What a relief to finally have a Sacramento address! My household has a place to which to be moved, so I booked a flight to go back to San Diego and to my cat. I also booked one more trip to the condo to imagine how my furniture will fit in this new condo and to show my dad my new artsy haunt.
Dad first whisked me off for a drive through Sierra Oaks. Though I had just driven down our old running course on Saturday, Dad had to drive along it with me in the car. We had run together along these tree-covered streets so many times. It's funny that we both have to drive our running loops whenever we return.
We arrived at our old house to feast in the memories. The Monkey Tree, a 47-year-old mock-orange bush, that our kids climbed was still there. My dad's front landscape design that he painstakingly installed was well maintained. The front brick walk where as little kids we lined up to take our Sunday School pictures with our white gloves and tiny purses had stood the test of time.
As we looped around the block for another drive-by of our former home, we turned down Crocker Road, the road of many a high-ranking politician and gangsters. Feasting our eyes on the old and new mansions is always a pleasure. Then we came back around the block and saw the sons of one of Dad's friends that still lived in his home, so we pulled in to say, "Hello!"
Apparently, his friend had died yesterday after a long battle with heart disease and leukemia. He had a happy life, and his death was expected by his sons, just not by my dad. We went inside to reminisce and catch up. Upon leaving Dad remarked, "I can't tell you how many cups of coffee that I've had in that kitchen." Then that door closed.
We had a delicious lunch after that where Dad observed me in an autocratic mode while checking my phone messages. I got annoyed with the property manager for not asking me the right questions to gather information to run my credit report. I left him a succinct, professional voice mail message with my birth date and phone number. The manager called me back as soon as my credit report verified that I always pay my loans and obligations. I was officially approved!!!
So we all dashed over to the property a little earlier than our original appointment time. Dad loved it and couldn't believe how low the rent was. He loved all the artistic painting, too. I studied the rooms and figured out that I should get rid of my master bedroom furniture which was my ex husband and my first bedroom set. It doesn't match the decor, and I need to start anew!
Finally, Dad drove me to the airport. The wind was so strong that I could barely open my car door! My plane was even delayed due to the wind. At the security check I realized that I had made a grave error. I didn't go through my purse and take out my weapons.
My pepper spray popped up into sight when I placed my purse in an inspection bin. I just handed it to the security guard. I knew that it was illegal to carry that on a plane. He kindly said, "Here, you can have the empty case and the whistle."
While I waited for my items, my purse kept being inspected. Another security guard came over and said as he dug through my purse, "Is this your purse?"
"Yes." Then I saw my favorite screw driver which was like a Russian doll---it had littler and littler screw drivers inside the handle. "Oh, know! My screwdriver!" I said in pain that I'd have to give it to the guard. The guard opened the handle and saw all the little screw drivers. "Isn't that cool!"
"Yes. You can have it back," and he continued looking through my purse.
I was amazed, because my screwdriver was yet another weapon in my purse. It was a good-sized shank! He must have known that I was no threat.
While waiting for my delayed flight, I called San Diegan friends to see if any would pick me up at the airport. I got lucky! My friend with whom I travelled to Alaska was jazzed to do so. I took her out to dinner afterwards. It was so nice to have one on one time with her before I leave!
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