2 months

It is exactly 2 months since we came back from the summer in France. My screensaver has photos from the summer. It feels so close yet so far away now, and so much fun (granted, the cleaning, shopping and laundry have faded into the background of memory in a place labeled "trauma"). What is left is the essence - the growing nieces, nephews, kids, and the extensive uncle, aunt, cousins, parents, grandparents in law. The history that we have been through and continue to walk through together... photos are great in capturing the moment.

This week, I have been good. I have cleaned, shopped, and laundered (as I have done for the past couple of decades), and have done my swimming/meditation every day. I now know who comes when to do what at the pool. I have also deactivated from Facebook after being accused twice of stalking my daughter. Now really... who has time for that kind of crap? In addition, it had started to feel like too much information on everyone. I have been told about the virtues of Twitter, but am not convinced enough. Pork ribs and root vegetables for dinner ensure that no cold germs should attack me.

OMG ETC.

A friend of mine was nice enough to tell me she gets bits and pieces of my life through this blog.

The quest for passion and livelihood continues. The most recent reincarnation is in marrying clean tech with finance. I find myself zooming up and down the 280 highway in pursuit of the perfect combination of good for the Earth and good for the family.

I am happy to learn that the Mill Valley Refuse which services garbage collection in my neighborhood has incorporated composting. I now have a little pot with a lid for my tea bags, coffee grinds, chicken bones and such. Compared to Japan, where we use tea leaves and newspaper strips to sweep up dust, and coffee grinds to deodorize cigarette butts, the US has always been very decadent in its garbage disposal.

After a 30 minute dip in the local pool, I stop by the library to pick up a book to discover my true self. Just like Eat, Pray, Love, the author of this book finds herself in the bathroom praying for help. I find this so typical of women. Why don't we just plunk ourselves in the living room to ask for salvation??? No, we have to go to the least favored chamber of the house to break down. Have we not evolved from the days when we waded out to the fields to give birth to life?

Silicon Valley

I have been zooming up and down the Pacific strip between Tiburon and San Jose. I am now convinced that clean tech is the next Messiah. So, I peddle my ware to get my foot in the door so to speak. During the course of "networking", I meet many, many interesting people, some more interesting than others. What strikes me as very unique and great, is the openness of people in Silicon Valley. In traditional finance, folks don't let others in on what they know. They spread their elbows out wide parallel to the Earth, and deter others from getting in. In Silicon Valley, people seem to know that what comes 'round goes 'round, and are very open about introducing newcomers to their contacts. This is what probably makes Silicon Valley great, despite having no natural advantage to being the innovation capital of the world.

Excel

My HP17BII, which I acquired in 1992 is out of battery. I have been lazy and have not replaced the batteries. So, when my 12-year-old daughter asks me a math question, I open Excel and add a formula: = avg(A1:A6).

???~!!!

My excel does not understand this simple function. And, now I know why. It understands French! I should have typed = Moyenne(A1:A6)... I wonder therefore whether numbers are feminine (which they are not). Maybe, average is feminine, which we are certainly not!!!

Back

We have been back in the Bay Area for exactly 7 days. The difference is striking. Baguettes are close to $3 here, while they are 0.90 euro in France. Cars are big and shiny here, while they are small there. People are very straightforwardly nice here, while they are quirky nice there.

We have decided to go off cheese and wine for a while. The kids say they cannot bear eating the cheese here, when they still have the French cheese lingering on their palates. I thought I should give my liver a break. Tonight, I break down and pour myself a glass. Not bad I say, as the full moon rises over the East Bay and the night settles in. In France, I was afraid I would not think so, but in fact, it is very nice to be back in California. Charlie evidently thinks the same. His appetite is good, and his coat is thick and smooth. Good thing I bought weight control food for him at Costco.

All you need is love

This morning, we deposit our niece at the train station in Antibes. Two weeks together. I find her unchanged from the first time I saw her 16 years ago - the same sweet child. Normally full of life, she is not feeling well this morning, as she needs to face the real world tomorrow. 23 years older than she is, I feel the same heading back in two days. Life is not easy, but full of love.

As we look for train 6174 car 5, we run the full length of the station twice, only to find that she is in train 6074 car 5 after all. I thank my stars for having supplied me with the required exercise for the day.

It rains all day, and our roof leaks in several spots. For a grand house 50 years old, this is not too bad. We prepare for our departure in our own ways - I face the world with mucho laundry, mucho nap, and mucho wine. Others with mucho violin and mucho computing.

Tomorrow will be full of sun, according to the young lady at the supermarket cashier. I sure hope she is right.

Been there, Done that

Today was a been there done that kind of day. Tomorrow my niece leaves to Paris, and she wants to say she's been to Italy. So do my kids, and so do I. So we take the train to Monaco and connect to Ventimiglia, which is the first stop in Italy where the train of the Principality of Monaco deposits us. Fridays are market days. We descend on the Italian town, and head to Pasta Basta, which we learn is a restauraunt featured in Nice-Matin, and is also featured when you Google Ventimiglia. Anyhow, we ate 6 full plates of pasta, which were all good, and said "Basta" to the place, and strolled off to the market. This summer is very much Roman in fashion. Young and old are wearing Gladiator sandals with Roman tunics and Turkish pants. It feels a little like the '80s with Olivia Newton John and Travolta. The kids bargain in French, Italian, English and Mandarin (as the Chinese have penatrated Italy). I acquire a half kilo of Gorgonzola, which is much appreciated back home. Speaking of home, my mobile phone was destroyed upon the return of Julien from violin camp. It was found in the washing machine the morning after. I forgot to borrow my husband's, and my niece forgot hers as well. None of us remember our house phone number. When we finally return to Antibes, I call my husband's office number in San Francisco, then my sister's in Paris, leaving messages to please get in touch with us. My niece calls her friend in Paris to get our number in Biot as well. In an hour, we are transported home thanks to my sister-in-law and her boyfriend, showing off our Roman outfits and our cheese.

Tonight is rabbit, which turns out coming from Carrefour with the head attached. My sister-in-law turns green in the face, and I summon my husband (her brother) who gleefully attacks the head. I hear him call my name and wisely run the other way. As predicted, he comes with the head of the rabbit attached to a fork, with an entourage consisting of my youngest son and my sister-in-law's vegetarian boyfriend giggling like infants. They spend the next 30 minutes traumatizing all around them with the rabbit head before succumbing to the charm of Gorgonzola. I am convinced that the French are all savage Gaulois, like the Asterix and Obelix cartoon I have studied this summer.

As I wind down, my husband comments that I have spent the day doing things I don't like - riding crowded trains, eating heavy food, and shopping. But I love watching the children having fun doing all this. And so, I feel content tonight.