May. 23rd, 2017

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I travel a lot, mostly to see parents and parents-in-law. This past weekend, in connection with Arthur being in CA for a talk on Monday, we spent a weekend with our daughter in the Bay Area.
She has recently, temporarily, moved to Berkeley after years in Oakland, and may move Eastward. Or not. She would be leaving behind a much-loved tap class, some friends, and a couple of other features of the place. We didn't know any of this when we planned the trip months ago. I had wildly over-scheduled us. Saturday morning I went to a couple of her tap classes. She doesn't usually go to the 9 AM, because it is too low-level for her, but went with me. It was too hard for me, although if I attended many times, I might get up to speed. I actually found parts of the 10 AM class, for a higher level, a little easier, because the routine they are working on for a showcase includes tributes to some items in the standard repertoire, and I was able to do a simplified version of some of it. But it set the tone for an unfortunate aspect of the weekend - me apologizing too much. I apologized for not being up to snuff in the tap classes. I apologized for choosing an out-of-town outing in the afternoon that put us in lengthy traffic jams (although seeing parts of Muir Woods and beach was great). After a lot of negotiation a long time ago, I had signed us all up for the Bay to Breakers race on Sunday morning. Arthur and Flo walked, I ran. For me, this was an inferior experience compared to the time I ran it a number of years ago - that time I was much faster, starting near the front of the mob (but after the elite people, of course) and it was like a running race. This time, I truthfully put myself into one of the later (slower) corrals, and we spent more than an hour waiting to start. I kept apologizing for that, and for making sure we got up quite early in order to be on time. By mid-morning, the assumption seemed to be that anybody in the street was there to party, not to run, so there were spots on the course in which the actual runners were on the sidewalk, because the unregistered, often drunken, non-runners were standing still or walking slowly the entire width of the street. So I spent a good bit of the time disgruntled, while Flo and Arthur had an enjoyable walk while looking at costumes. My favorite costume set of the day was three women who were clearly recognizable from afar as Rockville Peaches, whom we originally saw on the BART platform at about 7 AM, but Arthur and Flo liked the Wizard of Oz folks the best. They must have separated over time, because I only saw Glinda and Dorothy, but apparently there were many early on.
We went to see an Oakland A's vs Red Sox game (or part of it) that afternoon, arriving in about the 4th inning, because we got to the end of the race so late (due to all the waiting around). I apologized for bad planning. It was about as ideal as it could be, though. It was sunny, but I had chosen carefully, and our seats were in the shade. Not too hot, not too cold, some good baseball. There were people at the stadium bar watching the same game on TV, even though it was a one minute or less walk to the regular seats. Mysterious. As we were walking to the BART station afterward, we saw the Peaches again, but not the friends of Dorothy, as it were, or many other people in costume, although I saw a couple of B to B shirts. I made no apologies for two visits to the vegan cinnamon bun establishment near UC Berkeley.


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