Hogwarts Expressed

Best part of the weekend: finishing Harry Potter, Vol. VI. Worst part of the weekend: finishing Harry Potter Vol. VI. As usual, J.K. leaves you stunned, stumped by lingering questions, and doomed to suffer another three years of withdrawal back in Muggleland. Meanwhile, Voldemort is still lurking out there somewhere and up to no good whatsoever.

Family Ties

A first order of business since leaving my job to begin my work has been catching up on important matters too long deferred. And what's more important than spending time with family? First it was my sister, her husband and son who came out from Ohio for a week. This was truly an event. Karen hadn't been to California since our daughter Erin's wedding nearly three years ago. Denny hadn't been since completing grad school in L.A. almost 20 years ago. And it was a first for my nephew, Justin. We had a great time, and it was a good excuse for me to revisit those San Diego sites we natives usually abandon to the tourists--the zoo, the wild animal park, the traditional scenic spots, etc.

Two days after Karen and crew left, I headed to the airport again. This time I was the one standing in the security line, on my way to visit daughter Lauren and her boyfriend Ryan in Seattle. Lately, visits to Lauren have been prompted by an emergency of some kind, but this time was just for fun. We indulged in the usual girl stuff--shopping, getting pedicures, going out for lunch. And when Ryan could join us we branched out to see the traditional scenic spots, etc. Next on the calendar is a trip back East with Erin to see my dad and his wife, Weyburn. Technology is a wondrous thing. Reaching out and touching someone via phone or e-mail does keep us connected. But virtual hugs leave much to be desired. There's just no substitute for a real visit.

A Frog in Our Fountain

Among the many delights Bob and I discovered during our initial sojourn at Terra Nova before the fire was a tiny tree frog who hopped out of a hibiscus plant one day while I was watering. I scooped him up carefully and took him inside for a few minutes to show Bob. He was a wonderful and wiggly little thing who promptly escaped my fingers and scaled our kitchen window a la Spiderman.

After the fire, looking around at charred terrain as far as could be seen in every direction, I thought often about our little frog. Surely he and all his kind must have perished in the cataclysm. And even if a few lucky Kermit cousins had survived, how could they possibly repopulate without any apparent source of water? With all the fire took from us, it seemed especially cruel that we would likely never again find a frog in our flowers.

You know where this is going, of course, so here's the denouement. Our daughter Lauren gave us a beautiful copper wall fountain for our anniversary. It arrived just as we were moving into the new house, and we decided the front porch was the perfect place to hang it. What a lovely addition to Terra Nova. We found its burbling such a soothing sound that we took to leaving the door ajar just to listen to it. Apparently, we weren't the only ones enjoying our fountain. One evening I discovered a tiny tree frog perched on its rim. Reason enough, Bob and I decided, to call our recovery from the fire complete.

P.S. Update 7/31/05. Make that two frogs in our fountain. Here are a few photos of Pacific tree frogs: http://www.npwrc.usgs.gov/narcam/idguide/hylareg.htm

Back to the Future

I had only two goals for the month of June, but they were both biggies. No. 1: move home to Terra Nova. No. 2: leave my job as magazine editor at San Diego State University to work fulltime on my book about the Cedar Fire.

The moving part stretched out over a couple of weeks. As soon as the new house passed final inspection, on Thursday the 16th, we started hauling stuff out of the rental. After a full weekend of that, it was back to work for 5 days, followed by another weekend marathon of moving and cleaning.

But then, finally, we were home again. Everything was a jumble, of course, piles of boxes and bags all around. And since we've replaced so little furniture as yet, the house literally echoed with our voices and the dogs' barking. But it didn't matter. We were back, finally able to reclaim the future we'd barely begun when the fire came. Only 7 months in the house in the canyon that had so raised our spirits, and then 20 months to rebuild it. Dorothy said it best: There's no place like home.

Three days after we turned in the keys to the rental house, amid a flurry of cards, gifts and farewell parties, I turned in the keys to my office, as well. It's felt weird this last week, not going to work, but it's been a healthy decompression period so far. It's so satisfying just to unpack and sort things out, and in the sorting to resume some semblance of an ordered life. It's such a luxury to suddenly have time for simple necessities.

Today, for example, I finally washed my car and had the oil changed, two of a million things I've been putting off for weeks. It took longer than usual. There was a real crowd at Jiffy Lube, and the guy who checked me in apologized from the get go. I'm sorry, he said, it's going to be about 35 minutes. That's o.k., I replied, I'm not in any hurry today.