this morning i woke on houman's floor. i was sleeping just below emma, who is in town for the weekend.
i missed out on luka's last night because i was just tired.
just plain tired.
we watched john stewart, caught up on our lovely trinity and went to sleep. almost spontaneously.
this morning at 5:30 i stirred from paranoia.
here i was on nob hill and i didn't want them to tow my vehicle. at 7 am, they cart vehicles away to make way for commuters.
at 6:30 i motivated to return home.
and emma and i made plans to go dancing at el rio tonight.
she introduced me to el rio and we always have adventures.
for this, i am excited.
a backyard of lemon trees, a densely packed dance floor of devotees of latin, arabic, african, and other musics. a global fest of all kinds of people who are there to move.
i returned home, considered napping for another 2 hours and woke when my friend sara called. i am working on a website for her and we talked politics and planning to reconvene for her website.
during our conversation i created my first breakfast. i panfried butterfish with an egg and purple lettuce for a makeshift scramble. it was tasty. butterfish is my basic ingredient for a coconut milk-mango stew that i want to create, but i can't find the recipe book that i originally found it. i mostly remember...i may try tomorrow.
breakfast was lovely. i also drank a glass of concord grape juice. and a glass of raw milk.
i would like to speak of the sweetness of this substance.
when my family lived in mechanicsberg, pa, we'd visit a dairy where we'd buy milk and ice cream. it was a trip for the whole family to drive along the winding roads into the country side.
and the milk was SO sweet.
this raw milk is the same. and it's whole. i didn't need to drink a whole glass.
it was lovely. so lovely that i made an impromptu chai on the stove with it. i added cinnamon sticks, cloves, white pepper corns, nutmeg, and honey. i couldn't find my saffron and i was too lazy to look for my fennel or anise.
i let that cool as i took my shower.
my chai was my reward for the morning.
after my shower, i returned a call to my father.
he left a message that he was driving from raleigh, nc to ny to visit my grandmother's gravesite.
my grandmother died in 1999. and he's been a dutiful son, visiting up to 4 times a year to tend to her grave and pay his respects. he is 1 of 10 siblings. 9 are living. my father was the second youngest. he's going to be 64 in june.
our conversation was brief, but when he mentioned my grandmother's grave, i was overcome with guilt.
traditional families find the time to convene in a group and make a cemetery visit happen.
since my grandmother's death, i have not visited her gravesite.
"say a prayer to her for me, pa."
i was not close to my grandmother. she was stoic. she had a hard life with my grandfather and raising 10 children while he was mostly not present.
my father told me he loved me.
and i told him i loved him.
we've been speaking more often and more affectionately since he saw tim burton's "reel big fish" recently.
i saw this movie twice and cried both times.
after he saw this movie, i've been feeling seen by my father. he sees his daughter. he loves his daughter.