California daisies

My calendar promised (yes, thanks to motherly dementia I had to obtain a notepad and put down all important planned occasions) that May would be a busy month. Eventually it turned out more chaotic and full of changes. So here it is, my running tally what all had happened:

Look, what a beautiful leaf I have found!

On the first Saturday in May, we dragged Kubackis up on our favorite Borel Hill. And since I know how much Radim always rumbles whenever we pass bicyclists while driving in a car, I made a suggestion in jest that he should take that breakneck hill to Skyline on his bike, and meet us up there. It seems that it was a good idea. Before we finished crawling at our juniors' pace from a rock to a twig the first half mile away from our car, our sportsman was huffing by, sweaty but obviously happy. He rode an honor lap around the summit and hurried back home to have a shower before we would go to have a lunch. The kids meanwhile admired flowery meadows and counted dots on young lady bugs.

On Sunday we journeyed to Redwood City, to see Brehs. Bára's husband was out on a business trip, and so we took the rest of their family out to Coyote Point. I admit that from our side, there were certain materialistic reasons. Andrejka had gotten a new larger bicycle and Lisa got her old (small) one promised as a loan for a year. Lisa bravely stepped in the pedals, although she was still stopping by letting her feet rub the ground. We routed on a local marina breakwater, watching giant airplanes -- Coyote Point lies under the final approach vector for San Francisco International.

Lisa's first time on a bicycle

On the next weekend, The Wings of History museum had an Open House event. The balloonists try every year to enrich the program by flying their aerostats, tethered or free, but the weather had not been accommodating. This years' morning looked promising -- it was cold, but the rising sun looked friendly. Alas, optimistic expectations did not pan out. An incalculable breeze had rolled a fog in Gilroy, and that was the end of flying. As much we helped Brent erect his balloon, the wind was tossing and lurching the two-ton monster, loaded with four people and one Hippo, in a way that even a tethered flight would not be reasonable. Hence we, all frozen up, packed the balloons back in their trailers, collected our children at the museum, and drove home.

As soon as the balloons start tossing in the wind this way, it's over with flying.

On Sunday we were lucky with natural elements for a change. An unusually low tide had occurred at Davenport Landing. We were able to walk on dry ocean floor in places where most other times, heavy surf waves roar. Receding water left scores of anemones and sea-stars exposed on the cliffs, and we could admire underwater creatures better than in an aquarium. Our juniors were ecstatic. Tom would count the sea stars and pet them, Lisa dug in the sand with a twig and splashed in tidal pools; we touched sticky anemone tentacles and observed a relatively large crab who had forgotten himself in a crack.

Approximately by that time, road workers had made passable the almost ten thousand feet high Sonora Pass over the Sierra Nevada, which had intensified my correspondence with Olga and Vítek. She is my virtual friend with kids similar to ours in age, and some time back in February, she made a humble inquiry, which places they should plan to visit while "near San Francisco", which they would make a stop on their way from Australia to the Czech Republic. So we started planning, how to most meaningfully compress the best California attractions into one week, without causing either kids or parents to go nuts from traveling too much. An open Sonora Pass gave us further options, and this caused us to re-think all our plans.

Kids in their room are getting ready for a trip to the wilderness

While they were planning their vacations, our family began to feverishly arrange for some horse riding during the extended Memorial Day weekend. Gabka had requested to participate in such a happening, and we had promised a ride to our granny. Right away we rejected Kennedy Meadows for its dustiness and being too touristy. Eventually we reserved steeds at Leavitt Meadows, with tentative camping near Buckeye Hot Springs.

Tommy chose the largest pony.

Our granny had heedlessly divulged our plans to our children two weeks ahead, and we had subsequently found ourselves in the barrage of questions, are we already about to go to the wilderness, occasionally colored by Lisa's heart-wrenching promises that she shall be good now and could we go, now that she's been asking so nicely?

To pacify the kids somehow, we promised them their own little horses, and took them on the next weekend to a pony ride in Half Moon Bay. Despite Bara's pessimism that the place would be too crowded, we found it practically empty by ten o'clock in the morning. Tommy had immediately selected the largest animal, while Lisa did not dwell on details. The ponies were friendly and walked on merrily, but their endurance was much smaller than that of our kids -- we had to work hard to convince our juniors to dismount.

From Half Moon Bay we continued along the coast to Pigeon Point. Tommy declared he wanted to see the lighthouse, but at the same time go to the beach -- and so we went to the beach under the lighthouse. This time we caught the moment right after the highest point of the tide, and there were many dead jellyfish washed up on the sand. In a shallow cave at the end of the beach, we spotted a cute sea lion baby. It had incredible mimicry, for we noticed it only when it found our proximity too dangerous and moved off to a rock in the ocean.

Little sea lion

Even Lizzy was not afraid to ride a pony.

We had managed a lunch in Santa Cruz, get home, and prepare for a barbecue with friendly Czech families. My lady friends and I had been planning for a long time, where to get together, until I resolved to invite the whole bunch to our house. We threw all the children in our pool, which served as a giant energy discharger for the untiring youth. The rest of the participants either dared to enter the refreshing water for moment, or just sat around, ate various morsels they brought along, or nursed their drinks. I'm afraid our kid's dinner mostly consisted of a tiny piece of hot dog and a giant serving of ice cream (Lisa alone came at least four time for seconds of the "chocodate"). We had somehow missed getting our juniors to their beds by our usual eight o'clock. Neither of the aforementioned infractions would leave any marks on them -- only Tom was quite eager to get to his cot by ten, and fell asleep despite the last visitors leaving shortly before midnight.

For Sunday, We had arranged an encounter with Olga, Vítek and their kids in Felton. They called at ten about being late, having gotten stuck in the City (San Francisco), where currently the Bay to Breakers run was being organized and random streets were closed. Two more calls were needed converge in Felton, with people, whom we had never seen before. We took our visitors through the redwood grove, actually running on the last quarter of the trail, for a steam engine started to whistle on its way to the station, and their son was very keen on seeing it, and subsequently ride on its train. The rest of us, however, was quite lunch-minded, and so we democratically voted to have a meal. We spent over an hour at Erik's Cafe, and another hour shopping at a grocery store, helping the "foreigners" locate familiar things in unfamiliar packages -- and then we stood at the parking lot and exchanged last minute thoughts, instructions and information. I was reliving another case of what had already happened many times -- with virtual friends, reality comes as a continuation of a dialog meandering through both types of our lives. If there's anything to feel sorry about this visit, then it's the limited time we could spend together. I think we would have plenty to talk about for several evenings -- it was rather silly, trying to squeeze everything into four hours.

Low tide at Davenport Landing

Having returned home, my Hippo began to rumble that his throat was hurting. I made it clear to him that he would have to sort it out by Friday, for we would be leaving to our horse ride by then. On Wednesday, I joined him with the same malady. I had spent Thursday hiding in some dark corner, hoping for it to pass. Meanwhile, forecast for Bridgeport (where we had planned to camp) kept getting worse every day -- freezing at night, with snow showers. We resolved that there was no point in forcing the issue, and canceled the whole trip. We probably did the right thing. They allegedly even shortly closed Sonora Pass for snow, and we would have to return home over a crazy detour through Tahoe.

Point Reyes Lighthouse can be reached after hiking 307 steps -- down the cliff.

My next week is foggy; someone was always coughing or had runny nose, and all of us were generally carcasses. A stay-at-home psychosis kicked in, too. The children, who kept unfurling their sleeping bags and playing camp, did not improve the morals. Thus we opted for at least a small trip to Point Reyes. By this time of the year, buses were still not in operation in the park, and we were allowed to drive all the way to a tiny, overflowing parking lot about a half mile from the lighthouse. Tommy did not disappoint us -- he enjoyed the hike, for its first section consists of a closed road and he was able to personally and minutely survey truly EVERY reflective marker (American version of the "cat eyes", glued to the dashed yellow line in the middle of the pavement). I must say that I began to feel a bit spaced out, after about twenty fifth exclamation, "Here's another reflector and it is NEW!" Still, I survived and we reached the stairs that lead down to the lighthouse (yes, the lighthouse is build BELOW the cliff so that it can shine under the layer of coastal fog). There, Lisa made me question my mental balance for a change, for during our descent over three hundred and seven steps, she would stop for every little beetle or ant, which she demanded to observe, and alternatively rescue, by putting it back into the grass, so that nobody steps on it.

Party in our back yard: left to right Kryštof, Gábina, Vendula, Radim, Breh (by far not all who was present)

In the end we reached the lighthouse, but I think it did not trump the reflectors and the beetles. Our juniors went up the 307 steps again, relatively quickly and agreeably (perhaps more than that -- given their oscillations up and down in their typical fashion). Sid wanted to drive back home over the Richmond Bridge, which made Tom very happy -- so beautiful, to journey through an industrial zone full of rails, factories, docks and similar attractions!

They have a sink full of bubbles at the museum.

The kids would go to bed without fuss that evening, and we collapsed by the TV. Not for long. By nine thirty the phone rang, with Gabina on the other end of the line. They went to Yosemite in a group of five people, and their car had broken down. In the process of late night and early Sunday morning calling, a rescue mission had been planned. We emptied our bus of all stuff, Sid got in an fetched Tony; they two went then together to Groveland for the unfortunate Yosemite expedition. Tony attempted to convince the broken down car to cooperate, but did not succeed. Subsequently, all seven people (five expeditioners, Sid and Tony), got in the bus and Sid drove them to their individual homes. This endeavor took all Sunday, with an unsatisfactory result: Kubacki's undrivable car stayed back in Groveland and Tony began to find out how to salvage anything possible (the engine was supposed to be in warranty).

My Sunday turned into staying with the children (for a change). Before I finished packing Sid out, switched the car seats to our Subaru and finished showering, it was ten fifteen; I did not feel like starting anything big. I called Vendula, of whom I knew to be a grass widow for the weekend, and I took her out on a walk with the kids at the Palo Alto airport. Tommy has obviously become confused from all my lady friends. He alternatively called her Ivana and Simona (which is not that bad, considering that our Lisa calls Gabka, "Babka" - variation on granny). He topped it off by asking Vendula whether she had any kiddies. When she replied no, he said, "That's OK, you can have our kiddies" -- he simply does not hesitate to offer himself for adoption.

A moment at the play lot

The kids have been quite amusing lately. The other day Tommy thought aloud in the car: "We were born in America, and so we are Americans... you were born in Czechia... so you must be Czechans."
Lisa incessantly analyzes differences between boys and girls, and draws various conclusions -- for example: "Mommies carry large breasts... and daddies carry large bellies." (she is, after all, Hippo's daughter).
Or: "Granny Josie has old hair... granny New Fuss (her name, Neufuss, seems unbelievably difficult for my kids) has NEW hair."
Besides, Lizzy can beautifully roll her R and so she smothers us in it at every opportunity. She asks for a rollipop after lunch, and if something is funny, she is raughing; her most favorite stuffed animal is a rittle bear.

And then we encounter moments with our kids, when one does not know whether to laugh or cry. At a pre-school pageant by the end of the school year, where most mothers were suppressing tears of joy from seeing and hearing their juniors sing, I did not quite know whether to burst into flames from shame, or whether to pretend that just these little ones aren't related to me. They (again) covered their ears, and Tom had improved his favorite show by shouting loudly in a quiet moment, when the applause just died off, "Mommy, mommy, it's too loud, make them turn it off."
Apparently I shall have to be grateful for the little things -- unlike at the Christmas party with the old pre-school, Lisa had only covered her ears this time -- she did not start sobbing uncontrollably and did not demand her mommy. I cling to a hope that perhaps we may have a chance to have honed their social behavior by the time they graduate from high school.