Believe me and the squirrel

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

I didn’t say much yesterday because it was my birthday and I kind of took it off. But it was rich with love and connection. I was thinking of my continued life and Clark’s death and all the other crashes and near-misses with mortality of the past year. It set me thinking and hoping that all of us make the most of each minute. “Notice your feet as you set them on the ground,” Patrick was saying today (Or something like this…) 

I spent part of yesterday in long talks with friends and family. It was fun! The farthest away was my artist friend Dale from Lyon, France. We worked at the Miami News together. My phone started ringing as I was caught at a red light in a traffic jam in midtown rush hour, and stupidly I answered. Who can resist a call from across the ocean? Dale started singing Happy Birthday (in English) and I started laughing and told her I had to hang up because I could get arrested (an exaggeration, I think) for talking on the phone while driving. I knew I could face a fine. Dale laughed and kept on singing. It was 2 a.m. in France. Eventually I hung up on her, and called her back a bit later after I’d gotten Zing at Grateful Dog. 

Earlier yesterday I had a call from the purple couch people. Delivery had been scheduled for the end of November, but they said it can be pushed up. The purple couch is coming Thursday! That call was Clark’s birthday gift, not even subtle, not even maybe. 

Then Patrick and Steph brought Chicago Fire pizza and flowers and chocolate fudge cake with chocolate frosting in a pink box. Even though I forget the name of the bakery, I have been in Sacramento long enough to know that cake in a pink box is the best you can get here. And it was. We had a lovely, relaxing evening, and I was happy that my new home is comfortable for family and guests. 

They took me to a birthday brunch today too, at The Porch, which is a New Orleans-style place in midtown. I had a hamburger with fried pickles on it. They had their favorite, chicken and waffles. I had coffee in a big cup. By dinnertime I was not hungry.

Speaking of hunger — Zing has lost his appetite. Karen the veterinarian says it’s because of the Paroxetine and I should give him just half a pill instead of a whole one. We’ll see.

Susan, who loves terriers, has befriended Zing wholeheartedly, sight unseen. Yesterday I was complaining to her about Zing’s troubles, and Susan let me know that she would never forgive me if I were to give up on Zing. I won’t.

Today, as I was walking to meet Steph and Patrick, I saw something you will not believe. I was passing the Capitol Building — I think it’s called Capitol Park — when I saw a squirrel nosing a doughnut along the root of a big tree. It was a completely whole, circular doughnut. The squirrel picked it up in his teeth and scampered up the tree and out onto a branch and into the leaves where I couldn’t see it any more. I pointed this out to a woman headed my way, and she grabbed her phone for a photo, but it was too late.  New York has its pizza rat and Sacramento has a doughnut squirrel. I didn’t get a photo, but you must believe me because it is (the day after) my birthday.

Love,
k