Birthday Parties There and Here

On Friday before the Memorial Day weekend people were asking for help at work right up until 4:30 or so. I refrained from saying, “Come on, it’s 28 minutes before a three-day weekend starts! Why don’t you go home and inventory your condiments?”

I went to see my acupuncturist Friday evening. On Saturday Tom was off to the air show in San Jose and I treated myself to an extremely leisurely day. All I did was read, go to the grocery store, and cook. I caught up on my stack of periodicals. I also talked to my friend Carol Joy on the phone.

Saturday evening I meditated and went to bed relatively early, about 10:30 or 11:30. On Sunday morning, I meditated and went downtown to meet Tom’s niece Sarah at a car rental place on O’Farrell. She showed up promptly at noon, but then we had to wait for an hour or so for a friend of hers, so we went to Larkin St. in a not-immediately-successful search for food and we drove around a bit.

Usually I take the train to Sacramento with Tom, but he was going to come straight from San Jose, and Sarah determined that sharing a car would be way cheaper than paying Amtrak’s holiday fare.

We picked up Sarah’s friend at 1:15 and headed to Sacramento for a birthday party for Sarah and Eva; Eva is Tom’s sister-in-law and Sarah’s mother. As always, it was really, really nice. Going to Sacramento to see Tom’s family is one of my very favorite things to do. We sat outside by the pool and ate Eva’s wonderful food and talked and ate some more.

(In case Chris reads this, here’s who was there: Paul and Eva, Steve and Julie, Dan, Dave C., Sarah, Tom and I, and four of Sarah’s friends: Sophia, I think, and her husband; Kirsten; and another friendly woman whose name I can’t remember. Dan gave Eva a spectacular huge vase.)

Tom and I spent the night there, on the fold-out bed in the TV room, and in the morning we came home with Sarah and her friend. We had a bit of extra time and stopped at Ikea in Emeryville, where I’d never been before, but we only went to the food part at the front. I got some Scandinavian-style potato chips. They were rather reminiscent of non-Scandinavian-style potato chips.

When we got back to San Francisco, Tom went to help a friend move and I took a little nap and finished Jim Knipfel’s book Quitting the Nairobi Trio. I skipped all the chapters whose titles were German numbers and which recount the details of hallucinations he had. The rest was reasonably enjoyable. Now I’ve started On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society by Dave Grossman.

After a while I got up and pumped up my bike tires and picked rocks out of the treads with a repurposed serrated knife (weekly chores), and then I showered and took BART down to Montgomery and walked to Chef Jia’s at 925 Kearny for a birthday dinner for me a week early.

Here’s who was there: Tom, David and Lisa C., Tom’s mother Ann and her husband Mac, Lisa M., and Mr. Marilyn Bull. The food was good and we had a lovely time. After dinner, we walked a block or two to a café in North Beach for dessert. They didn’t have any candles so Mr. Bull carried in a piece of cake for me and did an uncanny impression of a burning candle with her other hand. I received a birthday remembrance or two, including a book from David and Lisa (one of Pema Chodron’s) and a CD that Mr. Bull had made. The best compilation tape I have was made by her years ago, so I’m looking forward to hearing it. Lisa M. made me a card with her original artwork, with which she overflows in a variety of forms. I offered David C. a bite of my cake and he said, "What's wrong with you? You never let anyone have any of your cake." I told him I'm turning over a new leaf for my birthday.

This morning I had to take Thelonious to the vet. Of course there was a big fuss about getting in the cat box (which is the same cardboard box I brought her home from the SPCA in 16 years ago)—I barely escaped without having a hole put in one of my better t-shirts—and then when we were in the exam room waiting for Dr. Press, she refused to leave the box. When Dr. Press came in, she hissed at him. Dr. Press has a blond crew cut and is very cheerful. I have a friend who once saw his kids and said they are four little versions of him. I like to imagine them, though I’ll probably never see them myself. I like to imagine them going sailing.

Thelonious had lost eight ounces in the past six months or so, so she had to have blood drawn for tests. She seems pretty cheerful and she still likes to chase her toys around, but I know one of these days I’ll have to make the decision to have her put to sleep, unless she happens to die on her own at home. Maybe it will still be a couple of years or so. Unfortunately, she has Irritable Bowel Syndrome and the food she eats to control that is the opposite of the food she would eat if she starts to have kidney disease. Dr. Press is not one to borrow trouble, but he mentioned today that she may have problems if we have to take her off her current food.

I took a cab home and found my building manager smoking on the front porch. We had a genial exchange, plus we had a genial exchange last week via email when I offered to print the latest lists of what can go in the recycling and compost bins for everyone in the building.