Since a hot Sunday in Sept when George and I got married. And, amazingly enough, we have survived at least 16 moves (six of which were trans-Atlantic), houses, apartments, stairwell living. Numerous vehicles, split households due to jobs. Oh, yes and our four amazing off-spring- now ages 42, 32, 30, 28 plus a couple of partners of said off-spring (so fill in ages 29 & 31).

One of our two witnesses, my Aunt Ruth died this past July at the ripe age of 91. It was her help and sense of humor which got us through that day, along with George’s friend Charlie who traveled from Washington DC to watch his long time friend get married.

As we both remember it, we were up cleaning house before 0600 in order to make sure that things were more or less ok for the reception that was held at our just moved in to house.

In December, we will have been here in Berkeley 6 years. Frankly, that is longer than we have lived anywhere during our marriage. Yes, we owned the house in Heidelberg for 14 years, but there were not all that many years that both of us were there. For that matter, George has owned the house here since 2009, but five years of that doesn’t count as the house was leased.

Where was I? Oh yes, marriage, moving, children, travel. In sickness and health.

So far, so good.

Doesn’t sound like much to younger people, but to all of us who are past a certain age and have seen most major milestones in the rear view mirror, this past year has been a mix of relief and pain.

I would not expect any of you to remember, but going back – we had a major party for George (2018 – turned 70). In 2019, we spent the summer, which included his birthday with him recovering from his stem cell transplant with the increasing knowledge that it had failed. Mostly that summer was spent with him isolated from just about everyone and everything. Outside people and food really weren’t an option. After all, you don’t go through all of that to take chances on picking up something from unknown sources.

The second transplant in fall of 2019 worked. And that meant a minimum of another 100 days lockdown AFTER his 30 days in the hospital. Which takes us to 2020 – and we all know how we have spent the last 18 months.

So here we are, 2021, and sensibly still celebrated with a home cooked meal (mostly Noah with me contributing) and ending with fresh cobblers baked by Shana. At some point, I am hoping the world will open up again and we will have the opportunity to travel.

Not mine

It seems that there are two options for cat boxes – this particular one is call – to no one’s surprise….Sushi.

(photo furnished by the Eldest who just couldn’t resist the idea of more “cat in boxes or bags”

There is a Burmese Street Food restaurant on Shattuck in downtown Berkeley. Last year I had lunch there almost every week. It was an easy stop heading back from UCHastings after morning classes, take BART, have lunch, then show up for 1400 class at Cal on Tues/Thurs. I had eaten there often enough that I really didn’t need to look at a menu.

When everything here shut down, they closed as well. When your primary customers are students, faculty, and staff from the University, even if you could be open, it simply doesn’t make sense. Like many other restaurants here-  it is family owned and run. About two weeks ago, they started offering take-away between 1100-1700. I’ve grabbed lunch a couple of times and missed the time slot several others. Even tho my two favorite choices are not on the menu, I could find an alternative.

Today I had planned on lunch, then realized that I wouldn’t have wheels. Yes, I could have hiked into town and back (or ridden the bus up the hill). But has become increasingly peoplely out. George had to head to UCSF for an appointment this afternoon. Since they are not letting in anyone who doesn’t have to be there, I didn’t see any point in riding along to sit in parking garage. Mostly because the lightening is totally inadequate for reading, stitching or knitting.

When I offered lunch to Dani as a bribe to pick up Burmese, she begged off. But a few minutes later, she sent Alex up with a most excellent salad.

(insert imagination here – I forgot to take a picture before enjoying every last scrap).

It is about an hour, give or take a few minutes, from leaving the house in the morning to returning. Not every morning, mind you – just on those when I am dropping Angel, then Miriam off. Angel needs to be at work at 0600; it is still dark in the morning. No longer raining, it may be safe enough sometime by June for him to return to biking in and back. But for now, I feel much safer in making sure that he arrives safely. Only about 5 km (3 miles for those still stuck with Imperial meaurments). We (since making one round trip is slightly more convienent for me than heading back to the house to pick up Miriam) head back College, down Bancroft, swing right on Oxford and zig-zag over to Walnut & Vine.

Fortified with coffee (and chai for Maus) I we head to Richmond. Miriam is “going to the office.” Said office was formerly known as Shana’s second bedroom. It seems to be working out. Her cats are entertained during the day while Shana sleeps (nothing like working nights) and Miriam accomplishes more work that when she has access to all the distractions here.

Currently I am taking I-80. With so few people driving to work, it is actually faster in both directions than surface roads but I am sure that will not last.

So an hour later, I hike back up the stairs from the driveway and am greeted at the door by the cat who is insisting that he did NOT get fed this morning. I happen to know that he inhaled the first half of his breakfast. Still, he does such a wonderful, pathetic “I am so starving and skinny, sad cat” routine. The cat who, prior to being able to fly in the passenger portion of the plane, was on a vet supervised diet in order to reduce his royal fatness to an acceptable level.