Saturday afternoon, driving onto the Richmond Bridge from Marin.
It was Mema’s birthday, and I visited for her birthday and to gather some signatures. When she spoke to my aunt by telephone, she told my aunt, “A neighbor is here helping me with business.” (I was happy to be seen as helpful, rather than meddling.) But generally a nice visit, with easy conversation.
She insists she’s 101. “Everybody tells me I’m 102, but I’m 1o1!” “Mema, we’re in 2008 now.” I think she counts differently than the rest of us, and we all seem to have trouble letting it be. Really! What’s a year, one way or the other? We laugh at ourselves about it.
Speaking of counting, it’s not as clear as we all like to think. Well, you knitters know exactly what I mean.
Comes up in my job. How do you count 6 months’ worth of weeks? 4 x 6 equals 24. How many weeks are in one year? 52. How many months are in a year? 12. So you can count 12 x 4 equals 48. How come we have a whole 4 week (or 1 month) difference!? And then we’re back to 6 months, which is half a year. Half of 52 weeks is 26. When can we stop this medicine?
There’s also the misleading 9 month pregnancy, which is actually 40 weeks and how many months is that? An extra month of pregnancy at the end!
Lies, damn lies, and statistics.
To come back to the start of this post, I love this part of driving around the San Francisco Bay. When the grey of the water and the grey of the sky surround me, and it’s a luminous grey light. (even if I’m in my car)