My last attempted entry got lost. Twice. I decided to listen to whatever the higher powers were trying to tell me a took a break. Where were we?

I went to visit my grandparents at their ranch in Reedley, California, a small town in the Central Valley, the long strip of dusty farmland between Los Angeles and Sacramento. I wanted to plant a seed in my grandmother's mind that when she's ready, the Bay Area (close to me, my sister and nieces) might be a nice alternative to the sleepy town in which she and my grandfather currently reside. Her health is deteriorating and my grandpa would prefer to hop in an RV and tour America than stick around their 10-acre raisin grape farm on Road 40 for much longer. We'd love to have her near us and be a bigger part of her life. I hope she's considering it.

As a child, the 4-hour drive to Reedley seemed interminable. The only interesting landmarks along the way are Casa de Fruta (a rest stop/ RV park/ dried fruit stand) and the eternally-underfilled San Luis Reservoir. Oh yeah, and Fresno, California's sixth-largest city. But Casa de Fruta is more fun than Fresno.

Highway 5 runs through Washington, Oregon and California, from the Canadian border in the north to the Mexican border in the south. Driving along on a weekday, I shared the road with hundreds of semi-trucks; America's famous 18-wheelers with Playboy Bunny mudflaps and oversexed-drivers who keep themselves entertained on the long haul by communicating to others via CB radio the presence of women in the vicinity. Roused by the toot of my horn as I signalled to pass, one driver hung his head out the window and immediately deployed his CB. As I passed the next five trucks, the driver of each gave me props in the form of honking air horns and lascivious looks.

On the way home, I stopped to take photos at a dairy farm. With its lined up herds of black and white bovines with giant plastic number tags through both ears sucking up water in a trough, it was quite a different scene from the small family-owned dairys I saw and even lived on in India. The farm foreman, a Mexican named Gilbert, rode up on his giant tractor and inquired with a wink, "Joo are likeenk de cowss?"

In the last week, I saw Eckhart Tolle, went to Harbin Hot Springs, the Burning Man Decompression Party, Tyler's barbecue, Stacy's birthday brunch, had the best cheesecake on earth, incredible crab and avocado Eggs Benedict in Half Moon Bay with Tim, and found an apartment in the Inner Sunset district of San Francisco. It has a backyard with a big tree, a gorgeous big brand-new kitchen and a two-car garage all for me! I'll be living with a very cool couple, Linda and Jeff. I move at the end of the month just in time for a visit from Mary, who's wrapping up her one-year world tour and heading back home to England.