A couple of Saturdays ago was MOVING DAY. This was our big push to get our remaining worldly possessions squashed into storage at Mimi's house and at a surprisingly modern-and-efficient storage locker in San Rafael.

As we went to sleep the night before MOVING DAY, Sarka said, "Oh, I got a call from my friend Anja. She and her husband have to go away for a month or so and we won't get to see them before we leave. So they're having us over for lunch tomorrow. We'll just be there for an hour or two."

Did I mention that the aforementioned day was MOVING DAY? Suffice it to say that I was a little concerned that we would be dallying over lunch during the precious moments when we ought to have been staggering down four flights of stairs under the load of our tchotchkes and the lead bars we've been saving.

So Saturday flew by with something of a thundercloud over my head. Driving back and forth across the Golden Gate Bridge, I said things like, "Are you sure we have to go?" And "Do you think we could see them another day?" And "You know, it's MOVING DAY. Maybe we could have burritos near the Stor-It-Yerself." But Sarka was unmoved (ha ha) by my pleas, so what could I do? At one point, she said, "We're going," and I knew my cause was lost.

My cause picked up again when, at 3:40 in the afternoon, we walked gloomily up a familiar street in Noe Valley. "You know, Michael B. lives on this street," I said. "Somewhere right up here." Sarka reacted with little interest--we were by now ten minutes late to lunch at Anja's.

Nearing Michael's house I pointed out his car as proof that Michael did in fact live near there. Sarka said, "Why don't we knock on his door and see if he's there?" Why would we visit Michael when we're already running so late to this ill-conceived luncheon? This was very confusing, so I checked my watch. --WAIT A MINUTE! The jig was up.

There was a giant surprise party at Michael's house, and Marian C. (no, not Marion B.), late of Menlo and now haunting DC again, was there, and OMG what are all these people doing on a Saturday like this? I thought I was done with Menlo, and here it is, MOVING DAY, and instead it's a surprise party just rife with Menlo people.

There were delicious trendy snacks (and some great potato salad) and lots of wine and beer, and dozens of people, all of whom I knew, amazingly. They sang me a song, apparently to the tune of "Proud Mary" although it definitely didn't sound like Elvis. Marian wrote it, as she is wont to do, and it went like this:


Left his old job here at Menlo,
Workin' for the school ev'ry night and day,
And he never lost one laptop or hard drive
Movin' all those carts again and again!

Small wheels keep on turnin',
Our Eric kept on churnin',
Rollin', rollin', rollin' all those laptops!

Bought himself a boat for sailin'
Made himself a plan to travel the seas!
Soon he will be heading out of San Francisco,
Even though we're begging on bended knees!

Eric, please don't leave us!
We want you here and near us!
Sailin', sailin', sailing's overrated!

When you set out on the ocean,
In that little boat to places unknown,
There is still a glimmer, Sarka is a swimmer
One of you, we reckon, will make it back home!

Your boat keeps on sailing!
Your friends will keep on wailing!
Rollin', rollin', rollin' on the ocean!

Eric! Eric! Eric's on the ocean
Eric! Eric! Eric's on the ocean!
Eric! Eric! Eric's on the ocean!


Reviewing these charming lines, I am particularly smitten with "Sarka is a swimmer." Thanks, Marian. I can't believe you call a trip to California "consulting," but whatever you call it, I'm so grateful I got to see you.

Enormous thanks are due also to David Sp. and Erin B. How did you do it? I am so lucky to have gotten such an honor. And thanks to Michael and Ally for enduring the crowd.

And finally, thanks are due to Sarka for dragging me over there on MOVING DAY. She deserves a medal for Bravery and Perseverance in the Face of Having a Surprise Party on the Worst Possible Day.

Oh, and yes, we got the moving done. It's done!