Suzy Says

Megan I had long been awaiting the return of the delightful and delightfully frivolous Emily in Paris. It is escapism at its finest, and we were ready to escape.

I took an extra day off over the holidays so we could watch all the Emilys at one sitting, and it was so worth it!

Arriving at Megan and Rob’s place, I was greeted by Stella and Millie. Millie is still horrified by humanity other than Megan, and occasionally Rob, but she feels better when she is cuddled up with Stella:

Stella has not lost her Mom skills, and clearly loves taking care of Millie.

The deck is now complete, and there is a gravel path leading to it, to cut down on the dust and mud:

Here’s another look at the path, leading away from their place:

Once inside, I discovered that our friend Monica had left me a gorgeous Christmas gift, wrapped in vintage ribbon and including a clear glass ornament with a feather in it, and a sparkly mushroom ornament:

Megan was well-prepared for our Emily Day. She invested in a cocktail shaker so she could make Midori Illusions, and it was worth it:

They are magical concoctions of Midori melon liqueur, vodka, Cointreau, lemon juice, and pineapple juice.

Rob imported pizzas from the Big Town. It was surprisingly difficult to acquire a pizza that day, both of the pizza places in the Village being chiuso in the Italian manner. We were lucky that he was willing to not only drive the pizzas home, but also me, and it was after midnight by the time I left. Season Two of Emily may have been even more delightful than Season One. We had such a great time!

A YEAR AGO: Christmas at the beach.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Happy Hannukah!

TEN YEARS AGO: Christmas aftermath.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Christmas nightmare.

Happy holidays to you!

There was no company on Christmas Day, but it was still festive at Chez Suzy. The Christmas tree sparkled, and outside it was raining, with the frogs peeping merrily. It was the perfect weather for making cheese biscuits:

and for glazing ham:

While not up to my brother’s very high standards, it was delicious. I quartered a clementine and squeezed the juice over the ham before glazing it, and then left the orange quarters in the pan. The glaze I made was simple, just maple syrup, brown sugar, and Dijon mustard, but I glazed it every 15 minutes or so, and it was worth the effort.

Of course, I also made our traditional Christmas salad, with roasted pears, honey-shallot dressing, and fresh pomegranate seeds:

I had sparkling, pink, local-ish (made in neighboring Sonoma County) wine with dinner, and enjoyed the candlelight, the peace, and the purring presence of my three beloved cats, Audrey, Clyde, and Dodge.

After dinner, I watched Charlie Brown and the Grinch and opened my presents. It was a really nice Christmas.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A merry Christmas.

TEN YEARS AGO: A happy Christmas

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Not surprisingly, we were not celebrating.

On Christmas Eve, I stopped by the Village to pick up a few things. It was pouring as I headed down the Ridge, and I wondered whether I really needed the things I was planning to buy. By the time I reached the grocery store in the Village, it had stopped raining.

I ran into my friend Erin in the store. She, too, was shopping for last minute groceries. It was nice to take a couple of minutes to catch up and enjoy each other’s company. I like living in a place where I can randomly run into friends and neighbors, even if I am not wearing make-up and/or am oddly attired, as sometimes happens on last-minute store runs.

As I headed back to the car, the weather reminded me that in any situation, it’s all in how you look at things, whether you look on the stormy side:

or the bright side:

I took these photos at the same place, the cloudy ones looking west toward the sea and the Village photos looking east. It makes me happy to know that the Village looks much as it did 100 years ago, and to think of the generations that have celebrated together in this beautiful place.

A YEAR AGO: Christmas memories.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Getting ready.

TEN YEARS AGO: Unexpected Christmas guests.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Christmas sparkle never goes out of style.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Our 11th anniversary. Nice to see Dad’s notes and those photos. And to know that 20 years later, John and I are still there for each other and always will be.

I didn’t wait for the first Saturday in December to put up my Christmas tree. I did it the first Friday in December as soon as I got home. I didn’t remove any of the faux adult armor or anything first. I excavated the tree and the lone box of ornaments and got to work.

I was sorry to discover that the colored lights no longer worked and were destined for the dump, where they are undoubtedly being entertained by the comic stylings of the attendant there. My Plan B was a string of clear lights, which work well with the glass icicles and clear plastic snowflakes. Not to mention the glittery white glass birds in honor of Dad:

and the mercury glass acorns, including the giant one displayed in the middle of the tree:

and a beautiful apple:

I also have sparkly glass mushrooms clipped to the ersatz branches, and a glittery star at the top of the tree:

It looks really pretty:

Somewhat surprisingly, the cats, who never agree on anything else other than the fact that feeding times are too late too far between, and there is a distressingly permanent treat drought, are united in ignoring the tree so far. The only post-tree change in their behavior is that Dodge has taken up his winter position on the dining room chair in front of the heater:

In this location, he’s in the direct line of any warmth coming out of the heater. He certainly looks cozy. The rest of the year, he lounges on top of the heater, where he can enjoy the warmth of the pilot light. He’s not just handsome, he’s smart, too.

A YEAR AGO: How Dodge won Clyde’s heart. They are still the best of friends.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Decorating for the season at the old house.

TEN YEARS AGO: You guessed it.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A little less than jolly.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: The pros and cons of buying a carport. Fun fact: the carport I bought then is still in use over at the family estate, where it houses a mechanic’s pit, the washer and dryer, the body freezer, and other essentials of life. It turned out to be a good investment.

Darkness is upon us, and I am trying to embrace it, with scented candles, herbal tea in my beautiful mug from Monica, and cozy evenings with the cats, and watching Ellery Queen, wondering if I will ever solve the mysteries (I got one out of 24!). Lately, I seem to have a taste for comfort TV. I loved Ellery Queen, and have recently discovered the joys of The Andy Griffith Show, which I amazingly had never seen before now. I find it incredibly charming.

A bright spot in the darkness of winter, both literally and figuratively, is the Festival of Lights at the Botanical Gardens. Every year, they fill the beautiful Gardens with amazing lights, and there is always something new to discover.

This year, the tickets were timed, and I arrived at 6:00 pm. I was greeted by a breathtaking array of light sculptures:

Illuminated tunnels led the way to even more wonders:

Like an erupting volcano:

And jellyfish, floating ethereally among the trees:

The sea monster:

fortunately didn’t get too close to the pirate ship and whale:

It is such a beautiful spectacle, and it gives me the gift of child-like wonder, an experience that happens all too rarely as an adult, even one as faux as I am.

A YEAR AGO: A quick fix for the kitchen sink.

FIVE YEARS AGO: File under miscellaneous.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Dogs, drunks, and movies. You know, just a day in this girl’s life.

Cheers to Thanksgiving!

Making Thanksgiving dinner is a fair amount of work, even when you don’t have company. This year, I didn’t bother with Grammie’s ivory-handled silver or Wedgwood or Nana’s wineglasses. I used the 1940s Ringware bowls I got from Monica’s store for the cranberry-bourbon relish:

and the orange-ginger glazed carrots:

Here you can see the bowls a bit better:

I really enjoy using them.

This year, I roasted the turkey Nana-style, rubbing it with butter and sage and sprinkling it with Maldon salt and freshly ground pepper. I have tried fancier and more time-consuming methods, brining and all that, but the fancy methods were not notably better than my American farm girl grandmother’s simple method, so back to the basics I went. And the turkey turned out perfect:

Even the leftovers were moist. I made gravy from the pan juices, and this year, I got a package of pre-roasted and pre-peeled chestnuts for the stuffing/dressing, thus relieving me of the worst Thanksgiving chore of all. It was a real process improvement.

So that was my simple dinner, along with the pink méthode champenoise seen above in my rhinestone-studded glass, by the light of the deliciously scented Hearth candle. I have so much to be thankful for: my family, my friends, my cats, my health, my job, all the love that surrounds me.

A YEAR AGO: It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

TEN YEARS AGO: Decorating for the holidays.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Remembering the past.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Things were sad inside and out.

I woke up to the sun peeking coyly through the redwoods outside my bedroom window on Thanksgiving morning, the sunlight missing its usual PJs of fog and mist. I love waking up when it’s light out, instead of in night-like darkness, as I do for the majority of the year.

I don’t love being woken by Clyde walking all over me and patting my face with his paw, though. Like many of us, Clyde seems to be under the illusion that he is much smaller and lighter than he actually is, though fortunately for him, he is even more beautiful and adorable than he thinks. He is not, however, a tiny kitten.

I accepted the inevitable and got up, enjoying the feel of bare feet on the smooth wood floors and the soft rug in the bathroom. I reminded myself that I was lucky that all three of my cats are happy and healthy, and that one day, I would be missing them and wish they were here, waking me up and annoying me. My boss lost her beloved kitten Peanut a couple of weeks ago, to something horrible called FIP, which I had never heard of before and wish I never had. Peanut was only 10 months old, and she was devastated to lose him so young. It reminded me to be thankful for having three cats, ages 14, 11, and 5, all safe and healthy.

After feeding and caring for the cats, which is the first thing I do every day – before coffee, my friends – I went downstairs to make coffee and text my siblings, who are working, to wish them a happy Thanksgiving. I hope we can have dinner soon.

While I waited for the coffee to be ready in the stainless steel – Suzy proof! – French press, I tossed the stalenizing bread for stuffing, or dressing, as my Southern friends call it, which I cut up after work on Tuesday to start it drying out. Even when you aren’t having company, there’s a certain amount of labor involved in a Thanksgiving dinner.

I had ordered a turkey breast two weeks earlier, in preparation for my modest celebration, and went to pick it up after work on Thanksgiving Eve. Imagine my surprise when none of the three Susans on the list at the butcher counter were this particular Susan. Fortunately, the kindly butcher was able to find a turkey breast for this great-granddaughter of a butcher, and dinner was saved.

A YEAR AGO: My alter ego?

FIVE YEARS AGO: Thanksgiving aftermath.

TEN YEARS AGO: Thanksgiving wrap up.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Some chaos in my life.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Picking up my repaired diamond watch. I still love it. I still have the raw opal studs and I still wear them.

30 Years!

Megan and Rob tend not to make a fuss about things like birthdays and anniversaries, but this year marked not only Megan’s 50th birthday, but Megan and Rob’s 30th wedding anniversary. Our schedules didn’t match up to have a celebration of Megan’s first birthday in the 50s and mine, the last of the 50s, but we made sure to celebrate Megan and Rob’s milestone anniversary.

I’m sure this is a common experience for those of us barely hanging onto our 50s, but it amazes me that someone whose diapers I used to change (sorry, Megan!*) is now half a century old. And married for three decades of those 5 decades.

Even the most math-challenged among us can see that Megan married young. She had only been 20 for a few weeks when she took the leap to marry Rob, who at that point was not in a happy place in his life. I will be honest and tell y’all that I was not happy about it. But I will also add here that Rob won me over pretty quickly and I have stayed that way ever since. And whatever my misgivings were in July of 1991, Megan and Rob have proved me wrong. I am long divorced, and they have gone the distance. Megan always says that whatever life throws at them, they just take each other’s hands and walk through it. I think all of the joys and challenges they have faced together over the years have brought them closer together, and that they love each other more deeply and truly now than they did on their wedding day.

Being Megan, she ended up planning and making most of the dinner, though Jonathan and I did help where we could. Jonathan is always the grill master, and you can see why:

After the chicken was barbecued to perfection, it was sliced up and dressed with lemon slices that had also been grilled, and a mix of fresh lemon juice, garlic, and olive oil, as well as green olives. It was delicious. There was also a couscous salad, made with mint and arugula from the property and Parmesan instead of the feat the recipe called for (none of us are feta fans). For dessert, we had the first cherries of the season from Jonathan’s Awesome Cherry Tree**:

With dinner, we had some sparkling local wine to go with our sparkling conversation. After Jonathan headed back to his place, just a short walk away, Megan and I shared some limoncello, so I was lucky that Rob had volunteered to be my chauffeur, especially now that it’s a 20 minute drive to my place, instead of 2 minute drive. It was a happy celebration of a very happy occasion. Here’s to the next 30 years!

*Megan hates it when I talk about her babyhood and childhood. Interestingly, Jessica always enjoyed those stories about herself.

**When Megan finally nagged convinced Jonathan that they should add a cherry tree to the orchard, it was decided that if the cherry tree worked out (apparently cherry trees do not play well with other trees and have to be netted to keep the birds at bay, so they are a lot of work – ours lives in its own little netted cathedral in the corner of the garden), it would be Jonathan’s Awesome Cherry Tree, but if not, it would be Megan’s Stupid Idea. So far, it has been all Awesome, all the time.

A YEAR AGO: Getting shady.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Lu and Rik’s wonderful wedding.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: An interesting weekend.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Visiting the farmers’ market at the Ferry Building. I’d love to do that again one of these days.

It’s that magical time of year when Flynn Creek Circus’ striped tent makes its appearance in the Village.

I bought tickets to their new show, Fairytale, as soon as they went on sale on May 2. I enjoyed the anticipation over the next couple of months, even more when I heard that all the shows were sold out.

Megan came by to pick me up around 12:30, to give us time to get to the Village and find parking among the maddening hordes of tourists who have descended upon us in their annual plague. Of course, the parking goddesses smiled on Megan as they usually do, and we found a spot under a tree not far from the circus tent. We arrived at the door at 1:07, and learned that the show did not start at 1:30, as I had thought, but rather, at 1:00. So I was glad that we had given ourselves lots of time and arrived (allegedly) early. I gave a moment’s thought to how awful it would be if we had missed an entire half hour of the magic before settling in to enjoy it.

Every show Flynn Creek Circus does is different each year, but they are all magical and gravity-defying. I enjoyed the fairy tale theme, with a sparkly fairy as our MC:

She is Tinkerbell’s slightly disgruntled older sister, who calls her famous sibling “Stinkerbell” and eventually gets to duke (or duchess) it out with the family star later in the show. She explained the mythical storyline, which involved unicorns, fairies, Prince Charming, and ravens:

Whatever the story line, the acrobatics and aerials:

were as amazing as ever. An artiste did the splits on what seemed like a teeny piece of string, people somersaulted and leapt through hula hoops, and juggled 6 or 8 pins at a time while jumping through hoops, sometimes backwards. I think my favorite thing about seeing Flynn Creek Circus is how it gives me a sense of awe and wonder that brings me back to childhood. And you are really living in the moment when you are at the Circus. Each moment is more enchanting than the last.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A busy week for our heroine.

TEN YEARS AGO: A look around the neighborhood. I now live on the same road as the former stagecoach stop, and the restaurant is the location of our favorite seaside bar.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Some feminine musings.

Cheers to Me!

With the way Memorial Day fell – closer to my birthday than my sister’s, where it is usually located – I felt like I was hardly working for a little while there. I took time off over the Memorial Day weekend, and my birthday fell conveniently on a Friday, so I took that off, too. Why not?

Also, I am just opposed to working on my birthday, unless I absolutely have to. I figure it’s the one day a year when I should get what I want, no questions asked*. I even left early on my birthday eve, and stopped by Angelika’s place to get my hair cut. It was lovely to sit in her little salon and watch the hummingbirds at the feeder:

And the little quails walking by like little wind-up toys, the plumes on their heads waving in the breeze. I loved my hair:

I always feel better both inside and out after visiting Angelika. There is something about her and the lovely place she lives and works that is just healing to one’s spirit.

On the great day itself, I got up after the sun did – usually I am far ahead of lazy old Sol, though he tends to catch up with me during the summer months – made some coffee, and went back to bed with the coffee and the cats for a while, reading my fan mail and enjoying the peaceful quiet of my house and the beauty of the late spring day unfolding through the many windows.

I set off southwards – I noticed that during my time off, I headed south rather than north, toward the Big Town – and my first stop was at Franny’s Cup & Saucer:

where I got a champagne cupcake with blackberry icing, decorated with rose petals, and a flawless cannelé de Bordeaux. Up next was the Surf Market in Gualala, where I picked up a sandwich and an Orangina to enjoy overlooking the ocean:

Last but not least was Anchor Bay Thai:

Where I picked up the perfect dinner: fresh spring rolls, chicken satay, and Massaman curry. I waited on the patio, which has just a few tables and fairy lights strung around the trees. I have to come back and have dinner there one evening. But on this evening, I brought my fabulous dinner home and enjoyed it with some sparkling pink wine and the sparkling Rear Window. It was a great birthday.

*Of course, I feel that way the other 364 days of the year, but it’s harder to enforce then.

A YEAR AGO: A happy birthday.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Clyde’s birthday. My baby boy.

TEN YEARS AGO: The boys turned one!

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Door to door godliness.

A milestone birthday like 50 deserves some recognition! Fortunately, Megan’s one Saturday off in May was the one right before her big day. So she picked me up that sunny Saturday afternoon and we headed to our favorite seaside bar.

It was the perfect day for a cocktail by the ocean:

The restaurant’s garden was looking lovely:

and the beautiful, long-haired black cat who lives at the restaurant wasted no time in allowing us to pet and admire him. He is a very handsome boy, and he must have a great life, living on fabulous fine dining leftovers and being admired by locals and tourists alike. He basked in the sun, blinking his big green eyes and keeping us company as we enjoyed our drinks and chatted.

On our way to Megan’s place, we stopped for a moment to admire the ocean. Megan said how lucky we are that this is our backyard, and that this wonderful, beautiful place is our local bar. I have to agree.
I took a quick look around the garden at the family estate, picking some arugula and admiring the future pies:

We celebrated with some local sparkling wine and some fabulous pizza from Café Beaujolais, thoughtfully picked up by Rob, who was also my designated driver and tolerant of the girl movie fiesta that went with the pizza. He is the best.

Monica took Megan out for dinner on her actual birthday, so all in all, she had a great 50th birthday. I’m hoping that we can figure out a day to have a family party as well. It’s challenging with our schedules being so different, but it’s a pretty special occasion and deserves to be celebrated. The more celebration, the better!

A YEAR AGO: We lost The Beautiful Harriet. She is still missed.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Some enjoyable time off.

TEN YEARS AGO: A little on the grumpy side.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Enjoying The Brain That Wouldn’t Die. It’s one of my all-time favorite bad movies.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Thinking of my grandfathers on Memorial Day.

Birthday Girl

Today is my sister Megan’s 50th birthday.

It’s hard for me to believe that the little baby who came home from the hospital on my 9th birthday is half a century old on this day. I still remember being called to the office on that bright spring day. I felt so small as I walked down the empty, echoing school hallways*, reviewing my recent crimes in my head and then sorting them by the ones I thought I could have been caught at. I had reached no conclusion by the time I reached the principal’s office.

My criminal musings were ended by the school secretary cheerfully informing me that I had a baby sister. I skipped back to my classroom, slammed the door open, and announced the happy news, which was greeted by “Yay!” from the girls and “Boo!” from the boys.

My first glimpse of my sister was when our parents brought her home from the hospital on my birthday. She was wrapped in white blankets, and was so small! It seemed I had to dig around in the blankets for a while before I found the baby. We were excited that she was a brunette after the rest of us were blonde.

Despite my youth, I took care of Megan as a baby, giving her bottles (she was allergic to formula, and drank soy milk) and changing her and doing the laundry. I was surprised that the smallest person in the family had the most laundry. All those cloth diapers and onesies! I remember the first time she laughed. She was in her playpen, watching the snowball bush outside the window dancing in the breeze.

Megan lived with me during high school, and I had to make decisions about her boyfriend** staying over, how late she could be out, birth control, and minor things of that nature. Don’t forget that I was a mere 9 years older and in my early 20s at the time. There’s a reason that Nature generally does not allow parents to be so young. Looking back, I think I did a pretty good job of fake parenting, and I like to think that I had a little something to do with Megan becoming the amazing person she is today***.

I am so proud of her for living her life with integrity, humor, and love. She has worked in emergency medical services for almost 20 years, and if the shit is hitting the fan, if you have been in a car accident or your loved one is dying or you are giving birth, she is the one you want to have there. She is the best person to be there on your worst day. She is calm, decisive, and commanding, whether driving the ambulance or working in the ER. She takes no nonsense, but she treats patients with respect and compassion. She is beloved by her team at work, where they are like a family. Facing the drama and the long, dark nights together, when things tend to happen, brings you close, like being in battle. And in a way, they are.

She has been married to Rob, our brother’s best friend, for 30 of her 50 years****, and they have grown and supported each other together over the years. The good times and the bad times have just made them closer. As Megan says, whatever life throws at them, they just hold each other’s hands and walk through it together.

With our brother, Megan and Rob have homesteaded their property, living off the grid, digging their own wells, and creating a beautiful vegetable garden, flower garden, and orchard out of inhospitable pygmy. My sister has achieved a lot in her half century on this planet, and I for one can’t wait to see what the next 50 years bring. I am so proud of you, baby sis! And I love you with all my heart.

*Years later, when Megan was in high school and living with me, I would find going to her “parent”-teacher conferences equally intimidating. I always felt like they were going to make me go back to school, since I was clearly impersonating a responsible adult.

****And without our beloved father for 20 of her 50 years. She was out of parents before she was 35. Have you called yours lately?

A YEAR AGO: I know a lot of secrets.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Celebrating Megan’s birthday in style.

TEN YEARS AGO: A rainy birthday for Megan. I see I did not not note it was her 40th.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The joys of almost dog ownership. I still miss the Lovely (and dignified) Rita.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Feeling proud of Megan on her 30th birthday.

Not much to report these days. This morning, the moon was huge and orange, peeking coyly out from billowing lavender clouds as I drove to work. We got some much-needed rain this weekend. It poured for a short time. We need every drop we can get, with a total of a mere 20 inches for the season. We should get more like 50. When Jonathan first moved here – which I realize was nearly 30 years ago! – there used to be closer to 70 inches. Climate change is definitely real.

The search continues for a companion for Stella. It is the first time Megan has had to go out looking for a dog. Usually, they find her, like Star and Stella did, both what we affectionately call “foster fails”. I realized last week marked the day Megan and I took an all-day road trip to pick up Star. I think Star knew that day that she had found her forever home; it just took the humans a little while to figure it out. All our lives changed that day.

I hope we can find someone who makes Stella feel happy and keeps her company.

I was saddened to hear of Prince Philip’s death. I wish he had been able to make it to his 100th birthday and the Queen’s 95th. He was so close! I watched his service, on a glorious spring day at ancient Windsor Castle. I was moved by the beauty of the music he had chosen and the presence of the military to honor his lifetime of service, including active duty, and dedication to Queen and country.

It was touching to see his family accompanying him to the chapel, particularly Princess Anne, who was known to be his favorite and who shared his love of horses and strong sense of duty and integrity. In her face, I saw reflected the same grief I felt for my own father 20 years ago, and the determination of having to get through the ceremony and the lifetime of grief that follows.

When the Queen arrived at the chapel for the service, I could have sworn I saw her instinctively turn and look where Prince Philip should have been, as if seeking his reassurance before facing the ordeal ahead. She looked so small and alone. She has lost her beloved companion of 73 years, the last to call her Lilibet and to remember her as a young woman, to remember her parents. She has lost so much with losing him. My heart aches for the Queen, woman to woman and mourner to mourner.

Somehow, Jessica turned 18! I’m not sure how this happened, or how it happened so quickly. We sent her some gifts, which I hope she enjoyed. We have essentially been out of touch since she and Erica moved, though Erica and I text each other from time to time. I guess it was inevitable that Jessica would outgrow her auntourage. I hope that one day, we find our way back to each other. She will always have a special place in my heart.

A YEAR AGO: Weekend routine.

FIVE YEARS AGO: My house was an internet-free zone. It was harder than you would believe to get it repaired.

TEN YEARS AGO: A sad, but loving, farewell.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Just another morbid Wednesday.

Can you believe it? My blog is 20 years old on the 20th!

Little did I imagine when I first started writing it that I would still be doing so two decades later. Nor could I have envisaged how very different my life would be. I look back at that girl almost like she was another person. In a way, she was.

That girl had two living parents; was married; owned an apartment in Pacific Heights, arguably the best neighborhood in San Francisco; drove a silver blue 1966 Mustang convertible named Josephine; had a well-paying financial job; and traveled regularly.

This girl has been without her father for 20 years and without her mother for 16 years this August. She is divorced, though on good terms with her ex-husband. I try to stay on good terms with all my ex-husbands. I rent a little house in the deeply rural depths of Mendocino County. My City days are far behind me. I haven’t left said County in years and can’t remember the last time I flew anywhere. I’m back to the 5 day a week grind and am basically a secretary. My car is a 12 year old black Fusion named Wednesday.

Looking back, I do have some regrets, and I may have made other or better decisions if I were wiser or better equipped at the time. But I’m not sure about that. If I had stayed married, I wouldn’t live in this place I love. If I hadn’t lost Roscoe, I wouldn’t have Dodge. Who knows who I would be or where I would be if I had changed even one thing?

I’m happy to live in this beautiful place near my remaining family, to have a job which gives back to our community, and to still be learning and growing as the years go on. Thank you for coming along with me on this adventure. Here’s to the next 20 years!

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.

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.

My big/little brother

My brother’s birthday is in early September, usually on or around Labor Day weekend, the unofficial last long weekend of the summer, and my sister’s birthday is on or around the Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial first long weekend of the summer, neatly bracketing the season.

This was a landmark birthday for my brother as he turned 55. Faithful readers may remember that I promoted him to being my big brother when he turned 50. Megan is next in line for promotion next year, when she (gasp!) turns 50 and celebrates her 30th wedding anniversary.

Never one to be deterred by logic and reason, my now “older” brother is somehow my first memory, on the day he came home from the hospital. He was small, wrapped in a white blanket, and red faced from yelling. I told my parents that the baby was broken and should be returned. Fortunately, they paid no attention to me, and this was only the first of many happy memories we share.

When things go wrong, he’s the one I turn to, and when there’s something to celebrate, he’s next to me, raising a glass with that unforgettable smile.

He captains our annual cider pressing, rules the grill at family dinners, fixes his sisters’ cars, can make a circuit board from scratch, and makes the best pies ever. He fought the wildfires in 2008 tirelessly and valiantly as the 100 foot high flames came within 2 miles of our houses. He is never happier than when doing a cliff rescue or camping in the wildest wilderness he can find. He is a Number One Groover on Life.

He is the best brother ever. I love you, Jonathan!

A YEAR AGO: The tale of the water heater.

TEN YEARS AGO: The joys of the September Issue.

My birthday dawned sunny and beautiful. It was nice to wake up to sunlight instead of darkness. Remarkably, dedicated food fan Clyde let me sleep in, his little gift to me. Of course there was the usual Cat Care™ after I got up, but there was also time to take coffee back to bed while I listened to the birds singing and watched the wind ruffling the trees outside my bedroom window. It was really nice to have an obligation-free day.

Dinner was BBQ from a local hostelry. It was supposed to have macaroni and cheese and slaw, but arrived with beans and what may have been some kind of slaw. It seemed mostly like salad with some cabbage in it. The ribs were good, though I actually prefer the ones I make, with a dry rub and tangy Carolina style sauce. I have been on a bit of a roll in the kitchen lately and I am sorry to say that I often like what I make more than what I can buy, a disappointment to my secretly lazy nature.

Still, it was nice to have dinner made by someone else, and the cats and I settled in on the couch to watch an excellent print of Sunset Boulevard with some sparkling wine at hand. For me, not the cats. I have seen it before, but it struck me on this viewing how it’s so much about forbidden love – Norma’s for Joe, Joe’s for Betty (and vice versa), even Max’s for Norma. We all enjoyed the movie in its glorious black and white.

The next day, I had a leisurely morning – not quite as glamorous as the late Princess Margaret’s usual morning ritual – and then went out to the Village, where I got a fabulous pizza for dinner and stopped by the farmers’ market. It’s still early in the season, but I got some Itachi cucumbers, blueberries, and a loaf of sourdough bread.

There were lots of presents this year, including a red begonia, a bouquet of wildflowers, chocolate, and a gift certificate to the local bookshop, which has already been spent. It was a happy birthday.

A YEAR AGO: Unpacking in the middle of the night. Never fun at any time.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Working at working.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: I’m really sorry the photos have been lost on this post. The trauma cake was amazing and I’d love to see the photo of me with baby Jessica. Sigh.

My blog turns 19 today, on 420. Despite the fact that I live in Weed Central, I only noticed recently that my blog’s birthday is the same day as the pot-tastic celebration of 420. There are many tales and theories about how it happened and how it got its name, so take your pick and smoke ’em if you’ve got ’em, especially now it’s legal*.

Sadly for me, I have no interest in the County’s most famous product. It has never agreed with me, making me paranoid and nervous instead of mellow and relaxed. I recently tried CBD oil on John’s recommendation – he finds it calms his panic attacks – but, you guessed it, same result. Give me a glass of wine or a fancy cocktail any evening. No one can be uncheered with a glass of champagne in her hand.

Here’s to your 19th birthday, little blog! Keep on sparkling!

*My father the research scientist always thought it should be legal, and despite the fact that he was an enthusiastic consumer of adult beverages, he also felt that alcohol contributed to far more crimes than weed ever did.

A YEAR AGO: My blog’s birthday.

FIVE YEARS AGO:Comparing the past and the present on my blog’s birthday. Guess who won?

TEN YEARS AGO: Marking the blog birthday, of course!

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: You’ll never guess!

Happy New Year!

There has to be some kind of 2020 vision joke I can make here, but maybe because I’ve had glasses for more than half a century (!), I can’t think of one. I did approach 2020 relatively clear-eyed, mostly because I barely made it to the east coast new year, sparkling wine in hand.

Maybe because I was born in New York – and despite the fact that I think of myself as a Californian, having spent most of my adult life here – I still think of the ball drop in New York as the “real” new year. Nothing like fireworks and Sinatra to usher in the clean slate of the new year.

I haven’t really made any resolutions, though perhaps I should blog more often than I have been lately. The fact that I took over my workplace’s Facebook page has made me much less likely to write on my own Facebook page, let alone on my blog, and taking on the chore of being the library board chair has also taken a toll on my always limited free time. There are so many more events and meetings than I anticipated. Not to mention speeches.

I’d also like to spend more time with my family. I realize this sounds odd, considering that all three of us live in Hooterville, but especially since I’ve moved and am now 12 miles away instead of 100 yards or a quarter of a mile has meant we see each other less often. I don’t think we had family dinner all summer, and we didn’t get together for Christmas because of schedules. I’m plotting a get together in early February.

Here’s to the arrival of a new year and all its possibilities!

A YEAR AGO: A very entertaining day – and evening.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A chilly, but tidy start to the new year.