Suzy Says

In addition to treating myself to a hotel room, I also treated myself to dinner in town.

This was not as easy as it sounds. I first drove to the harbor, at the other end of town from the hotel, planning to eat at the Wharf. But I learned they were closed on Wednesdays. My next stop was Casa del Sol, which was open when I pulled up, but closed by the time I parked and walked to the door. I should have known: this town rolls up the sidewalks pretty early.

My next stop was Mayan Fusion, which was not only open, but was beautiful inside:

I love the doors leading to “the rest of the world”:

I had never been in the dining room, though I had often picked up to go orders there. Seated in the dining room, I realized that it used to be a much-loved local institution, The Restaurant. And because this town is so small, the daughter of The Restaurant’s owners had just started working at the same clinic where I work.

I was warmly welcomed by the staff, and the food was wonderful. I had crab cakes with green onion coulis and chipotle aioli:

and wild prawns grilled on a sprig of rosemary and served with a mango-pineapple salsa:

The food was delicious, the service attentive, and it was a wonderful evening.

A YEAR AGO: A lovely visit to the South Coast.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Getting my pearls restrung.

TEN YEARS AGO: Taking Audrey to the vet is always an adventure.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: My mail had a theme.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: How to see your ex.

I took a couple of days off and treated myself to a night in town.

Fortunately for me, I have a friend who manages some of the nicest hotels in town, and he gave me a prix d’ami(e) that was almost unbelievable. I wondered if it were in a foreign currency or something. Not only that, he upgraded me to a room with a hot tub:

Here’s another view. I loved the gas fireplace at the foot of the bed:

It was just lovely to sit on the balcony and enjoy the view with a glass of champagne:

and watch the sun set:

The bed was very comfortable, and I slept well to the sound of the surf. In the morning, I had coffee on the balcony as I watched the day begin:

I thoroughly enjoyed my little mini-break in town. I’m hoping to do it again soon.

A YEAR AGO: Enjoying the Fair.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Little Dodge was adjusting well to his new home.

TEN YEARS AGO: Back home after a successful trip to the City.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Plumbing adventures.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Getting a new job.

I think I’ve been to more weddings in the past three months than I have in the last 3 years. Or maybe 10 years. Or more. I may need a new year’s resolution* to cut back on wedding attendance. Is there a 12 step program for this?

On a sunny Saturday, I drove the long and winding road to the county seat and checked into the hotel, which was quite nice. I regret not taking photos to show you, but I didn’t think about it until it was too late. I didn’t spend much time there, though. Shortly after I unpacked, it was time to take the bus to the wedding venue.

I was somewhat surprised to discover that the bus was the gigantic, going to a casino in Atlantic City size thing. It was packed full of people in their wedding finery. It was only one of three buses (or possibly more). When the bus was full, it wended its way down two lane roads through lots of nothing, for longer than I expected. Eventually, we pulled up at the wedding venue, which was a farm set in vineyards. I could hear cows mooing and saw chickens playing among the vines:

I was a little surprised to see that tables were set up facing where the vows would be taken. I have never seen that before. Usually, it’s just chairs. The mariachi band was to the right:

My boss and her husband proudly walked their eldest son down the aisle:

As her husband passed me, he winked and gave me a thumbs up. It was a delightful moment.

The bride’s brother officiated the ceremony, which was sweet and romantic. They wrote their own vows, which is often cringeworthy, but in this case, it was charming.

After the ceremony, there were hors d’ouevres, and then dinner, and of course, cake:

I took the bus back to the hotel, slept badly as I often do, and the next day, I stopped off to get Indian food and headed home. So dinner was ready when I got home, unpacked, and got ready to go to work the next day.

As I write this, the happy couple is enjoying their honeymoon in Italy and Greece. I wish them all the best and a long and happy life together.

*I already have my resolution for 2024: Be more like Dodge. This may be unattainable, but it’s a worthy goal.

A YEAR AGO: Slammed by some early season rain, a harbinger of the long and stormy winter to come.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Enjoying the Fair.

TEN YEARS AGO: Enjoying a trip to the South Coast.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The joys of Jessica. I miss that kid.

The County Fair seemed to be a bit late this year. It’s usually around the 15th of the month, but instead, the month was into its twenties before the great day arrived.

Megan and I made our way to Boonville on a sunny Friday afternoon. Megan found a shady place to park, and we were pleasantly surprised to discover that it was not blazing hot, as it usually is on Fair Day, and that there was a nice breeze.

We were on a mission to find our friend Lu’s entries. We looked all over the building housing quilts and artwork and other home-made items, like this beautiful chair:

Eventually, we discovered that Lu’s work was showcased in the windows. And not only that, she had one first prize for one piece:

and second place for the other:

This was the first time she had entered anything, but I bet it won’t be the last. We were both so happy for her! Now that Erica and Jessica are living far away in Pasadena, we need someone to root for.

We were kind of underwhelmed by the rest of the Fair, to tell you the truth. The apple tasting was all ordinary varieties instead of special ones you had never heard of, and there wasn’t much on display as far as agriculture and flora went. Most of the floral arrangements were less than fabulous. We thought this was the best one:

We had intended to get a pizza for dinner from our friends at Offspring, but none of the offerings appealed, so we tried Wickson on the way home, only to find that they were closed. Instead, we went to Ledford House to enjoy the view:

and a delightful concoction of sparkling local wine, crushed local blackberries, and limoncello:

It’s always a good idea to go to Ledford House.

A YEAR AGO: It takes a lot of bridges to get to work.

FIVE YEARS AGO: The horror of a root canal. The first, but sadly, not the last. It’s definitely worse when you know what to expect.

TEN YEARS AGO: Having fun at the Fair.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: My first visit to the Fair. But not the last!

TWENTY YEARS AGO: My work philosophy. It remains unchanged.

It had been way too long since our last family dinner. I”m not even sure when it was, but it was before Rio and Jonathan’s epic Alaska adventure back in June/July. They had a wonderful time, and it was fascinating to hear about it. They are already thinking abut going back. I’d love to see Alaska sometime.

Before dinner, I picked more raspberries and tomatoes to take home:

We had some of Dad’s favorite Oyster Bay sauvignon blanc in Megan’s garden:

It always reminds me of walking around Dad’s garden in Wimbledon before dinner with a glass of wine in our hands.

Dinner was mostly home-grown or made from ingredients already on hand. Jarrett brought the chicken on his last visit, and it was taking up room in the freezer, so Jonathan barbecued it to perfection:

The Mississippi caviar was made from things on hand, and it was delicious:

Dad would have been happy that we were using up food. He went through rationing for most of his early life, so we were trained from Day One to not let food go to waste. I think he would also be proud of Megan and Jonathan for living off the grid, and all the work they have put into the infrastructure and the garden on the property. I wish he could have seen it.

A YEAR AGO: Getting on with it after the death of The Queen.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Coming to you from the depths of Dental Hell, a place to be avoided at all costs.

TEN YEARS AGO: Wrapping things up after the loss of our beloved Schatzi.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: A long-ago memory.

Since I was too late to get peaches from the family orchard this year, I did the next best thing and went to Gowan’s in beautiful Anderson Valley:

I chose some peaches and brought them to the cash register. The older gentleman behind the counter said, “Young lady, I’ve been waiting all day for you!” I asked if I was late, and he replied, “You’re right on time.” He carefully packed the peaches into a box for safe transport home along the curvaceous roads, and even carried it to the car for me:

I continued on my way to Boonville, where I acquired a delicious pizza from Offspring, a scented candle by Tita Flora at the Mercantile, and a loaf of sourdough at Paysanne. For once, it wasn’t hot in the Valley and even verged on cool, which was a nice surprise.

The next day, I made the pie:

I used a crust recipe with a little apple cider vinegar in it, and blind baked it for a few minutes to avoid the bottom crust getting soggy. It was a total success. Making my annual peach pie always makes me happy.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Some updates.

TEN YEARS AGO: Back home after a trip to Reno.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A wonderful evening with the great Brian Wilson.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Looking for a job.

The seasons are changing from weeding and watering to canning and preserving at the family estate. I took the opportunity to go by and pick some produce before it was all put up and away. I was too late for peaches, but Megan loaded me up with summer squash, zucchini, tomatoes, basil, and oregano. We also picked some raspberries, the bushes buzzing with bees. They seem to like raspberries, too. I have to say, the raspberries my siblings grow bear little resemblance to the ones you buy. Their flavor is so complex and delicate, almost perfumed, yet intense. They also don’t last long, which is not a problem, since they are so delicious.

Millie has finally decided that I’m not the antichrist, though she does bark up a storm when I arrive. Unfortunately for me, the increased favor in her eyes was demonstrated by her following me to the garden and knocking over my drink, which I had unwisely placed on the ground near the raspberry bushes, and in licking any exposed skin, which I find less than delightful. Audrey does this, too, and I find both cats and dogs equally icky in this regard. However, it beats Millie acting like I’m going to beat her or have made a hobby of it in the past.

The garden is looking lovely these days:

The flowers are flourishing:

The apples are getting riper and closer to cider pressing time:

It was nice to bring home my haul of garden produce and make it into sauce:

It tasted like summer.

A YEAR AGO: Car problems are not fun.

TEN YEARS AGO: Happy birthday

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A BART safari.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: The mystery of “business casual”.

Does it ever happen to you that you wake up one day and you just have to have your hair cut? It was fine the day before, but that day, your hair is suddenly unacceptable. Well, that happened to me. I texted Angelika, and she was able to fit me in that week. Yay!

I left work early and headed to her little studio in the big woods. It was definitely time to get my hair cut, since I had last had it done in March.

This time, I just had it cut. I’ll save up to get the color done soon. In the meantime, Angelika told me about her trip to Germany to see her parents, and I met her friend Marion, who was visiting from Germany. They have been friends since they were three! There’s nothing like really good, long-term friends. And there’s nothing like a good haircut to cheer a girl up. I will spare you my terrible selfie attempts this time. You will just have to take my word for it that my hair looks great.

I left work early one Friday, went home and changed out of my faux adult armor, and Megan came by to pick me up. We headed to the Valley, enjoying the gorgeous scenery along the way: the ocean, the redwoods, the deep green of the vines over the rolling hills as harvest time approaches. We got a fabulous pizza at Offspring:

and headed back to the family estate, where we toasted the weekend with kir royales:

In the background, you can just about glimpse some of the sweet peas we grow for Dad every year.

Megan had somehow managed to find real creme de cassis from France, and the drinks were fabulous. We really enjoyed hanging out in the garden, enjoying our drinks in the sunshine and catching up. I am lucky to have a sister who is also my best friend.

A YEAR AGO: My annual peach pie.

TEN YEARS AGO: A recap of what was going on in and around my house.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Back in the City after a prolonged camping trip at my sister’s house to help take care of our dying mom.

We have a summer intern at work. One of her tasks was helping me to catch up on the filing that fell by the wayside during the Plague Years. She is a lovely and clever girl, who is going to nursing school this fall, and she did a great job. But I was surprised to discover that I was kind of uncomfortable having a helper.

All this time, I thought my slothful self would love having servants to do all the boring and icky things in life, but apparently not. I was embarrassed and self-conscious instead of relieved and carefree. Maybe it’s just as well that I will remain maid-free for the rest of my natural-born life (and presumably after, especially if there is an afterlife, and if it is, as I suspect it to be, like Dead Like Me and require that I still work for a living. Or a deading).

One day, a colleague stopped by my office while the intern was there, and in conversation, it turned out that the colleague and Intern’s mom had gone to high school together. They are both 42. Intern asked if I had also gone to high school with them.

Me: No, I’m a lot older than they are.

Her: How much older?

Me: I’m 61.

The intern looked shocked. She stared at me for a minute with her mouth open and then asked me if I was sure. I said that no one admits to being 61 unless they are. She stared at me a little longer and then asked very earnestly, “What do you wash your face with?”

I think we all know that kitties are luxury items. Also that they have absolutely no problem having help/servants, and that they appreciate the benefits of a nap. One day, my kitties woke up from a nap and somehow managed to send my laptop crashing from the bedside table to the wooden floor below.

I heard the crash from downstairs, and on going upstairs to investigate, I was disheartened to learn that the edge of my MacBook screen was cracked and that some of the plastic had crumbled off, exposing some disturbing gold-toned metal and making about half an inch of the screen useless, since it was occupied with blurry, multi-colored lines. Being Me, I didn’t deal with it until the day that the entire screen was suddenly unusable, being as black as my soul.

A friend took it to Santa Rosa for me, and left it there to be repaired. I was surprised that it was fixed the next day and already shipped. I was a bit discouraged to learn that it was shipped to Memphis (home of Elvis and the Ancient Greeks), and still expected to arrive in the depths of Hooterville the following day. I’m guessing that my laptop didn’t bother to visit Graceland or confer with Aristotle, because it really did arrive the very next day. I love it when things work. Especially if they’re not Me.

A YEAR AGO: A lovely visit to the Valley.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Megan and Rob got ready to move.

TEN YEARS AGO: We lost our Schatzi. We still miss her.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Life without health insurance. It’s as glamorous as you’d think.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Camping out at Megan’s house during Mom’s battle against breast cancer.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson about real estate stalking, but as noted before in these pages, I seem to be something of a slow learner. Nostalgia for the long-ago and now golden past led to the dismaying discoveries that my childhood home, Fox Hill:

Had been destroyed and replaced by a hideous monstrosity:

and that someone had worked a similar destructive magic on my grandmother’s house and carriage house (which we used to call “the barn”). The ruin at Nana and Hoho’s is mostly inside the house, other than the eyesore of an outside deck slapped onto the kitchen:

Why anyone would do that when they have a gorgeous wraparound porch is beyond me.

They totally destroyed the charm of the barn and the kitchen in my grandparents’ part of the house (they lived on the ground floor, and the upper two floors were apartments where their tenants Frieda and Maretta lived). The attic held family treasures, like my great-grandfather’s Civil War sword and sleigh bells (neighbors recognized each other by the sound of their sleigh bells in those days). In her grief after her parents’ death, just months apart, my mother sold nearly everything along with the house.

More recently, my formerly lovely Jazz Age apartment in Pacific Heights has been uglified and much of its charm removed. They turned my kitchen, with its vintage Wedgewood stove, handmade Italian tiles, and quarter-sawn white oak countertops, into a bedroom. They took out the connecting door to the living room, tore out the closet, and put the kitchen in a corner of the room. The walk in/walk through closet between the bedroom and the bathroom has been closed off, losing the door and its crystal doorknob.

And it’s now worth more than a million dollars, even though it has no parking and there are people above and below you. Not to mention the skyrocketing condo fees.

I came across an ad for my old place here in Hooterville on social media, and wish I hadn’t. Again, uglification and charm destruction are the themes. They took down all the shelves in the living room, removed the vintage gas stove and unaccountably put the refrigerator in the studio. They added a bunch of ugly railings to the beautiful driftwood banister leading to the sleeping loft, and tore out most of the garden, including the honeysuckle that used to grow outside the sliding glass doors in the living room and perfumed the whole house.

They replaced the back porch with an ugly one, and replaced the bathroom with something utterly generic. They even replaced the “front” door (it’s actually at the side of the house) with a cheap solid one instead of the one with glass panes which let in the light and the beauty outside. They are asking for $1,300 a month, plus utilities, a huge increase from when I lived there. It makes me sad just to look at it.

I guess the lesson here is don’t look back, and don’t look if you see your old house appear in your social media feeds. You won’t like what you see.

A YEAR AGO: I still love the bed I got a year ago.

FIVE YEARS AGO: The power kept going out, for whatever reason. And a lot of the Golden State was on fire.

TEN YEARS AGO: Spending some time with friends.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Some of the annoyances of city life.

Back in the pre-plague years, there used to be a farmers’ market in beautiful downtown Hooterville, on a scrubby bit of grass near the store. The plague stopped that, even though it was always outside, and at some point, someone fenced in the grassy former market area so it is unavailable to the general public. So another location had to be found.
Someone cleverly thought of the Grange, which hosts a monthly spaghetti dinner and pancake breakfast. It is located on my Ridge, just a few miles from my house, so I drove there one Sunday afternoon to check it out:

It was nice to chat with neighboring farmers, and I bought some beautiful lettuce that looked like a flower:

along with cucumber, raspberries, and some sunflower sprouts. I threw a couple of handfuls of sunflower sprouts in my watermelon salad for lunch the next day*.

It is a really pretty setting, with a peek of the ocean through the trees. It will be interesting to see if we get more participation there as time goes on. It’s definitely a nice thing to have so close to home.

*The dressing was 3 tablespoons of brown sugar, a clove of garlic, ¼ cup of soy sauce, 3 tablespoons of fresh lime juice, a pinch of cayenne, and a glug of oil. Other salad ingredients were crushed peanuts, fresh mint and cilantro, and fried onions. It was delicious.

A YEAR AGO: A lovely evening at the Symphony.

TEN YEARS AGO: My cats disapprove of their staff sleeping in.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The early days with Henry (who later turned out to be a girl and moved with me to the country).

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Some cat-related injuries.

Looking back over the years, it appears that having a heatwave on or around the Fourth of July is a tradition. Yet I seem to forget this every year, and am shocked and appalled in equal measure when the Evil Death Star sends its roasting rays down upon my unsuspecting head. Just like I am always surprised by how early it gets dark in the afternoons along about Fall, and how I have to start putting the high beams on when I go to work in August. “Surely this didn’t happen last year?” I always think, and yet…it did. Sometimes I think I am the slowest of learners.

Despite this unpleasant tradition, I was surprised and dismayed when there was a heat advisory for the weekend before Independence Day. Not for the first time, I wondered why heatwaves always seem to happen on weekends, rather than during the week when I am a) at the ocean; and 2) in air conditioning for 9 or 10 hours a day.

I sadly closed up the house before it could get too hot outside, and closed what blinds there were. Sometimes I wish I had blackout curtains to go over the doors, like I did in the old house. I also wish I had screen doors like I did in the old house, allowing the cool air in while keeping the kitties in.

At least this house, unlike the old one, has insulation and is not shaped like an overturned rowboat, trapping the heat where I’m attempting to sleep. I think having the big redwoods around the house and the water tank on the third floor helps to keep things cool.

Weather forecasts said that Saturday was supposed to be the hottest day. It was 85, which is about 10 degrees higher than my highest level of heat tolerance. I foolishly believed the forecast, even though I know there is no job that has less accountability. Imagine my dismay to discover that it was 90 on Sunday, aka the night before the work week starts. At least it does cool down at night to around 50. I’m already dreaming of winter.

A YEAR AGO: Fleeing the usually wonderful Flynn Creek Circus. I didn’t dare to go this year.

TEN YEARS AGO: Clyde and Megan were both feeling better.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: The joys of getting a mammogram. They are no more enjoyable twenty years later.

Megan and were planning to have a shared birthday celebration this year, but it was scheduled for a few days after Melanie’s death, so I was not feeling too festive and we cancelled the party. I did stop by the family estate that day to spend some time with my siblings. I told Jonathan I was sorry about Scout, and he told me he was sorry about Melanie. It’s still hard to believe they are gone, even though I know they are.

We took a look around the garden. It seems to me that things are not as far along as they usually are this time of year, but given that I’m always surprised by how early it starts getting dark in the fall, even though it happens every year, this could be a Suzy thing and not a seasonal thing. The apple trees were in blossom:

and the strawberries were berrying:

safely hidden from raccoons’ marauding paws and birds’ scavenging beaks under their netting.

The cherry tree was not so lucky. Its net cathedral was torn to shreds during the winter storms, and there was not enough time to rebuild it yet. So the birds will have cherries, if not strawberries.

In addition to the usual garden produce, flowers were being grown for Jarrett and Kalli’s upcoming wedding:

It seems there is always something happening in the garden.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A lovely Royal wedding.

TEN YEARS AGO: Finally got rid of the hot tub carcass in the back yard. Mostly.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: It is actually possible to be sick of shopping. You read it here first.

Lately, the Valley seems to be beckoning me. Maybe it’s this beautiful time of year, when everything is still green from the winter (and this year, spring) rains, wildflowers are blooming everywhere, and the vineyards are leafing out in that translucent green that only happens in early spring. The fields are full of new babies, from calves to kids, and the air is bright with birdsong.

Megan and I enjoyed driving past the ocean, through the redwoods, and into the Valley, where we stopped in at the Madrones:

You could be forgiven for thinking that this was somewhere in the Mediterranean. It’s like another world there, with its sun-splashed courtyard and cool loggias.

We were greeted by the beautiful resident cat, Blanche:

who took time out from giving her fur a beauty bath to be petted and admired. She appeared to be used to the adulation of strangers.

At Wickson:

we ordered a pizza to go and then sat at a table in the lovely, walled patio:

with a glass of very local wine from Intent Vineyards while we waited for it. It was worth the wait:

Like Offspring, they have a wood-fired brick oven, and that seems to be secret weapon in making good pizza.

Because this is a small town – maybe too small – the chef at the restaurant is the husband of the board chair at the clinic where I work. I will have to give her my compliments to pass on to the chef.

A YEAR AGO: Observing the cats’ behavior.

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

TEN YEARS AGO: A lovely afternoon and evening in the Village.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: It can be surprisingly difficult to get to Florida.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Being groped on my way to work was pretty upsetting. Looking back, I’m really angry at that guy, and the therapist who hit on me, too.

Megan and I headed to the beautiful Valley on a sunny Saturday morning.

The Valley was looking beautiful, still green from the winter’s overachieving rains. There were baby lambs and calves in the fields, which were full of white, purple, pink, and orange wildflowers. The vines were beginning to leaf out, and in one orchard, the white wildflowers under the trees looked like snow. Spring is a magical time of year.

Our first stop was Offspring Pizza:

where we ordered our pie to go, and then went next door to Paysanne, where we discovered that they had renovated and reconfigured the space to make it work much better. I asked for some bread and pastries to take home, and also enjoyed my first ice cream of the season (pomegranate!).

We looked around in the Mercantile, where Megan found really cute reading glasses, and I found two more fabulous scented candles by Tita Flora, one called After the Rain and the other, the Promise of Spring. I love their candles and always buy them when I see them, since you can’t get them online.

We headed homeward, putting the A/C on for the first time this year. And for the first time in years, we decided to stop at Roederer, to get some sparkling wine. Even though we pass it every time we go to Boonville or Philo, somehow we never stop there. I’m pretty sure I haven’t been there since our friend Mark J. worked there, probably more than 20 years ago. So we were overdue for a visit.

Like many things, it has gotten more fancy, but unlike many things, it is fancy in a good way. Here’s the entrance to the tasting room:

It was quite lovely, and the helpful concierge helped us to choose some wonderful wines, including the special Collection 243 from France, saying it was her favorite.

We admired the view over the Valley from the winery:

and then headed back to Megan’s place, where we discovered that the Collection 243 was everything we expected (and more):

It was so nice to sit in the sun in the garden and sip our fabulous wine as we watched Stella and Millie play together. A really good day.

A YEAR AGO: A wonderful evening with the legendary Lindsey Buckingham.

FIVE YEARS AGO: The mattress saga had a happy ending after all.

TEN YEARS AGO: Running errands with my sister is always fun.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Some wonderful concerts.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Doing some shopping.

Just because it’s a Wednesday doesn’t mean you can’t celebrate.

My friend Alison finished working for good on what happened to be the ninth anniversary of the day I started working at the Clinic, so we decided to meet at our favorite local bar to celebrate these important milestones, along with belatedly toasting Alison’s birthday, which was the month before.

It was a beautiful day:

and it was lovely to be greeted by the bar’s owner and staff. To me, celebrating means champagne, or at least sparkling wine, so I ordered a kir royale:

and Alison and I toasted our futures, hers without work and mine still with it. I am really happy for her.

We caught up on our news and watched the whales go by. Our friend Flurry, the proprietor of the bar, restaurant, and inn down the road, came in, pulled up a stool next to us, ordered a tequila, and paid for our drinks. He called me “young lady”, which he always does, and which I always love (like sales clerks and waitresses calling me “hon”). He said that he sold his establishment and that escrow closed today, and that was what he was celebrating. More to celebrate!

It was so nice to celebrate with my friends and hear their good news. On my way home, I stopped to admire the view:

It was a good day.

A YEAR AGO: Remembering my mother on her 90th birthday.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Spring had sprung.

TEN YEARS AGO: A delightful breakfast in a delightful place. I really miss Queenie’s.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A less than fabulous day.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: The challenges of public transport.