Spring Fever

The pressure washer and I had a serious date today, and the result is a fresh, looking good-as-new deck. What a chore it was, however, but worth it.

Also looking pretty spiffy is the ancient outdoor table, beautifully refinished, and now ready for parties and summer fun. Margarita, anyone?

While shopping at a local nursery, I spotted a baby Julia Child tomato plant, which I have never heard of before, and I just had to have it. I only hope the tomatoes are as fantastic as she was.

 Teensy impatiens are settled into their soil awaiting the spring and summer sun that will send them into a frenzy of pink, red, and orange. I can't wait!

The only trouble with all this newness is that the situation just screams for rearranging and fussing with this and that. My much loved blue and white frog used to reside by the sliding glass door but now finds new digs on the pale green iron table. The table is in a new spot as well.  It is never-ending, or so it seems. Since the floor to ceiling windows that look out onto the deck are now seriously water spotted from all the pressure hosing, my next task will be a window washing adventure...which will most likely lead to some other domestic project. That's fine with me, just so long as it doesn't involve a ladder, can of paint, and a brush.

Whopper Me, Please!

Theme Thursday - Lunch

This is what does it for me.  Add a large order of fries. Oh, yeah, Babe. I think I'm in heaven.

Boxed In or Not?

Theme Thursday - Box
"What will the neighbors think?"  That's what I often heard from my mom and dad when I was young and impressionable. It seems it was lots about appearances, making sure that our family looked "normal".  And we were normal, meaning we were as dysfunctional as everyone else; but no one was owning up to anything.

Thinking outside the box, only a popular phrase much later on, was a revelation when I experienced it for the first time. In fact, I slipped outside the box before I even knew what that meant. I was 18 and newly arrived as a freshman in Berkeley, away from home for the first time, unless you count my one very homesick adventure at a depressing church camp.

I arrived in all my innocence and was amazed at what I observed. For the few months, I walked around campus decked out in my Sally Sorority denim skirt, madras shirt, and scuffed loafers, wearing the startled facial expression of a deer caught in the proverbial head lights. In fact, I was so engrossed in what was happening around me, I didn't have much energy left over to put into my studies...an oops situation that was sadly reflected in my first semester's slumping GPA.

Balance ensued eventually, and I learned to hit the books while sampling the varied experiences that Cal had to offer: toga parties, Nelson Rockefeller, Richard Nixon, keggers, Malcolm X, the Smothers Brothers, Ronald Reagan, the Big Game, a worldly and sophisticated roommate from New York, JFK at Charter Day, Harry Belafonte, and on and on. Then came the Free Speech Movement and, like witnessing  a UFO landing, I was wide-eyed with incredulity. Question authority? Take over the administration building? Holler and picket? Who did these things? Well, a lot of people, apparently. I'd never seen anything like it.

By the time I finished my four year adventure, I was not the same person. The safety and the narrowness of the box in which I was raised will always be a part of me, and there were many useful lessons learned growing up in Santa Rosa; I am not totally knocking it. In fact, I am grateful for it. However, I am so thankful that my parents, as conservative as they were, encouraged and allowed me to try my wings when I was still, as my father always told me, "wet behind the ears". It was a profound and beyond-the-text-book-experience that shaped, in so many ways, who I am today.

Thanks, Mom and Dad.

A Bunny Kind of Day

The day was murky and dreary, but Easter spirits were high in spite of Mother Nature's dark disposition. Hiding eggs in the yard was supposed to be the order of the day; but sometimes the best laid plans need to be altered, so the Easter Bunny left treats for six excited young egg-seekers in the comfort of the house.

Since this indoor area is fairly close, the Bunny was challenged; but the mission was deftly accomplished.

Lunch was delicious: green salad, ravioli with a scrumptious marinara sauce (here being comedically stirred by Bill), garlic bread, and coconut creme pie for dessert. Mmmmmmm. No Easter ham on the scene! Other than Bill, that is.

I am not sure what it is about the holidays...it doesn't matter which one...that turns my "baby" brother into a little boy all over again. Whatever the cause, it makes for abundance of merriment. At least there was no Redi-whip for him to squirt on me this time.

And so another Easter passes into the archives. As our family expands, it is harder and harder to get all of us together to celebrate in one large group. Jane and the boys visited on Tuesday, so we had a pre-Easter bash; and Jodie and fam spent the holiday in LA, with Bill and Sue traveling south this coming weekend for a belated holiday. Though we don't make it all together very often...I think it takes a wedding... we make it work as best as we can.

Yawnz...

Talk about boring. Trotting out to my local Home Depot was not my idea of a delicious Friday shopping trip. It's right up there with spending $$$ on a vacuum cleaner or a garbage can. Ho Huge Hum. But this was the order of the day, and I am pleased to say, "Mission accomplished!" Step 1 is behind me: the purchase has been made. Step 2, of course, will be the delivery 5-10 days from now; and the most unpopular part of this whole scenario will be Step 3: taking the damn machine out of the box and doing the actual work. The alternative, of course, is doing nothing and doing a slip-fall on my butt, breaking who knows what. So, here I am...Ms. Clean, deck washer. Yawn.

Coastward Bound

I always see wonderful sights as I travel the well-worn path to Dillon Beach to meet up with friends for an overnight of laughter, wine, dogs, and good food. This journey was no exception.

The weather was spectacular and the grassy hills were a brilliant green as my little CRV, laden with bright-eyed pugs and  sleeping bag, crossed over the county line from Sonoma into Marin. For the first time ever, I was surprised to see llamas grazing in the fields along with the usual sheep and cows. I am wondering if I missed them on past trips or they are new additions to the countryside. Whichever...they were a sight to see, long necks and all.

The mustard has pretty much  gone to seed, though here and there I could spot a patch of yellow. In its place was one of my favorite wild flowers, Queen Anne's lace, regally swaying in the wind. I was tempted to pull over and pick a few lacy stems for a centerpiece for the dinner table but didn't, preferring to leave them in place for other weekend travelers to enjoy.

The final visual delight to behold was the red winged blackbirds, often spotted out in open spaces but foreigners to the city. That splash of brilliant color on their wings, so vividly in contrast to their blackness, has always caught my eye. Marvelous.

What a breath taking ride, almost like an escape into a different world.

Wrinkles Galore

Theme Thursday - Sign

Oh, that supposedly unwelcome sign of aging: wrinkles. What to do?  Nothing! Let them just BE. I have many these days, and I do my best to look at them as a symbol of my existence. I am not saying that I like them, but I do accept them as part of the natural process of living, the sign of a survivor. And I am that. Surgery, radiation, chemo. Yes, I am that.

Friends go the plastic surgery/ botox route; and, while we lunch, I mentally compare  their skin surfaces to mine and I am not so sure they look better. Different, yes. Better, hmmm.

There's that quasi  Madame Tussaud's Museum look about them. Where are the forehead wrinkles? Smile lines? Fake. Nothing moves facially. Weird.

My thinking on this topic, all things considered, is not really so simple and philosophically high-roadish; there is another true-confessions part to the story. 1) I hate surgery, needles, hospital stays, and going under anesthesia unless it is truly necessary in order to live. Bottom line: I would rather have wrinkles than go through those ordeals. 2) I  choose to not spend my limited $$$ that way.

So, I accept these wrinkles of time. They are a sign of life and living,  and I am fearful and unwilling to pay the big bucks to go under the needle or knife in order to diminish them. My wrinkles are well earned, and the best part is that I am still here to see them multiply and deepen. So bring 'em on...and, well,  it would be OK if you could dim the lights just a little bit. ;-)