Beckett's Journal

This is an offshoot of my sketchbook.
Any opinions expressed are my own. At least I hope so.

Previous journal entries:
1/19/2002: Ready to walk
12/16/2001: Ornaments
12/6/2001: Galpals
9/25/2001: Flags
9/7/2001: BabyBabyBaby
8/9/2001: Moving
6/25/2001: Sleeping through the night
6/21/2001: Why Website?

1/30/2002

Runaway Day

I ran away from my life today. With Paul's help in watching the babies, fortunately. I hopped in my little CRX and fled over the Dumbarton bridge heading for the coast. I need to do some serious thinking about relocating, which is fast becoming a necessity for employment for us. Times are lean, the Bay Area is amazingly expensive to live in, and we're having real trouble finding work. We've already lasted longer without work than we thought we could, but it's becoming obvious that it can't go on this way. So we have some hard decisions to make very soon.

I went over the southern end of the Bay on the bridge, through Redwood City and stayed on 84 heading for the woods. A perfect day, cold and clear. Out of wealthy Woodside, into the shadows of trees and past the junction to 34, off towards La Honda in the redwoods. La Honda had snow on the ground- very rare! I passed by the Merry Prankster Cafe (the old stomping grounds for Jerry Garcia and the Dead, as well as their band of Pranksters). No sign of the usual motorcycle groups around there, it being a weekday.

The woods were shadowy and cold, the road narrowed to one lane in a couple of places. It tends to wash out in a few spots every year during the winter. Just driving felt really good, shifting down to second or third, accelerating out of the curves, passing through the sun and shadow, big trees all around. I love this drive; it always reminds me of why I love Northern California.

I turned off the main road (such as it is) onto the smaller road to Pescadero ("Welcome to Historic Pescadero, founded in 1850") passed by big houses hidden in the woods, like the house with hundreds of flourescent pink flamingos on the property. You see all the flamingos first, then you realize there's a house in there. The redwood park turnoff is nearby. The redwood park has a fallen giant that you can climb and walk inside; it's seen so many people that the trunk is polished smooth as a tabletop from all the hands.

The woods opened out to sun, artichoke fields and meadows, then I drove through Pescadero with its old Victorian houses and farm buildings. Looks like a quiet place to raise kids in, though there's no business there to speak of except farming; you'd have to be able to telecommute. The land changed to salt marshes, and popped out suddenly onto Highway 1, with the ocean smack in front of me. Today it was a rich teal blue, the water darkening towards the horizon. The line where the sea meets the sky was like a knife edge, it was so clear. I turned left and headed north towards Half Moon Bay.

I turned off the highway several times to head for the beach once I was near HMB, but discovered that much of the beach access has been blocked off by rich developments. I guess if you can afford to stay at the new Ritz-Carlton or are an avid golfer you can pay to find the beach, but it's gotten difficult to get to the water if you're a plebe. It seems like all the new development around the Bay Area is all for wealthy people. You don't see much in the way of affordable housing. I keep wondering who can afford these fancy huge houses, the resorts. What do they do for a living? I found myself annoyed and mentally ranting about elitism and exclusivity...

Gee, guess my (lower middle class) roots were showing. I finally found a small one lane road that led out to the cliffs and had a nice freezing walk along the clifftops for awhile. Calmed down and let it all go. I love the sandstone cliffs along the coastline here.

Open meadow
pencil in sketchbook

Monterey Pine over Shops
Ink, felt pen in sketchbook

When I got back to my car I discovered two other women trying to jump-start a car. Couldn't just leave when they might be in difficulties, so I wandered over to offer my help. Honestly, I'd never jumped a car by myself either, but what the hell. One lady had cables and the other woman was willing to lend her car's battery, and I ended up attaching the cables. It took all three of us to find the grounding cable that the dead car's manual said to use, but we agreed on a cable hidden deep in the bowels of the engine, since most of the rest seemed to be plastic. After a few failed attempts we got the car started- Hurrah!!! I'm sure any mechanically inclined person would have snickered at our incompetence, but we cheered and we all piled in our cars to get out of the cold and went our separate ways. Funny how we all just fell in as a team without any introductions or directions or mindgames.

Waterfront with ships
Ink, felt tip pen in sketchbook

I headed into Half Moon Bay for some warm coffee and a sandwich. I watched two guys chatting about relationships past and present and Women and watched them checking out the various cute chicks who came and went. It looked like an enjoyable sedentary sport for them. Some women nearby were having an intense discussion about how men Just Don't Get It, and they drank their lattes (non-fat) and had a nice rich dessert to share. I spent the next hour or so getting warm, eavesdropping (though I felt a twinge of guilt), people watching and musing about life (as I have a tendency to do at the drop of a hat). Heading homeward on 92, I headed back through the woods and towards civilization again, as well as rush hour traffic on the San Mateo Bridge. I ended up spending an hour sitting on the bridge in stop-and-go traffic. Oh yeah, now I remember why the commute to work in Half Moon Bay was such a pain in the ass...

Home again, home again, lickety split- or rather slowly through the rush hour traffic. I know I can deal with moving if we have to; I don't _want_ to, but it's amazing what you can do when you must. I guess it's not that I'm so attached to living in Fremont, but our house is the first place I've really felt was my home, mine. I'm afraid to give that up. Everytime we moved when I was a kid it was painful. It's hard in this case to know when it's really time to give up and relocate; when Paul and I moved before it was because we wanted to. This time is forced. Nobody likes being forced into something. I like the Bay Area, but the traffic is so insane, the housing prices are so inflated, and so forth. Just on my drive around today I came across most of the things I like and hate about the area. But man I would miss this place, insanity and all. I feel at home around here. It all just keeps swirling around in my head, what to do, what to do?

The boys were glad to see me when I got back. I was glad to walk in the front door and feel the warmth. Nice runaway day, overall.