This is way late, because frankly I got sick of it. Recording every day was like being on a vegetable soup diet. Day one is, “Yay! Vegetable soup! Skinny me!” Day six is, “%^&* this %^&*ing soup and the $%^&ing idiot that came up with it and %^&* it I like being fat anyway.” Okay not that extreme but you get the idea. This blogging stuff is hard work.
7:30 am: Wake up for no good reason. I decide I should clean up a little: do the dishes, take out the trash. I turn on the water in the kitchen to let the hot water warm up. I decide it’s too early for such nonsense. I turn it off.
8:30 am: Put the last two farmer’s market eggs on the stove to boil. Jess calls. She and John are back on dry land. Dry land is moving. She caught five fish: two dorado, two yellowtail, and one bluefin. John caught a bluefin.
There are people at the dock who will process the fish and ship them to you. Jess and John are having the bluefins made into jerky and the rest fileted. Jess says that each fish took about 15-20 minutes to pull in. She caught two more, but lost them when their lines snapped. Her hands are bruised. She’s exhausted. Everything smells like fish. She hopes they can take the 5-day trip someday.
9:30 am: Hear a squeaky pop from the kitchen. I was so excited about the fishing trip that I forgot about my eggs! Nothing burnt or ruined, but the eggs might be a little over-cooked. I fill the pan with cold water and set it aside. I toast a couple slices of the garlic sourdough. One of them contains a whole clove of sweet roasted garlic. Divine. The eggs aren’t too bad either.
9:45 am: Hit the Internet for information about these fish Jess caught. I learn that Bluefin are tuna; yellowtails are jack fish, which are similar to tuna; and dorado is another name for mahi-mahi. I foresee Jessica’s mother eating very well in the near future. Perhaps I should look up some recipes.
11:45 am: Drew sends a text, asks if I’ll pick him up and bring him back here.
1:00 pm: Drive home. Seeing the inside of my own home for the first time in days seems surreal. It’s such a luxury to take a shower with my own soap, dry off with my own towel, and have all the beauty products I want at my disposal. Being home means not having to go without or make due. What an epiphany: to truly appreciate what I have.
Drew tells me all about how he spent last evening. He donned a fez and technicolor suit, which were recent birthday presents, and met some friends at the weekly street fair down the street. He bought himself a Dr. Who mug. He wants to be the next Dr. Who and will wear a colorful suit. His friends have nicknamed him The Doctor. He’s thrilled.
Someone recently accused him of being influenced by a “fallen angel” and even asked Jess, “He’s getting darker, isn’t he?” Here’s my answer to that:
3:00 pm: Drew is craving McDonald’s fries. I treat us to the drive-thru. Tasty, but that’s it: I’m officially declaring my intention to cook real food again, good readers.
3:30 pm: Shelly and the folks tumble through the front door. Mom and Rob collapse into chairs. Shelly empties the car with a look on her face that says she’s the only one who does anything around here. Mom says unpacking can wait. Shelly won’t hear of it and pretends to be annoyed. I think it’s just excited energy.
Last night they discovered a place about a block away from their hotel called the Forestiere Underground Gardens. In the early 1900s an Italian immigrant bought a chunk of land in Fresno, CA, intending to grow grapes. Alas, the climate was too hot and the ground too clay. He dug through the clay and built himself a cellar to escape the heat and plan his next move. He discovered that the soil under the clay was rich and fertile. He planted trees and vines in open subterranean rooms and created a whole complex of underground caverns. It was one of the highlights of their trip. If they had come home last night they would have missed it. I don’t want to say I told you so, but I told you so.
The kids and I, even Joe, score all manner of souvenirs: mugs, teas, trinkets, t-shirts, jewelry, and a fat wad of cash for my trouble, which was no trouble at all.
(Don’t get excited: it’s already gone.)
And with that, Noncation 2012 comes to an end, while my humble little life goes back to normal.