The zen of (re)discovering the Bay area

Some very dear friends came to visit for a few days and left yesterday. Unlike many house guests, this family wanted me to accompany them on their sight-seeing adventures. Usually, when folks come to see us, they don't actually end up seeing us for very long. Because our home is situated equidistant from points of interest north (San Francisco) and south (Santa Cruz) we are a perfect home base, allowing for day trips here and there, arriving back at the home base just in time for drinks, dinner, and maybe a movie or card playing. Although I did not accompany them everywhere, we managed to squeeze in some long neighborhood walks, a trip to the farmer's market, and my friends contributed heartily to the tourist economy in Santa Cruz and Monterey, as well as a very fun albeit long day in the City.

I've never toured San Francisco as a tourist, so Monday was a first. Based on the sheer number of "must see" things on their list, they first had to decide: drive or take the train? Driving won out. Once there, drive ourselves or hop on a tour bus? Tour bus won. Having never been on a tour bus of any type, ever, I was slightly intrigued by the idea of being hauled around (by someone else for a change) and wondered how long it would take before I needed to hop off and go my own way. My guests purposely chose the "hop on, hop off" type of tour, which would allow us the opportunity to see more of what we wanted, in depth. They decided the best course of action would be to take the entire tour once (advertised at one and a half hours), then decide what warranted further investigation.

I am now (at least slightly) a bigger fan of the tour bus approach. After completing one full round of sights atop the open-air, double-deck bus, we stopped for lunch, and walked to our in-depth destinations.

Towards the end of the late afternoon/early evening, our group decided that Chinatown was worth a second look, and we hopped back on the bus, as no one really felt like walking up those hills to then more hills in Chinatown. This particular bus was outfitted with a very poor P.A. system, had only one level, which was all open-air, and had very few riders. Perfect. We plopped ourselves in the back, taking up the entire back row of seats and settled in for a leisurely ride to Chinatown; not directly, mind you, but through the prescribed route all the buses took. This meant that we had at least 45 minutes to rest our "barking dogs" as we wound around the City once again.

So far, so good. Sounds terrific, doesn't it? Well, it was. Until we noticed a couple of helicopters hovering overhead in the distance, headed in the very same direction we were headed. "Humm", pondered the tour bus operator. "Wonder where they're going?" As we got closer and closer to our next destination, the helicopters increased in number, and curiously enough, black and white police vehicles were lining the streets. We could see police officers sitting in their vehicles. Many of them. Too many to count. "Uh, oh", the tour bus operator announces, as he speeds up. He doesn't abort the tour, doesn't take an alternate route. No, no, no. He drives directly into the area in question, gaining speed, cutting off an ambulance (in front of a bunch of police cars? Really?) talking the whole time (remember the crappy P.A. system? Still really muffled and crappy at this point).

Suddenly, the tour bus operator decides to take a quick vote to see where we are all headed. It turns out we were the only group that was planning to get off the bus in Chinatown. Everyone else was going back to the home base (near the Embarcadero). Once we realized that our jaunt through Chinatown would not include being picked up at a later time, we decided to forgo the Chinatown stop, and get some dinner at Fisherman's Wharf. With that information, the driver whips the bus around, and we are now headed for the streets of Chinatown. As we leave the congested, police-in-riot-gear area, the P.A. system magically clears up just enough to hear the driver mutter to himself "Jesus". Crystal clear sound. Every nuance of his frustration, and fear of the unknown up ahead could be heard by all in the bus. Priceless. Absolutely priceless.

As it turns out, we inadvertently drove right into a potential protest area, where officers were anticipating BART protesters to arrive and protest the cell phone turn-off incident recently on BART. Who knew? Certainly not us and obviously, not our driver. Our reward for dodging a potentially lethal situation (remember, this is an open-air bus, so we are completely vulnerable to whatever happens to fly by, including possible bullets, tear gas, etc.) was that the driver drove us all through Chinatown, off the regular route, and then we continued on our merry way, none the worse for wear.

Joys of Summer

After a fairly unpleasant semester and an exceedingly unpleasant start to the summer, I have been unexpectedly treated to spur-of-the-moment excursions, complete with fun friends, a lake, a beautiful boat with sea-worthy dogs, and camping.

I have also made a commitment to ride my bike much, much more, since bike riding makes me so happy. I am pleased to report that any errand 5 miles or less from home is completed a la bicycle. Since my sense of direction, ability to read maps with any accuracy, as well as estimate distances has been completely unplugged since I moved to NorCal, I am often riding more than the 10 miles round trip I thought I was in for. Fortunately, I have an extremely patient bike riding partner who is in much better shape than I am, looks better on a bike than I ever will, and is very good-natured about the whole thing, so it's all okey dokey. No worries, no drama, no tears.

I also took a quick road trip to visit Little Lady Luscious, affectionately now known as Our Luscious Little Lady of Holy Terror...not named by me, her loving grandparent, mind you...by her mom, no less. Our little bundle of joy is now walking backwards, singing constantly, can count to 10 in three languages, and is in constant motion. Her favorite words? "NO". "MINE". Often run together and expressed at quite a volume.

The joys of camping at Pismo and at home, too!

I thoroughly enjoyed myself last weekend, camping with good friends at Pismo Beach. It was super relaxing, beautiful scenery, great company, and did I mention relaxing? Just what I needed. I was so relaxed I forgot to take any photos!

Little did I know that I would be "pretend camping" for a few days back at the Hacienda. Yesterday, in my quest for ultimate health and well-being, I cut up half of a cantaloupe along with some strawberries for breakfast, and decided to put all of the rind and seeds and pulp down the garbage disposal. In my defense, I did NOT deposit said rind, etc., in the disposal whole. No, no, no. I dutifully cut the rind into smallish pieces, and fed it into the disposal. Let me add here that it sounds like it could grind the entire house in one swoop...kind of a turbo disposal. This is normal for this particular disposal.

Anyhoo, later in the day as I fixed myself a salad for lunch, I did not put anything more down the disposal. No need. I ate all that I fixed. Every drop. Hours later I decided to make some coffee and as I emptied the french press to wash it, suddenly the turbo disposal was churning with its usual vigor, but once I turned the turbo disposal off, all the water came bubbling back up. Yum. Not quite believing my eyes, of course, I tried it several times. More and more water bubbled back up. Mr. Fix-it (little Johnny) got home about 9:00ish, informed me that we would need to let the sink sit for at least 24 hours before attempting any type of clean-it-out with chemicals solution. He reiterated to me that no water should be put down the now really clogged drain for at least 24 hours. No rinsing anything, no running the dishwasher, nothing. Period. Hummmm. Much later last night, I trotted outside and rinsed the dinner dishes off with the hose, placed them in the dishwasher, and went to bed.

This morning, as I was outside, cleaning the french press again for my morning cup of joe, it occurred to me that, much like "living Amish" (that's what I called it back in the day, when my kids were in trouble and all electronic devices were off limits, or "on groundation" as Flannery liked to call it), I could grumble about the fact that I was out in the cold, wet yard (it rained a ton yesterday, inexplicably...really, in late June? Go figure.), washing my french press before I even had my first cup of coffee, or I could just pretend I was camping. So, I'm camping at the Hacienda. S'mores, anyone?

Note: For anyone that has never washed dishes outside, see the Thanksgiving post of 2009, where little Johnny pressure-washed all the Thanksgiving dishes, because the turbo disposal took an unscheduled and certainly unappreciated day off. We thought it was the pipes, but now I am thinking it was both pipes and disposal. Whatever. The joys of living in a very charming, albeit old home.

Let me count the ways to beat the heat!

As everyone in NorCal knows, it's been hella hot here the past few days.

Samson decided to take matters into his own hands early yesterday morning, while I was making coffee. Apparently, the water in his water dish, along with the water in the toilets (actually his very favorite, usually), just wasn't good enough...maybe not fresh enough.

My friend Bonnie suggested we visit China Camp, since it's one of the CA state parks slated to close in July. Not only was it much, much cooler in San Rafael, it was really beautiful, peaceful, and interesting, all rolled in one! Plus, it was just extra nice to spend time with my good friend!

We managed to squeeze in a quick trip to Sam's Anchor Cafe for their legendary fish and chips, while we watched the boats coming and going.



Yes, indeedy. It was a fun, relaxing, and dare I say, educational, day, all in all.

The Big Lebowski Weekend

Everyone was there. The Dude, The Jesus, Maude, Bunnie, and more. Actually, there were several fabulous versions of The Dude. Fun for all, all for fun. Happy Birthday, Anthony!

Summer pleasures

Although I did not travel to any exotic lands or experience any wild adventures, this summer has been pleasantly cool, and fairly relaxing. I had little adventures, visiting friends and family, as well as receiving visitors, all welcomed and enjoyed. There was the trip to Vashon Island to see my daughter, son-in-law and little spot of sunshine; the short jaunt to Chico/Paradise; the visit from my friends from So Cal, Wilda and her hubby, Jim:



Added bonus: We oohed and cooed over Wilda and Jim's gorgeously adorable granddaughter, Amelia, held in this photo by the equally beautiful new mom, Amanda:



A pleasure indeed.

Summer of Paradise

While I described the locale of Maeg's new home on Vashon Island, WA as a "paradise", I did actually visit Paradise, CA this summer, on a quick road trip with my friend, Bonnie. We drove up to her rental home in Paradise to "try on" some new colors for the trim of her stone house before she ordered up the professional painter(s).

It takes about four and a half hours to get there, so we stayed overnight with her mom, Doris, in Chico, a quaint little college town, and decided to have dinner at the Sierra Nevada (as in the brewery) Restaurant. When it was time to order our drinks, Doris and I each ordered a pint of beer. Rather than choose just one beer, Bonnie ordered the "sampler", and our eyes widened considerably when the "sampler" arrived. It turns out that the "sampler" included 16 small glasses of different types of beer. I was licking my lips, excited to think we would get sixteen different types of beer to taste; Doris was worried about who was going to drive home; Bonnie gave me a surprised look when I reassuringly explained to Doris that we (meaning Bonnie) would be just fine driving home. After all, we were going to have dinner, weren't we? Driving was hours away.

While I'm not sure I would describe the town of Paradise, California, as an actual paradise, it's really quite lovely. Woodsy, green, and certainly friendly. Doris was at her 'entertaining' best, we slapped some paint on the trim of the house and oohed and aahed over our choices, had a good dinner (I have no idea what I ate...all I can remember is all the wonderful beer I drank), and topped off our stay with a brisk walk with the walking group that Doris (who turned 92 this spring) meets each morning at a beautiful park, followed by a waffle breakfast with lots of coffee and conversation, and then we were back on the road.

Much to my surprise, Bonnie stopped at a casino on the way home for a pit stop. We managed to piss away not only the coffee from breakfast, but a few buckeroos on our way to and from the restroom. Lady Luck did not come along on this trip, but there's always next time.

Expecting the unexpected

I love spur of the moment days. Yesterday was one of those days.

First, I spent some time at work, trying to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that is my life. Then, I spent a few hours attending a workshop on the HSI project. Unfortunately, I then spent way too much time taking my sick little Mini to the mechanic in Pleasanton. That's when the fun started.

Thinking we were going to make it to the Monterey Bay Aquarium in plenty of time (they close at 6:00), we arrived at 5:00 and realized there was no way we would be able to do it justice in just one hour. Of course, we had worked up a powerful thirst just getting there, so we wandered over to the pier and found a place that was offering margaritas for just $3.00 each. THREE DOLLARS? Really? Really. But just until 6:00 p.m. (Happy Hour on the weekend, an unheard of phenomenon). So, we plopped ourselves down at the bar with our out of town guest and proceeded to have MANY margaritas (they were really, really itty bitty; hence the $3.00 price tag. When will I ever learn that you really do get what you pay for?).

After the many, many margaritas, consumed at record breaking speed to get the fabulous Happy Hour deal, we then sloshed over to look at the boats and were approached by a middle aged man looking to take a few friends for a quick sail. Well, we were his friends, and son of a gun, if we didn't pile into his sailboat and go for a beautiful, albeit slightly rocky sail out about a mile and then back. Wonderful. A very short jaunt complete with an ocean breeze,an ever so slight spray of ocean water on my face, a sea creature of some sort (I think it was a seal), and back we were on the pier, sober, happy, and very hungry.

We proceeded back to the restaurant where we had polished off all those margaritas, and decided it was just the place for dinner. I had a warm, tasty cup of clam chowder, and a lovely salad. John had salmon and our guest had halibut. All quite tasty, and a perfect ending to an absolutely perfect day. (Well, almost, except for the sick Mini part.)

Grace in Small Things: 30/365

1. Friends
2. The ocean, at all times, anytime
3. Sailing
4. No matter how many I drink, I still love margaritas (although, I must say, I almost never find a margarita I like as well as those I make myself!)
5. All the theories of evolution discussed over so many margaritas and dinner

Spring break is really all about the FRIENDS and food

I've decided that this week is really a LOT about friends, a little about the food and wine, and also about the never ending journey of parenthood. It certainly does not stop when children grow up and move out and move on. Remembering the lessons I learned as a parent when they were younger, and translating that into allowing them to make life-altering decisions on their own, means I have done my job; sometimes well, sometimes not so well. While I am often very pleased with their decisions, right now, at this exact moment, I am crossing my fingers that they have what it takes to make good decisions and good choices, regardless of what I think and feel about those very important decisions and choices. Please cross your fingers with me and hope that everything works out as it should. Details and particulars will follow soon.

p.s. golf, women, beer, and margaritas

I just got back from my annual trek to Palm Springs to attend a golf tournament. Lots and lots of really great golf (the LPGA), sunshine, walking, women (after all, it IS the LGPA), and we managed to cool our jets by whipping up some cocktails out on the verandah, to wash down the chips and very hot salsa I bought at Trader Joe's. My So Cal friend (the one whose husband just left) and I had a nice time. Some moaning and groaning about her husband, naturally, but also some conversation NOT about her husband. I felt obligated to keep her hydrated (we both are certified Mixologists, having completed bar tending school some time ago), and I felt it only proper and caring to provide a steady stream of cooling, soothing, yummy drinks with lots of alcohol, to ease the pain a wee bit, of her recent and oh so painful separation from her husband of 34 years. Apparently, it did the trick, at least a little bit. She was able to talk about lots of stuff, and some of it actually involved thinking ahead instead of dwelling on the past. At least for now.