The House in Twain Harte

On June 23, 2021 I wrote that I wasn’t asleep until 130 the night before but mostly because I wasn’t trying. I did get a few pages dictated.

In the morning of the day that I wrote this, after my kids went off to play, I got up to find their stuff all over the floor. I got it all away and then fed them. They had gotten dressed on their own.

I collected food and other things for traveling and then started putting stuff in bags. The boys packed their own sleeping bags. I did dishes, threw the garbage away and brought my bags down to the car.

Dad drove us to Highway 238 and over the Altamont pass just fine but once we got into the pass traffic was problematic because he follows too close. When we ran over a 2 x 4 which had somehow fallen into the freeway on Altamont Pass we decided we needed to stop. So, we got coffee in Tracy and I drove the rest of the way narrating as needed. Dad yelled at me a few times.

The house in Twain Harte - Dad’s vacation home - was tragically in disrepair. We hung out for a bit and then went for Mexican food in Twain Harte. Much later back at the house we slowly wound down. I told the boys the story of the house and my siblings’ summertimes with my mother for bedtime.

This is an occasional series chronicling my life. This Notebook Analysis series is meant to be contemporaneous piece developed as an agglomeration of my notebook pages. In each of these posts I used my notes to develop my recent thoughts.