Costa Mesa

They’d created an oasis in the tiny backyard of their Costa Mesa home. Bamboo and greenery softened the harsh boundaries of the fence, and lush plants separated the space, creating a hidden space for a few chairs and a table. A string of lights crisscrossed above us, the baubles lighting up the greenery.

Everybody was warm inside from drinking sake. They were into Japanese culture, so we sipped the warm sweet wine out of a small wooden box, and despite my best efforts, I spilled every single time.

She built a fairy house at the base of one of the plants, a little teepee made of large dry leaves and a few sticks. James found a thin stick with tiny bunches of balls, and handed it to Dave. “Ohhhhh, that’s perfect.”


As the sky darkens, the magic only increases. Organic silhouettes embrace us in peace and serenity. I wrap the warm brown blankets around my shoulders, and Elana perches on Dave’s lap. James brings out a hot kettle and five mugs; we didn’t realize we wanted tea until the exact moment he showed up.

Later, Dave drops his mug, and it breaks on the patio stone beneath him. “Aaaaand my foot is burning.”

But nobody panics at the sound of shattering, there is no stress here. Objects break, it’s the way of life. Here, Dave, we’ll pour you another. The kettle’s still hot.


An Inconvenient Cat

I think my cat is trying to force me to be in sync with her sleep schedule. At least, that’s my excuse for sleeping til noon.

In the middle of the night, she’ll come scratching at my door, and when I groggily let her in, she won’t lie down like a good cat. She’ll come up to the head of the bed, walking back and forth and back and forth and often on top of me, and then she’ll start pawing at things on my bedside table which means spilled water and falling books are imminent, which means that I simply MUST pay attention to her or the pawing will never end and the scratching at my door will never cease.

Sometimes I just throw her out, put in ear plugs, and go back to sleep, but usually I sit up and read or write and pet her. Because cats are finicky, especially mine, and I feel honored any time she wants to hang out.

I mean, how can you say no to such an inviting spread?

I mean, how can you say no to such an inviting spread?

Then during the day, she follows me around the house, staring plaintively up at me and waiting for me to sit down for even a moment so that she can curl up near me. And she’s just such a Fluff Bundle, my little Cuddle Puff, that I simply must get back in bed so that she can sleep at my feet and make her tiny little cat snores.

We might have a lot more in common that I care to admit…