Only one?

This day has seen the annual gathering of my clan. It makes a good party. I always forget how very many cousins I have. This year was perhaps a touch smaller than usual, with two entire branches of the family not represented. This means, of course, that perhaps only thirty adults showed up, not counting the uncountable hoard of children my generation has managed to produce. My sister had (as I expected her to do) managed not to come, but we still brought her two eldest children with us. There were several predictable drunkenings, several very awkward conversations, and an incredible amount of meat eaten. There was an excellent tri-tip, wonderful ribs, succulent turkey, perfection in the form of chicken, a delightful shrimp concoction, and my cousin Tommy's usual magnificent potato concoction. There was more in the form of various salads. I don't eat that stuff, so you'll have to supply your own adjectives. All in all it was a very good party even though it was as calm (relatively, only one cop showed up this time) as it was.

Future thoughts

Some short time past, Cindy found herself a job working for a jeweler. I knew she had found a new job, but we hadn't had the occasion to talk about it. Manny and I were eating a late lunch/early dinner/dunch/linner/lupper when we ran into Cindy who was doing much the same with a common friend of ours. She mentioned that many of the bench jewelers she works with remind her of me. It seems there is a commonality of interests and personalities. It got her thinking, which got Manny thinking, which in turn got me thinking, that maybe I ought to look into silver and goldsmithing. The idea has been working away at me since then. Once upon a time I thought it might be an interesting career, but I didn't know where to start. Cindy did a bit of asking for me and found a good starting point. There is a very good school in San Francisco that teaches the jewelry arts. It is a touch expensive though. Manny thinks it isn't as bad as I think. We started running the numbers and I might very well be able to do this thing. There is an intensive program that seems the best way to learn the art. It takes eight weeks to complete, requiring me to be in SF from 9 to 6 every weekday. Getting there might not be very fun, but it is only two months, and it might very well lead to a decent career. The prerequisite is Fabrication 1 which will cost me the better part of $600 and three days. It is a large chunk of money, but this might just be one of those times when it is best to gamble. I certainly won't come out worse than I went in. If I decide not to take it any further, at least I will come out knowing more than I did going in.

Enthusiasm misplaced

This last Saturday found me cutting brush along the right of way down in Niles Canyon. It was my first brush cutting day. I really don't mind the hard work, but I dislike starting a day with a crew of people who only have the slightest idea of what is going on and how to do it. I prefer more cut and dry work, like when a man I respect says, take this tool and cut that with it. The morning began down at the Sunol Gardens helping the Sunolians trim brush while I waited for the rest of my crew to show up. When they did I was glad to leave the chaotic Gardens for the relative peace of the rails. Again though, it was a situation I had never seen before and I was not entirely sure where to start. When I received my orders I gladly dove right in. Unfortunately what I dove into was a patch of poison oak. If I had curbed my enthusiasm and opened my eyes, I would have realized what I was doing before I started doing it. When I did, I had a brief thought before the cussing began. I like to think I am not a complete idiot. I don't recall ever having done anything terribly idiotic while asleep, for example.

For how long, I wonder...

I found a bit of an email in my box that I was not expecting. Hoping for, most definately, but not expecting. An old friend has resurfaced when I thought all hope had gone, and it makes me happy. I'd like to think of myself now as a mostly open person (in direct opposition of who I once was), but it is very nice to again be in contact with someone who can catch the entirety of me without heavy editing. It is a fine sense of freedom, but it requires the dumping of some old truths that make for some fairly creepy reading, I should think. If this friend can deal with those, then maybe I'll be able to find a bit more comfort in my own skin again. We'll see how much it takes before they run. Not that I want that to happen, mind you, but I am not always an easy person to know.