highlights

Before I become overwhelmed by the amount of stuff to write about, perhaps I'll jot down some of the highlights of the last few weeks.

Our trip to Costa Rica was brief and fun. It had been very rainy before we left Massachusetts, so much so that there was flooding all around us (but fortunately we weren't affected). We went straight to... rainy season in Costa Rica! But fortunately, that just means that it's nice in the morning and typically rains for a few hours in the afternoon. We brought umbrellas and rain coats but barely used them.

We enjoyed catching up with the family. One of our activities was to go to belly dancing class with Paloma, not quite 5. It was just her, the teacher, and another student. I was impressed that the teacher was so good, both at her craft, and at dealing with young children. But I was also impressed that Paloma was so focused and studious.

One of the great things about these lessons is that for most of the week, Paloma completely follows around in her family's wake. This class represents the one relationship that Paloma has with someone outside the family and school, and that no one else in her family shares. And the class was so lovely that I felt it was a little like getting to go to therapy every week when you don't actually need it.

Another cool thing we did was take an art tour in San Jose. The woman who organizes it is originally from New York, and she's making her way in Costa Rica. She's started to connect with local artists and put together bunches of these little tours. On our day, it was just Robert, me, the woman (Molly), and her driver. We met five artists, all enormously talented. We visited four of them in their homes, where they have their studios. The fifth owns a hotel and uses it as a gallery space for her work and the work of a few others in an artist's collaborative.

We bought a few prints, one from the woman who won the print-maker's award in Costa Rica last year. (The hotel owner won the painter's award last year.)

We travel a lot, but we so rarely have the opportunity to visit people on their own territory or talk to them about their creative work. And Molly provided some great glue, asking questions that I was just too shy to ask.

We came home to more rain, about 7-10 days of it, almost non-stop. It rained through the AIDS walk (for which I raised a little over $2000) and through Pride (which, in keeping with tradition, Robert attended and I skipped). And finally, on Sunday, the sun came out.

With the sun came house guests who stayed a little less than 48 hours. We ran around like nuts and they left this morning.

The big trauma of the day was that with all the opening and closing of doors, Koa somehow managed to disappear. She had just started to respond to her name, but didn't come when I called her. She was absolutely silent all day, and I was convinced she wasn't in the house.

I was also starting to feel slightly incompetent -- is it a record to lose two cats in six months? Oscar Wilde: "To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness." I was feeling like I'd been quite careless, if only for a second. How would I explain it to the people at the shelter? If she was outside, even if we could find her, how would we get her back inside, given that she's still extremely skittish?

Robert was away most of the day. When he came home, he called and called, and ... Koa sauntered out of my closet. I was so overwhelmed and relieved that I burst into tears. Koa seems happy to have just the two of us in the house once again. She's nervous as usual, but has been incredibly affectionate this evening, and has meowed at us a lot.

The house is put back together, the cat is safe and sound, we're staying put for two months. Back to the usual dull roar that usually accompanies our lives.