Yesterday, after her math class, Avocado drove from San Francisco to Sebastopol for her cousin's birthday party, all by herself. And got there alive. Over the Golden Gate bridge, up 101, and there you go. Today she returns. I am proud of her--we're edging closer to the day when my hair doesn't turn white about such an outing, to the day when I don't even take note of it particularly.
Meanwhile, Sarcasm Girl and the Beau have found a new apartment and are overjoyed. It's right next to the train station (for her commute to Davis starting in the Fall) and has two actual rooms! She managed the paperwork all by herself (except for the co-signatory stuff from us). When I consider that ten years ago she had an anxiety attack because (at 12) she didn't know how to rent an apartment, I think this is kind of swell.
Meanwhile: Happy birthday, Declaration of Independence. I still think you were a great idea, despite the sometimes awful things that are imputed to you or done in your name. You too, America.
ETA: Avocado returned home safe, sound, and full of cheer. The dog did not DIE from the sound of firecrackers. Life goes on.