My last two days, much to my surprise, I chose never to leave re-born downtown Oakland and to really explore it for the first time.  First morning out to take Roxie for a walk, we were delighted to discover an Oakland Gnome on our own corner.  These little wooden squares with gnomes painted on them began to appear screwed to the bases of utility poles all over town.  After some discussion, PG&E just decided to embrace the concept and let them stay.

Gentrification is playing a big part, following the destruction of some old buildings in the 1989 earthquake.  Katherine’s apartment is in a beautiful neighborhood.  right across the street is the new Cathedral of Christ the Light.  Hard to warm up to this building, but it is very interesting and is actively in the business of doing good works in this refreshingly multi-ethnic community .  Looks like this from the outside:

I thought it looked something like a bishop’s mitre from the outside.  Then there was this surprise view of it from the inside:

You would never expect this from the outside. The 58 foot image is created by natural light passing through aluminum panels that have been pierced with 94,000 holes, all of which were computer generated  Really amazing to see on a bright day.  I didn’t know that the earlier, traditional cathedral fell down in 1989, but quite a lot of art was saved from that.  Here is a painting of Baby Jesus having a traditional procedure performed on his little baby hood so he can be a Jew.

Later, an interesting observation on a walk to Whole Foods:

Across the street in the other direction is the old I. Magnin building, now offices of some sort.Next day, I walked around Lake Merritt to the museum.

Saw a number of fine works, but I think one of my favorites was this scene of engaged and engaging little girls studying a triptych.

Of course, for this tree-hugger, it’s always about the redwoods, in the museum and on the walk home.

Lots of old buildings have withstood the test of time.

If I lived here, I would surely find a way to paddle my kayak to the museum and possibly to church at St. Paul’s across the lake on Sundays.

Monday was Burlingame Day.  I remember the very first day I arrived there in 1966, I thought this sign was very tacky.  Then I came to understand that similar signs are traditional in many small California towns.

Did a lot of walking around familiar streets where I once pushed strollers.  I actually remembered this eucalyptus tree trunk in front of the Rec Center where K and E took ballet lessons from Miss Monica, and, over the years, I took everything from water color to what used to be called “aerobics” and, ultimately, yoga.

This time, I was there to walk Roxie through Washington Park before meeting Jenny at the book store and walking around the corner to Il Forniao for lunch.  All the old shops on The Avenue are gone.  Where Agatha’s Tea Room used to be, there is a Walgreen’s.  A drugstore that used to deliver when you had a sick child is now a Baby Gap.  A once-upon-a-time Woolworth’s is a Pottery Barn.  And where Levy’ Bros. was, well, it’s just too painful to mention.  Everything is majorly up-scale.  I was able to find Copenhagen for a late-afternoon-wake-me-up coffee with Carol. Then on to meet Katherine and the T’s, my dear old neighbors from Newhall Road days, at our favorite Celia’s for some Tex-Mex.  Cheryl, who is a little puffy with her steroids, couldn’t eat much because of a scheduled CAT scan the next day.  I think she looks pretty spiffy in her blond wig.

Sunday in San Mateo.

When you get to worship in a beautiful place like this and meditate in a garden like this for over thirty years,  a large part of you just stays there.    Everyone who enters naturally falls silent.  This is just not another meeting room.  It is sacred space.  I was blessed to worship there today, to kneel in a favorite place and afterward to visit with dear old friends.

My dear old choirmaster is now semi-retired to being “just the organist.”  When he plays this carillon from the organ console,  no one thinks of him as “just” the organist.

Back then, for me, this is where god lived.

On to the afternoon and good food with good people.  Anne is one of my oldest friends.  We call each other “cactus friends” because our friendship survives with infrequent watering.  I brought her the potted cactus she is holding for her garden.  Here she is in front of her special place.

Finally off to meet the adorable Matteo Balbueno and visit with Stacy, his beautiful mother, Mary-Margaret’s oldest friend.  He seems to like his Made-in-Oregon log truck.

And Sunday in San Mateo was over.

Arrived at Katherine’s beautiful high-rise apartment on Friday afternoon.  She presently lives on the 7th floor but will be moving to a larger place on the 10th floor in a couple of weeks.

Then she took me out to eat at an incredible bistro in Berkeley.  We enjoyed sharing four “small plates”  with a lovely dry Riesling.  No room left for dessert!  What a beautiful daughter sitting across from me!

It was a beautiful clear night, so after dinner, she drove me up to Chabot Observatory to take a closer look at some mind-boggling heavenly bodies.

Next morning,  my actual birthday, I was served a special coffee in bed from this amazing machine:

And while I was enjoying the view out the window from my bed,

she set up the iPad she gave me for my birthday. (Notice Jerimiah’s beautiful tail.)

Then we loaded up a bunch of dogs and headed out for a day at the beach — our favorite Limantour at Point Reyes.  But first we stopped off at Cowgirl Creamery for our picnic lunch.

Then on down to get wet and sandy. These are two of my grand-dogs, Jahooli and Brooklyn.

We shared some excellent food and enjoyed a game of tuggy-tuggy.

Roxie says, “Yeah.  I remember this ocean.  Tastes the same.  It’s just a little warmer here.

Got some coffee and a birthday cupcake for the drive back home for a quiet evening of soup and salad and a good movie. A perfect day.

Last Thursday, Roxie and I headed south for a week of celebration and visiting favorite people and places.

Before seeing old friends, we made some new ones at our first rest stop.

We drove right down to Spring Time!

And soon found our traditional home-away-from-home.  Someday, I’m going to write a picaresque novel in which the unifying character will be all the Motel 6’s in the Western States.  Everyone who stays there has a dog and everyone but us has an 18-wheeler.

Bed seems okay, but the decor is a bit vivid.  We always sleep just fine.

But next time we spend the night in Red Bluff, we might want to up-grade to this place:

I remember well this special out-of-Oregon experience.

And after many happy years of living there, I certainly know how to do Northern California.