Suzy Says

Getting Ready

I have seen more concerts in the past couple of months than I have in the past couple of years! First, the lovely evening with the legendary Lindsey Buckingham in San Francisco, and then the local Music Festival, at the beautiful WPA Cotton Auditorium in the Big Town.

The first concert I saw was on the first night of the Festival, and also Buddy’s 40th birthday. The program started out with an original composition* by the Maestro, Allan Pollack, called “Phoenix”. It was beautiful, celebrating the victory of life over death and hope over despair. It was followed by Prokofiev’s Violin Concerto No. 1, with a young violinist, Yevgeny Kutik, giving a dazzling solo. The evening ended with Beethoven’s bright and delightful Symphony No.7.

The second one started out with the lovely, dreamy “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun” by Debussy, followed by Mozart’s light and charming Symphony No. 29, and ended with Brahms’ Concerto for Violin and Cello, featuring the extremely charismatic and talented Jennifer Cho and Jonah Kim on violin and cello.

The last one is the final show of the Festival, coming up this weekend, and it will be big band and jazz, which should be a fun end to the series.

*I was so delighted by “Phoenix” that I asked if they had a recording available, but unfortunately, there isn’t one, so it will just have to be a beautiful and haunting memory.

A YEAR AGO: At the fabulous Flamingo.

FIVE YEARS AGO: You win some, you lose some.

TEN YEARS AGO: An unexpected visit to the country. I never imagined I’d be living in Albion and loving it.

The 4th of July weekend brings the amazing Flynn Creek Circus to our little corner of the world, its distinctive striped tent and ticket caravan appearing in the Village like magic:

Usually, it is an amazing experience. But this time…

I noticed as I entered the tent that there were earplugs on a table near the concessions, and I thought that was a little odd, since it was a circus, not a rock concert, and in the early afternoon, when the audience was mostly families, including small children.

It all made sense when a trio of guitar, bass, and drums with a screeching singer was unleashed upon our unsuspecting eardrums. I endured the first “song”, played at high volume and low talent, and then there was some of the acrobatics I had come to see:

You can see the Nightmare Trio in the background. They started up again after the acrobats, and I noticed that the small girl sitting next to me was covering her ears and wincing, so I went to see if I could get her some ear plugs. They were (unsurprisingly) all gone, but the guy gave me a tissue she could ball up to protect what remained of her eardrums. I gave it to her, and she put it in and curled up against her mother. When another song started up and there was no sign of more of the actual circus, I actually got up and left. I never thought I’d walk out on Flynn Creek Circus. Hopefully, next year they will be back to their fabulous selves.

A YEAR AGO: Cider tasting in an heirloom orchard, and other pleasures in the Valley.

FIVE YEARS AGO: An intruder.

TEN YEARS AGO: So freakin’ glad to be home!

TWENTY YEARS AGO: On the dynamics of lines.

Going from one extreme to the other, I visited the City twice in six weeks after not being there for almost a decade.

It was a beautiful drive through wine country. The vines were leafed out, and the hills were transitioning from winter’s green to summer’s gold. The fields were replete with wildflowers and baby animals as spring tipped into summer. I even managed to nab this photo of a barn which is one of the landmarks on the journey:

After checking into my usual modest motel in my old neighborhood, I headed out to the Immersive van Gogh exhibit, at Market and Van Ness. I went up the stairs:

At the top of them, there was a slide show giving a brief overview of van Gogh’s all too brief life:

I hadn’t realized that his painting career was so short: he started painting when he was 27, and died when he was 37. He received no formal art training, and he produced so much beauty in so little time!

The exhibit was a wonderful experience. Van Gogh’s paintings were projected all over the alls, floors, and those of us lucky enough to be in the audience. The images bloomed into each other, and in some cases, like The Starry Night, started with what looked like shooting stars:

before changing into the painting:

There was music to accompany the beautiful images:

The show ended with van Gogh’s signature projected on the walls:

a simple, poignant “Vincent”. I left the show dazzled by the beauty and filled with emotion at being part of something so beautiful and so ephemeral, fitting for an artist who blazed so brightly and so briefly.

A YEAR AGO: Enjoying an extra long holiday weekend.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A fabulous birthday week.

TEN YEARS AGO: An amazing 50th birthday: the Beach Boys, Chinatown, shopping, henna painting!

I decanted the car contents into the motel room, and then ordered my very first Uber to take me to the Palace of Fine Arts Theater. Uber is magic. It showed up in about two minutes, swept me to my destination, and went away. It’s the next best thing to having a chauffeur at my beck and call. What’s not to love?

The theater looked beautiful in the evening light:

The line was long, and although vaccines were supposedly required, no one checked vaccine cards. They did, however, use one of those airport style wands on everyone and looked in everyone’s handbags, so go figure. I found it a little unnerving to be in the crowd, and claustrophobic to be in the middle of the theater, though the seats were great and so was the view of the star, Lindsey Buckingham:

He is a local (or at least local-ish, hailing from nearby Palo Alto, home of Stanford University), so it was a hometown crowd welcoming him home with great enthusiasm. The evening felt very intimate, since his band was so small and part of the show was just Lindsey and his guitar. He is so charming and unaffected, and his voice has not diminished at all over the years. I was happy that he played some songs from his new album, which I have been listening to and enjoying recently. It was a really special evening.

A YEAR AGO: Some animal updates.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Spring was pretty wintery.

TEN YEARS AGO: A busy day in the City.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: What I missed.

Kelley House

It seemed like a long time since Megan and I had been to the beautiful Kelley House, so we were glad to go and see their newest exhibit, a collection of locally made quilts showcasing some of the iconic landmark buildings in the Village. They were beautiful, and I was impressed by the skill of the artists who made them.

This one shows the Village, perched on its peninsula jutting into the ocean. I wonder if any other town looks like this one:

This is the Kelley House itself. William Kelley was one of the early settlers here and built the house to lure his bride from the civilization of Prince Edward Island to the wilds of Mendocino. It is still one of the loveliest houses in this lovely village. Also pictured is one of the characteristic water towers:

This is the venerable Mendocino Hotel, right in the middle of Main Street:

It also shows what used to be the Highlight Gallery, which has now moved to the former Oddfellows Hall:

In fact, after we saw the quilts, we stopped in at the relocated Highlight Gallery and admired the wide array of beautiful artwork on sale, including some really stunning handmade wooden pieces, like this desk:

And this cabinet:

It also boasts a stunning view from its upper level:

This bowl reminded me of my friend Guy, who is a shaman and whose spirit animal is the raven:

We thoroughly enjoyed the beautiful work made by our talented neighbors. The only thing more beautiful than this place is the artwork it inspires.

A YEAR AGO: Recovering from the week at our local bar.

FIVE YEARS AGO Darkness was back. But so was our friend Clayton.

TEN YEARS AGO Seeing the great Brian Wilson in concert.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A really fun visit to Motown.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: A post from John.

It appears that I was determined to pack as much fun as I could into my long weekend. If that was indeed my goal, I definitely succeeded.

On Saturday night, I attended a concert which was part of the Mendocino Music Festival. It was held in the lovely Cotton Auditorium, which was built in the 1938 as a Public Works Administration project during the “New Deal” and named after then-Principal Joel Cotton:

It seemed like a long time since I last saw the Symphony there. This was the first time I sat in the balcony, and much like sitting in the balcony at the Arena Theater, where Megan and I see ballets and plays live-streamed, I am now a convert to balcony seating at Cotton Auditorium as well. You can see the stage and appreciate the playing so much better from that height:

The program was short, at just an hour, but there was no tedious intermission (yay!), and the program was wonderful: Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3; Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings in C Major; and Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings. The playing and conducting were amazing, and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment.

A YEAR AGO: The adventures of Dodge.

FIVE YEARS AGO: The horror of the annual staff meeting.

TEN YEARS AGO: Farewell to our beloved Erica and Jessica, who moved to Portland.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Prettying up the already Lovely Rita.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Seen and heard around town.

I had a busy weekend planned, but Fate had other plans…

We were going to have family dinner on Saturday at Rio’s place. It would be the first time we had gotten together since our belated Thanksgiving, and the first time this new-ish year. But Megan picked up a virus at work – the hazards of working in an emergency room, with all those sick people* – and didn’t want to share her cooties with us. The weather chimed in, smacking us with a storm which made the prospect of driving over the rivers and through the woods to Rio’s** house both unappealing and inadvisable. So we called off family dinner, or at least rescheduled it, probably until the first weekend in February.

Coincidentally, the cancelled night would have been Burns’ Night, and I had a poem all ready to take with me and have my brother read out loud. It was especially perfect since it was January. Given the drive, we wouldn’t be sipping whiskey with our poetry, but we would have had handmade cider, which is a British tradition and could be an acceptable substitute. If we do have family dinner on the first Saturday in February, we can celebrate Laura Ingalls Wilder’s birthday instead of Robbie Burns’, and homegrown, home-made food and cider will be just as appropriate for that.

It’s harder for me to tell how rainy it is outside when I’m inside the house now. My old place had no insulation, and its Quonset hut shape made the roof and the walls the same thing, so the rain was everywhere and it was really loud. It was also, like a horror movie villain, inside the house. When I look back, I’m a little surprised by how I just took it in stride that there was a merry little brook in the laundry room/pantry in the winter, the puddle by the Christmas tree, the one in the foyer, etc. Here I have stepped outside and been shocked by the fact that it’s hot outside or pouring with rain.

So when Megan texted me on Sunday to say that it was raining so hard that the roads would probably flood and close that day, we decided it would be wiser not to go to Point Arena to see the ballet. We were both disappointed, since we were looking forward to it so much. It was Raymonda, a grand ballet from the 19th century which we had never seen before (and still haven’t). The next one is in March and is Giselle. I think we made the right decision, but we were both sorry to have missed it.

It also meant that I had no Sunday dinner, since I was naturally planning to get Thai food in Anchor Bay. I always have pizza dough in the freezer, so I thawed that and looked around in the refrigerator, where I found salami, an onion, and capers to substitute for the olives I didn’t have. I also always have a tube of Italian tomato paste in the refrigerator, so I put that on the dough first, then everything else. Finished it with Asiago and parmesan, and it was very good indeed. Not as glamorous as ballet and Thai food, but still good.

*Years of this have given her a kick ass immune system. It takes a particularly nasty bug to make her sick. I appreciate her not sharing with us. Sometimes not sharing is caring.
**She is, and always will be, the only grandmother among us. Grandson Number 4 is scheduled to arrive on March 10!

A YEAR AGO: We actually made it to the ballet. And it was wonderful.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Making bread.

TEN YEARS AGO: Glitz and glamor at the Legion of Honor museum.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Getting ready for a road trip to Florida. Or at least thinking about getting ready.

It was a busy week. All those library meetings! And then I had an 8 am call on Saturday morning with my former boss/partner and long-time friend Adrian to discuss his latest venture, a tax preparation service. We’ll see if anything comes of it. If there’s one thing I could use, it’s a jobette. Or a wealthy benefactor. I didn’t have much time to get dressed and out the door to meet Megan.

It may seem odd that I left the house at 10 am to go to a play that started at 1 pm, but a) it’s a long drive to the theater; and 2) we had important errands to run. The first of these was stopping in at Franny’s, conveniently located across from the theater. For once, there was no line until we created one. Megan got the last bacon slipper for lunch, and I got a croque monsieur. We both got canelés, too. It was a successful mission.

Next up was Anchor Bay Thai, where we discovered that the beautiful peacock mural which had been started at an earlier visit was now complete, and just gorgeous:

Peacocks and peonies – what’s not to love? It reminded me of a long-ago visit to Isola Bella in the Italian Lakes, and seeing the beautiful white peacocks there. I almost want to dig out my diaries from that visit and read about it again.

We stowed our dinners in the car and headed back to the theater, where we bagged the last space in the parking lot and our traditional balcony seats. The play was Noel Coward’s “Present Laughter”, and despite being written in the 1930s, it was still as fresh and funny today as the day it was written. The sets were lovely and Art Deco looking, and the cast was wonderful. We thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was still light out when we left the theater and headed to our favorite seaside bar. It was too cloudy for a sunset, but no matter what the weather is, it’s the best view on the coast. The new bartender Miriam (our beloved long-serving bartender Aiyana is still there on Wednesdays) made us fabulous appletinis:

as we waited for Monica to join us. The bar was full, and as the sun slipped into the ocean behind the clouds, it just felt cozier. One of the things I love about that place is you can come there for a special occasion, or from a day of gardening, and feel special and taken care of. Whether you’re a local or a tourist, you’ll feel right at home.

It was nice to catch up with Monica. She has been busy rescuing a dog and taking kick boxing classes. She is stronger and happier, and that’s what you want to see in your friends. If it’s not too late to make a resolution, mine is to spend more moments like this.

A YEAR AGO: A lengthy and unenjoyable power outage. Welcome to winter!

FIVE YEARS AGO: A very enjoyable family dinner.

TEN YEARS AGO: Lots of rain. But not lots of enthusiasm for the rain.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Deciding on a road trip to Florida. It was quite the adventure.

I am pleased to report that 2019 was a vast improvement over the extremely unpleasant 2018. Less crappy! It’s our goal!

The main improvement in my life is that I moved to an incredibly beautiful house, still in Hooterville, but a world away from the drama, weirdness, and strife of the old place.

Books read: A paltry 83, embarrassing compared to last year’s 102, and even more embarrassing considering that I became our local library’s Board President this year. Not exactly setting a shining literary example there.

Rainfall has been on the paltry side too, at a mere 12.5 inches so far this underachieving season. The hills are barely green and it’s nearly January. I hope we aren’t facing another drought.

I lost track of the power outages this year. Given that Their Satanic Majesties (also known as PG&E) feel they can cut us off for days at a time with utter impunity, I think we can expect the beatings to continue.

Here’s what happened to our heroine this year:

January: The delights of the ballet followed by take out Thai food and a Hitchcock movie with the family. The girls were being good and the boys were being bad. The beginning of a three day power outage. Way to start the year! It’s on! It’s off! It’s winter on the coast! Ending the month as it began, with a wonderful evening at the ballet.

February: Thinking about the past. There was snow! Beautiful snow! I love snow! I did not love having the Bug from Hell, however. The dangers of housework.

March: A little vacation in town, in the midst of an atmospheric river. A delightful trip to the past. The combined horrors of dental bills (which I did have to pay, of course), the time change, and yet more dental work. Hoping that the madness of the time change will eventually go away, though the horrors of bills and dental work are eternal. We celebrated Dad’s birthday in style, with home-made cider, good food, a great Hitchcock movie, and lots of love. Brightening my hair and my outlook. Dinner with Erica and Jessica. There are no words for how much I miss them.

April: An unexpected (and unnerving) funeral. Boys will be boys. Especially Dodge and Clyde. So nice to see how much they love each other. Getting crowned. And not in a good way. An unpleasant surprise. My blog turned 18 and Jessica turned 16. Guess which one is more mature? A fantastic trip to the South Coast with Megan and Lu, including a fascinating lecture on female lighthouse keepers.

May: I found a new house to rent! It is beautiful and I still can hardly believe I actually live there. A wonderful barbecue at Rio’s place, with lots of friends and family. The best kind! Wildlife, inside and out. Water, water everywhere. I picked a good time to move. Taking a trip down Memory Lane while going through the seemingly endless supply of boxes. Neither here nor there. Moving Day! And Megan’s birthday!

June: I got internet for my birthday. Just what I wanted! Unpacking. With a vengeance. And without caffeine. My brothers valiantly unpacked the ancient grandfather clock. It’s official! I’m home! Getting to know the new and fancy appliances in my new house. And I have a house key for the first time in 10 years! The cats adjusted to their new home. And speaking of cats: Dodge dislodged the window screen in the bedroom. Fortunately there was no permanent harm done to cat or screen.

July: Natural wonders, from earthquakes to foxes. A delightful evening with the Flynn Creek Circus. Is there any other kind? Jarrett and Kalli are engaged! Wedding will be in the spring of 2021 on the family estate. Hooray! A look around my beautiful new home. It’s like a dream that I actually live here. My commute isn’t bad, either.

August: A fun Sunday without ever leaving Hooterville. Alert the media! I actually went to the movies! It was really fun, too. Hello darkness, my old enemy. And farewell to another lovely library board member, at the ripe old age of 94. Her ashes joined her husband’s at Wage’s Creek and they are together at last. A fairly successful attempt at making Montreal style bagels. A completely perfect day to kick off an extra long weekend.

September: Helping to set up a very successful book sale for the library. A delicious trip to the South Coast. Yet another new appliance in my new house!

October: Bears, bears, everywhere! I somehow became the library Board President. There are far too many speeches and events involved. More bears. And gas. It turns out you can have too much. Only I could turn buying a couch cushion into an epic adventure. The tenth anniversary of my move to Hooterville. A lot has happened over the decade. Moving here was one of the few good decisions I have made as an adult.

November: The horror of a five day power out(r)age brought to us by the corruption, greed, and neglect of PG&E. They should be ashamed of themselves, but they aren’t. You think a long, unnecessary power outage is bad, until you wake up to discover a sink full of raw sewage. The fun and companionship of hula class. And the joy and beauty of the local symphony. There’s nothing more fun than girl night!

December: A stormy, but happy, Thanksgiving. The only thing more fun than the Festival of Lights is seeing it with your friends and their family. The happy tradition of Candlelight Shopping in the Village. And a happy holiday season.

Thanks for coming along with me for the ride. Here’s to the New Year!

Tuning Up

Usually the arts seem to all be located on the magical south coast. This time, instead of heading south, I went north to the Big Town one fine Sunday afternoon (is it ever going to rain?). I arrived at the lovely auditorium, which was featured in these pages a few years ago*, a few minutes late for the pre-concert lecture. Being a small town, they told me to take a seat and come back later to pay for the concert.

I enjoyed the lecture, which gave a background on the musicians who wrote the music we were about to hear, as well as some history on the music itself. It was fascinating to learn all this right before hearing the music. The program included Mozart’s Overture to The Marriage of Figaro, Schumann’s Violin Concerto in D minor, and Mendelssohn’s Symphony #3 in A minor, Opus 56 “Scottish”.
When the lecture was over, I went out and paid for my ticket, got a program, and went back to my seat to read it before the show started. The musicians were a mixture of local and guest musicians, and they were wonderful. I especially enjoyed the performance of a young guest violinist, who plays violin made in 1761 and whose performance had been described to me as “fiery”. I have to agree that is the perfect description. It was a joy to hear and see him.

The whole thing was a joy, really. It was wonderful to sit in a hall filled with my neighbors and friends and have the magnificent music wash over me. I really felt in the moment.

The orchestra received the standing ovation they deserved at the end of the performance. As I was driving away, I passed several of the musicians loading their instruments into their cars and waved at them, yet another little bit of applause from a very thankful recipient of their gifts. I am already looking forward to the next concert in February.

*In reading this, I realize that Flynn Creek Circus did not have their distinctive red and white striped tent then. This may be the only time I have seen them somewhere other than the tent. Who knew?

A YEAR AGO: Thanksgiving at Rio’s house. And a farewell to our much-loved Erica and Jessica. I still miss them. And life is a lot less festive without them.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Somehow Thanksgiving sneaked up on me while I was in San Francisco.

TEN YEARS AGO: Getting ready for T Day.

I noticed on the local message boards that there was a series of six hula classes being given at the Caspar Community Center at 4:00 on Thursday. I checked my schedule and decided that I could get there in time – Caspar is the next town south from the Big Town where I work, so it’s on the way home – and off I went in the darkening evening.

Arriving at the community center, I found the three teachers, who are all native Hawaiians, a few kids, and about 10 other grown-ups. Clearly, I was the only one coming from work, and I felt a bit silly in my faux adult attire, especially since everyone else was wearing pretty skirts. Not to worry, though. One of the teachers wrapped me in a colorful batik scarf. I took off my shoes, and we all stood in a circle holding hands. Pretty much everyone but me knew the chants that followed, but I just listened with my eyes closed, feeling my feet grounded and the warm presence of the other dancers as they praised their higher power and asked for guidance.

We started by learning a dance about shells. The kids joined in this one. I was interested to learn that every gesture has a meaning: shell; shore; island; flower; ocean, etc. Before starting the second dance, we learned some history about its origins and the place it was written so we could understand the story we were telling. I loved learning all the history. The dancing is harder than you would think by looking at it, but I did the best I could, with the encouragement of the teachers and the other dancers. I really enjoyed it, and it gave me the gift of really being in the moment.

At the end, we did the circle again, and I felt enfolded in the warmth of my sister dancers and the stories we had told together. I am looking forward to the next classes.

A YEAR AGO: The 100th anniversary of Armistice Day. Thank you to all who served and continue to serve.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Attempting to run errands in San Francisco, with varying degrees of success.

TEN YEARS AGO: Feeling like Sanford & Son.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A cold. And a piano.

Megan and I took advantage of a break in the weather for a trip to the Village. Our first stop was to see if our favorite wood-fired, brick oven pizzas were available in the winter. The scent greeting us as we made our way there suggested that they were:

They are indeed open year-round, which was good to know. The garden was still beautiful, even in the depths of winter, as was the pizza:

With dinner squared away before noon, we headed for the Kelley House to see a special exhibit on vintage fashion. Did you know that wedding gowns were not always white? This one dates from 1860s:

We were entranced by the beautiful gowns on display:

Here are some details:

There’s even an M for Megan:

It’s hard to imagine my tomboy sister in one of these getups, but you’d have to be a pretty tough women to survive living here in the Victorian era. Don’t forget there was no Golden Gate Bridge or paved roads, so to get here from San Francisco involved taking a ferry across the Bay and then stagecoach or carriage. Or you could do the whole thing by water and have to take a Victorian style zipline to the rocky Mendocino shore:

In fact, Megan noticed that there was a framed, matted version of a similar photo for sale for a mere $40. She was unable to resist, and I think it was a very good purchase. You can still see the remains of the zipline on the headlands to this day.

Children wore exquisite little gowns as well:

I think this elegant black velvet cocktail dress from the 1940s could be worn now:

Some fashion is timeless. Fortunately, corsets and crinoline are not!

We were fascinated by a film in which a modern-day girl got dressed in 1860s and 1880s style, all by herself. To be fair, she already had foundation garments on, but it still didn’t take as long as we thought it would, even with buttoning boots and petticoats and lacing her own corset. She even showed us how a lady relieved herself in the days when skirts and undergarments weighed several pounds. The secret is the open pantaloons and facing the wall, the opposite of the way modern women do. The Victorian way allowed bustles and crinolines to billow out of the way of the business at hand.

It was fun to take a look at the past, but I’m glad that I live in the present!

A YEAR AGO: It was still winter-y, but the ballet was fabulous.

FIVE YEARS AGO: This and that, things and stuff.

TEN YEARS AGO: From being robbed at the DMV to seeing priceless jewels. Just another day in Oaktown.

The lights stayed on the rest of the week, the sun is out, and the event hell is behind me for another few months*, so things are brighter, both literally and figuratively.

Megan and I headed to the South Coast for another of our cultural outings. The first stop, as it often is, was Anchor Bay Thai, where we are now so well-known that the lovely young server puts takeout menus on the bar for us on sight, and writes our names on the bills before we give her our credit cards. We were unable to resist the special fresh spring rolls of the day, made with coconut shrimp and fresh pineapple. So good!

We arrived at the theater in Point Arena in time to get balcony seats and enjoy the wonders of “La Sylphide”. It is one of the oldest ballets still being performed, and according to Katerina, the one that introduced dancing en pointe and started the celebrity of ballerinas, way back in 1836.

I am surprised it’s not better known today. It is beautiful to watch, with a wonderful, romantic story and a tragic ending. It is set in Scotland, where James (played by Semyon Chudin, who so memorably played the Mouse King a few years ago) naps by the fire in his mansion. He is awakened by a kiss from a sylph, who enchants him by fluttering and seeming to float as she dances around the room. As James reaches for her, she flies up the chimney and vanishes.

Unfortunately for James, it is not only his wedding day, but his groomsmen think he’s crazy when he describes his close encounter with this fantastic being. Eventually, James pursues the sylph into the enchanted forest where she and her sister sylphs dance an exquisite dance. He manages to capture the sylph and kiss her passionately, but this causes her wings to fall off and the beautiful creature dies in his arms.

I think it’s one of my favorites of all the ballets we have seen over the past few years. I’m looking forward to the next one, “La Bayadère”, in March.

*Though the actual event is next January, tickets go on sale and the madness starts in October. So the break from the horror is nowhere near as long as this girl would like.

A YEAR AGO: We were at the ballet then, too.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Hanging out with Megan’s dog Stella.

TEN YEARS AGO: Fighting the ghosts of the past and the tears of the present.

The Nutcracker was the last ballet of the old year. I thought it would be the same one we saw a couple of years ago, but it was a different production, with choreography from 1966 and the 92 year old choreographer himself in the audience at the beautiful and historic Bolshoi Theater.

It was very different from the earlier production. This one had a glittery deep blue curtain with the guests going to the party (and leaving it, against the same backdrop), which we liked. We also liked the 18th century inspired costumes. But we were less taken with the principal dancers, especially Marie, who seemed to cry a lot, and had no chemistry with the Prince. The godfather who gifted Marie with the nutcracker seemed to be some kind of evil magician and also seemed to conjure up the Mouse King and his army, which seemed a little odd. Some of the dances were longer and others were shorter. All in all, it was fun and interesting, but on the whole, Megan and I both preferred the early production.

We were also glad that there was only one intermission, so it was still light out as we headed home with a car full of Thai food. We went to Megan’s place, where we were joined by Jonathan and Rob. It was the first time I had hung out there since they first moved in. Everything is put away and it looks lovely. While they have to be on the frugal side with electricity until they buy new batteries to store the solar power, it was warm enough to just wear a t-shirt in the house, which was an enjoyable novelty for someone who usually wears at least one sweater in her house and sometimes more. Sometimes even a hat*. To be fair, Megan and Rob’s old house used to be colder than mine is, so they really appreciate the warmth and insulation of their new home.

We enjoyed our fabulous Thai food with some local wine and Alfred Hitchcock’s “Shadow of a Doubt”, filmed in nearby Santa Rosa. Hitchcock chose the location because Santa Rosa was the quintessential small town, hard to believe 75 years later when it’s nothing but concrete and malls. The house where most of the action took place is still there, as is the train station, but the lovely library is no more, and the Til Two bar is gone, too. We agreed that we’d love to have the sign and/or the doors from that place:

We all enjoyed the movie and we all managed to miss the cameo, which I later learned was here about 15 minutes in.

It was a happy evening.

*Yesterday morning, I woke up to discover that the dish soap was frozen. To be fair, there was only a couple of inches in a glass bottle, but still. That’s cold.

A YEAR AGO: Sickly New Year to me!

FIVE YEARS AGO: Home again from San Francisco.

Brian Wilson at the Paramount Theater

First things first: the heat wave has receded, replaced by still sunny skies with refreshing breezes, and not a moment too soon.

While still in its mighty grip, I went to see the great Brian Wilson on Friday night. It was an all-around fabulous experience because:

1. The show was in Oakland, at the historic and gorgeous Paramount Theater. Just a ten minute drive from my house! I didn’t even get lost, it was so close! Actually, it’s just a couple of blocks from my rarely visited office.
2. Parked right behind the theater! Considering the valuable minutes and hours I have spent looking for parking since I moved to the wrong side of the Bay, this is no small achievement.
3. I was only seven rows back from the stage (not that you can tell by the graininess of the illegally obtained photo above), the closest I have ever been to the genius behind the Beach Boys.
4. He started right on time (with the classic “California Girls”), unlike some people I could mention.
5. Brian Wilson!

At 66, Brian just released his latest album, That Lucky Old Sun, last week to rave reviews. I’ve seen him play several times over the past few years, notably performing his masterpiece, SMiLE, and I’ve never seen him so relaxed and happy. The only flaw was a slight problem with the video part of one song, but this was the beginning* of the US tour, so such minor issues can be overlooked.

All in all, it was a magical evening.

*Naturally, he decided to start the tour here since I now live here!

I seem to have felt increasingly frivolous lately:

An Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England, by Brock Clarke

It’s been a long time since I was as taken with a book as I was with this astonishing, witty novel. The last time was Jeanette Wall’s heart-rending, yet inspirational memoir, The Glass Castle, and before that (you guessed it), Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones. With a fresh, unique voice, Clarke gives us the unlikely story of a teenager who accidentally sets fire to Emily Dickinson’s house, killing a husband and wife in the process. He does his time, is released from jail, and starts a new life. But he can’t escape his past, especially when writers’ homes start going up in flames again.

A tragi-comic delight, from start to finish.

Bridge of Sighs, by Richard Russo

It’s been six years since Russo’s tour de force, Empire Falls (the mini-series was, unusually, as good as the book), so I was more than ready for one of Russo’s guided tours of small town New York State. In all fairness, I will disclose that I have a sentimental attachment to small town NY, having been brought up there (mostly) and to Russo’s poignant portraits of everyday, small town life. As with Jane Austen, it’s a small canvas, but painted with great richness.

Deluxe: How Luxury Lost Its Luster, by Dana Thomas

Thomas knows whereof she writes: she writes for the New York Times style magazine, that staple of my Sunday reading, and covered fashion for Newsweek in Paris for 12 years. This gives her access to the big guns of the big luxury houses, gets her behind the scenes at factories and offices, and gives us a peek into the secrets of the world’s most famous designers and brands. Sadly, luxury brands are now almost entirely owned by huge conglomerates, and few women wear couture. But for the very wealthy, true luxury is still available – at a price. And the rest of us can read all about it.

The Deep and Other Stories, by Mary Swan

I went looking for Ms. Swan’s latest book, The Boys in the Trees, but the library didn’t have it. They did have this earlier work, and by page 7 I was completely enchanted, in a different world. Graceful, lyrical, with characters popping in and out of stories. Unexpected. Moving.

I’m going to have to buy the new one.

The Little Lady Agency and the Prince, by Hester Browne

The third in a series of fizzy books about a well brought up London girl who opens an agency to help hapless men. Not in the traditional way, but helping them to buy stylish clothes, get good gifts for their girlfriends, improve their manners, break up gracefully, and other things that most men just can’t manage on their own.

When I was at the hotel waiting for my things to arrive, I ran out of books so I picked up the first in the series at the local Borders, and couldn’t wait to read the second one. Great escapism, lots of fun, like a champagne cocktail beside a Riviera pool.

I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead: The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon, by Crystal Zevon

What with the excellent Californication (a must-see; just get past the silly title and even sillier first scene and it’ll charm the pants off you) constantly playing Zevon songs and/or referring to them, and at least two of the New York Times book critics choosing this book as one of their top ten of the year, I had to check it out. I couldn’t put it down. You don’t have to know anything about Warren Zevon (I didn’t) to be fascinated by this book. He knew everybody and did everything. As he put it himself, “I was Jim Morrison for a lot longer than he was”. Amazing.

The Spare Wife, by Alex Witchel

The title refers to the glamorous former model and current socialite Ponce Porter, who acts as a “spare wife” to both people in a couple, equally helpful to husband and wife without being threatening. Quite a feat, as is her being a pro bono lawyer who never gets up before noon.

Her perfect existence is threatened when a power-hungry assistant editor at a well-regarded magazine learns Ponce’s deepest and darkest secret and threatens to expose it. But Ponce won’t give up without a fight.

Set in the glittering high society of present-day New York, it’s all surface and no substance.

Gossip Girl, by Cecily von Ziegesar

Apparently her real name and pretty much her real life, since she grew up on the Upper East Side and went to a fancy private school, like the girls in the book. The drama! The drinking! The heartaches! The shopping! Frivolous fun, and I’ve already started downloading the TV series. What can I say? I’m the world’s oldest teenager.

Remember Me? by Sophie Kinsella

I can’t help myself, I’m a “Shopaholic”-aholic, even though I know their heroine is irresponsible and the consequences of her actions would be anything but amusing and easily resolved in real life. Reality, whether on TV or in your life, is overrated in my opinion, especially when your current reality includes the shopping cart people and buying groceries at Lucky. So I need my escapism, and I need it bad.

Shopaholic Becky is missing from the latest effort, replaced by the delightfully named amnesiac Lexi Smart, who wakes up in the hospital one day to find that she had a car accident. She can’t remember a thing, including her gorgeous millionaire husband, her insanely luxurious apartment, and her high-powered job. Is her glamorous life everything it seems to be? Will Lexi regain her memory? It’s a fun premise and a romp of a read.

On deck:

The Monsters of Templeton

Like You’d Understand Anyway

Later, At the Bar

Summer at Tiffany

Am hung over from unwise brandy after the Film Noir Festival at the beautiful Castro Theater last night. I must have missed the “please drink responsibly” warning on the label.

The movies were wonderful. It was, appropriately, a dark and stormy night. The theater was built in 1922 and has been restored to its full glory. When I arrived, the organist was playing the Wurlitzer organ on stage, which sinks out of sight when it’s time for the movie. It’s a movie palace, all right.

The movies were introduced by James Ellroy, one of the premier weirdos of our time and author of many books, including one on the Black Dahlia and one about his mother’s still unsolved murder, which took place when he was around 10 years old. He is a noir aficionado and helped to finance the restoration of the prints we saw last night. Both movies were written by Dalton Trumbo, who was blacklisted in the dark McCarthy era and whose name therefore does not appear in the credits. His grandson was also there.

I had never seen the first movie before, “The Prowler” from 1950. Attention-grabbing opening scene of Evelyn Keyes (Scarlett O’Hara’s little sister in “Gone with the Wind”) clutching a towel to her otherwise nude quite the figure and screaming as she catches sight of…The Prowler!!! She calls the police, one of whom is very taken with her and ends up being a homme fatale, as well as very possibly the original prowler. Ev really should close the blinds when she’s taking a bath. I think she learned her lesson.

I had seen the second, “Gun Crazy”, but it’s great to see it on a big screen in a beautiful place and enjoy the crowd’s reactions. The movie, released the same year, pairs a carnival sharpshooting lovely with a disillusioned WWII veteran on a crime spree.

Up next: “Conflict”, a Bogart rarity, on February 1, and “Night and the City”, with the luminous Gene Tierney, on February 3. Stay tuned!

Wishlist for the summer:

The Art Institute of Chicago’s special exhibit on Seurat’s A Sunday on La Grande Jatte, put into context by paintings by his contemporaries, such as Monet, Pissaro and Renoir. Not to mention that when in Chicago, I can meet up with Colin, Chicagolimited’s very own unlimited source of knowledge about Chicago’s architecture. I might be lucky enough to take one of his personalized skyscraper tours.

Seeing Wilco while they’re on tour for their great new CD, A Ghost Is Born.

The Art Gallery of Ontario’s brilliant exhibit: Turner, Whistler, Monet. Are they the first museum to put on an exhibit which acknowledges that Turner was the first Impressionist – 50 years before the Impressionists were given that name? And to those of you who think that Whistler is just “Whistler’s Mother” (not the title of that famous painting, by the way – it’s “Arrangement in Grey and Black: Portrait of the Painter’s Mother “) – check out his Nocturnes.

Spending a few days in the Hamptons with my old friend Paul, who also hosted sis’n’Me in Florida in February. Before you start getting any ideas, he does catering for the rich folks, he ain’t one himself. And I can bring down the tone in the tony Hamptons as well as I do in tony Pacific Heights. I’ve had years of practice.

Visiting the fabulous Kathleen in Motown for her birthday!

Sometimes, it’s nice to be proved wrong.

Can you believe I said that? She who is always right?

After work on Friday, I went to MOMA, with the intention of seeing the exhibit of Lewis Carroll’s* photographs. On arriving at the museum, I discovered not only that my membership had lapsed (a problem which has been rectified), but that there is a wonderful artist I had never heard of before and whose works I had never seen, a problem also rectified on the same day.

Before I reveal the artist’s identity, I have a confession to make, which is: I have never been to Germany or Austria, and that those Germanic parts of the world don’t appeal to me in the slightest. A friend kindly pointed out to me recently, and with some truth, that this means that I am seeing these places only through the prism of others’ experiences, which is probably true, but still doesn’t have me reaching for the phone and calling Lufthansa.

Having said all that, I will now say this: Gerhard Richter, the subject of the MOMA exhibit, 40 Years of Painting, has a versatility and range I have never before witnessed in any artist ever. Most artists stay within a certain scale, big or small, and paint similar subjects (portraits; landscapes), and develop a style over the years that is uniquely his/her own. But Richter is equally successful at large and small scale, abstract paintings and paintings that look like artistically blurred photos. It amazed me to think that all of these paintings- rooms of them – were painted by the same man, and painted well.

To give you some idea, here are three examples:

One

Two

Three

And they were all painted in oil, on canvas. Amazing.

*Am I the only one not convinced that he was a raging pervert? That seemed to be the gist of most of the remarks I overheard while looking at the photos.