I was taking a class. The teacher was a male teacher and we met in restaurants and over at his house. We were taking a different class on a different day too. We were meeting at a fancy restaurant. 2 women had sat down at a table--it was a booth (banquette" in fancy places they call it.) The waiter was slicing their fancy fish appetizers for them when they could have cut them by themselves. I needed to get around them and I stepped on one seat, then on the table and over to the other seat to get across. One lady left the table. She was offended. I had to go see my teacher up the stairs. He had fallen asleep on the floor. I laid down next to him and fell to sleep for a little while too. He couldn't remember when the next class was. Before I woke up a girl I didn't know had sat down at the table patiently, waiting for me. She was knowing. She waited patiently. She had cooked some pasta for us for dinner. When I got back it had gotten cold. We poured it from the pan. It was half cooked. I tried to eat a bite but it wouldn't even twirl on the fork. It was stiff and stuck together--gummy on the outside, hard on the inside. The girl said it was just right for her but I said, "I'm gonna have to cook this some more. I hope you don't mind." Then we were going to Arizona with some homeless people--her and the teacher. I was unpacking socks from shoe boxes I'd wrapped in gray socks and throwing out the boxes. A storm was brewing. We went to Frog Creek. The water was cold, cold, cold till I got used to it. A stranger named Bob was standing in the water. Computer traffic was fastest through 32 Street. Then we were at 34 St. 34 was too crowded. Love, Merri