This is me and my friend, Valerie, standing on the cliff overlooking Agate Beach in Bolinas. We're wearing matching paisley outfits that my mom made — she called them our “Bo Diddley Acid Trip outfits,” after the legendary bluesman, who wore bright, bold shirts. My pants are pink; Valerie’s are orange.
      For sleepovers, my mother made me a blue paisley sleeping bag, too, lined with white fleece, that zipped up with a wide brass zipper. She also sewed me a faux fur coat, trimmed with two different imported Swiss ribbons, one a delicate blue-flowered pattern, the other, a purple zig-zag ribbon.  I didn’t like the coat much, it was too poofy and weird and made me hot, until the day our school went on a field trip to a naturalist petting zoo. When the teacher asked for a brave volunteer to touch a big hairy tarantula, I stuck my hand out. The tarantula made its way across my hand, up my arm and then nestled down in the fake fur.  After a while, it stood up and made its slow way back down my arm and into its cage.  
     After that, I loved the coat my mom had made me, and would proudly show everyone the exact spot on my sleeve where the spider had sat.

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My wolf-hybrids, Max and Chau, at Limantour Beach in the Point Reyes National Seashore.

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