Miles Away

Flying out of LaGuardia was exhilirating, especially when we got Athena (our fish) safely through security. Thanks to my friend, I, we knew the drill: right before we went through the security screen, we put Athena into a teeny-tiny tupperware container with 3.7oz of water (the amount of liquid the TSA allows, post-9/11). E carried her cupped in his hands. The TSA security officer stopped him and scratched his head. E spoke right up: "We are moving to California and this is our pet and she is coming with us!" I stood behind him, letting him make the transaction. The officer called his supervisor, who came over and took E and Athena aside. Then he tested Athena's water and dusted E's fingertips. All clear!

Once we were through security, we put Athena into a large, clean olive container and filled it up with spring water. During our flight, we kept the lid off the container and E held her during take-off and landing.

So Athena is now officially a member of the betta mile-high club. And she seems to be adjusting to the new time zone just fine.


We are really here. In Santa Barbara, E, (A), and I. A world away from New York City, which is E's hometown, and in some ways, mine too (if being someplace almost half your life qualifies). It is so beautiful here. What strikes me most is the way it smells: of green, lavender, eucalyptus, honeysuckle. And mist (yes, the morning mist has a great smell, too). And it is so quiet, except for the sound of birds.

We found a shipwreck on Friday on Butterfly Beach. A small worn-out sailboat that had lost its mooring and was aground, and already, after only a week or so, was laying on it's side, half-buried in sand, the bottom covered with mussels, scallops, and sea anemones. A hobo (E's word for those who live without an address) told E and another little boy about how valuable the parts were: the aluminum mast, the stainless steel fittings. So E scavenged the wooden railings for the fort we'll build in our yard (in the hidden spot, J, our surfer/chef/gardener landlord, picked out for just such a construction project in the incredible lush, lovingly kept yard of our house).

Our house. I can't believe it. Our house. After twenty years of apartment dwelling we have a house And it's a beauty. A front porch, a fireplace, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, the great room so warm and sunny and inviting--and great. It is big! And the kitchen...a real cook's kitchen (explains why J,who grew up in this house, is a chef now) that dazzles me.

Now we just need the balance of our stuff to arrive so we can actually move in...

For now, we're "on vacation" in E&P's home, which they rent out furnished. E loves the hot tub. And the scrub jays. And Pan, who plays his pan-pipes for all the hummingbirds in the garden. And he loves walking Django on the bluff above the ocean and playing ball with Zeke, too.

We met another Hobo on the trolley ride back from the Wharf. He told us about all the trees in Santa Barbara, as though he knew them all personally. He looked like the naturalist, John Burroughs, except his feet were black, his white beard was smeared with grease and dirt. He made us laugh when he told us about his encounter with the a lion at the SB Zoo.

Our first week here we visited our favorite places: the beaches, the Zoo, the Museum of Natural History, the aweseome playgrounds. And we played lots of "Go Fish" in the evening before reading stories from "King Arthur and His Knights." E is sleeping so well here. And he has said, several times, "this is my best day ever" which is code for "all is well." His hair is blond, his long-limbs, longer. His skin is as "brown as a berry," as my dad used to say. He has another loose tooth.


He started 2nd Grade today. I made his favorite hot lunch (rice, chicken nuggets, fruit salad, milk) and packed it up with a note from Mom. I was so proud of him when I dropped him off and he sat right down and began to draw Egyptian symbols all over his name tag, which he was invited to color by his teacher Mrs. A. We gave each other the Native American sign for "friend" and I blew a kiss goodbye. I can't wait to pick him up and find out how it went.

Here we are.....

Almost Seven

It's beyond embarrassing that my last post was more than six months ago. It's a testament to how busy life with a six year old boy has been but it's also totally terrifying, because this fantastic year with him went incredibly fast and is now almost over. In just a few hours, E will no longer be 6.

One cause of the long delay was the dreadful collapse of our aquarium and loss of our fish. So happy was I with having office mates that I put too many fish in a tiny tank, and one by one....it was awful. E and I grieved long and hard. It took about 6 months for me to be able to bring up the topic. And everytime I said "I think we ought to get another fish" he'd say no. So one day I just came home with one. At first, he was angry. Then he drew a picture ("I'm the Goddess Athena and I love life!") hung it next to the aquarium, and a love story was born. Athena is a "moon" betta. She is so beautiful--pale blue & purple--like a shimmery, swimming moonstone.

Every morning when E gets up, he says hello to her. And every day when he gets home from school, he greets her. And he worries about her when we are away from home. We shower her with love and dote on her. So I'm hoping that, when we one-day-soon get our dog (E has mentioned a chihuahua named "El Condor" or a black mutt we'll call "Darth Muffin") we will (I hope) be prepared.

Plus, E's got fans from such far flung locations as Cyprus, Iceland, London, California and New Jersey, who've been asking after him all this while, I owe them an update.

So here, in a very quick nutshell, are some of the most magical things about living with a six year old boy:

My umbrella stand is filled with lightsabers, a bow and a bunch of arrows, several swords, a pirate blunderbust, and some awesome sticks, carried home from Central Park, and meant to be kept forever. Everytime I reach for an umbrella, I realize how lucky I am to have all this essential boy gear at hand, and I'm acutely aware that it won't always be there.

E was chased through the park (with his friend Z) by a pack of private school girls. Nevermind the pleated skirts and plaited hair, these girls were fast. On the way home, eyes ablaze, hair wild, short of breath, E turned to me and said, "Mom, girls have such savage hearts." Boy, do we! Living with a six year old boy has opened my eyes to how tender-hearted boys can be and how hard on them we girls can be. This is such a simple, raw fact--but it's so complex and strikes at the heart of our mars/venus stuff--that I was grateful for the reminder.

We all need love.


Probably the thing that most blows my mind is walking into E's room and seeing him sitting reading, intently. It's incredible to realize he no longer needs me in the most fantastic way. The world is wide open now. Oh, sweet freedom. It's now his.

So much is changing, so fast. The only consolation I have is knowing that it just gets better and better.

To the six year old boys of the world--you rule. I love you all--truly, madly, deeply.