Surf Colorado

Jeff and I spent two days sleeping, eating leisurely at restaurants, and talking. We didn't get any work done whatsoever. It reminded me of the time (seems like ancient history now) when we spent an entire summer watching every episode of "Six Feet Under" in order. We'd eat french bread and butter, and jam and coffee with the blinds drawn, in the summer heat, with the fan on and the volume on loud. At the end of every hour, we would turn to each other and say, "Ok, just one more." This would go on for five or six episodes at a time. Then, maybe if there were light left, we would walk down Lakeshore Avenue and play tennis at the community park.

It came back with a pang. We are so far from that now!

Meanwhile, the girls and my mom got on famously up in Santa Cruz. And during one three-hour conversation in bed in midafternoon, Jeff and I decided to cut our little vacation short and zoom down there. Ostensibly, it was to try to talk some sense into my mom about money matters, but I think it was really because we missed the girls.

And very quickly, that life absorbed us again, the one where we get little sleep and are constantly redirecting little babies. Of course, they were extra adorable at the table on Easter Sunday. They almost but not quite understood the whole egg thing. And too soon we returned to Napa, to a clean house thanks to Adrienne, and got ready to dive into the work week.

Jeff and I were both up at 5:30 this morning: me because I had procrastinated until REALLY the last possible minute and was up making a presentation handout, and Jeff because Sophie decided to get up when she did. He made some coffee and put on some old Sesame Street video, and we sat in the living room while S. ate her Cheerios. For once, I was not totally exhausted, and Jeff seemed not too tired himself. I wondered if it were possible to ever become a morning person because the atmosphere seemed almost holy, and then quickly came to the conclusion: no.