went north saturday, six hours in he car with dad driving and mom sleeping. the five, then the 101 until ferndale, where my great-uncle jim lives. he turned 90 this year. they named the eureka airport after him and several pilots flew over the house in the course of the afternoon, we air salute you. jim spent years at sea, years flying. what a man. agile as all get out. in the late evening we all went to the local pub and drank for a few hours. the rich cousins opted out and flew home in their private jet after the party. you know you aren't made for money when you prefer pubs with your 50+ relatives than leather and hardwood aviation with the young somebodys.

in the morning, we took katie out for brunch at the omelet chalet, then flew kites on the wind-whipped samoa beach until late afternoon. i drove home, stopping only once to buy orange juice, carrots, and chocolate from an outspoken old hippy woman south of lucerne. we talked about pirate radio, her soup, and the pros and cons of the feds. she raised her middle fingers to the sky in a salute to george bush, who has her "in his crosshairs". i decided not to mention that now it's obama holding the skirt down on the oval office.

errands, yoga, apply for jobs. i forgot dad's dry-cleaning for the second time this week. natasha, my wonderful russian yoga instructor, whose beauty is surpassed only by her flexibility, is moving back to her homeland in june. jason at the hacienda better hire me, because that wine bar has a flat screen and i know it will give me a tumor.

went to visit aunt barbara this morning. her new digs beat out the old by 2billion and four times. beautiful old house downtown, enormous room. she glows. she saw michael the archangel over me this visit, ten feet tall. "she has a feeling for the mystic, but does't trust it" she tells my mother, "you don't". queen of tact. she bosses everyone around, but showers them with compliments and prayers, so i think they either like her or lump it. she asks me if i've reconsidered the order. i tell her i want a family someday. it's the first time shit like that has ever come out of my mouth and i realize that i should probably get on the ball in the next ten years if i'm serious about that. "she'll be a teacher," she says to my mother, "they'll eat her up." my god.

i don't know if i will survive here without losing whatever is left of my mind.