> jumping into life.

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Even though I'm only home for a few days, it's been nice to get into a routine. I'm waking up fifteen minutes earlier each day, working my way back to 5:30, which is when I'll be getting up at Tassajara. Start the kettle and feed the dogs; it'll be humming by the time I'm done with the one who is, as my mom calls it, working for a living: all his food must be earned. So we spend a few minutes doing sit, down, stay, rollover, etc. until the water is ready. Pour a cup of tea (I'm trying to wean myself off coffee before I get there, too), read the paper and some blogs. Eventually the dogs come crowding around me, which means it's time to wait ten minutes then take them for a walk. The little crazy brown dog first, because he's so much faster than the other two. We zip around the block, and he poops in the same four places each time. Then the other two - an old blind poodle and an old deaf mutt - who totter along to the bottom of the street and back, which takes twice as long as the other dog who goes twice as far. The fog hasn't lifted yet, the mourning doves moan, the elementary school kids are waiting for their bus. Deep breath. By the end of the second walk I am feeling hungry, and so when we get back it is time for breakfast. By then my brother is off to school and my dad just leaving. Breakfast is slow and quiet with the cats trying to get into my cereal bowl and the dogs flopped on the couch. Then a shower, then the day.

Tassajara! Isn't that the one of the famous bread book that no hippie communal household would be without?

Yup. Secretly I think I may have gotten in on the basis of my breadbaking skills as much as anything else.

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