Jane and the Hot Tub

Drove up the coast and back with kids climbing all over the car, reading Sense and Sensibility. Not much has changed since 1795.

Had a nice visit today with a lady and her two sons. They played out back and we sat by the fire, just talking. See, it is 1795.

I am still learning about character, merit, values, connection, honesty and humor. Even now at this late date, in 2011.

When the kids are happily playing, and there's a fire or an ocean, or something calm to offset the lively, you can really feel your life taking place again. I could slowly piece together pieces of who I am, still in there, and most of it is funny.

I've just been so busy tending to people, I always forget to look or listen.

On our trip we saw snow, mountains, cows, rolling green fields, lakes, ocean, surfers and possibly the most beautiful Taco Bell on Earth. Right on the ocean, like some kind of sick, fast food heaven. Heaven's rest stop. On the beach in front of it, Lilly made a huge sand house, sitting in wet sand for an hour, silently molding it with a plastic spoon, a delibate and studied artist. Nathan and Emma made mud balls and tossed them at each other. It's freezing up there by the way. We met Bruce's girlfriend, a girl from so far up in Russia it's near Siberia. Where people don't even go to work in January because it's 30 below. With some people I just sit there blinking, not able to comprehend. (We were sitting in a hot tub as she told the story, and she tried not to rest her giant boobs on the water's surface.) She has brothers and sisters still there, Alexei, Katya, and several others. People actually living there, speaking that squiggly language, wrapped up in fat animal skins. And she wants to be an accountant. Or stock trader. Again, I sat there blinking.

So Miss Jane Austen warmed me back up to myself, writing from her little desk in Chawton Cottage, witty in those high waisted dresses, never having seen the Pacific or a Taco Bell, or a Siberian in a hot tub.

I'm seeing it all for you, Jane.