Life of Wry

Feel like a true American now. Finally experienced the free Slurpee at 7-Eleven on the 11th day of July…

This one, after Peter’s final pitching outing of the season with the summer varsity team… somewhere down in Elk Grove…

I had the watermelon. Not bad, but not sure I need to do that again.

Enjoyed one of Davis’ finest two-square blocks tonight with Carrie.

One of the more interesting murals in town..

…what a relief..

Wine tasting at Putah Creek tasting room…

and then… QUICK… get some food into those two lushes..

Bruschetta, pulled pork sliders and ceviche w/ avocado salsa and homemade tortilla chips. Oh man. (Our House.)

Headed down to Fairfield for a baseball game this evening. With the exception of some of the walk-up music selections (maybe techno-funk-rap-thump), it was about as nice as an evening of baseball can be: beautiful setting; stadium seats; iPad on lap; sun low in sky; warm enough for sleevelessness, but cool enough to be glad you brought a sweatshirt, and gladder you didn’t quite need it; a functioning, readable scoreboard; bathrooms close-by; iced latte in hand; a field full of athletic ballplayers who played an errorless, close game (Davis lost). Exceptional.

Fairfield’s full of rolling, brown, sundried hills. Incredibly picturesque. Here are a couple futzed-with shots:

An HDR version of the hills:

And a filter they call, “seventies.”  Whatever:

The cars, barely visible, are driving along I-80.

This was the view of the field early in the game.. rich, isn’t it?

Routine summer day
A walk along Putah Creek
Coffee at Mishka’s

[I’ll come back here to fill in details later. For now, this is 3rd and C… hang out spot for David, home to the Compassion Bench. But its first resident was my neighbor June, born August 1921, who grew up in a house on this corner. Her mom planted that elm, now a 100+ year old heritage tree… which lost a branch a couple days ago, which is why the area is cordoned off. More on this later. Come back soon.]

So Peter got his driver’s license on Thursday the 3rd, and seeing as how it was his first day of driving, we cut him a lot of slack.

Sure, take the car, drive all over the place, knock yourself out.

He was on a cloud, so happy to drive by himself anywhere he wanted–to see friends, go get Subway, go to the creek to swim, or just drive.  He did all that. I even gave him my credit card so he could fill the tank. I’m sure he put in a lot of solo miles going absolutely nowhere in particular and felt like a totally rad teenager.

As far as we were concerned, this was exactly as it was supposed to be.

He ended up at a friend’s for a sleepover with a bunch of other guys and planned to return in the morning. Which he did.

But on his drive back home, he experienced a problem. Every time he turned the wheel, the horn would sound. At first he thought people were honking at him, but then realized it was his horn. It would sound long and loud for the duration of the turn which was confusing and embarrassing. And I guess people were staring. Mortified by this, he found a route with the fewest turns possible and ended up driving past our house, parking a couple blocks up the street. I’m not sure exactly what this accomplished, but I’m gathering panic had a lot to do with it.

He walked into the house saying something like, “Something’s wrong with the car,” looking shell shocked and laughing nervously.

He also mentioned that he’d been playing with a quarter (while driving!?) and maybe this had something to do with it…?

Parental units exchange pained, confused expressions.

Cutting to the chase, this is what happened: Peter was tossing around a quarter and it managed to lodge itself into a gap on the steering wheel between the horn and the airbag assembly. Or some such thing. So Jim, being Jim, did some Honda CRV airbag/steering wheel research and came up with a plan.

He disengaged the battery (so the airbag wouldn’t explode on him while taking apart the steering wheel), then proceeded to take apart the steering wheel.

Here are some pictures:

The steering wheel and airbag assembly, with nice fat gaps into which quarters can fall (should one be playing with a quarter while driving):

What it looks like after you’ve removed the airbag:

A close up of the slot where the quarter lodged… see it?… middle of picture, just above that yellow thing:

And now, quarter gone, steering wheel back together, turns executable without embarrassing honks. Yay.

And, all this is okay because Peter learned a couple things–how to open a hood, how to disconnect a battery–and that with some research and tools, there are some problems a person can address, certain things are easily fixed… stuff like that.

We’re thinking it might be a good idea for him to take some kind of car repair class to further demystify that freedom-on-wheels contraption he now has a license to drive.

Managed a little red white and blue yesterday.. not much, but a little. Not my alltime favorite holiday or anything, but I still feel bummed if we’re not doing anything, because it’s a holiday and all, and I’m weird that way.  But our plans were few.

So I ended up doing a little work at home (getting something done that’s been hanging over my head for months, which took about 45 minutes and made me feel absurdly accomplished) and spent some pretty nice time in the hammock (twice yesterday, actually), which was the best.  We went to a pool party which was nice because I sat in the shade under misters — which have to be one of the best inventions ever — drinking mojitos, and catching up with a friend who’s always full of stories… she didn’t even notice I was glazy. I knew that part of the day was going to be worth not knowing anybody (except the one) at this party because: 100 degrees, swimming pool, mojitos, a long table of party food.  And, unanticipated bonus: misters.

Not complaining about any of that.

Jim and I had also wandered downtown for lunch and watched a little of the annual bike races. I almost hate watching criterium races because of all the crashes. Makes me nauseous. We saw two. Woozy just thinking about them.

And, later, met a friend at the fireworks.

So… that was the day, and these are the pictures:

Women in the pro-am fasty-fast-fast division.  Frightening.

And of course the essential 4th of July fireworks pictures, of which I had a few [..more than I needed].

The worst of the lot:

And the best of the lot.  My best, that is, by far not the best, even amongst the many iPhone pictures I saw people post on Facebook, which were mediocre.

So I played with this one and made the fire shoots purple. (Fire shoots?  What do you call those things?)  Because purple fireworks would be neat.

I’m saving my favorite 4th of July story for tomorrow’s post. Stay tuned.

The fireworks went off early in our backyard this year.

Say what you will about Crape Myrtles, Agapanthus and Canas …. ubiquitous here in the hot California central valley, yes, but, WOW… they are swollenly, voluptuously, colorfully gorgeous right now.

And see that hammock over there in the back part of the yard, shaded by the Birch? I know, hard to see for all the blossoms. That’s where I’m headed right now… con libro!

Happy Fourth of July, y’all.

Peter’s driven. So to speak.

Had his 15th and a half birthday not fallen on Christmas Eve, he might have gotten his permit sooner, but, given the holiday schedule, the best he could do was to get it on January 3rd… which meant the soonest he could get his permanent driver’s license was… uh… let’s see… TODAY.

He satisfied all the criteria — the online course, the written test, the three road lessons, and made the appointment for his road test perfectly within all windows. Motivation makes a planner/implementer out of even our organization-challenged teenager.

Here are today’s milestone moments:

Early to the DMV, in order to be there when doors opened at 8:00am (driving test scheduled for 8:00am… of course.). Folder of paperwork in hand, he texted friends and took some of his own pictures.  This was definitely a big deal for him.

After the usual bureaucratic stuff, he drove off at about 8:45. John was his tester, the one the kids really like, apparently.  He’s been there about ten years and passes you, even if you hit the curb (so we hear). John was funny, relaxed and had clearly done this a time or two.

A person can make fifteen mistakes and still pass. Peter made five.  But got lots of positive feedback, too. Bottom line: look both ways when you’re driving through intersections and work on your stopping points when at a stop sign.

Right after the test, Peter dropped me off at home, then took off for baseball practice. All by himself. So here’s the shot of the first time out the driveway alone (see left blinker light on?).

A few hours later, he returned to have lunch (he’d gone to Subway to pick up a sandwich,  and a donut next door, all by himself!). He debriefed the whole thing for Jim and me (thrilled!) and gloated over his test results:

And then… a moment to pose for a picture behind the wheel (that was a requirement to getting the car for the afternoon):

He’s planning to make the rounds at various friends’ houses, go out to the creek to swim and has to get gas.

A full afternoon of driving hither and yon.

And I’m pretty sure life has just changed for all of us.

On the list of favorite things.. brunch in Berkeley with my bud Elliot.  We’ve been friends since 1989 (twenty-five years, goodness).  Before we officially met, I’d known about him for a couple years–he was that well-known, very respected guy from Cupertino who won all the awards. We met officially at an Alliance for Community Media conference in Tampa, and had a ton to share and relate to as executive directors of similar-sized media centers in similar towns (he moved over to Palo Alto). Fast friends, valued colleagues, and buddies ever since. Now we’re grey. Heck.

We manage a meet-up about twice a year, three if we’re lucky. Involves great food at Rick and Ann’s, lots of shop talk (still), and a walk through some random Berkeley neighborhood, where we talk about everything else and do a lot of this:

More shots from today… all camera photos…Berkeley is such a feast for the eyes.

This house (which he said I’d seen and commented on before, but I’m not sure about that) in the Claremont area:

And its detail…

Some bollard art… succulents in a steel pipe:

And lots of flowers… there are so many beautiful gardens in Berkeley surrounding homes with such crafty architecture:

And a coupla old trees (not a metaphor):