GOOD BYE TOMATOES

On Saturday, I pulled up most of my tomato plants for the season, leaving only the orange cherries that are still producing. One of my personal tomato goals is to be able to pluck a ripe one from my garden for the Thanksgiving Day salad. It's such an annual rite of passage for me to pull up the drooping, brown, dusty plants and heap them into the green-lidded compost bin. This season was probably my best tomato year since I moved into this house. All 7 of my plants, many of them fragile heirlooms, produced lots of gorgeous fruit. Statice, Black Krim, Early Girl, Purple Cherokee, Sungold cherries. So many that I had to oven dry tomatoes at the height of the harvest.
Now I have chard growing and will plant some onion, garlic, maybe shallot soon. I love looking at them in the winter and to smell their powerful scent with the first hints of spring.

DEATH BED

I came across this quote today: "I'd hate to die twice. It's so boring." Supposedly, it was said by Richard Feynman on his deathbed. Death, boring? Really? It seems like it could be many things-- terrifying, enlightening, confusing, a lesson in letting-go. But boring? I can't imagine that.
Right now, I'm working on a novel about organ transplant. One of the characters, a teenaged boy waiting for a liver transplant, has a hobby of writing his own obit. What would his deathbed words be? How about mine? Hopefully, a deep, contented sigh.

SHORTBUS

Last night, a friend and I decided to go to a movie. We didn't have anything in mind and neither of us had read any recent reviews, so we met at the Nick and took a chance on Short Bus. The people in line behind us said they heard good things about it. It was directed by John Cameron Mitchell, who directed Hedwig and the Ugly Inch, a really wonderful movie. The movie opened with a scene of a naked guy twisting into yoga positions, followed by a couple having sex in lots of positions and places.
The movie could have easily been a disaster, but it was truly terrific -- warm, frequently hilariously, genuinely touching. I really loved my friend's description: It was like Cheers at a group sex club. The opening and closing of the movie -- a digital aerial view of New York/Brooklyn -- made great use of technology, and I'm not easily impressed by digital images. I frequenly find them to be a substitute for plot and character development. The movie was a love poem to New York and made me miss the East. Plus, great music by Yo La Tengo.

IN THE OCEAN

It's been awhile since I've been in the ocean and I always forget what a miracle it is out there, a whole different world just a few feet from the cliff. Yesterday, there weren't any waves, so Gwen and I just paddled out on our boards. Lots of kelp off the Indicator, a light but steady wind, lots of sun. About half way to the wharf, a sea lion surfaced on one side of Gwen and really checked her out, dove and resurfaced on the other side. It was amazing and unnerving at the same time. Just a few more feet away, a pod of dolphins. We sat and watched their frolicking. Made me think about sharks, which usually isn't something I think much about. I'll try to keep sharky thoughts out of my mind. There's enough to worry about out there -- waves, testosterone-laced surfers, etc.
Out of the water, I told Gwen about my shark thoughts and how my mind created a whole scenario-- what I would do if the shark attacked me, if it went after her. Amazingly, she also had shark fears that she decided not to talk about (she is typically fearless in the water). She imagined the shark ripping off her arm, and how embarrassed she'd be because she's not even a great surfer like Bethany Hamilton, the young surfer who lost an arm three years ago today (Oct. 31.) Creepy.