This summer was cold in Seattle. When I drove to California though, the valley was so hot it burst into flames as my little truck and I rumbled past. Lake County, where I camped for a few days, sparked into uncontrolled wildfires the day I left.
When I got to Nevada County, it was over 102 degrees at my dad’s place so we closed the curtains during the day and I ate tomatoes from the garden to keep myself sane.
Dad and I were getting ready for a jog yesterday when he announced that he was going to tell me something personal. My stomach churned. If all the other deep emotional ponderings that dad tells me all the time aren’t personal, I don’t want to hear what is. He told me he’s bisexual. I sat on the grass with his dog, looked at her and said, “Gracie, is he serious?”
Then I relaxed and felt happy that my dad had a whole new group of fun friends that has lots of parties. Also, based on his track record with women, I thought, he probably should try a different tactic for romance.
Today he juiced a handful of pot leaves and gave me a glass of pot leaf juice while I sat and worked with this international network of social entrepreneurs from his kitchen table.
At least it looks like next week will be in the upper 80s rather than the hundos.