We got to the Freedman house last evening, bearing roasted chicken from Zancou, having driven nearly 4000 miles. We all jumped out of the car screaming, “We did it!”, generally making ourselves a raucous neighborhood nuisance.
I hadn’t predicted that the presence of our car in California would be the concrete focus of the oddity, the singularity, of our trip. We noticed it first in Colorado. Ron first pointed it out, I think: “You’re here, in your car.” We’ve been in California before, nothing odd about that. But, we’ve never been here in our car. The car has been like a home for us and is obviously connected with our sense of home. It represents our being here for a longer time than a week or two. We’re going to root here for a while.
For the next two days, we rest, organize, pack, set-up an office for Emily in Santa Monica, enjoy hanging out with the Freedmans.
Oh, yeah, and I have to write the presentation I’m giving next week. I meant to do that along the way somewhere.