Saturday, December 18, 2021

Angels in the Architecture

 Lately I have been thinking about dead people. Not just people I once knew in real-life but dead people in general. Their spirits, mostly. What happens to our spirit, our "soul" if that sounds better to you, after we die?  No one knows, of course, no one even knows if we have a spirit or a soul or if we are just matter. Our spirit wouldn't be matter, of course, but maybe it is our consciousness because no one can really put their finger on what physically constitutes consciousness. 

There's no specific reason this has been on my mind now; it is on my mind most of the time. Like some people I know, I talk to dead people quite often. Something happens, like I see a group of does and fawns and I say "Oh, Mom check that out!  I know you always liked deer, so look at those!"  I say this out loud, of course.  Once you begin to equate actions and situations with a now-dead person, it is amazing how often the connections are there. Something will remind me of my Dad, my Mom, my friend Martha, and once I comment on it to them, more and more things occur that remind me of them.  Or I think about John Prine for a second and in another second there's a John Prine song playing on the radio or on Pandora, just randomly.

I don't know if others out there experience this, but it gives me faith and belief that some spirits stick around us and are listening to us.  Sometimes they help us out (Thank you, St. Anthony) and sometimes they come to us for comfort or to assuage loneliness or to make us open our eyes to a bit of wonder or beauty. The flower stream I presented this past year on Instagram, posting a single flower each day for 9 months, gave me a temporary reprieve from some of the ugliness of the world. And I felt like my personal spirits were helping.....beautiful flowers presented themselves to me in odd, unexpected ways and I got to share those with anyone who was looking. 

I currently work in a small hotel that has been in existence for close to 100 years. There are stately redwoods on the property, old-growth hydrangeas and camellias and dahlias that are six feet tall.  And there are spirits on that property, benign spirits that exude peace and tranquility. You can feel it when you walk around the property, a feeling of calm and peaceful resignation and hope. I've never worked at a place that felt so safe and accommodating and I am 100% sure it's due to those old, dead souls who still hang around because it was their special place when they were alive.  

Nothing profound here, just my mind rambling on.

Friday, December 3, 2021

Sometimes the magic works.....

 ... and sometimes it doesn't.

That's a quote from the movie "Little Big Man" from 1970, with Dustin Hoffman.  This is not a movie review but those eight words stick with me because they are like life: sometimes it's good, sometimes it's not.  Sometimes the cards fall  your way, sometimes you bottom out, deuces and threes instead of tens and queens.

I am not a fan of the word "magic" or "magical" used in an every day context. To me magic is studied trickery, slight of hand, conjuring, fooling the eye, fooling the mind. Life isn't that. Yes, we all experience moments that feel 'magical' but I still don't like using that word for anything less than transcendence and that experience is too rare to even discuss here. So, leaving "magic" and all its incarnations aside, let's talk about luck.

(And now I am floundering because, honestly, I don't even know what I started writing about and here I am, still typing away.  I could/should start over but no, not taking that road. Whatever made me begin on this path will either carry me on or lead me astray and I will be fine with that.)

Luck: who has it? Who gets it? Why does it touch one person and not the other? Is there even such a thing as luck, just as is there even such a thing as magic? Do you feel lucky, are you lucky, has your life been blessed (!) with luck?  What the fuck is luck?

Don't know. Don't care. Yes, it's lucky, perhaps, if you find a $100 bill on the sidewalk. Yes, it's lucky, perhaps, if you put that $100 on a red square on a roulette wheel. And yes, it's lucky, perhaps, if that spin of that roulette wheel comes up red and you win a bunch of money.  And then what? Does your life change? Perhaps yes if you win $100,000.  But perhaps not.

So, luck. So, magic. Joan Didion wrote a remarkable book about the death of her husband and her daughter titled "The Year of Magical Thinking" which has nothing to do with luck or magic but explains, to me, that theory of what magic means to many. In our small and uncertain lives here on this uncertain planet, sometimes we want to believe something so viscerally that we think about it so much until it becomes real to us. We internalize it, we live it, we want it to be real and 'magically' it happens. It becomes real to us. It is, indeed, magical thinking. But at the same time, that thinking doesn't change the reality. It just smooths it over for a while. It mitigates the pain.

Whew. There is no resolution here. Just the recognition that it is time to go to bed. Thank you for following along.  More to come.


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Thursday, November 25, 2021

Thank you.

There are too many people to thank specifically, but there are an equal number of things to be thankful for.  Here are a few:  I am thankful for simply being alive at this moment and healthy.  I am thankful for the health of those I love (and even those I like) and for all the love that comes my way.  For being able to sit in a warm house with gingerbread muffins cooling on the table, for having enough money to live comfortably for this moment. For living in a beautiful area, in a lovely little cottage on an amazing property.  

My children, Jenn and Gabe, and their mates Dar and Annie, my world would not be half as good without them buzzing around my life. I am grateful for their love, their help and their advice, their criticism and their praise, for the future they want for me and for themselves. And my additional daughter Stacey who is a shining star to me. 

My siblings, as much as they might make me crazy at times, they also are part of my life foundation and therefore important in that genetic shorthand sort of way that only siblings can understand. Friends: old ones like Flip, whom I have loved since I was 18 years old, and new ones like Cath and Dawn and all the ones in the middle, Tom, Kara, Pat, John and Diane, and so many more. People who will call me when they need me because they know I will do the same. People I love, pure and simple.

I am thankful for the past and the present and I hope to be thankful for the future, although that sometimes looks dicey. I am so grateful for all the traveling that came my way, all the countries and cities I have seen and hope to see again.  (Paris has been calling me recently, like a siren, urging me to walk its streets again soon. I need to answer that call.)

Bottom line, thank you to the universe for letting me have such an abundant amount of things to be thankful for.  (Bad grammar!) 

Be grateful, be kind, be happy.  




Friday, November 12, 2021

Smell this! What do you see?

We smell something and immediately our brain conjures up a memory, a picture from the past. How this happens isn't a mystery, at least from the scientific point of view. It all relates to the olfactory bulb which connects smells to the area of our brains that store memories.  (How our brains can even store a memory when memory is so mercurial is an amazing feat.)  So when we smell a certain scent, our brain wakes up the memory and we can see it as an immediate, almost tangible thing.

At this moment my house smells like Thanksgiving. There is bread rising so it's a bit yeasty but there are turkey legs in a pot being slowly turned into turkey broth that will end up being delicious gravy for Thanksgiving dinner. Sage, parsley, rosemary, garlic, onions, so many aromatics infuse my small cottage with the smell of so many past holidays. All I need to do now is bake a pumpkin pie and it would be perfect!  Cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and cloves would round out the scent menu and my mouth would be watering all day long.

But think of all the things we smell that trigger great (or not-so-great) memories: the smell of freshly cut grass evokes long, hot summer days. Pipe smoke (very rare these days) reminds me of my Dad who occasionally smoked a pipe and mixed his own tobacco.  After-shave lotion reminds me of Macy's department store, walking past the aisle that sold men's personal care products. Incense brings back memories of the late 1960's, sitting cross-legged on someone's bedroom floor, listening to Jefferson Airplane albums and drinking cheap wine.

But some smells go both ways: wood smoke always smelled like winter to me but now it also has the frightening connection to wildfires. Both of those memories are triggered at the same time.

Right now I am enjoying the smells of the holidays coming out of my kitchen. Turkey stock and baking bread definitely invoke the beginning of the holiday season and I am enjoying every memory the smells create. 

Wednesday, November 10, 2021

Bond. James Bond. Shaken. Not Stirred.

One of the first movies I saw independently, without parental oversight, was "Goldfinger."  In a theater, with my brothers and another boy. We were all probably 15 -16 except maybe Steve, who had to be old enough to drive.... so maybe 1965. Every detail of that movie (the ones I remember) are so clear and precise to me now, more than 55 years later.  (I am fainting as I see the number 55, all those years gone by.) Sean Connery was so young, thin, debonair, carefree. That the movie was just that, a movie, a fiction, nothing anchored in reality, didn't matter one tiny bit. 

The James Bond movies have always grabbed me, especially the early ones and now the last of the line. Daniel Craig isn't Sean Connery but it really doesn't matter.  James Bond is still James Bond. Even Pierce Brosnan was fine for a short while because it is all about the adventure, the incredible action sequences and the gadgets, the girls and the gritty escapes that make Bond Bond. (And the martinis.)

The new movie is good, packed with everything one wants in a Bond movie and more. The scenery is gorgeous, the explosions are huge, the sex is hot, the Aston Martin is so cool, the intrigue is confusing and the villains are what they should be: evil and cunning and death-defying. It's a movie to see on the big screen, but only if you like Bond movies. There's nothing about it that is redemptive or cozy and warm. But then, Bond movies were never about that. You like them or you don't.

I do.

 


Wednesday, October 27, 2021

Parents, kids and the chasms

 As my kids get older (both in their mid-forties) I am unsure what my position is in their lives. More important, I am not sure what their position is in my life. They are my children, yes, but I can't refer to them as that. Children are small. These two people are grown-ups.  I can call them "my kids" and I do, but that's a misnomer as well. But what is the correct term for one's grown-up offspring?  There isn't one. Well, yes, you could say "progeny" or "descendants" or some such thing but no one does and those words aren't what I am looking for.

But I digress. My grown-up progeny (!) certainly don't need a parent now and I don't need to be a parent either. (Although I am sure I mother my kids more than I suspect. My daughter will call me on it now and then. My son is too discreet to do so unless I specifically ask.)  So how does one define one's relationship to one's grown children at this point in one's life?  (Too many one's there, but whatever.)

It's a good bet that my kids still see me as their parent because why wouldn't they?  It's all I have been in their lives. However, while I am still their parent, I don't see myself in that role now. My role, to me, is a bit unclear, but they don't need a parent. That job was made redundant years ago. Do I even have a role and if so, what is it?

Herein lies the chasms. We have these children, we nurture them, protect them, teach them and love them unconditionally. There is no chasm.  As children, we (the parental figures) are their entire world and for a while they are ours as well. Eventually a small fissure occurs, usually when we take them to school or day care, some place other than their home. They are separated from us. Then comes the day when they are seriously in school, away from us for 6 - 8 hours a day. That's a huge split, one that causes sadness and pain for both the parent and the child. (The tiny relief and joy that parents feel when the kids are off to school and thus not hounding us 6 - 8 hours a day is not relevant here. Just saying. And yes, learning occurs, but still, not relevant here.) 

The huge chasm comes when the child realizes that there is another world out there, one without Parental Figures. This usually happens around the age of 11-14, perhaps earlier these days. Once the kid is in middle school and definitely in high school, that chasm is huge. The child needs independence.  The parent doesn't know how to deal with this.  The child wins, of course, because the parent knows that's the point of being a parent and the point of being a child: leaving the nest/home/safety. So the parent needs to let go. Or make a valiant attempt to do so.

The chasm is the distance the child needs to become a real person. (Note that I am not saying "adult" because a lot of adults are not real people.) The separation is the point. The chasm is the point. We, the parents, do not need to like it but unless we are idiots we always knew it would happen and we must accept it. 

So now, the dilemma: we made these children with the clear intent that they would leave us and become new, whole people but .... now what?  Their role is clear: go out and get a life.  What's ours now? Yes, sometimes they come back and start over but eventually they are gone from our loving and happy home grasp and what is our job at that point regarding these adult children, kids, progeny?

It is clear that this is a topic I should have addressed 20 years ago. And I probably did. But now I see my adult kids and other than teaching them my skills at making pasta carbonara or giving them my recommendations about books to read, wines to drink, TV stuff to watch, my job is pretty much done. Well, it's not pretty much... it is done. They are whole people, they do not need a parent. They can both make a very good carbonara (I am still the best at that) and they have their own tastes in books and music and movies. Thankfully so. 

Do they need me? Perhaps, but for what?  At least I know they like me enough to want to hang out now and then.  Is that a need or a want?  Hopefully a want.

I am still figuring this relationship stuff out, as is obvious.  There is more to say here. I will report back.  Thank you for reading. 


Friday, October 22, 2021

Sensorio "Field of Lights" Display in Paso Robles

 In March 2020, which seems like years ago, about a week before California shut down because of Covid, I visited the Sensorio show in Paso Robles. The New York Times had a one page feature about it in their "50 Places to Visit in 2020" and it was too intriguing to pass up.  It was one of the most beautiful and amazing installations I have ever seen.  Shortly after I was there, it shut down for a year, just reopening April 2021.

When I read that it was opening again, I coerced my brother John and his wife Emily to meet me in Paso Robles and see the show. They were a tiny bit reluctant: "A light show? Really?"  But because they love me, they were willing to indulge my need to see it again, and see it with them.  Which we did, last night.

It didn't disappoint, not them seeing it for the first time or me, seeing it again. More than 58,000 solar powered fiber optic stemmed spheres cover more than 15 acres and they change colors as the night progresses. Guests walk along wide paths to view the lights, and you can stay as long as you like. We got there just as the sun was setting and just as the lights were coming on.


After 30-40 minutes, as the sky darkened, the brilliance of the lights was stunning.  One takes way more photos than necessary and eventually you simply stand and look and appreciate the beauty. The interplay between nature and technology is spot-on.


Plus, if you wiggle your camera, you get great pictures like these:



Such incredible technology and what a show!  It's there until the end of this year. Paso Robles is a three hour drive from SF and there are plenty of hotels. The tickets are not cheap (but less than $50) and worth every penny.  Go see it.







Friday, October 15, 2021

Swimming in Cold Water

 In mid-May I started getting into the pool here at my little cottage property, kicking around, getting a little exercise every afternoon.  The water was hovering around 70 then, just beginning to heat up after the winter.  After a couple of weeks I bought some sturdy Styrofoam water "weights" for more resistance and it was a daily ritual: around 4:15 to the pool I would go for about 30 minutes. I enjoyed every minute. 

The spring became summer and the water got warmer until it was around 80 degrees in July. My preference is when it is about 76-78, but I certainly wasn't going to argue with 80. Refreshing and so good for the soul and the body. 

But as we all know, summer fades, autumn comes sneaking in, the sun is lower in the sky. Even if the days stay hot, the nights are cooler and the pool gets less direct sun and the temperature falls. However, I was determined to continue my daily swim for as long as possible, so in I went, every day I was home, at 4:15.

Yesterday the water temp was around 61.  That's a far cry from 76 and there's no denying that it is a bit of a shock when I first get into the pool. l give myself about 60 seconds to slowly walk down the steps and get up to my belly in cold water, then I just plunge in. (Keeping my head above water, of course.) I grab my weights, start moving as quickly as possible and within a few minutes it feels pretty good! Bracing.  Invigorating.  Cold.  Alive.

Next week I will be gone from home all week and I am already missing my cold swimming. I fear that when I return home, October 28, the water will be far too cold for me.  I hope not. I will bravely make an attempt to continue my cold water challenge as long as possible. 

It seems that swimming in cold water has several health benefits: great for circulation, produces endorphins, good for your skin, helps burn calories. People worldwide swim in cold water and have been for centuries, much colder than a pool in Sonoma County, obviously. Since this is a new endeavor for me, I don't know at what temp the water will be too cold for comfort. The Pacific Ocean drops down to close to 50 degrees in the winter and folks still swim in it, so we'll see what my tolerance will be. All I know is that I will miss getting into that pool every day.




Thursday, October 14, 2021

GIANTS! DODGERS! GREAT BASEBALL!!!


If you are a baseball fan, you know that this meeting of the Giants and the Dodgers is historic.  If you are a Giant or a Dodger fan, it's a lot more than that: it's epic.  Yes, we have seen the two teams battle in regular season games but this is the playoffs, folks.  This is huge.

And what baseball it is!  The amazing plays, the hits, the stellar pitching (yes, Dodger pitching is nailing it) and the excitement you can feel even through the TV screen. At this point in post-season one would expect to see great hitting, fielding, pitching and we are certainly getting that. It's a thing of beauty to see.

And there's the rub: the "seeing" part of this equation. The first two games I watched at Jenn and Dar's house, the third game I listened to on the radio and the fourth I saw at Steve's.  But tonight, what to do? In the past, in the Before Times, I would have gone to my local bar, ordered a dark beer and fish and chips and hung out for most of the game with other baseball aficionados.  But we don't do that much anymore because of the dreaded virus and its mutant cousins. So finding a place to watch this all-important final fifth game is going to be tricky.  I could probably plead and beg Steve to let me come over for a couple of innings (he is not the fan I am) or I can simply listen to it. But I think I will see if one of the local restaurants has it on in the bar.... maybe later in the game so it might not be so crowded.  Not sure yet.

No matter what, I will be tuned in tonight in some fashion.  GO GIANTS!!!!




Thursday, October 7, 2021

Third Shot and You're Out!

 Got my third shot of the Pfizer vaccine along with a flu shot. One in each arm. There was no adverse effect from either of the first two Pfizer vaccinations but this third one has knocked me out. Major chills in the middle of the night and today aches and fatigue and nausea. I expect it to be over and out by tomorrow but it took me by surprise.  Once you think you are invincible, something tells you that you are clearly not. But it's a small price to pay for keeping up with the antigens and antibodies and trying to keep my body safe.

In the end we are all going to kick the bucket but it would be nice to have another ten years of good health. I figure that by the time I reach 80 my body will be more creaky and more dilapidated, my mind more foggy and mildly disturbed and my psyche much crankier but also more tolerant.  Who knows? All we can do now is to try and avoid Covid, remove bad influences and concentrate on positivity and metaphysical stuff.  

Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? Pass me that whiskey bottle, partner, and let me be happy. 


Saturday, October 2, 2021

Here I Am. I Am Here.

Those three small words, when arranged differently, have a whole different meaning.

On Wednesday I took a walk with a friend in Golden Gate Park. It had been years since I was on foot in the park and what a gift to have that in the middle of a crazy city. My walking companion was Donna, a friend and also my sister-in-law. We see each other now and then but this was the first time it was just the two of us, no brothers in sight. Donna has been one of my blog readers and was lamenting the fact that I stopped writing. My reasons, as I have previously stated, are based on the fact that I really have nothing to say. My life is small and simple and rather boring and who wants to read about that?  

But Donna nagged at me enough until I surrendered and said "OK, I will try again."  She reminded me that I have stated many times that it doesn't matter if anyone actually reads the blog, I write it for myself. It doesn't need to be profound or clever or even very interesting because who cares if anyone reads it; I write it for myself. To not write is to stop some kind of introspection, to stop attempting clarity and definition.  As Donna reminded me, even Joan Didion feels the same:  "I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear." 

So here I am. Writing again. Trying to write again.

I am here.



Wednesday, September 8, 2021

"Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby"

 Yes, I am one of the few people who never saw this before tonight.  It's a mystery to me because I am a big fan of Will Ferrell. So, there's nothing much to say about it except it is a pretty good movie. Goofy and irreverent and profane and in some strange way quite lovely. It is both smart and stupid. Go figure.

Added bonus: lots of songs (in the background) by Steve Earle, one of my favorite songwriters and singers.  Plus the movie has a small role for Amy Adams, a good part for Sacha Baron Cohen and a large part for John C. Reilly.  And many others. It's on Netflix, free!  If you haven't seen it, pour yourself a big glass of some adult beverage, figure that close to two hours of your time will be consumed by idiocy and comedy and Will Ferrell-ness.  Just do it.

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Tuesday, September 7, 2021

A long time

 Yes, it has been a long time since I have been on this site, typing away.  Almost two months. The reason? Simple: I have nothing relevant to say. Look at the headlines in any newspaper, on any news report and tell me that what one aging woman has to talk about that is more important than what is happening right now, all over the world.

My time consists of  doing nothing, reading, sleeping and sometimes, a couple of days a week, working. It's what most of the world does but in my case it is all pretty meaningless. I am not working to put food on the table, I am just doing it out of boredom, more or less.  I read voraciously but most of what I read is trash, or a step above trash, more like trite. So I can't say I am even improving my mind because that's not true.  Well, yes, every now and then I read something important, something of substance but that's usually because I feel guilty if I don't.  It's like eating: you have to eat fruit and veggies if you are also going to eat cheese and crackers. Something worthwhile to balance out the snack stuff.

Therefore, given the above paragraph, I cannot make any claims about writing here very often in the near (or far) future. I can only say that I will try to do better but we all know that simply means the writing will be on the "maybe" level. Like everyone else with more than half a brain, it feels like fear and danger are lurking around every corner.  With wildfires, heat, hurricanes, flooding, more heat, our climate is becoming our enemy. The political temperature of our country is equally as dangerous and is going to get worse. Poverty, racial inequality, the pandemic, all are getting worse worldwide. What is there to say in the face of all that?

I hope anyone who reads this has a better attitude than I currently have.  Try to be happy. 

Later.......

Friday, July 16, 2021

Retirement: Resist or Succumb?

 It isn't that I want to work forever, we all know I am lazy at heart and would love to live out my last decade or two doing nothing but reading, eating, cooking and traveling. The dilemma comes when I realize that those four things will not sustain a meaningful life for 15-20 years. Maybe I need a hobby?  Something to occupy my mind and body other than being slothful?

Three of my siblings have retired as have many of my friends. Ours is the Baby Boom generation and we are all in our 60's and 70's, the correct age bracket to retire.  But so many people have things that they love to do and retirement gives them the time to do those things: play golf, paint, build a boat, write a book, buy an RV and drive thousands of miles a year. Others have fun for a year or two and then get bored and depressed because they feel their lives are pointless. I don't want to fall into that category but I worry that I might.

In March 2020 a lot of us were forced to "retire" because of the Covid pandemic. California shut down for three months and most jobs disappeared for that time. People worked from home when they could but when you work in hospitality, like myself, that's not possible. When things began to reopen, I decided to wait to go back to work until it seemed safe. That wait was 15 months. Then I took myself out of that imposed retirement and now I am wondering how to approach my real retirement at the end of this year.

It seems like I need to have a plan. I have no idea what that plan entails but at this moment I have five and a half months to figure it out. 

Part of me wants to be accountable for that plan in a way that will guarantee I actually will make some kind of a plan. In other words, if I start writing about it now, maybe I will be prepared for retirement starting January 1, 2022. Let's see how that unfolds. If you are one of the two people who read this, keep checking in and we'll see how well I do.  Thanks for coming along on this ride.


Two excellent documentaries on Netflix

Sometimes you watch something and it makes you want to call your friends and tell them to watch it, too. These two documentaries are like that. Both important, very well made, honest and more than a little thought-provoking.

"Disclosure" is not just a look at the world of transgender people but a look at how they have been portrayed in the media. In the last couple of years we have read and seen so much about the trans world but not many of us really understand it or what transgender people must face. This documentary gives us a good look at that process; the interviews are straightforward and emotional and sometimes funny.  It's meaningful and powerful and at the same time, very enjoyable to watch.

However, "Breaking Boundaries" is more intense and a bit frightening in its honest assessment of the planet Earth and the fight to mitigate climate change. Hosted by David Attenborough and scientist Johan Rockstrom, this presents what might be the last chance we have to save the vast destruction of so much of life on Earth. It is beautifully filmed and incredibly important in its clarity about what is happening now and the short span of time humans have to reverse the horrific effects of climate change.

Watch them both.  You won't regret either one.


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Thursday, July 1, 2021

Working? Working!

 This working thing is exhausting. Seriously, what was I thinking saying "Yes" to the request to go back to the rat race? Well, the money, yes, that's a good thing and I am certainly motivated by cash and am not complaining about it, even though I would have made more money in the next couple of months by staying on the dole, but whatever.....  slothfulness was an encroaching fungus and working is a way to keep that fungus at bay, I suppose. 

But there must be a better way to cure slothfulness than going to an actual job. (Yes, I could have taken up yoga or invented a new  hobby but that didn't seem likely because I am too slothful.) It isn't the actual going to the job that's the problem, it's being at the job for eight hours. That's the difficult thing. Walking into the hotel lobby at 7:30 a.m. is fine, it's nice and quiet, no one is about, the place is mine for about 45 minutes and my early morning tasks are simple. But by 8:15 a.m. that new-day peace has been shattered and it's a downhill slog for the next seven hours. By quitting time at 4:00 p.m. I am wiped out, trying to hide my crankiness and done with the entire concept of work. 

Now please don't think I hate my job because I don't. It's easy, I get to bake muffins and breads and scones for the breakfast service, I meet nice people, my fellow inmates workers are lovely and fun. But most of my shift is spent on my feet and these feet are old and getting older and crustier by the day. Plus, no matter how much you like your job it is still work. There is a vast difference between "not hating" the job and "loving" the job.  Miles of distance. And it is still work. 

The more than 12 months of pandemic isolation was, for the most part, quiet and serene.  Boring at times, yes. A waste of a year in many ways, yes. But was it work?  No.  A resounding "No."  Now the serenity is gone, the boredom has shifted and it all makes me tired.  When my boss asked me to come and work with her I said I would do it for six months. That means my sentence is up on December 1st. There are reasons to work a few weeks beyond that and I probably will but I am not planning on carrying on much past the end of 2021.  But we all know how mercurial the world is, how things change, how our strident opinions soften with time.  We'll see.  Right now it's difficult getting back in the work groove.

Here's what I made one day last week, and I am proud of the output.  My goal is to make at least 50 muffins and two loaves of bread a day so that there is an ample supply of tasty treats for the four days I am not there baking.



That's all for now, folks.  Thanks for reading along.




A few more flowers

 Yes, a blog about flowers is sort of boring, but it's also rather pretty.  These are some I have posted on Instagram in the past month.  Enjoy.





















Monday, June 14, 2021

Yes, they will break our hearts.

 I am sitting on my small couch in my small cottage watching and listening to my small dog sleep.  Cooper does not sleep quietly these days. He's an old guy and as old folks do, he whines and whimpers and sighs and yelps in his sleep. He's curled up in his little bed, curled up like a comma. 

Everyone I know who has a dog is facing the same thing: death of our furry pals sooner or later. Cooper is probably about 16 years old.  My kids have dogs that are about 15 years old (talking about you, little Hannah) and 13 years for the Bebe. Brother Steve has Random, who is about 12 years old but suffering from a slow degenerative disease so he seems older.  I have many friends who have dogs older than 12 and some are in fine health, some less so.

The point is that every pet owner knows that the day will arrive when they must take action to let their pet go. We all know that our pets will most certainly die before us and yet we willingly adopted them knowing they would break our hearts. When our dogs or cats or horses were young, it was easy to put that knowledge in a box on the back shelf and ignore it. But at some point, sooner or later, we must take that box down, open it and face the grim truth.

Cooper is spry for being close to 16 years old.  Bebe was given a death sentence six months ago and she still bounces around like a puppy most of the time. Hannah plays the starlet card, being fussy and neurotic a lot of the time but youngish and charming when she wants, which is often. Random has slowed down considerably in the past six months but will bark like a two year old when anyone walks past his fence. These dogs have been loved and cared for and have given all of us so much love..... and they will continue to do so until we must put them in the car and take them to their final vet visit.  That we love them is no mystery. Neither is the fact that they will break our hearts when they die. But that's simply a small price we pay for the life we have had with them. We knew it going in, we know it now.

Here's my guy. Sleeping and happy. While I know he has maybe two more years, I am so happy he can make me laugh every day. 







Friday, June 11, 2021

Fearing Fire

And so it begins: next week we get our first heat wave of the year, temps here in Glen Ellen, Sonoma County, climbing to at least 100 degrees by Thursday and into Friday. But read what is happening east of us, in Arizona and Utah:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/weather/2021/06/10/record-heat-wave-southwest/

Record breaking heat. It's only June. What is it going to be like in July, August, September? I already have a bag packed, ready to evacuate. It's not complete, it needs dog food and shampoo and a few other things but the fact that it's ready is an indicator of our need to be vigilant and a sign of our powerlessness in the face of fire. 

For those of us living in Sonoma Valley, every siren we hear creates a line of alarm in our minds. In 2017, the houses around my cottage burned.  The property fence 15 feet from my cottage burned. Last year we were evacuated for ten days during the Glass Fire and the fire came a couple of miles from my street. The danger is incredibly real and frightening.

People talk about grilling and barbeques in the summer. But unless you have a gas grill, no one in the valley lights their Webber charcoal grill past Memorial Day unless the temps are down in the 70's. It's simply too dangerous. I grilled a great dinner about three weeks ago but that's probably it until November.  It's a  huge part of summer that I miss but it isn't worth the worry and the danger.

Right now fires are burning in several southwestern states. Fire season currently has no "season." Because of increased temperatures, the season is every month of every year in every state west of the Rockies. Unless you live here, it's impossible to understand the severity of the situation and the fear that invades our lives. Most of us sleep with a window open near our bed just to be able to smell smoke if it comes near. 

Be careful out there.





Wednesday, June 9, 2021

The new job: what was I thinking?

 OK, I admit that the lure of getting out of the house and being involved in something other than myself was a factor.  Also, the simple fact that my boss almost begged me to come to work for her was a boost to my ego. And finally, money.  Money is always a carrot on the end of the stick.

But seriously, the first two days were nothing but hard, physical labor. Coming into an old hotel that had been operating the same way for 30 years meant digging through the detritus of someone else's kitchen and hauling bags of trash to the car and then into a dumpster. Broken and bent utensils, torn plastic containers, stained kitchen towels, jars of spices that had expiration dates of 12 years ago, same with oils and flours and dried fruits. Sticky, greasy shelves that needed a scouring pad to get them clean. Dozens of scarred and stinky cutting boards, multiple sets of cookie molds, plastic bags full of plastic bags. So much trash.

We sorted and tossed and cleaned. Then came the real test: baking in a Wedgewood oven that is probably as old as I am. The muffins in the back of the oven burned.  The muffins in the front of the oven were undercooked.  The shelves dipped down in the back so the coffee cake was an inch higher on one end. The shelves were also very unstable and I feared they would collapse mid-baking. 

The general manager put me in charge of doing most of the baking for the small hotel, which wasn't exactly what I thought the job would entail. Now we all know that I love to bake but baking for friends and family is an enjoyable task with good feedback and a sense of satisfaction.  Baking for 20 - 50 people at a time is a different animal. You need to bake a lot in order to get that many servings and the goods are gobbled down quickly with very little feedback and almost no sense of satisfaction. You are on your feet for hours, in a hot kitchen on a hot summer day and there is endless clean-up needing to be done.

I committed to this job for six months.  The first two weeks have been very difficult and surprising. But hey, it gets me out of the house, gives me new challenges and will generate some income.  I am approaching it as an experimental adventure: try new recipes, new techniques.  See what works, what fails. Bottom line, if you give someone a baked item, be it a slice of a quick bread, a muffin, a piece of coffee cake, 95% of the time the person will enjoy it, even it if isn't the best baked thing in the world. That's my goal: 95% happiness.  We'll see if I meet it!






Tuesday, June 1, 2021

Why I am not writing these days.

 There is no real reason, of course. I could make myself sit and start banging on the keyboard and produce something insignificant or self-deprecating or self-aggrandizing or possibly even something worth reading.  But right now, it simply is not happening.

What do real writers do when they hit this sort of a block?  One supposes they start banging on the keyboard with the hope of producing..... something. Anything. I don't have the backbone for that. Too lazy. So weeks go by and I have written nothing.

But part of this ennui and lassitude is perhaps born of my lack of discipline on a daily basis: I have no job, no schedule other than walking the dog, no structure.  For a year this was fine. From March 2020 to about January of this year, I was happy to be out of work, lazing about, behaving obediently within the safe Covid guidelines. Then things started to open up, opportunities for getting out and about began to appear. We could socialize a bit, safely. We could go out to dinner in an restaurant if we followed the rules. We could actually hug someone (gasp!) if we had both been vaccinated.

All those things are great, of course. But my days of doing nothing now seemed like pure laziness and slothfulness. My lack of a schedule, my lack of anything solid that would guide me to the next step now felt like a emblem of failure.  I felt like I had wasted an entire year on nothing. And had nothing to say about it.

This situation may change soon. I am going back to work this week, a part-time gig in hospitality, which I swore I would never do again. But it seems that unless I am doing something, I won't do anything. Maybe this little job will light the small fire that is necessary to get me out of my funk and will lead me to feeling at least productive again. And hopefully that will lead to picking up the proverbial pen and begin writing again.

So, to the two or three loyal readers of this small blog, I thank you for checking in now and then and quietly mentioning that I have been absent from the page for too long. Please stay tuned. Something might be appearing soon.  

In the meantime, you can listen to this.  Copy and paste if it doesn't link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaL_PhlYAJ8

Thursday, May 27, 2021

Van Gogh Immersive Exhibit

 This exhibit might not be to everyone's liking because it isn't really a look at Van Gogh's paintings as much as a look at the details in those paintings coming alive. The digitally designed show takes the artwork and makes it move, makes it shimmer, shows a hidden hand making brush strokes across the canvas.  It's immersive because it surrounds the viewer, 360 degrees of color and sound and dimension. I really enjoyed it. The digital loop lasts for about 40 minutes and at times the show is calm and contemplative. There are other moments when color explodes on the canvas (i.e. the walls) and the viewer almost feels like stepping back to get out of the way of the brush. I have never seen anything like it but I can imagine this technological technique being used in other art shows or even in presenting art and photographs in a home setting. If you have the chance, check it out. It runs in SF until September.

You can see more information here: https://www.vangoghsf.com/





Friday, May 14, 2021

Overnight Roasted Pork: Amazing!

 There are people who have patience for smoking/roasting a pork butt or shoulder on a Webber grill, adding coals and wood chips for hours, keeping the temp of the grill low, ending with a falling-apart, smoky chunk of pork.  I am not one of those people.

Not only do I not have the skills to keep the grill at a low temp (but I am a champ at regular grilling, just saying) but I don't have the patience to hang around the grill, futzing with the coals, the meat, the drip pan, all of it. But who doesn't like a chunk of pork that is lusciously juicy, tender and ready to be rolled into a tortilla?

Enter the overnight roasting plan.  (It won't be smoky but it will be amazing!)  Whatever cheap cut of pork you get, a shoulder, a butt, bone in or out, it all works. You make a rub (recipes abound online but mine is below) and slather it on the pork. Let it set at room temp for at least an hour, or in the fridge for all day, but pull it out of the fridge at least an hour before roasting.  Then find a vessel that it will fit in rather nicely, which means not too huge. It can be an oven-safe saucepan (most of them are) or a casserole or anything that will hold your pork without a ton of room around it. I actually line a smallish casserole with tin foil, then loosely wrap the pork in another layer of foil to make sure it cooks in close proximity to the juice it will throw off.  Once you are ready to cook, put the pork in the pot, cover it tightly (more foil it a lid isn't available) and put it in a preheated 350 degree oven.  Then, very important, turn the heat down to 220.  Go to bed.

That's it. Let it roast for at least 8 hours, more if it's a big chunk. Your kitchen will smell amazing.  After the allotted amount of time, turn the oven off and just leave it in there for another hour to cool down. Then take it out, unwrap it, stick a fork in it and Voila!  It should be incredibly tender and juicy. If it's not, (because maybe your pork chunk was REALLY BIG) put it back in the oven, turn it to about 300 and cook it another hour.  But I doubt this will be necessary.

You can shred it with two forks or tear it apart any way you want.  Then you can eat some, drain off the juice and put the juice in the fridge to solidify the grease.  The grease can be used to fry some of the pork shards into carnitas, or you can do that in neutral oil as well.  The juice, minus the fat, can be used in many ways, just don't toss it.  If you have no use for it, freeze it and add it to the next soup or casserole you make. That juice is money, I am telling you!

So, for so little work other than making a dry rub, you get amazing results. I have done this three times, and because I am a single person, I do it with about a pound and a half of a chunk of pork.  But it works with double or triple that. Start small, then go big or go home.  Just saying.....

The rub:  I use a scant quarter cup brown sugar and then any of these spices:  cumin, smoked paprika, garlic powder, cayenne powder or chipotle powder or chili powder, lots of salt and pepper, red pepper flakes if it needs more heat.  Yesterday I crushed some Sichuan pepper kernels and added those. Taste the rub. It should be slightly sweet and salty and spicy.  Adjust.  But really, you can't go wrong with whatever you add. I also added some dried oregano but not necessary.

OK, have at it.  You will be amazed at the results. 





  

Wednesday, May 5, 2021

Not getting vaccinated? Seriously?

 A few days ago I was walking along the Great Highway in SF, which is now free from cars and just a long, lovely, wide concourse from the Zoo to the Cliff House.  It was a beautiful, sunny day.  Coming towards me were two young women, probably about 25-30 years old. As they got nearer, I overheard a snippet of their conversation.

"I am not getting vaccinated.  I feel like not being vaccinated is really empowering for me."

What?  I almost turned and walked after them, planning on asking "Empowering?  Empowered to get Covid? Empowered to pass on the virus to some unsuspecting person you might encounter on the bus?  Empowered to die?"

I understand about wanting to feel empowered, wanting to feel in control over one's own life and destiny.  But when does personal integrity and personal choice overshadow the need to help protect the human race? Is selfishness of that sort now considered a virtue of empowerment?

All rhetorical questions, of course. The walk on the Great Highway was the same day that the New York Times noted that scientists now are saying that the U.S. will probably never reach the herd immunity that is needed to make Covid less of a danger and more of a nuisance.  Too many people are not being vaccinated which means too much of the virus is still out there, rolling around.

Let's see what happens by the end of this month when many cities are taking away almost all restrictions on gathering.  Let's see if there is another virus flare-up as there has been in the past. Let's see how things look around July 4 and around Labor Day. Let's see if that empowerment thing is really working.

Be careful out there.


Tuesday, May 4, 2021

Thursday, April 22, 2021

More flowers for you

A few more flowers from the past week. It's rose blooming time here so there will be more roses. And small wild irises, some of which are in my backyard..... and simple, humble small flowers.



This is a small geranium.







I don't know what these are but they were cool. Sort of like alien flowers.



This beauty never fully opened but it was so stately and lovely, like someone had created it with a watercolor brush.








I liked the five little dots on this simple wood rose.

Monday, April 12, 2021

The Reluctant Traveler: Really?

 Traveling has been my passion since I stepped out of a taxi and onto Rue Cambon in Paris in 1986. I knew at that instant that no matter what happened, I would be fine in Paris. In a way, I felt like I was returning home.

Since 1986 I have traveled to 20 countries, many of them with my friend Tom. I have always stated that living out of a suitcase is never a chore and is always good for my soul. While traveling, I never am ready to come home.

Now, after a year of enforced at-homeness, with no travel options available, one would think I would be lining up journeys left and right. Oddly, it isn't happening. For some reason, I am reluctant to plan a trip, even a small drive-up-the-coast car trip. This attitude is puzzling and depressing. And sad.

There are probably underlying reasons for my hesitancy but I can't find them and part of me doesn't want to go to the trouble of analyzing my travel paralysis. It seems like too much bother. It seems easier to simply stay home.

Therefore, I am scouring the internet for places to stay north and south and east of Sonoma County. Part of me feels as if I must make myself get out of the comfort of home and part of me knows that it is imperative to change the venue of my day-to-day life for a short time. Otherwise, I am afraid I will become wedded to my 200 square foot cottage in a way that is not beneficial to my mind, my psyche, my soul. Bottom line, I need to get my travel mojo back.

I will keep you posted on when and where the open road takes me.


 Market in Cahors, France.


Millau Viaduct, the tallest bridge in the world, in the south of France.


Cathedral in Lyons, France.





Window display in Paris.


A Few More Flowers: Episode 4 of the Floral Display

Again, it is amazing how much beauty is out there in the world when you stop and let it come to you.  So many of the flowers I have photographed were easy to miss, they were just unobtrusively hanging out, minding their own business. Most of them are not showy, but all of them are charming and lovely. All I can say is Look Around!  See what the world gives us to counteract the ugly. 



I love the little clover flower below.  Look at how cool it is, and it is just a weed!





I never really saw the star shape in camellias until I looked very closely.



Of course, if you could smell this lilac,  you would be very happy.