Got my traveling shirt on. It's garish; it's green and white striped madras; it's 50's tv test pattern eye-popping. It's also what I wear whenever we're taking the girl's into large crowd-type situations.
It's easy to spot, easy to follow, and not easy to mistake for somebody else is a crowd. The girl's know it very well (although as of late the 8-year old is flexing her fashion wings and has verbally condemned my traveling shirt on many occasions) and in the chaos that can be the airport at rush hour, I claim it as just one of many safety precautions we take when out in the public with my small town daughter's.
The reason for our gettin'-near-the-end-o'-summer exodus is a big family reunion too-do back in the Golden State, only this time the family unit and I will be Bay Area boundin' for something called "obon."
Think Dio de los Muertos, only instead of street parades we have circular line dancing to the beat of a taiko drum and we replace the tiny dioramas of skeletons in daily life with sake baths for our dearly departed's tombstones. Also, no taco and carnitas...just bowls of udon, imagawayaki bean cakes and styrofoam cups full of hot green tea and saké.
I'm looking forward to catching up with oft-never-seen relatives and letting the girl's catch up on some much needed time with their other ethnic side.
Be back on the flipside of the weekend.
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