May 26 2008
Muscles
My poor little muscles have gone all floppy this week as they’ve sat around watching me work on the computer. So yesterday Anna and I took them for a walk in Briones Regional Park, on a six-mile trail with 1700 feet in elevation gain. Anna’s wearing the cowboy hat she bought in Death Valley.
Our destination was a small, fuzzy, round peak where, inspired by total isolation and the 360-degree view, we spontaneously broke into a frenzy of self-expression: shouting greetings to faraway friends and cursing our enemies: “You’re a big, old throwup-face, [name here]!”
And today, in celebration of Lulu’s nineteenth birthday, she and I went rock climbing. Since I’ve gone only once since my lesson, I still have to get tested on my knot-tying and belaying technique before they set me loose on the premises. Usually you have to pass the test five times before they permanently certify you, but the guy said I did so well that I earned my climbing card! From now on I can head straight for the fake rock.
I’m afraid I look like a man in that picture, particularly next to Lulu. I swear: all the men in the gym couldn’t take their eyes off of her. I notice the same thing when I’m with my other daughter, too.
At home, Lulu wanted to see how much she and Stella weighed together. That’s Esmeralda’s sister looking on. I have to make up a blog name for her, too. Okay: how about Bettina?
Lulu wanted leek-potato soup for her birthday so I complied, luckily making enough to share with unscheduled guests.
My own birthday is in four days and I always get weird when it rolls around. I just feel terribly, terribly sorry for myself because… well, I don’t know why. I just do. I’m dreading it.
