but not knowing the lingo and policies of this new institution instantly. The boss and co-worker are very nice.
Berkeley is the eye of the Wacky Storm. Recently witnessed on my walks to & from work after my 15 minute bus ride:
- old black lady with massive walking stick, rainbow wig and carefully hacked up skirt with red fluffy petticoat
- old hippie man in old brokedown van, pushing his non-functioning vehicle into the middle of Shattuck Ave. at 5:12 PM to find someone to repair his ride (I guess mechanics are really hard to find)
- Young, freshly luminous, apparently brilliant UC Berkeley students without the sense to move to the back of the bus
- A park full of fraterities, shirtless & sunning themselves
Aching for: an egg poacher, a new nonstick pan (I wrecked the current one by ignorantly putting it in the dishwasher on our first week here. I might as well have washed it with gravel and hit it repeatedly with a very crude hammer) and shoes.
I love this apartment. It's way up in the treetops and now they are begining to bud and flush out so we have this lovely greenish evening like. The birds fly by at eye level and bathe on the roof of the garage.