2.21.2009

comfort food



There are three elements common to road trips with my family:

a) the invention of new car games, e.g. the Question Game. (Mom: "If you could get a tattoo, what would it be?" Ty, without hesitation: "A chinese dragon.")

b) the telling of favorites stories, e.g. the days when Ty pronounced all y's as l's--lellow, lou, les-and the time, at age six, that I made Jordan eat an ant (still a source of guilt).

c) One hike, to which I reluctantly submit, then end up enjoying.

Saturday was Mom's birthday, so we all piled into the blue Prius and drove to Point Reyes, a cape north of San Francisco. The town was sleepy and the weather moody, just the way I like it. We stopped at a restaurant in search of hike advice, then headed toward a recommended trail. After parking, we realized that it was not so much a hike as a mosey, since the path was actually a cow pasture.




I chased the cows...

while Jordan chased frogs,



and Ty chased Molly.


He also climbed rocks,



and played soccer,


with mixed results.


Meanwhile, Mom and I found the meadow's weirdest plant.


When it started to rain, we drove into town. I had a strong feeling of nostalgia--not for something I had once known, as I'd never been there, but for a different kind of life. In that life, I would feel contented by simple things, such as drawn-out meals and the salt smell of sea water. 




Mami! 


Jordan and Mom bought cheese in a converted barn. I selected an olive oil dark chocolate.


In the afternoon we drove back to concrete and familiar pathways and domesticated animals, all the marks of this city. Sentimentality can be a corny thing, but that is what I felt. 

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