Archive for December, 2020

Dec 31 2020

2020

Looking back on the year with 2020 vision…or 2020 hindsight.

I made a decision to keep this space free of politics and other unpleasantness. As usual, with any decision I have ever made, I am not sure I made the right one. I work at a medical clinic and could have written about what it was/is like to work in a medical clinic during a pandemic, but I don’t want to write about work and I am too frivolous for such serious topics. Also, I like keeping everything ugly at bay. This is my safe (and sparkly) space, for better or for worse, for shallower or shallower.

Despite enjoying escapist fare such as children’s books (the wonderful E.L. Konigsberg and E. Nesbit) and Agatha Christies, as well as re-reading classics like The Catcher in the Rye and the works of the divine Jane when there was no library access, the total of books read by the local library chairperson was a paltry 86, not much of an improvement over the embarrassing 82 recorded in 2019. I greatly enjoyed Elton John’s memoir, Peter Swanson’s Eight Perfect Murders, Ruth Ware’s One by One, Connie Schultz’s The Daughters of Erietown, and Alex North’s The Whisper Man. As usual, Stephen King with If It Bleeds and Michael Connelly with Fair Warning and The Law of Innocence did not disappoint.

In addition to comfort viewing (The Rockford Files and Columbo), there were some amazing TV shows brightening my screen on these dark days: City on a Hill, Succession, Escape at Dannemora, Russian Doll, Unbelievable, Perry Mason (the new one; not the classic, which is also wonderful, but very different), The Morning Show, Dead to Me, Dash & Lily, Ozark, Bad Blood, Little Fires Everywhere, Better Call Saul, Emily in Paris, and Get Shorty. If you haven’t seen any of these, check them out. You’ll thank me later.

Other than that, here’s all the news I saw fit to print:

January: A quiet beginning to the new year, with no hangover and no particular plans. My beautiful commute. It still amazes me and reveals new joys. A seemingly endless supply of meetings.

February: The gift of a new cell phone from my sister, who was tired of not being able to text me at home. It took three visits to the Verizon Store to sort of get my data transferred. The nightmare of the kitties. A long story which was entirely my fault, and you know how much I love that. The kitchen sink was full of sewage again, and the power was out. Good times. Sunny days outside and pretty inside. A lovely day. And a lovely dinner.

March: An update on my bosses, the cats. Ignoring the ignominious time change with a look around the family garden. Close encounters with wildlife. In my case, the hare (thankfully) won the race. Remembering my beloved father on his birthday. A night in town. Of tires and take-out. Michelin-starred, no less. the take-out, not the tires (though they could have been Michelins). I was shocked and saddened to hear of my former brother-in-law Mike’s death, but thankful it was a peaceful one at home. Rest in peace, dear Mike. You were a wonderful man and will always be loved and remembered with joy.

April: Michelin starred take-out 2.0. Is it conceited that I prefer my own cooking? Maybe the starriness doesn’t translate well to the take-out genre. Mom? Is that you? The tale of the grandfather clock, more than 250 years and counting (the hours and minutes). Beauty is all around me. My blog turned 19! The differences between my weekday and weekend routines. Adventures in cooking.

May: Welcoming spring. I really enjoyed spring this year. It was so beautiful. The beauty of the season was darkened by the sudden and shocking death of a dear and long-time friend. Randy, I will never forget you or your smile that lit up a room. Some reflections on Mother’s Day from someone who will never be one and who had a complicated relationship with her own. There may be a connection here. Celebrating Dodge’s fourth (or so) birthday. He is such a beautiful, affectionate little guy. Never a dull moment for Megan, at work in the ER. The month ended with the end of the Beautiful Harriet, Megan and Rob’s much-loved 19 year old cat, just two days after Megan’s birthday. Harriet (then called Olivia) made her first appearance on my blog in December, 2001. She was part of our family for a long time and will always be missed.

June: Things were flourishing in the family garden. Of haircuts and hardware stores. A happy birthday for me…and for my beloved Clyde, who turned 10. A nice addition to the bedroom. Remembering the unforgettable Ginger, our childhood dog.

July: Celebrating the Fourth of July and both sides of my heritage. Also Megan and Rob’s 29th anniversary. Here’s to the next 29! Things were shady over at the family estate. Adjusting to a Kindle. I’m still a paper book girl at heart. Rob’s beautiful garden art. A delightful breakfast at the delightful Queenie’s. Some kitty adventures.

August: Things were rocking and rolling in the family garden. I think I did a better job of using produce this year. An unexpected operation for Stella. I’m glad to report she is fine. A lot of sadness in a short period of time in our little town. Time to start cooking with all that produce. The Evil Eighteenth rolled around for the nineteenth time. I was angry this year. I will never get over losing Dad like that. A heatwave, and remembering past summers. Trying to cool down with some icy adult beverages beside the ocean. Hello, darkness, my old enemy.

September: Rearranging the kitchen after my microwave gave up the ghost, as my appliances tend to do. Audrey being Audrey. Rob: always there to make my life better. Happy birthday to my amazing brother, Jonathan. The horror of wildfires. Getting my MacBook fixed, with all the fun that entails. And getting Wednesday repaired. Attacking the Closet of Doom, with Rob’s help.

October: Rob was working hard on the Closet of Doom. It’s still a work in progress. Summer seemed to be endless. A delightful visit with a friend. I hope we can do that again soon. Yet another crown for our princess. My ex John adopted a pregnant stray cat. Meet Willow, Peach, and Daisy (I named Daisy)! Doing some project cooking.

November: A road trip to beautiful Anderson Valley. Problems with the heater. Megan started an exciting new side gig at prestigious Stanford University! An update on Willow and her kittens. Getting my third crown was about as fun as you’d expect. I hope it’s the last one, but fear it won’t be. What would I be like if I had a different name? Trying to find the right blanket was harder than you’d expect.

December: The Christmas tree went up a little early this year. And the kitchen sink needed a minor procedure. Some lights in the darkness. Best friends. Memories of Christmas past. A quiet Christmas.

Thank you for coming along with me on this journey for another year, or staying with me for another year. Here’s to a brighter New Year for all of us!

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Dec 28 2020

Christmas

It was a quiet Christmas this year.

On Christmas Eve, I headed out to Navarro Beach, passing the mill superintendent’s house and Captain Fletcher’s Inn, remembering what a great time Megan and I had at Navarro by the Sea Day a couple of years ago.

Arriving at the beach, I was surprised to find it was much warmer than I expected, and I did not need my hat and coat at all. I wandered the beach:

and enjoyed watching and hearing the waves. I can’t imagine living where it’s landlocked. Watching the ocean brings me peace. When I lived in the City, I walked to the waterfront when I was sad or worried and watched the waves in the Bay. It was always soothing.

I enjoyed the breeze, the cormorants sitting placidly in the water, the gulls shrieking, and the ravens surfing the thermals above the crashing waves. I thought about Dad and how much he loved the ocean, and the astonishing fact that next year marks twenty years without him.

Back home, I did some dinner prep for Christmas Day itself. It was a stripped-down version of our usual feast. I was a bit worried about the ham. Jonathan always takes care of it, and I have no ham experience. Also, both Megan and my good friend A had Christmas ham disasters this year, so I was somewhat concerned that I would follow in their culinary footsteps.

A had suggested a hack for my world-famous cheese biscuits: using the food processor. I whizzed the dry ingredients in it, pulsed in the butter, and poured it into a bowl. I then used the food processor to grate the cheeses, instead of doing it by hand. I tossed the cheese into the dry ingredients with my hands and used a spoon to stir in the milk. They were literally the best cheese biscuits I have ever made, and I will do them this way from now on.

I need not have worried about the ham. It came out perfectly, and was quite small, so I wasn’t inundated with leftovers. Also, no bone to deal with.

To accompany all this, I had our traditional Christmas salad of bitter greens with roasted pears and fresh pomegranate seeds, topped with a shallot dressing:

After dinner, I had sparkling pink wine and opened my presents, which were quite wonderful, ranging from a gift certificate for getting my hair done to a pair of beautiful slate blue gloves from Edinburgh. I watched the Grinch and Charlie Brown and felt like a pretty lucky girl.

A YEAR AGO: A happy holiday.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A festive Christmas.

TEN YEARS AGO: A happy Christmas. Jessica was so little!

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Things were eventful during the holiday season.

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Dec 24 2020

Memories

Published by under Memories,Special Occasions

It’s probably not surprising that I am looking toward Christmas Past rather than Christmas Present, which is basically a non-event, though there are a few presents under my tree.

When I was a girl, our tree was always a real one, since we had our own grove of pine trees on our five acres of land. On the first Saturday in December, we would put on our snowsuits and troop with Dad through the snow to choose just the right tree. There was always a certain amount of discussion and debate before the winning tree was selected.

We stood back while Dad chopped the tree down, the clear note of the axe ringing out in the cold, clean winter air, soon joined by the sharp smell of pine sap. We dragged the tree home triumphantly across the snow to show Mom our trophy. And then there was the excitement of putting it up and decorating it.

In my memories, we went to my mother’s parents’ house for the great day itself. My grandparents lived in a small town not far from Rochester, New York, about an hour and a half’s drive from our house, though it seemed much longer. I am a bit shocked when I think that my mother used to smoke in the car, and of course the car windows were closed against the cold winter air, so we must have smelled horrible by the time we got to Nana and Hoho’s house:

My grandparents lived in a rather grand Victorian house. It was a wedding gift from the town sheriff to his daughter. My grandparents lived on the ground floor, and two maiden ladies, Frieda and Maretta, lived in apartments on the second floor. The third floor attic was full of marvels, like souvenirs from Nana’s brother’s grand tour of Europe, ballgowns, and my great-grandfather’s Civil War sword and sleigh bells.

From the rarely-used front door of their house (seen above; we used the back door into the kitchen), you could see all the way to the town square, where the town tree was decorated and lit up. This was a particularly magical sight at night. Nana and Hoho always had an artificial tree, which seemed very glamorous to me. It was in the seldom-used front parlor, and on Christmas morning, we would have a wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs, home-made cinnamon rolls baked into the shape of a stylized Christmas tree, and juice. I’m sorry to say that we rather rushed through these delights in order to get to the present-opening part of the proceedings.

When that great moment came, my grandmother would dramatically open the pocket doors that separated the two parlors, revealing the grand Christmas tree in all its sparkling glory, with the presents beneath. It was a magical moment, and time stood still as I took in all the ornaments and lights as well as the gifts heaped below. Even as a child, I loved the sparkly. I still do.

And while things might not be merry and bright right now, they will be again. Thank you for coming along with me on this journey. I wish you and yours all the best this holiday season and in the new year.

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Dec 20 2020

Mirror

Published by under Cats


Mirror Image

When I first brought Dodge home, he took one look at Clyde and it was love at first sight.

Clyde isn’t much of a fighter, but he hissed at the interloper, defending his territory as most cats will do. Dodge took it in stride, and you could practically see the thought balloon over his head as he decided he would win Clyde over.

It took surprisingly little time for Clyde to decide that maybe this young whippersnapper from the mean streets of Fort Bragg might be, just might be, OK. Once Dodge had an opening, it wasn’t long before Clyde was completely won over by his hero-worshipping young friend, and they became inseparable companions, playing together, getting into trouble together, basking in the sun, and giving each other baths.

Clyde is 10 years old to Dodge’s relatively youthful 4. And while you may not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, it seems you can teach an old cat new tricks. Clyde has started to copy a few of Dodge’s mannerisms, even though he is the senior member of the household and you would think his adoring acolyte would copy him. But no, Clyde has picked up on some of the new kid’s quirks, and fortunately, they are endearing.

Quirk One is rubbing up against my legs when I am in the bathroom. It’s nice to feel the soft fur. Clyde never did that before, and now he does it more than Dodge does. Quirk Two is pushing his head against me when I am petting him. It is so endearing. And speaking of endearing, Dodge still does his characteristic move of jumping while rubbing against me. I love that so much.

Audrey, of course, disdains them both, and often gives them Grinchy death glares. To be fair, Dodge has an unfortunate habit of chasing Audrey whenever the mood strikes him. I know we all need a hobby, but I wish he’d pick something a little less destructive to household peace, like learning to play the bagpipes. Also, Audrey took a dim view of humanity and her fellow felines long before Dodge came along.

Given that she is approaching her 14th year of her less than benevolent reign, I have started her on a glucosamine and chondroitin supplement for arthritic cats, and I do think it has made her less grumpy. Or at least changed the quality of her grumpitude somewhat. I tried CBD on her with no effect, but this does seem to be helping a bit. She seems a little more certain when jumping, too. If Audrey is happier, we all are.

A YEAR AGO: The many pleasures of Candlelit Shopping night in the Village.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A very enjoyable mini break in town.

TEN YEARS AGO: A really good mail day.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: An unexpected encounter with Santa.

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Dec 16 2020

Lights

Published by under Country Life

Looks like I jinxed my favorite ornament by posting a picture of it. I’m sorry to report that it is no more, just like the favorite ornament Clyde broke a few years ago. We’ll always have Paris?

I came downstairs one morning to find that the cats had knocked over the tree. It looked significantly less festive lying on the floor, even though the lights were still on. Of course, the side with the delicate mercury glass Eiffel Tower ornament was the one that hit the floor. Nothing else was broken. Why are the favorite ones always the victims?

On the bright side, I noticed this weekend that the amaryllis bulbs are beginning to sprout. One seems to have two stems, while the other only has one, so I might have an overachiever and an underachiever again.

A friend reminded me that next week marks the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, and that the days will start to get longer after that. I found that an encouraging idea as I drove to work through the darkness that morning.

This time of year, the historic Little River Inn is lit up, and it gladdens my heart as I reach the crest of the hill and first spot the festive lights blazing in the darkness:

The Botanical Gardens also have a line of lit up, multi-colored stars along the highway, and I look forward to seeing them, too.

Megan got a beautiful little vine shaped like a tree:

It’s so cute!

This time of year, we can all appreciate light(s) in the darkness.

A YEAR AGO: Things were much more sparkly.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Using lights to banish darkness.

TEN YEARS AGO: Trying (unsuccessfully) to get some celebrity dirt. Unsuccessfully. I did manage to finally get country-appropriate footwear, though.

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Dec 11 2020

Date?

Published by under Country Life

The local message boards have been having fun lately. It all started with a message with “Today’s Date Is?” in the subject line, with nothing in the body of the message. That set off some pretty creative and amusing replies:

1. Today’s date is Medjool.

Medjool is a large, sweet cultivated variety of date (Phoenix
dactylifera) from the Tafilalt region of Morocco, also grown in the
United States, Israel, Iran, Saudi Arabia, South Africa, Jordan, Palestine.

The variety is planted both for harvesting and for landscaping. The
Medjool is a distinct landrace, described as producing “large soft
fruit, with orange-yellowish flesh, and a mildly rich and pleasing flavor.”

Israel, with its advanced wastewater recycling technologies, currently
owns more than 60 percent of the global Medjool market share, making it
the largest exporter of Medjool dates in the world.

You’re welcome.

2. Medjool dates grow in Dateland Arizona. It’s in Yuma county. I drove thru there on the way to New Mexico from San Diego.

3. It is grown in Mexico too. Especially around Mulege in Baja California

4. By way of our old and dear departed friend Yogi Berra.
Somebody once asked Yogi what time it was. He looked back at the fellow and without skipping a beat replied: “You mean right now?”

5. Time is….of the essence! So I suppose it’s one of those new perfumes at $38 per ounce?

6. Right on schedule!

FIVE YEARS AGO: The heartbreaking loss of Clyde’s brother, the inimitable Roscoe. I will never get over it.

TEN YEARS AGO: Trying to capture sunlight and shadow.

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Dec 07 2020

Trickle

Published by under Country Life,House

I’m no plumbing expert, or, as you know, even remotely handy, but it was obvious even to me that having a merry little stream rippling out from your kitchen tap was not a good idea.

Rather than try to explain the little brook that had suddenly sprung up, I took a little video of Suzy’s Creek in action and texted it to my landlord, who until she got my text was enjoying a relaxing (and crowd-free) rest at her Hawaiian home.

Being a five hour plane ride away from here did not hinder Danielle’s remarkable efficiency. The next day, she had someone come and inspect it. It was his considered opinion that it needed to be replaced, and when I came home from work the day after that, he was almost done replacing the old with the new.

Being Danielle, the replacement was much nicer than the original. It is now a lovely brushed metal, with matching sprayer.

A pleasant side effect of the upgrade is not having a leak under the sink. The old, leaking tap spilled over behind the sink and then trickled into the cabinet below, making everything wet and probably, at some point, leading to mold and mildew and other undesirable roommates.

Danielle’s fixer guy is planning to come by soon to seal the new tap and sprayer with silicone, and will also seal around the edge of the sink to make sure that is sealed up, too.

I feel really lucky that Danielle is such a great landlord and takes care of things so quickly and efficiently, even when she is more than 2,000 miles away. Sometimes I still can’t believe I live in such a beautiful house.

A YEAR AGO: The ever-amusing local message boards.

TEN YEARS AGO: My beloved Clyde and his brother, the late, lamented Roscoe, turned 6 months old. Five years after losing Roscoe, it still hurts.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Feeling festive. The picture links still work in this post!

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Dec 03 2020

Sparkly

Published by under Cooking,Country Life

I usually put up the Christmas tree the first Saturday in December, and take it down on Twelfth Night, aka the Saddest Day of the Year. One’s house looks so sad and empty once the holiday cheer has been removed, in the midst of the midwinter darkness, to (snow/rain) boot. I do this because it’s the way my parents did it, so I guess that makes it family tradition, even if I am the only one in our rapidly declining family to maintain the tradition.

This year, there was no Thanksgiving*, and the lack of company caused a lack of enthusiasm on my part for cooking anything Thanksgiving-like, even while feeling obligated to do so. I decided to make it minimal, just getting a turkey breast and making a couple of sides. I was unable to locate a turkey breast, other than a boneless frozen one. I had my suspicions, but went ahead with it anyway. It cooked from frozen in a bag and was as delicious as you would expect. In my usual capacity as an Awful Warning, I will tell you all to run like the wind if you ever see a Frankenturkey like that. Get a real turkey, or forget the whole thing. At least my mashed potatoes and glazed carrots were fabulous. I didn’t bother with the traditional cranberry bourbon relish, just making plain cranberries with a dash of orange zest.

Much as I never want to eat Thanksgiving dinner after cooking it – the fun for me is seeing everyone else enjoy it – I didn’t bother making it until the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and I didn’t eat any of it until the Tuesday after Thanksgiving.

My lack of enthusiasm for the Thanksgiving that wasn’t didn’t dampen my desire for Christmas sparkle, though, and on the Saturday morning after what should have been Thanksgiving, I found myself eagerly hauling out the little tree my coworker gave me last year, twining it with lights and adding the snowflakes and glass icicles, as well as the beautiful mercury glass ornament from my friend Erin, my favorite adornment:

It makes me smile to look at it.

I also planted a couple of amaryllis bulbs:

which will hopefully give me some much-needed color in the winter darkness. We shall see.

I’m thinking about getting a wreath for the front door, though it’s hard to hang one up when your front door is glass. Maybe I will find some way to put up lights on the front porch, too. The more sparkle, the better, I always say.

*I really shouldn’t complain, even though it IS one of my super powers. Megan of course worked the Thanksgiving night shift in the ER, which she described as a “shitshow”. Apparently Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July are the worst ER shifts for alcohol and stupidity related incidents.

A YEAR AGO: A happy, if belated, Thanksgiving.

FIVE YEARS AGO: The fabulous Festival of Lights.

TEN YEARS AGO: Dinner with the family.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Christmas in the City.

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