float like a butterfly

We don’t have the power, but we never say never

We’ve had a string of sunny days, beautiful weather, glorious weather. The park is still hard to navigate as many of the paths are now waterways and Lily and I return from our walks with muddy paws. But the sky is full of butterflies and birdsong. It amazes me that, emerging from a series of storms which uprooted trees, killed people on the highways, caused mudslides and road closures all through the county, washed away the enormous concrete steps down to Its Beach, the monarchs are still here, fluttering softly about. No wind so strong, no rain so hard.

On Sunday, many people and dogs were out in the park and along the cliff walks. Locals, I’m guessing, since no one else could get here. On Friday, it took me three hours to drive home from the San Jose airport because I couldn’t go through the mountains, but had to go around. I’d been back in Washington at the AWP where I got to be on a panel and then have dinner with the wonderful Hannah Tinti, the wonderful Jennifer Egan, and the wonderful Ron Charles. All thanks to my wonderful Penguin Speakers Agency.

I flew back via Phoenix and John McCain was on my airplane. He flew coach and had a middle seat, which impressed me. He slept the whole way, which was cunning, as I’d been considered sharing a few of my thoughts with him if the chance presented. At a festival recently in Palm Springs, an author who studies and writes about the CIA, said twice in my company that John McCain and James Comey were all that stood between us and the apocalypse and because I feel both those men have also brought on the apocalypse, I let my irritation prevent me from asking what he meant, which I now regret. I can think of many other people I would rather have serving as my country’s last line of defense.

Meanwhile, Russia! Flynn! North Korea! Iran! Ivanka’s clothing line! In the days ahead, we must all be as tough as butterflies.