We’re in California. Again. Craziness! Insanity! It feels so surreal. All the time we were in California we yearned to be back in New York, and now we have a lovely New York apartment and are STILL living in California. We can’t get out. Or do we simply not want to be out? More on my suspicions about this another time.
Our trip here went well. Lucia is a good traveler, but a six-hour flight plus an hour delay on the runway at JFK will tax anyone, and by the end she was quite fidgety. She had her own seat on the plane but still slept for only forty minutes. When we arrived, she fell asleep the instant we started up our rental car and woke only briefly at home when we zipped her into her sleep sack. She was up, confused, for the day, at 5:30am PST. We have slowly been working our way out of zombie land, but we’re not out completely.
Our apartment here is nice—right off of Castro Street, the main restaurant artery, and directly across the street from a playground and a nice library. Over the past couple of days Lucia and I have explored a few playgrounds, and though they’re nice, they feel so empty—these are not the crowded playgrounds of Park Slope. Being here, after now having a taste of Park Slope, is a reminder that so very few places are like New York. No lines for the baby swings here, that’s for sure.
Though Andrew and I spent only one night in Mountain View several months ago when he came down during his interview process, it feels exceedingly strange to be back. It had seemed like a one-off trip, an interesting excursion for a possible job to a city we’d likely never see again. Silicon Valley seemed like a place to just cross off our seen-it list. And now here we are, living among the techies. You really can feel the computer-y energy of the place, a sort of thrumming nerve of bits and code and overheard conversations about Darth Vader.
Andrew, with his bona fide place in this world of tech, has his niche here at his company’s mothership. But what about me? Am I fit for the role of Real Housewife of Silicon Valley? Do Real Housewives of Silicon Valley spend mealtimes singing songs about cheese and making a tiny plastic penguin dance up and down their baby’s arms while watching in dismay as their baby squeals in laughter while spitting out the bite of food they thought they’d finally succeeded in getting eaten? Perhaps Real Housewives of Silicon Valley could create some sort of…code, or something, for getting babies to eat. Perhaps they could configure systems and upgrade hardware to improve the method of getting food from table to mouth to belly. I do not have such gifts.
I should go; I’m swiftly sinking into zombie-land again, with avocado ground into my socks. I spent tonight dodging flying sweet potatoes and actually encouraging Lucia to eat food from the floor; Andrew spent tonight in San Francisco, watching a baseball game. The mess in the kitchen is something I am, lovingly, going to leave to him.