Suzy Says

But it hasn’t all been divorce and (melo)drama. A couple of weeks ago, we had a lovely Friday evening.

Megan and I went to the Village to look for books for Jessica’s birthday, which, as every right-thinking person knows, is every April 15. Originally we were looking for books on Hindu mythology, but we struck out on that, so we headed across the street to Out of This World, which is. It didn’t take us long to snap up a make your own bath bomb kit, a book on science experiments, and, what every ten year old girl needs, a do it yourself lemon clock (lemon not included).

After that, it was time to take Star for a stroll and admire the ocean, which was feeling pretty that day:

Star gets perturbed when I wander off and take pictures. She stops and looks for me, clearly thinking, “The pack should stay together at all times!” Once I rejoin the pack, she trots along happily, tail wagging and ears perked up. Star gets extra credit for totally ignoring the (many) barking dogs in cars. I finally understand why Megan trained her dogs to never, ever bark in the car. If only more dog owners did the same thing!

We met Rob for dinner at Frankie’s, where we sat outside with an ever-alert Star at our feet. And she was right – of course she got some dinner, too!

In the background, you can see the famous statue of Time and the Maiden on top of the bank:

It was made in 1866 of a single truck of redwood and is one of the most famous and best-loved landmarks in the Village.

After dinner, we made our way to the theater, which was festively lit up for the occasion:

The play was called Boy Gets Girl, written by Rebecca Gilman in 2000, but set in New York in the 1990s. It’s a dark tale of a successful young journalist who is set up on a blind date with a man who seems to be innocuous at first, but soon becomes obsessive and terrifying.

Here’s the set when we first came in – it serves as the bar where the couple first meets, the journalist’s office, and her apartment:

During the play, the journalist has to interview an aged filmmaker who specialized in B movies featuring voluptuous women and who continues to be, as the journalist puts it, “a breast buff”. The posters for his movies are pretty funny:

I was delighted to see one of the actors from Farragut North, which I saw last fall at the same theater. And one of the actors was the guy who owns the wine shop on Main Street. We all had a great time, and I think we’ll do it agin. Soon, I hope!

On Friday, I wrapped up some work and some presents for Jessica and headed over to the family property for Jessica’s birthday BBQ.

It had been a while since I’d been over there, and things are rocking and rolling in the garden:

Those are onions and garlic in the foreground, with a new frame for peas and beans on the right – my sibs were discontented with the frames last year – and behind them, you can see the party palace, with the fire ring and grills. If you look really carefully in the background on the left, you’ll see the vats of compost tea, used to fertilize this produce extravaganza along with the adjacent orchard. I owe you a post on the orchard and garden developments so far this year.

It was a beautiful afternoon, but windy, as spring days often are here. Jonathan and Jessica used the golf cart to transport wood for the fire. it’s always good to have a real fireman show you how to make a fire:

Jessica practiced carefully. She’s a quick learner:

Megan had marinated a pork shoulder in lime juice and spices, and set it to cook slowly on the grill for several hours. It was removed to the oven to make room for Jonathan to grill onions and peppers. These were peeled and sliced and served up with the pork, black beans, and shredded cheese on tortillas for a delicious dinner. Lichen joined us and we had a great time.

When the grown-up talk got too boring for Jessica, she read (“Really, Memmin, have you ever known me to be without a book?”):

Her current read is called Graceling and it looks pretty interesting. According to school tests, Jessica is reading at a college level. Not bad for someone who just turned ten.

When we interrupted the reading, or tried to, Jessica said “Four more pages!”, usually without looking up. Erica explained that when she was a child, she asked her mother for something while her mother was reading, and her mother said, “Four more pages,” meaning that she would attend to Erica’s needs when she had finished her book. Eventually “Four more pages” got to mean, “Leave me alone, I’m reading,” regardless of the number of pages actually left, which is how the third generation of that family’s reading ladies uses it.

We were able to pull Jessica away from her book long enough to open her presents and have some cake. Megan bought the cake at a bakery, and it was chocolate with raspberry filling and buttercream frosting, with roses and “Happy Birthday Jessica” on it. Megan had even found candles whose flames burned the same color as the candles.

As for the presents, Megan gave Jessica a lemon clock kit (with lemon); a make it yourself bath bomb kit; and a book on totally irresponsible science experiments, along with a big box of Whoppers, Jessica’s favorite candy. I gave Jessica a pair of real, though tiny pearl stud earrings set in 14 karat gold. Jessica loved the book of experiments (and the Whoppers), and I think she would have been totally happy with just those. She is the least materialistic kid I have ever met.

Erica has done an amazing job over the past decade. I can’t wait to see what the next decade brings!

Nothing takes a girl’s mind off divorce paperwork and restraining orders like a drive down the coast to see a burlesque show, n’est-ce pas?

After work on Saturday, Miss Scarlett and I drove the serpentine road to the south coast. The scenery was breathtaking and I wished more than once that I didn’t have to keep my eyes on the hilly, curvy road. The ocean crashed against the rocky cliffs, and a migrating whale flipped a tail at me in greeting as I drove past. Fields were dotted with placid cows and swept with bright wildflowers. California poppies and wild mustard blazed in the green grass by the side of the road, and the trees, bent and twisted by decades of ocean winds, were positively Seussian.

I checked in at a little inn by the ocean and then made the short drive to the lovely Arts Center:

arriving just as the sun was setting. The room was set up like a nightclub, with little tables dressed in candles and black tablecloths. Red lanterns hung from the high ceilings, and the place was packed.

Soon, the show began, with Les Filles Rouges singing and dancing and making the audience laugh with delight. Unfortunately, photography was strictly forbidden, but you can get a little taste of the artistes’ playfully sassy style in this video (and see them both in the shop where Megan and I finally learned the truth about bra sizes, and sashaying down the street where the jobette is).

True to the famously eccentric nature of the County, the Filles were not your everyday ecdysiasts. Some were far thinner than most dancers, and some much curvier. One had blue hair, another was dramatically tattooed, and one was quite pregnant. She stole the show dancing to “Like a Virgin”, ending up with red, sequined, heart-shaped, tasseled pasties on her belly button as well as the usual places, which brought down the house.

It was a lot of fun and I don’t know who had a better time, the girls or the audience.

After the show, I made my way back to the inn, where I had a glass of wine by the fire and later fell asleep to the sound of the waves crashing and the frogs joyously greeting the gentle spring rain.

In case you didn’t know, my brother totally rocks.

He has been a volunteer firefighter for many years (yes, he runs into burning buildings and fought the terrifying wildfires of 2008 for no money) and is a Captain in the fire department. He is a teacher and works with the mentally handicapped. He is a great (formerly professional) cook, a certified scuba diver, can make a circuit board or a robot from scratch, and is a Number One Groover on Life.

On Saturday, he also jumped in the ocean. The cold Pacific Ocean. On a windy February day. Of course Megan and I were there to cheer him on. I actually took Saturday off to do it – the first Saturday in six months! And it was so worth it.

The event was called Polar Plunge, and it was a benefit for Special Olympics. My brother and his team raised around $1,000 or maybe even more!

All the teams wore costumes. My brother’s team were the Soggy Bottom Boys. He’s the one on the far right:

I love it that the only girl on the team – wearing adorable Tigger-embroidered overalls – had the letters “GY” (or “guy”). 🙂

Before jumping – well, running into – the water, they regaled the crowd with “Down to the River to Pray” (above), and it reminded me of how our atheist father used to merrily carol out hymns every time we happened to be in a cathedral or other situation which called for it. In his tone deaf way. Without a hymn book. Because when he was a boy, school days started with prayers and hymns. Dad sure would have had a blast on Saturday.

After the song, my brother ran into the cold water (far left):

and went in up to his shoulders or higher – the rules state that you have to go in up to your waist, but of course that’s not enough for my brother, who perused the list of other places in Northern California holding Polar Plunges on the same day, and thought the one in the Sierras where you would probably have to cut a hole in the ice to jump into would be “fun”. Maybe next year!

Here he is running out again:

He said he felt “great” and “invigorated” as he toweled off:

Only my brother. I am so proud of him!

Every month at the jobette, we feature a different artist and try and have a theme for First Friday, the day we and other downtown businesses stay open late and pour wine and serve nibbles, alomg with book signings and meeting artists.

This month, we featured the fine woodworking students’ work from our local college, which was displayed at a gallery on Main Street this month. The students installed a wonderful window display at the jobette. Here it is from the inside – I couldn’t get an outside shot that wasn’t totally glare-y:

This is a very prestigious program, and students apply from all over the world for one of the 22 available spots. The students must be dedicated to their craft: they will be at school six days a week, eight hours a day. As you can see, however, the time is well spent.

This set is inspired by “Mad Men” and is called “Don and Roger”:

Here’s a better look at the top of the “Don” table, which certainly conveys the complexity and elegance of the mysterious Mr. Draper:

This corner cabinet is beautiful in itself:

But when you open it, the door looks like a wing, and you can see that the texture of the wood inspired the artist to make an altar to his totem animal, the owl:

It’s a very spiritual and moving piece. Guy, I thought of you when I saw it.

This was my favorite, an exquisite roll top desk with elegant, willowy legs:

So feminine! And so cleverly designed: the roll top vanishes into the body of the desk when it is rolled back.

I’m so proud of these young artists and what they have achieved. Their fiutures look bright – and beautiful.

For a small coastal community, there are a lot of fun things to do around here. Sometimes it’s hard to choose which one to attend, like when I went to Sallie’s choir recital instead of the tree lighting ceremony and lighted truck parade in the Big Town.

Weather can also play a part. The Festival of Lights at the beautiful Botanical Gardens was cancelled several times in late November and early December due to the heavy storms which wouldn’t take the hint and leave. But finally, one clear, starry evening, the time was right for me to stop by and enjoy this winter wonderland.

Come on in through the lighted gate:

Follow yonder star:

The cacti looked so dramatic against the evening sky:

Don’t be afraid of the giant spider:

This weeping willow looked like fireworks to me – a shower of sparks and sparkle:

Looking up through the branches:

One thing I noticed as I wandered around the Gardens is that the lack of ambient light really makes light displays like this stand out. So darkness isn’t all bad, even though I don’t like driving in it. I should be more like Galileo, who said, “I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”

Well, the weather did come in, with days of storms, battering us with thunder, lightning, pouring rain, and hail. But I woke to a sunny day on Christmas Eve, the garden glittering with last night’s rain.

Somehow, it took me all day to get the cooking and cleaning done. By the time the house was ready, Rob was in the garden working on the barbecue, filling it with mesquite and apple wood cut from a long-abandoned tree, and Megan was walking through the secret path between our houses with an apple pie she’d made after planting onions and garlic over on the family property.

Megan started the glaze for the ham (maple syrup, bourbon, apple cider, Worcestershire sauce, etc.) and we discovered that we were short of Jack Daniel’s after that festive Thanksgiving, so we made a quick trip to the Gro and bought beer and bourbon, like total Christmas Eve degenerates.

Back at the house, I attempted to impose some civilization on the proceedings with Christmas crackers all the way from England and bright fruit in Grammie’s star dish:

The table was set with Grammie’s 90 year old, ivory-handled silverware and Nana’s wine glasses, along with the nearly 200 year old Wedgwood biscuit barrel (full of miniature cheese biscuits) and salad bowl and servers, ready for the salad with roasted pears and fresh pomegranate seeds. The mincemeat tarts are on Nana’s glass platter, embossed with the word “Remembrance”:

And I do. I miss my grandparents most at the holidays. I’m glad to use their things and feel like they are are part of the celebrations.

My friend Patrisha’s Christmas card was so wonderful that I had to hang it on the tree:

Things were pretty much under control by the time Erica and Jessica appeared, Jessica wearing soft footed PJs and her mother in a panne velvet skirt with a side slit which she had made herself, accessorized with knee-high motorcycle boots. She’s all about the style.

Before dinner, we watched the traditional “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”. Here you can see Jessica completely wrapped up in the story:

She observed that she looked a lot like Cindy Lou Who “but when I was little”, which is true. It’s hard to believe that in just a few short years she will be a teenager, and probably uninterested in hanging out with her aged aunties. She was delighted with the new bathing suit Megan bought her. We had noticed that her (pink floral) suit was too short for her, and Megan asked her what color she’d like in a new one. She said she wanted a “gothic black one”, and she got one, looking like a blonde Wednesday Addams when she tried it on.

Lichen stopped by for dinner, bringing his own special joy and peacfulness with him. Jarrett (whose puppy now weighs 25 pounds!) and Paul couldn’t make it, and Rose’s daughters were together in New Jersey, so it was much quieter than Thanksgiving, but still wonderful. I love having my family and friends gathered in my little house. I am so lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life.

Decisions, decisions! Last Friday, there was the tree lighting ceremony in the Big Town, to be followed by the Lighted Truck Parade. It was also First Friday, the day that shops and galleries stay open late, and I should have stopped in to see my colleagues, but I had other plans.

Going to church.

It was very possibly the first time I had been to church since my father’s memorial service eleven years ago, and that was in a Quaker meeting house actually built and attended by William Penn. You know, the guy who put the Penn in Pennsylvania. It was nearly 400 years old and beautifully simple.

The church in this case is one of the best known and best loved landmarks in the Village (and is also both a national and a state historic landmark), built in 1867 of local redwood to replace a much smaller building put up a decade earlier. Here’s how it looked then:

And here’s how it looks now:

Fortunately, I had brought my trusty little flashlight, which has taken up its winter residence in whatever handbag from the Suzy Collection that I happen to be carrying. It was pretty dark in the Village, despite the occasional streetlight and the welcoming light from the church’s beautiful windows:

I scored a cushioned pew right next to the heating vent – bliss! – and about 5 rows from the altar. After taking off my coat, I looked around. This was my first visit inside this little jewel box, and it is just beautiful:

I could easily imagine the chandelier and wall sconces lit with flickering candles instead of eletcric light bulbs. It’s hard to tell from this picture, but the cross is beautifully hand carved:

Those are little white paper doves on the holiday decorations.

I was there to see my beloved swimming teacher, Sallie, sing in a choir. In addition to teaching swimming to grown-ups and kids, she is also an addiction counselor, and somehow still finds time to go to practices and perform in a choir. She is the petite girl on the left in the front row:

Sallie is radiant when she sings – she just glows. I told her that after the performance and she said that she loves to sing. It definitely shows!

It was an eclectic program, including spirituals and songs from all over the world, as well as a hymn or two and Christmas carols. For “Ave Maria”, the choir split up and some went into the choir loft:

which produced an ethereal stereo effect for the haunting song. In one of the spirituals, there was a line about how Mary had only one child, which made me wonder how that happened. Assuming Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were real, you’d think that birth control would have been an issue back then.

And although “Silent Night” was my beloved maternal grandmother’s favorite carol, the “Holy infant so tender and mild” part always make it sounds like you’re going to eat him. But I kept these thoughts to my silly, shallow Self (at least until now).

When the performance was over, I greeted some friends and chatted for a while before heading home under the blazing stars. It was a magical evening.

The day after Thanksgiving, inside…

…and outside!

So much has happened since I last wrote that I hardly know where to start.

It was a really wonderful Thanksgiving. My little house was overflowing with friends, family, and food. Good thing we had the outdoor seating area as well as the indoors.

The turkey cooked a little faster than I had anticipated:

Erica thinks that the temperature indicated on my tiny old Wedgwood stove might not be all that accurate. Erica and Jonathan came to my rescue when I forgot to turn on the potatoes while simultaneously forgetting that the stuffing was in the oven. It’s a real pleasure to watch two professionals swing into action. And this was after they had already supplied the pies:

Erica’s pies, garnished with rose geranium, were some kind of squash rather than pumpkin and were made with caramelized sugar. They were like eating pumpkin truffles – really rich and really delicious. In contrast, Jonathan’s lemon tart – his first ever – was light with a perfect citrusy bite. It was garnished with lemon peel he candied himself.

Jessica and I explored my jewelry box, and she unearthed a pair of diamond earrings I had forgotten about but am wearing now. Here you see her excavating Queen Suzy’s Mines:

Remarkably, she returned the ruby necklace I had loaned her indefinitely last year. I have to say, I didn’t really expect her to return it, at least, not so soon. Now that I think about it, she may have gone home wearing a little diamond necklace instead…

I got some fizzy cranberry and apple juice for Jessica, and found a small cordial glass and a small Champagne goblet. I asked her if she preferred the flute or the Marie Antoinette style, and she immediately exclaimed, “Marie Antoinette!”

Then she said, “I just got an idea for a Halloween costume – restored Marie Antoinette!” She added that she could still have fake blood on her neck even though her head would be reattached. She then started speculating on her wig and gown. Is it any wonder I forgot about the potatoes?

It was a wonderful evening, with the fire and candles outside, and love and laughter inside and out. My family was there, as well as Jarrett and Lichen, who brought cocktails for the grownups and fizzy juice for Jessica, Rose’s daughter Catrin and her husband Zac, and a couple of other people who stopped by to say hello. I just love having my house full of family and friends. We have a lot to be thankful for.

The secret to surviving Thanksgiving – as with most things – is to plan ahead and prepare as much as possible.

The jobette very sweetly gave me yesterday off, so I started off by roasting chestnuts (for stuffing) and pears (for the salad). While they were roasting, I dug up potatoes from the buckets of sand where my brother and sister had stored the ones they grew this summer:

Including the mutant voodoo doll potato:

Then I made cranberry-bourbon relish, once again marveling over how incredibly disgusting booze smells in the morning, as opposed to in the evening. It’s worth it, though, and look how pretty it is in my paternal grandmother’s star dish:

After two loads of dishes and kitchen clean-up, it was time to clean my humble abode. I spent hours de-spider webbing, mopping, vacuuming, etc., and the house looks pretty good:

This Thanksgiving morning, I woke up to sunny skies after a week and several inches of rain. Megan stopped by on her way home from work, bearing more wine and a free-range, organic turkey. Oh, and a hug and a kiss.

I spent this morning chopping up Café Beaujolais sunflower bread and sourdough for stuffing, along with apples, onions, celery, sage, and those damn chestnuts. It took longer than I thought, and I had to use two bowls to hold it. Then I made the salad, putting half of it in my paternal grandmother’s Wedgwood salad bowl and the other in a less picturesque bowl. Then I made the salad dressing and sliced up the pears.

Rob just appeared and removed the old outdoor couch, and we set up a seating area around the outside fireplace (or, you know, the big old rusty thing I burn paper in during the winter):

There will be abut 12 of us, including Erica, Jessica, Jarrett, Lichen, Rose’s daughter Catrin and her new husband Zac, so we’ll need all the room we can get.

The turkey is now roasting merrily away, Jonathan is bringing a lemon tart he made, and Erica is bringing a couple of other pies, so I think we’re all set! Ready, set…

Just two short days after the election, I set off in the deep rural darkness to see a political thriller.

You’d think I would have had enough political thrills and chills that week, but you’d be wrong.

My brilliant co-worker at the jobette – the same one who predicted the election results and the Giants’ World Series win – was the director. The play was Farragut North, the play that the George Clooney movie The Ides of March was based on.

As I made my way from the car to the theater, I made a mental note to keep a flashlight in my handbag at all times. I couldn’t see where I was walking, and there was no Jessica to guide me. I have to admit that I find driving in the darkness a nerve-wracking experience – one I now face at least four days a week, since I work much later and winter is pretty much here. There are no streetlights even on the highway, and it’s like driving in a pocket, though the stars are starry.

It had been two years – almost exactly to the day – since I went to the theater (that time I went with the fabulous Erica and Jessica to see the musical adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s Coraline in the fabulous City), so it was high time.

I gave my name at the box office and was given my ticket without having to spell my name, a rarity in my life. I was also ushered elegantly to my front row seat, and I barely had time to get settled before the lights went down and the magic began.

I was immediately drawn into the action and the story. Being so close made me feel like I was part of it, and that it was happening right in front of me. I was shocked when the lights came up after the first act, and brought me back to reality for fifteen minutes. The cast was wonderful, and the play really made me think, as well as laugh out loud and appreciate the artistry of the actors.

It was an enchanted evening.

I guess I – and you – should just get used to the time lag between things happening and my reporting on them, if you haven’t already. I am now writing about a long, long time ago, about last Friday. In fact, it was last Friday.

One of the many things I love about our little community is its vibrant arts scene. The Big Town celebrates this on the first Friday of every month, with galleries and shops staying open late and serving wine and nibbles. The First Friday this month was also our “new” office’s Grand Opening:

Megan and I stopped by to say hello, and were warmly greeted by my colleagues. I felt like the King of Kensington introducing her to so many people, and it made me realize how much I have become part of the community in the (relatively) short time I have lived here. Claudia Springs was there, pouring local wine, and there were appetizers and music. Our Chairman, a County native, just happens to be a founding member of the seminal 1960s band It’s A Beautiful Day, which was part of the San Francisco music scene along with luminaries like the Grateful Dead and Jefferson Airplane, and was DJing the event. It was a huge success and I’m really glad we stopped in.

Next up was the incredible altar display at Town Hall, which I have attended in the past and really didn’t want to miss. This is in the Mexican tradition of celebrating lost loved ones on the Day of the Dead, the day after Halloween or All Souls’ Day. We were greeted by a wonderful painted skull in a birdcage decorated with Monarch butterflies:

The perfect way to set the tone. The Hall was filled with beautiful altars to remember lost loved ones. This one, for a librarian, was both my and Megan’s favorite:

From this view, you can see that the “roof” of the altar is a book:

I love the little brass hands holding the library book cards.

This one is a suitcase full of love:

It is for a woodworking artist, shown in his studio.

Besides the delightfulness of the sugar skull with the candy corn, this wonderful little box with family photos and handmade white silk roses contains a touching little poem, which starts:

Clearly that goal was achieved:

And this lovely lady is remembered in all her glamorous glory, with her embellished compact and swansdown powder puff:

I’d like to be remembered that way, too.

Our Beautiful First Family

First things first yet again– it’s been a momentous week or so.

Despite the predictions of a friend who called the President’s re-election almost perfectly at 304 electoral college votes versus the actual 303 (he also accurately predicted the Giants’ world-series winning sweep of Detroit last month), I was pretty nervous last night. Even those non-American readers must have sensed how difficult and grueling this election year has been. In my long history of voting, I have never found it so painful for so long.

I literally felt a wave of relief wash over me. I have felt under attack by Republicans over the past year, threatening my right to be paid the same as a man doing the same job; to have legal access to birth control and abortion, and by the laughable (yet horrifying) notion that women who are “legitimately” raped cannot become pregnant. I was glad to wake up in 2012 instead of medieval times, I tell you what.

As my boss and partner emailed me last night:

“During the difficulties of 1862, Lincoln told Congress: the fight today is not for today but for a vast future that will be a New birth of freedom. We are that vast future and we must continue to live our creed.”

Let’s keep this great country moving forward. I am thankful for the dedication, intelligence, integrity and passion of our President. I am looking forward to his second term with pride and joy.

Halloween dawned appropriately gloomy and sinister looking. By late morning, it was, as my late, great stepmother used to say in her rich, plummy voice, “simply tipping it down.” The rain gauge later informed me that we got more than an inch of rain that day. Erica tried to bribe Jessica into staying home that night, offering popcorn, candy, movies, and a fire, but as Megan predicted, Jessica would have none of it.

I borrowed a huge golf type umbrella from the jobette, and Megan and I set off to meet E & J in the Village, which was appropriately dressed for the occasion:

Fortunately, I was incorrect about the acrobats in the street:

As an added bonus, this particular artist was wearing a skeleton suit. I was so absorbed in the performance that I almost didn’t notice our friends making their way through the crowd. Jessica re-thought her costume and was dressed as Neil Gaiman’s Death:

When I showed Jessica this shot I took of her, she said, “Whoa! I look really freaky in that light!” She did:

We amused ourselves with our favorite quote from “Addams Family Values”:

Me: “She’s at that age when girls have just one thing on their minds.”

“Boys?”

Jessica (gleefully): “Homicide!”

We set off to the task at hand as the sky darkened. Needless to say, it had stopped raining and Erica and I were lumbered with three huge and unnecessary umbrellas. The air was soft and scented with woodsmoke and the ocean. The Point Cabrillo Lighthouse blinked romantically in the distance, and the ocean crashed endlessly against the rocks as we made our way through the Village.

Erica pointed out that Jessica’s knock on front doors was extremely authoritative, which was both true and amusing. Once the doors were open, though, she charmed the candy donors one and all. It was a delight to hear her clear, bright voice calling out, “Thank you! Happy Halloween! Have a good night!” completely unprompted by her mother.

As we made our way through the darkness, she warned me of potholes and uneven sidewalks, occasionally taking my hand to guide me around the hazards, but mostly skipping ahead.

I don’t know which of us had the most fun.

First things first: the Giants swept the Tigers to win the World Series on Sunday night! Coit Tower was orange in honor of the momentous occasion:

For those of you not in Northern California, or not in the know (or both), the Giants’ team colors are orange and black. Perfect for Halloween! You may recall that they won* their first World Series title ever two years ago, so let’s hope that this becomes a habit. I watched the victory parade in 2010, but this year it’s actually on Halloween, and I will be working and then working as part of Jessica’s auntourage as she trick or treats in the Village.

Unfortunately, the usual street fair featuring the acrobatics of the always fabulous Flynn Creek Circus will not be on the menu this year, and rain is expected, but we will still have fun.

Not that we need more fun…we already had a lot on the weekend. On Saturday, we had our swimming lessons. This time Jessica observed us as well as reading, and she told me that I was “quite graceful” in the water. Sallie, our swimming teacher, told me that I have a “very pretty stroke.” When I demurred, she said, “The correct answer is, “Thank you.” 🙂

Megan dropped me off at the jobette, returned to the pool to get Jessica showered and dressed, and then came back to the jobette with lunch for all of us. Swimming makes a girl really hungry, whether she’s 9 or 39. Or even more vintage.

It turned into Take a Kidlet to Work Day:

as Megan ran some errands and Jessica kept me company. Finally, Chauffeur (or Chauffeuse) Megan picked us both up and took us back to her house, where she made pizza starring her home-made pesto (made from the basil grown in the garden) and we watched “The Parent Trap”, which Jessica and I both enjoyed (I spared her the knowledge of Lindsay Lohan becoming a train wreck and the untimely death of the lovely Natasha Richardson). Jessica sat on my lap and I can still feel it today. I guess she’s getting too big for that but I don’t really want her to stop doing it.

On Sunday, Jessica came by for breakfast and we looked around in my jewelry box. Though fascinated by diamonds, she remains the most interested in the stories behind the pieces. She still has the ruby necklace my Dad brought me from India.

Our valiant chauffeur took us to the Big Town, where the Big Top was set up under blue skies:

The Zoppe Family Circus has been performing since 1842. Including the youngest family members, the 6th, 7th and 8th generations were on hand for a truly magical show.

There were acrobats, including the two smallest children, who looked to my untutored eye to be about 6 years old; jugglers:

fire dancers; performing dogs and chickens; and bareback horse riding:

We loved Nino the clown, and as we left, he gave Jessica a hug. The artists were outside the tent after the show, welcoming the audience for the later show and gracefully accepting the compliments of the departing audience.

We will always remember that magical afternoon.

*This post conveniently includes shots of the Flynn Creek Circus and Jessica’s Halloween outing that year.

A foggy evening at the Community Center

On Friday night, Megan and I met up with Lu at the Caspar Community Center for a Farm to Table Benefit Dinner and Pie Auction. All the food was grown and donated by local residents, including my family – we gave onions, basil, lemon cucumbers, tomatoes, and the world’s biggest zucchini – and the pies were home made from local fruit, such as apples, huckleberries, and blackberries:

Since Monica was the event organizer, the dining room looked beautiful:

Each table had a centerpiece which Monica hand painted and decorated with inspirational sayings, filled with flowers:

In the other room, local musicians performed where there were craft projects set up for kids, glitter tattoos for kids of all ages (I got a ladybug and Megan got a dragonfly), and art by children under the age of 18 was also being auctioned off. I was very impressed with this picture of Monica’s dogs Daisy and Ladybug, drawn by a very talented 13 year girl:

And this painting by 5 and 3 year old sisters, who happened to sit near us at dinner:

We discovered our brother in the kitchen, chopping the basil we had donated. When we asked him what he was doing there, he said, “I know how to chop some things and big and some things small. And I’m not afraid of industrial-sized pots.” The fact that he used to be a professional cook in a previous life probably didn’t hurt, either.

The pies were auctioned off before dinner, with most going for about $40 and one going for $200! Monica was stunned – she thought they might get $15 each if they were lucky.

Dinner was wonderful. We had tomato and basil salad with sliced red onions; turkey stew; wood-fired salmon for salmon eaters; rice pilaf and roasted squash, and homemade ice cream with apple compote. I love the idea that all the food was locally produced and donated, and that the cooks took a look at the materials at hand and made up the menu on the spot.

Jonathan joined us for dinner, and it was wonderful to sit in that lovely room surrounded by friends and family and our little community, all brought together to help Monica’s rescue organization, the Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue. I am always impressed by Monica’s creativity and dedication, but she really outdid herself. It was a truly special event and I am so glad I was part of this magical evening.

Back in the golden days of our youth, my siblings and I were all golden-haired. But when puberty reared its ugly head, mine went from gleaming to drab, seemingly overnight. “We’ll take your blonde hair and swap it for decades of menstrual hell and pregnancy scares! Enjoy!”

This was about the time I began to realize that being a grown-up would not be the staying up late, eating pizza, and partying with your friends festival that I had envisioned.

Needless to say, my brother, the only boy, has retained his thick, almost platinum blonde hair into his 40s. He doesn’t really think about his hair, washes it with soap most of the time, and keeps it ruthlessly short year-round. Of course, he also has Dad’s blazing blue eyes and his own absurdly long eyelashes. Just another of Ma Nature’s wickedly unfunny jokes.

Once the plague of puberty had mousened me, I fought back by dyeing my hair, sometimes to its former glory and sometimes pink or purple, since it was the ’80s, one of the most embarrassing and unflattering decades ever, and things like that seemed like a good idea at the time. Like parachute pants and giant shoulder pads that would have made Joan Crawford balk. Or lift her eyebrows even further, if that’s possible.

When the recession hit and I found myself having to sell my jewelry to pay the bills (sob) and even buy socks, personal maintenance fell by the wayside, along with fashion magazine subscriptions. No more highlights, waxing, or mani-pedis. It was a dark and ugly time. Much like my grown-out hair.

But it’s always darkest before the dawn, so for this landmark birthday*, Megan bought me highlights for my hair! The artist in question is a charming lady who cuts Lichen’s hair (even the most accomplished stylist can’t cut their own hair). She has a little studio in the former pump house on her property. We had a great time chatting with her as she worked on my hair. She is from Germany, where hairdressers train for nearly four years as apprentices, spending part of their week at school and part of it at the salon, helping and observing and taking on greater responsibility as time goes by.

All I can say is all that training really pays off. My hair looks completely natural, but so much better and brighter. She also cut it, and when she was finished blow drying it, it had never looked so good. Bright and bouncy and fabulous. Unfortunately for you, I had no make-up on that day and was too vain to document my new and improved hair with my old and unimproved face, so you will just have to take my word for it for now. I will be interested to see how it looks after I do it myself tomorrow morning. If I were rich, I would definitely have a stylist on my staff.

In other happy news, Megan and Rob are celebrating their 21st anniversary today!

*Since I had the highlights installed on the next to last day of June, I really did have almost a birthday month!

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that this is actually my job. Well, jobette. And that they pay me to do this!

A few days ago, I left work around 11:00 am to go on a tour of artists’ studios. This is a new local business, and the tour operator wanted to take around some people as a sort of test drive. There were 8 of us: me, two gallery owners, my counterpart at the Chamber of Commerce, and the rest worked at hotels.

We were driven around in a comfortable, climate controlled van, equipped with water bottles and a flat screen TV, which showed movies of the artists we were going to visit. It was one of those postcard days when even I can hardly blame the tourists for driving so slowly, and it was great to be able to actually look at the scenery instead of the long and winding road.

We visited Paul Reiber, who does wonderful things with wood. Here is his studio:

He made these mirrors. The round heron one was made for his mother, and he got it back when she passed away. The circle of life…

He also made these charming toys:

And this breathtaking headboard, showing various stages in an iris’ life:

We had a lovely tray of appetizers to accompany our wine tasting at the Wine Shop:

We had a tasting flight of five wines, four from the County and one was what Mark, the sole proprietor, calls a “ringer” from another county, in this case, Sonoma. They were all delicious. Mark says, “The first law of wine is drink what you like.”

Next, we visited Richard Yaski’s studio. He does amazing things with metal:

This is a memorial to his late wife:

It reminded me of what Christopher Wren’s tombstone in St. Paul’s Cathedral says: “Reader, if you seek his monument, look around you.” I imagine this beautiful, hushed place was dear to her when she lived there. It is a very moving piece.

This house on Richard’s property is made out of an old school bus:

He drove it here when he moved from Los Angeles more than 40 years ago, and he lived in it for many years. Now it’s rented out. Here’s another view of the house (note the tail lights beside the front door):

Next was Julie Higgins’ house. By this time, I felt like I was on an episode of “Cribs: Hooterville”. This is Julie’s home and studio:

Here is some of her work, displayed in her living room:

It was a wonderful experience to be able to meet the artists and be welcomed into their homes and/or workplaces. This area is famous for having more artists per capita than anywhere else in the country, so it’s really special to be able to talk to the artists about their work, their inspirations*, and techniques, in the very place that the artwork is created.

*One thing that struck me was that all the artists are inspired by the local ravens, which seem to be very powerful symbols. They are supposed to be able to divine the future as well as being keepers of secrets. Some say they are bringers of light. Whatever they are, they are inspiring and mysterious.

Well, for this year, anyway.

On Saturday, we had my family birthday celebration. It was at my house for a change – Jonathan’s place has become the summer party pad, mostly due to the fabulous 80 foot by 80 foot garden, equipped with two barbecues, a fire pit, and hay bales to sit on. Now it even has electricity and running water!

But I felt like having the party at my house, where my kitties and Schatzi could meander in and out (and I could keep an eye on the Stanley Cup playoffs). The menu was simple: barbecued chicken breasts with grill bread* and salad from the garden. Rose’s daughter Catrin stopped by for a little while, and so did Mark. It’s good to have an outdoor living room.

Megan had already given me a gift of highlights, which we are still trying to schedule with the stylist who cuts Lichen’s hair (he’s too busy landscaping this time of year to girlscape), so I was surprised when she handed me a long, wrapped box.

Inside were these wonderful light up branches, which remind me of pussywillows:

They really look fabulous, don’t they?

We stayed outside under the stars (and by the twinkly light of the branches), sipping wine and talking, remembering our increasingly distant childhoods and feeling lucky to be part of each other’s lives.

I could not have asked for a happier birthday, or for better friends and family.

*It’s sort of like naan, or pizza dough, cooked quickly on the BBQ grill over the coals and served with olive oil mixed with Megan’s secret blend of herbs and spices. It’s magically delicious.

It’s been quite the birthday week so far, and it’s not over yet.

On Tuesday, I returned to the jobette a year older, but no wiser (definitely sneezier, though). On my desk was a beautiful card, filled with even lovelier sentiments* from everyone I work with, and a bright pink straw tote bag (I guess my handbag addiction is obvious to the most casual observer). Inside the bag was:

• Two tickets to the beautiful Botanical Gardens, 47 acres of plants and flowers that front the wild Pacific Ocean. They are famous for their rhododendrons and roses, and also have great bird watching. And yes, it’s 50 years old!
• Two tickets for a round-trip journey on the famous Skunk Train, probably the premier attraction in the Big Town. The steam trains, dating from the early 1920s, follow the same tracks laid down in the 1880s, through pristine redwoods, past rivers and flowery meadows. It’s like a time machine!
• A voucher for dinner at the lovely, historic Little River Inn, whose dining room overlooks the ocean. The original house dates from 1853, and the current innkeepers are the fifth family generation to welcome guests, including Myrna Loy, Joan Fontaine, and James Dean.

There was also a bottle of organic local wine, befitting America’s greenest wine region.

I was totally overwhelmed and very touched. As I said to my colleagues, any one of these things would have been enough!

Then they took me out to lunch at the Wharf, the scene of Girls’ Night Out. On that day, it looked like a postcard, with fishing boats sailing in and out of the harbor.

I may well be the most spoiled girl in the County. Other than Audrey, that is.

*For example, from the CEO: “Happy, happy birthday! It is SO GREAT to have you as part of the team! I hope this year is the best yet!”. From Erin: “You’re the best – I couldn’t do it without you!” No wonder I nearly cried.