Chuck and my Dad working at the Computer History Museum

Carla King

In May, at the Esalen Institute on the coast of Big Sur one can soak in hot spring-fed baths poised dramatically on the cliff side while watching barnacle-crusted whales passing by on their northern migration. I spent a week there as a fiftieth birthday treat, and on Sunday rode up the coast to spend the special day with my family. Out in the back yard, Coronas in hand, the barbeque smoking and nieces and nephews running around with balloons, a phone call brought news that my father's best friend, who was touring around the USA on his motorcycle, had been killed in an accident on a Texas back road. What better than to have people I love most around me at this time, Dad said, when he could manage to speak. Then we toasted my birth-day and Chuck's death-day, which we now share until the end of my time, an annual reminder of the worth of every small moment. Visit Carla's Weblog.

Lisa Alpine

Oh my God! I’m a blogger. Something I’ve resisted for years. Blogs are a waste of time, poorly written, self-serving and boring to boot! That was my anti-blogging litany until . . .

I realized I have a lot of accumulated knowledge in a field that my passion continues to grow for—dancing. I’ve been dancing all my life and teaching it as a healing art form for 17 years. I’m brimming over with stories, healing movement tips and dance poetry. Where to explore my favorite subject and pour my wisdom and inquiry into a public forum? Here is a tidbit:

From the day I arrived home from the hospital my mom would pick me up, place me on her hip and dance around the living room to music from the radio before dad got home from work. ”Think like a feather,” mom would say as she bent down to lift me into her arms for our daily dance.

Without knowing it, she brought out my genetic penchant for dance. I’m adopted and found out much later in life that my birth mother was one of Fred Astaire’s dance partners.

I do postings every week, go to my blog, if you too have an interest in dancing and the written word.

Suzanne LaFetra

For some, May means flowers and proms, but I get fired up for bullfight season. Starting this month, folks of Portuguese descent launch their season of “festa” in California’s Central Valley.  The religious celebrations culminate in feasts of lupini beans and octopus stew, elaborate parades, plenty of red wine, and best of all, the bulls. Horses festooned with ribbons, matadors squeezed into tight sequined pants, snorting, charging beasts weighing more than a VW—I dunno, but the bullfights kind of get me going. And, for the squeamish among you, take note: the bullfighting is bloodless, so it’s more about showmanship than gore.

Cathleen Miller

Okay, for Suzanne May means bullfight season. Olé! With equivalent high drama, it’s graduation season in my universe, as I prepare to send my flock at San José State out into the world—some with diplomas in hand and some with nothing but a good excuse to get drunk and dis the prof on RateMyProfessors.com. I suppose graduation is the closest I will ever come to tasting that combustible beaker of a mother’s emotions that boil over as baby leaves home—that mixture of pride, anger, frustration, and helplessness as I watch my students walk away. Some of them are 22, and some are 62, but as I stand there waving in my mortarboard and gown, my job is finished. The only thing left to do is wish them well.

Jacqueline Harmon Butler

Sundays are sacred for me. It’s the day I usually spend with my granddaughters, Isabelle, 8, and Sophia, 7. This is the time of year when we resume our weekly jaunts to the Marin Farmer’s Market held at the Marin County Civic Center, or as I call it: Food Heaven. It’s the third largest farmer’s market in all of California. The place literally overflows with an amazing variety of mostly organic fruits, vegetables, artesian cheeses, meat, fish and baked goodies. There are olive oils to taste, flavored salts and sugars, honeys, tiny cups of ravioli and tortellini. We wander from booth to booth, sampling the offerings and buying products bursting with flavor and freshness. The entire market is filled with the mouth-watering fragrance of chickens roasting, exotic Indian tidbits, breads, grilled meats and oysters. Sophia especially enjoys picking out the very best tomatoes, strawberries and veggies for me. She takes it all quite seriously and has struck up a friendship with several of our favorite vendors. 

Photo: Scott Beale/Laughing Squid

Pamela Michael

I spent a day at the Maker Faire at the San Mateo Fairgrounds over the weekend and wish I could have spent a month…or a lifetime. If this was a glimpse of the high tech future, I want to live to be 200. Think Burning Man meets Dead concert. Martha Stewart meets Mark Pauline. Fellini meets Spielberg. Renaissance Faire meets Star Trek Convention. A few of my favorite attractions: a Swap-a-Rama building filled with piles of sorted, clean used clothing, surrounded by tables, sewing machines, bins of notions and supplies, and staffed by helpful designers, eager to help you construct/deconstruct a unique jacket, say, or entire outfit. There were also screen printers with a variety of kooky images standing ready to screen a Doberman or a fish riding a bicycle image onto that nifty blazer you’d dug out of the pile. Another big hit with the over 65,000 attendees was the BattleBots arena, where teams from around the country fielded Mad Max-looking remote-controlled machines that savaged each other with whirling titanium saw blades and other destructive devices to the delight of the huge ringside crowd. Robots of various mien walked the grounds as well, everything from giant cupcakes, dinosaurs, and ETs. There was music, food, whole areas devoted to alternative energy and sustainable living, as well as fine arts, technology, and just plain fun. The Faire happens annually, so far just in the Bay Area and in Austin, Texas. If you’re near either location, don’t miss this event next year. Take a kid for an extra measure of fun, or a robot, if you have one. Wear a costume, bring a camera. Take a look at how wacky and inspiring the future might be.