29. Another day

I seem to get the idea to make an entry about "my day" once a month, because its been just four weeks since my last such—four weeks to the day, and another four weeks to the one before that. I also seem to get that idea on Fridays, when I've met with my Oaxacan friend for a bit of English practice.

Today she showed up with a children's book she'd picked up from the Free shelf at the library entrance, about the voyage of the Mayflower in 1620. She seemed tickled that there were a bunch of free books (last week it wasn't books on the Free shelf, but a case of half-pint milks; another time, it was flaky pastries) just for the taking. And so we learned a little bit about the Pilgrims (Peregrinos) and their ship (barco), though before we got to the Mayflower we learned about the Speedwell, which was too small to take the 102 Pilgrims from Holland, so they had to make a deal with some businessmen (hombres de negocios) in England, who said they could provide a ship in exchange for seven years' worth of goods such as furs (pieles) and lumber (maderas). I happen to know a few descendants of one (or perhaps two) of those 102 migrants, so it tickled me to learn something about the Mayflower. And we talked a bit about Columbus, coming 128 years before, and about Henry the Navigator and the Portuguese going to Brazil, and Cortés got mentioned, and colonialism. And I wondered if my friend has Spanish blood, or if talking about "when we came" to this hemisphere has a very different meaning for her. 

When I got home, David and I headed to downtown Monterey and the Wells Fargo bank branch there—our goal: to pay off our mortgage! But when we got there, there was a line. And a single teller. And although there were at least three other people doing something at screens throughout the bank, no one raised their head to notice: oh, a line; we should attend to our clients. After waiting ten minutes, with one person getting their business taken care of in that time, I said I was going for a walk. (I am not the most patient person. I don't know if it's a fault. It's just a fact.) And David headed out after me—which turned out to be a good thing, because we had planned to stop by Paris Bakery downtown for a couple of overpriced pastries, and when we got there there was only one left of the kind I like (cinnamon raison roll, aka pain aux raisins). Just imagine if we'd stood in line another thirty minutes! I would have been mad at the wait and sad because someone, I'm sure, would have snapped up that last pastry. Win! So with pastries in hand, we drove to the Wells Fargo branch near our house, and okay, there, too, there was a line (just two people), but immediately a fellow came to talk to each of us, and shortly thereafter, another teller arrived. Now, that's customer service. So snick-snack, we paid off our mortgage, and within ten minutes were on our way home, to fresh coffee and our coveted flaky pastries. All that shaggy dogginess to say, our house is now our own. No more mortgage!

It's almost miraculous, after thirty-plus years. And it essentially means an extra few thousand dollars a month. In these uncertain times, that makes me feel a bit easier.

In the afternoon, I alternated reading a novel, set in Australia, and editing a book of essays translated from Bengali. Not always so easy to follow: like, "Another person will employ his everything in this work whose company has remained steady amidst my sorrows and defeats for many days." Huh? There were quite a few queries asking the translator to "double-check and make sure the text is as clear as can be." My editing magic goes only so far.

And just as David and I were about to set out on a longish walk with the dog, followed by a stop at the market for ingredients for saumon en papillotte, I checked my email—and was reminded of a jigsaw puzzle competition I'd said I'd participate in, with pickup at 5:15. Good thing I checked! 

The competition was fun. It was at a local library, and the conference room was packed with eager contestants: five (maybe six, maybe four) to a team, some fourteen teams. We all got the same 5,000-piece puzzle, with a cartoonish image of a carnival food court. Our team started out with three—Lynn (my walk-across-England friend) and Beth (a fellow wilderness ranger) and me—and then just before we got started we acquired two young women, Maddy and Nicole. Now we had some fighting power. We never talked strategy, we just got going: edge pieces, of course; pieces with stripes; pieces with orange or green leaves; pieces with words; pieces with pavement. Et cetera. It flowed organically. We didn't come first, not even close, but I think we all enjoyed the synergy. And it was lovely to be in a room with so many people so focused on something so lighthearted. (The photo here is from a puzzle I finished the other week, which took me months, and so I still have it on my drawing table so I can continue to admire all the hard work I put in. Maybe, though, now it's time to box it, and start another... I could even resolve to spend less than a year on it.)

In the evening, David and I watched the movie Mountainhead (meh), then a couple of episodes of the final season of The Righteous Gemstones—which I'm still hoping will have some redeeming value by the time it's done. 

Oh, and I should mention that before I went to the library to see my Oaxacan friend, I bade farewell to our great-nephew Nicola, who spent the night. We all had a sweet couple of hours yesterday evening catching up, chatting, reminiscing (he was on our recent far-northern Norwegian adventure). Nick graduated from Prescott College this spring in rocket science (or something similar!), and is now off to Torrance to start work as an engineer at Robinson Helicopter Company. It's heartening to see a talented, ambitious young man start off on his path. All the very best to him!

And there we go: another day in the life. This was a good one.