August 27, 2006 – Simple Things in Life

August 27, 2006 – Simple Things in Life

Yesterday, my wife IM and I promised to visit our oldest daughter MS and her family in Pleasanton for a barbeque. We were looking forward to the outing because we hadn’t seen her, her husband GS and our grandkids ES and JS for over a month. We promised to bring a rack of pork ribs we had in the freezer and be there by 2:00 PM. The weather has been great these past few weeks in the San Francisco Bay Area and we were looking at a temperature in the mid 80s Fahrenheit at their place, perfect for dinner in the back yard. IM and I had a late breakfast, lingering over coffee and talking about her buddies in the San Jose line dance community—IM is a great dancer unlike me.n The community is worldwide with a concentration of dancers and choreographers in the San Francisco Bay Area as well as in Great Britain, Australia, and New Zealand. It also has a big following in Asia, particularly Taiwan. The group keeps up to date with the tlatest dances via the Internet and often gets together with choreographers at different locations worldwide to dance their most recent works.

We finished breakfast 30 minutes after noon, cleaned up the dishes, grabbed our rack of ribs, and left for Pleasanton a little after 1:00 PM. I decided to make it a leisurely drive up and so avoided California 101 opting to drive north of Monterey Highway through San Jose and pick up Interstate 280 East turning right on East Virginia Street. This being summer, the traffic on Monterey would normally be light and if the lights aren’t against me, I can usually make the run from Capital Expressway to Alma Avenue without stopping for a red light and I can usually average 40 MPH along the way. Today, my plan for avoiding 101 was ill advised as something was going on at Santa Clara County Fairgrounds and the right lane of 3-lane Monterey Highway was backed up from Umbarger Road to the entrance of the fairground just south of Old Tully Road. Thankfully, there wasn’t a back-up in the two remaining lanes and we got through the stretch without much delay. We made the right onto East Virginia, drove through the blocks of the warehouse district south of the San Jose city center—gradually being gentrified as warehouses give way to condominiums starting at under $500,000.

Once we merged onto Interstate 280 we soon passed over California 101 where the freeway we were on turns into Interstate 680 as the northeast-bound, high-speed, four-lane highway curves north and slightly west. On Saturday, this road runs easily 20 miles and hour faster than the posted 65 mile-an-hour limit and today was no exception. I get into the fast lane and maintain its 80 to 85 mph speed, which is only slightly faster than the other three lanes—I can’t drive slowly on this stretch of road. It takes us no time to reach the summit of the Andrade Grade and begin the rapid descent toward the Highway 84 exit and the city of Sunol. From there 680 begins another gradual climb up the Sunol grade, where at the summit is our exit Sunol Boulevard, which snakes though a large industrial park on the left and a community of million-dollar-plus homes clinging to the hills rising off to the right of the road. Three lane Sunol Blvd eventually crosses Bernal Road at the entrance to downtown Pleasanton and becomes two-lane First Street. We proceed along First until its intersection with Stanley Boulevard where we turn left. First Street beyond the intersection becomes Stanley Blvd, a high speed road that carries on through East Pleasanton to the city of Livermore beyond.

MS and her family have a nice place in the community across from Amador Valley High School. It’s on a quiet tree lined street in an older neighborhood of single family homes with fenced backyards where you can occasionally see kids playing on bicycles and skateboards on the sidewalk; the perfect place to raise our 9-year old grand daughter, ES, and her 4-year old brother JS. When we arrive, we park in the shade of a tree—the genus of which I don’t know but should—in MS’s front lawn near the street. When IM rings the front door bell we hear an argument between ES and JS over who will let grandma and grandpa in. As the door opens, it’s hard to tell who won. However, both forget the contest as IM grabs ES and I grab JS in a big hug and kiss, and then swap off the two before greeting MS and GS in the same manner. They have just finished their lunch and we join them at the dining table and catch up on what's been happening in their lives. ES has gotten private piano lessons, something she’s been asking for long enough that her parents think she’s seriously committed to learning, starting the first week of September. JS will begin Tae Kwon Do lessons at the same time. Both of them go back to school next week. ES knows what’s about to happen JS is oblivious, probably for the best. As a kid, I remember dreading the start of a new school year. ES, by contrast, seems resigned, perhaps eager to reconnect with friends last seen three months ago. She’s going into 4th grade and continues to talk about how much she wants to be a teenager—her anxiousness for time to pass undiminished by our years watching it pass too quickly.

MS is keen to go shopping for the ingredients for this evening’s barbecue. There are two stops: Peet’s Coffee at Tassajara Road, where Santa Rita Road crosses Interstate 580 and becomes Tassajara Road, and Gene’s Market at Hopyard Road near Valley Avenue. MS has become a fan of Peet’s Garuda whole bean coffee and she knew I wanted to stock up on some as well. ES decides to stay home with her dad but JS wants to come with his grandparents and mom for the drive. He comes into the living room with a pair of shorts and shoes. At home JS likes to remain all day in his pajamas—usually a close fitting pullover top and matching shorts, the outfit we found him in today. He insists on wearing the navy blue shorts he’s brought to me over his pajama bottoms. He knows pajamas are not appropriate attire outside the house during the day but insists on keeping them on under his street clothes. He gambles we won’t insist on a shirt to go over his pajama top and wins. We strap him into his child seat in the passenger side middle row bucket seat of ME’s late model Honda Odyssey. Driving about in a highest-safety-rated, high-gas-mileage, Japanese Minivan is de rigueur in Pleasanton.

We reach Peet’s in no time at all, extract our grandson from his car seat and enter the aromatic realm of the coffee seller—there is no more pleasant odor than ground coffee. Even IM, who does not drink coffee—preferring the taste of tea instead, finds the fragrance irresistible. We stand in line behind a lady about MS’s age buying coffee beans. The young clerk behind the counter is giving her a tutorial on the coffee bean she has selected, instructing her on the consistency to grind the beans for the optimum flavor, the proper use of a coffee press, the correct storage of the beans upon opening the bag—is in a sealed plastic container stored in the freezer. (I’ve been doing it right all these years.) Five minutes later, she is allowed to depart, happily clutching her precious one pound cargo of beans freshly roasted today.

In the time we’ve been standing in line, I notice that one of the beans on sale is Kona, which I’ve not had in several years. When we get to the counter I order a pound bag and the clerk queries me if I’m sure I want that amount. I confirm the order and he says that it will cost $50. I point to the sign behind him advertising Kona for $24.95 and immediately realize that the price shown is for a half pound. I opt for the smaller quantity and he rings me up. MS asks the clerk his opinion of Kona since it’s so expensive. He explains that this batch of Kona is not to his taste and that he currently prefers the flavor of the Ethiopian beans, though the Garuda blend is particularly good right now as well. He then dives into a dissertation about how coffee taste can vary over time and that the way to ensure the best result is to go with the coffee that’s best at any given moment—did he just criticize my purchase of Kona? MS is downright giddy over Garuda. she’s given me a couple of bags that I’m half-way through and it is good but I like the distinctive flavor of Kona and wanted to get some while it was available. She decides on a pound of Garuda which the clerk measures out from a large plastic bag that he unseals showing her that the roasting date on the package is today. My Kona by contrast was roasted several days ago—I’m getting buyer’s remorse the more I listen to the clerk, but I resist the temptation to ask for my money back and make another selection and we leave the store with our purchases.

As we retrace our path home from Peet’s down Santa Rita toward Valley en route to Gene’s, JS falls asleep sucking his thumb. I poke him playfully in the ribs and he stirs, smiles, and then falls back to sleep. I pull out his thumb and his hand lays limp in his lap, his head resting on the head rest of his car seat, blissfully dreaming. When we get to Gene’s, MS parks in the shade of one of the many trees in the parking lot and IM decides to stay with JS as we go gather free range chicken legs and thighs, potato salad, sweet French bread—two loaves, a nice dessert, some Calistoga sparkling water and a large plastic container of still water. I pick up a $10 bottle of Merlot and we check out and return with our booty to the minivan. Back home we sit around the dining table and talk until it’s time for dinner: the politics behind Prop 87 on the California ballot, the John Mark Karr confession, likely future presidential candidates…

Later as I watch GS barbecue the ribs and chicken, we talk about his job and mine. His company has some opening overseas, accepting one would help his advancement in the company but the two-year assignment would mean upheaval in their lives. We discuss the pros and cons of Europe, Asia, and other offices around the globe. I recall what it was like as a kid in a family that had to move every three years when the army assigned my dad to a new duty station. When we were all young, we got over the moves quickly but once we got into middle school and high school the changes wrecked more havoc, though we bounced back fairly quickly. I said it would probably be harder on the two of them than on the kids. We ate dinner about 8:00 that evening just as the sun was about to set. The fog had begun to stream in over the East Bay Mountains and the heat built up during the day was starting to cool. We finished dinner and I made a pot of the Kona coffee for everyone. The flavor was as I remembered it and I got over any misgivings I had earlier about the purchase. We finished off the dessert and went inside to clean up the mess. Just as we finished tidying up we heard explosions outside and we all ran out back to see the fireworks going off at the Contra Costa Fairgrounds. It was a colorful spectacle that kept all of us, grandkids included, enthralled for a good quarter of an hour until the explosive finale ended the show. Shortly afterwards, IM and I took our leave and drove back to our place in San Jose.