This is what 'happy' looks like ... honest.

Ya’ may have guessed that I have quite a bit of time on my hands these days. Oh sure, I still have a schedule to keep – but I knew I’d have to come up with a plan when I realized I was describing a trip to the bank and the grocery store as “a journey”. (I’m exaggerating – but only slightly.)

So while I’d just picked up a few books over the weekend that I still hadn’t begun to read, I found myself suggesting to Karin that we head to a bookstore for a browse and a coffee. As far as she’s concerned, this is the same as suggesting we go to Cancun for the weekend. I was suggesting a glorious 90 whole minutes with no one screaming “Mom” at her, and she was more than ok with this idea.

As usual, I found myself in the Biography/History section of the store. This particular location works well for me – it’s next to “Classics”, in case I want to move in that direction, and only a few steps away from “New Releases”. I can feel retro and current all at once. (Simple pleasures, people. Simple pleasures.)

After the checkout counter, I headed to the coffee area. My book buddy was, apparently, reminding herself that there were bigger sections than the “Childrens Corner”, so my hot chocolate and I started to enjoy some quality time over my new read.

I was deep into a paragraph before I realized that the distant “buzz” I was hearing was my Blackberry. When I looked to see who was calling, it was … strangely … Karin. “Uh – did ya’ get lost?” was how I about to answer the phone, but I didn’t have time to say a word. “Do NOT look to your left but you are soooooooo being checked out right now by a guy that I swear is *just*your*type*.” “Great", I said. “Meanwhile, did you want a coffee while I wait for you?” “Don’t say that!”, she hissed. “He’ll think you’re talking to a guy” – and she hung up.

“Hey – I’d recognize that voice anywhere. How are you, Beautiful?” he said, as he kissed the top of my head and sat down. I’ve made a point of not running into Greg during my many trips to Stanford in the past few months. I know how it feels to run into someone who you’d like to have more than a friendship with, knowing that’s all they’d ever want with you. “Well hi there", I responded. “I’m here, yanno? I still have boobs that are tryin’ to kill me.” (I’m still working on that response when asked by someone who either (a) knows my medical situation or (b) is very involved in my medical situation. Greg is a surgeon at Stanford and is one of the folks on a board reviewing my treatment options. I don’t really know how much to read into such an easy question. I WILL get the point of being able to say “fine – and you?” but I’m not there yet.)

We caught up on a few things and then, with timing that only a long-time friend can have, Karin swooped in with a fairly realistic sounding “Wow – imagine running into YOU here!” to me, while staring at Greg. Quick introductions were made, polite conversation briefly ensued and Greg gave up his chair so that Karin and I could catch up – since we clearly hadn’t seen each other in so long.

“Don’t be such a stranger, ok?” he said, as he left. “I miss our musical conversations at 3am.” “Yeah, I’ll bet. You’re just glad that I’ve stopped leaving my slippers in your car", I responded as he strolled away.

The ride back with Karin went a lot like this: “So he’s a surgeon … at Stanford?” “Right.” “And you’ve …uh …well, not 'gone out' really but ... um ...?” She was at a loss for what she wanted to ask. “We were part of a group that went to the earthquake anniversary breakfast, and the same large group that took a day trip to Disneyland", I finally volunteered. “Uh huh. So … what’s … what’s wrong with him?” “Not a thing – not one blessed thing at all.”

It went like this for the 25 or so minutes back to Karin’s home. I finally just said “Yanno sweetie, I’m happy. It’s not easy, it’s not perfect, it’s not smooth, it’s not without hiccups but I AM happy. Why would I mess with that? Isn’t “happy” what we all wish for?”

Well – isn’t it?

Just plain goofy

I’ve mentioned it before … I am local to my home, as in “have lived in this 8-mile radius since I’ve been able to walk”. (I can’t account for the first 6 months of my existence, but I’ve been informed by those who would know that we lived in “the city” just to the South of “The City”.)

So it’s common practice that I’ll be driving and will wave to my best friend Karin, who is driving in the opposite direction. It’s VERY common for my Mom to say “and then, during errands, I caught up with Karin at the store". I see my Junior High School teachers all over town, wait in line for my mocha behind folks I’ve known for decades, etc. The small town that suffocated me so while I was growing up now provides much comfort as an adult.

I’ve also found myself behind either of my parents while darting around town. As they’ve updated their vehicles to more popular makes and colors, it gets harder for me to recognize their cars from a distance. I’m NOT being pretentious, I’m being honest.

For years, my mother’s every day car was “Glo”, a 1967 Karmann Ghia that was beeeeeright yellow in color. It is fully restored and it’s VERY easy to spot from oh, about 2 miles off. Not so with “Natasha”, her beige German tank, which is a lovely but undistinguishable ride around these parts.

When my father was driving “Fred”, the faded green 1966 Chevy Pickup, I was able hear him coming around the corner on his way home to have enough time to clean up whatever mess I was in and act nonchalant as he walked through the door. His current every day vehicle is a white pickup truck and I think it speaks for how VERY basic it is in apperance that I have no clue as to who the manufacturer is of the goofy thing.

My dad’s best friend also has a basic white pickup truck but it’s got a VERY unique feature. Because of his line of work, he’s laughingly referred to as “Big Bad” and, in a nod to the nick-name, he had a cartoon of “The Big Bad Wolf” customized onto both doors, the hood, and the tailgate. It’s quite a site, seeing this grown man, in his late 60’s, driving around with a cartoon on his car. It’s not nearly as grabbing a site as what his wife did to her new yellow VW Beetle, named “Tweety” because … yes, she had “Tweety Bird” painted on the hood and both doors.

You may be wondering why I referred to my father’s current truck as I did two paragraphs up. My father is intelligent, inquisitive, has a great mind for science and was one of the first individuals in all of the SFFD to get his HAZMAT responder license. He has a light and quirky sense of humor – AND a lightening flash temper. But he drives a goofy truck.

I submit to you proof.

Eve and Adam

The ongoing discovery of the differences and interactions between women and men just fascinates me. Take, for instance, the following conversation …

Location: The Garden of Eden restaurant
Characters: Female who we’ll call “Eve”, Male who we'll name “Adam”, and Bartender, whom we’ll dub “Snake”
Setup: Eve and Adam are waiting for their table to be ready at the Garden of Eden. They are passing the time at the Garden Bar, and making polite conversation with Snake.

Snake: So possible transportation trouble, eh?

Adam: I’m sure it’ll be fine, Eve. Really – I’m sure it will all work out. (Adam has sensed that Eve is extremely worried about her recent transportation issue and, looking to reassure her, he places his hand on her knee, which makes Eve smile. He's pleased that his presence calms her. He is, after all, THE MAN.)

Eve: Well, I really hope so. I mean – I could be stranded at that long stretch of road between the groves and the farmland and gosh, that would really be a problem. (Adam watches as Eve says this, wondering if this is Eve's way of asking Adam for help, should she find herself stranded.)

Snake: Oh – so then you know the garden?

Eve: Not nearly as well as I should. I’m not from “here” specifically – but yes, I’m native to flower beds portion of the garden. (Watching Eve say this makes Adam wonder what she's been smoking. Adam knows damn well that Eve has never spent any REAL time in the flower beds portion of the garden. Is she trying to confuse the Snake - or Adam?)

Adam: Well you’re not really native to the flower beds portion of the garden, right? (To Snake) She’s actually not from that area of the garden. She’s more from the forest areas of the garden. (Adam returns his hand on her knee, to let Eve know the he is not at all worried about where she considers herself "from". He accepts her "as is".)

Their table is ready and so they go on to have a lovely meal, followed by a nice apple tart.

Later on that evening, while Eve tosses and turns, Adam sleeps soundly knowing that he has, once again, helped Eve figure out the answers to the tougher questions in life. It is not where you're from that matters, it is where you are going.

Adam awakens the next morning believing that Eve MAY actually be worth loosing that rib over after all.