Tuesday, November 15, 2016

I'm back...

 
 
It's been so very nice to take 5 and catch up on things. Enjoyed a very kicked back weekend with Jeff. On Saturday we lunched at Be Wok. Sunday we lunched at The Willow. We Christmas shopped for the family. Birthday shopped for Emma who spent her 12th birthday in bed with the flu. Dave popped by.... WE had a great visit.
 
I spent time clearing out things to be donated.  We hung up winter draperies, brought out winter slipcovers. Jeff and I rearranged the living room a bit so we'll have a spot for the Christmas tree.  Why so soon? Well... Thanksgiving is next week. soon after on the 2nd we'll be heading up to Sutter Creek for our joint birthday/family get-away celebration. We've been getting things together for that. We're so jazzed that we get to spend time with the kids and their kiddos, plus Paula and youngest daughter Stacy, whose just returned from Armenia having completed her time in the Peace Corps will be joining us. There is something very wonderful about spending time with those you love the most, especially, in Sutter Creek, during the holiday season. It's magical.
 
Of course, it's all about the food and conversation and making memories and continuing on with traditions. Dave will barbecue. Jeff will make his infamous Chicken soup. We'll lunch at the Hotel Sutter having appetizers and sampling their Beer bar- it's just down the street from our cottage. Horses drawing wagons filled with holiday revelers will be on display on Main street. Holiday shoppers will be out and about, wine tasting....
 
When we return Emma and Zach will be heading to our house with us as Emma, my fav interior designer (she's so very talented-- it's like having 5 granddaughter's rolled up in one. Landie is the same. We totally lucked out with these two girls), We'll be setting up Christmas trees (we have 8, I think, of varying sizes that will be scattered about). We have reindeers, snowmen, Santa's, et al) It's so much more fun when your grandchildren help. Christmas music, hot cocoa with whipped cream.  I love the holidays!
 
I've also been writing and setting down ideas for writing projects this winter. This evening I wrapped up the remaining Christmas gifts, still more to get, but if I know Emma, and I do, she'll try to inspect an unwrapped gift, lol. But then, so will Jeff... if they happen to come across them.
 
It's been a productive few days and now I can just pretty much relax and enjoy the holidays.
 
 
 
 

Sunday, June 5, 2016

STORIES WITHIN A STORY



As all stories begin... Once upon a time several years ago... Erin (my daughter-in-law) was clearing out her home design magazine collection and gave me a half dozen or so of them; Southern Home, House Beautiful and my favorite Elle Décor among others.

The Elle Décor magazine particularly caught my eye was issued January/February 2006. The cover featured the upper East Side Manhattan townhouse living room of interior designer Muriel Brandolini (whom I love). She is known for her unique style (which is very much my mix of bohemian/traditional/kitsch style.

 
 
Above is Muriel's living room on the cover. Below is my kitchen/informal dining area. You can kinda see the same casual funkiness in both and why I've been so drawn to her work.
 
 
 
A few weeks back I was sorting through magazines. This one is one I've kept while tossing out others. But then I wondered as a designer she would have a coffee table book about the various interiors she's decorated, wouldn't she?
 
Well, she does as I went to Amazon and discovered. And it's quite pricey. Being the frugalista shopping girl that I am I looked at the brand new, just shy of $60 cost and then immediately went to used. I found a 'just like new' copy for $16something. Ka-ching, press order.
 
The book was waiting from me when I arrived home Friday. Opening it I could see it was in perfect condition and indeed could have sold for the original asking price. 300 pages set in a coffee table book. What's not to love?
 
 
 
And here is where the story within a story begins. Opening the book I came across a blue envelope with the name Tom handwritten. Intriguing. Below the envelope there was in the same handwriting an inscription:

 
As a writer my imagination took over. Who was Tom and what was he to either Lars and Buckley?
 
Next, I opened the card. It was a birthday card for Tom from (again) Lars and Buckley. Opening the card I burst into laughter. I so enjoyed the card that I placed it in my writing room on my idea board.
 

 



Whomever wrote this and I am assuming it was Buckley as his name is in quotation marks has a great sense of humor with equal taste in books. And Tom... the jury is out. This was a thoughtful gift and may have accompanied the card as the birthday gift. Yet he gave it away.  So this is my story within a story.... evidently, Abigail who is my book critic extraordinaire agrees this is a cool book and has taken it over for herself.


 


 


Saturday, May 28, 2016

ON THE GO STA-CATION...

 
 
I've been a busy girl the last coupla days. Yesterday, my first day of my mini-vacation, was filled with appointments met, a lovely luncheon with Erin at Pinocchio's, weekend grocery shopping for my fav holiday weekend of the year. At home in the late afternoon scheduling medical appointments, transplanting 2 chrysanthemums, re-potting 2 avocado start-ups; Bob (Landie named him) and Freda. digging out summer canvas draperies from my writing room, then ironing one panel. Setting the other 3 panels aside for this afternoon's ironing when Jeff can help me hang them after he gets off work.
 
After Jeff tooled off to work this AM, I grabbed a laundry basket and headed down to his studio where I began a load of laundry. Heading back upstairs, grabbed my over-sized handbag and headed out to pick up miscellaneous items like cat food, et cetera. I was able to get shopping done at two stores before the weekend crowd ventured out.
 
Back home:I have a large crockpot with beans simmering in the kitchen. Finished putting together potato salad (my grandfather's recipe). Made coleslaw which is chillin' in the fridge.  Brought laundry up, folded, hung and put the rest away.
 
 
potato salad
 

 
coleslaw
 
 
 
Finished reading The Supreme Macaroni Company, the third in a trilogy, by Adriana Trigiani. It was a fun read, it was like having a conversation with your best Italian girlfriend. Gave it to Erin for her to enjoy.  Started Once Upon A Secret, My Affair With President John F. Kennedy And Its Aftermath, by Mimi Alford. In 1962 she was a 19 year old intern at the White House. Well written and fast moving. 
 
Last evening I finished putting together the kids Christening album, well 2 out of 3. We have David and Tara. I have no idea what happened to Amanda's. So, I dashed off a note to my bff Paula who's Amanda's Godmother and asked if she had copies. Sweet Paula on her way to her sister's in Laguna Beach took a moment in traveling  to say she'd look for them when she returns home. I might have some in the studio, but I haven't dug through the boxes in there yet and don't think so.....
 
While looking I came across one of me from way back in the day I think I was almost 3.
 I framed it and placed it next to Landie's Christening photograph on my bedroom table. 
 
 
Now that I've finished my first real cup of coffee of the day it's time to tackle the draperies for my writing room.....
 
 
 

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Ice capades and other mis-adventures

 
 
I slept in this morning until 10 am. I haven't done that in decades. It's due to an ear infection. You know your day is going to be challenging when you start it this way. The next clue was waiting for our Keurig to brew my cup of coffee. It took 3 tries as the hole punctured wasn't large enough. The first cup looked like weak tea. Re-peat. Somewhat darker.  At this point I said to Jeff, I would really like my coffee darker than my hair, is this too much to ask for? I
think not.  Just as I was beginning to identify with Goldilocks, voila! A perfect French roast began to appear in my cup. Houston, we have take off and not a moment too soon.
It took 2 cups of coffee before I could pull myself together.
 
Moving hangers from one side to the other in my closet I finally located what I was going to wear. And what does one choose when Wal-Mart and Burger King are on your dujour list? Yoga pants and flip-flops, duh! One simply cannot overdress for this adventure. I know this to be true as I've seen facebook postings. Apparently less is more.
 
Jeff and I tooled over to Burger King for lunch. Being adventurous we went for grilled hotdogs. I opted for chili-cheese while Jeff went whole hog on the Whopper dog. Throwing all caution and calorie counting to the wind we then branched out with fries and onion rings. Jeff going for broke ordered a vanilla shake while I selected cherry-vanilla coke. The dogs were all beef and not bad. They weren't Der Wienerschnitzle hotdogs but how could they be?
 
Next stop our local fav bookstore Mountain Bookshop. We love browsing about in this shop and have for decades, long before we knew each other. Amanda used to love to play with the train set in the back of the shop (which is still there).
 
 

 
 I stumbled upon Dallas 1963 which I've been looking for and waiting for to decrease in price. Another fav author Sandra Cisneros has a new book out entitle A House of My Own. Grabbed that.
 
 
 
And since I'm becoming hopelessly addicted to Zentangle Art I picked up a book that has pop art. It's called Outside the Lines, Too. An Inspired and Inventive Coloring Book by Creative Masterminds.
 



 
Looks like some fun hours ahead. Then it was on to Wal Mart as I had to pick up eardrops. This is where the mis-adventure begins. We scoped out a countertop ice maker. Come to Mama! I am the original ice queen. It began when I was pregnant with David. I've loved ice cubes ever since... 3 decades later, I'm okay with that. How cool, an mini-ice maker!!! We never have to pick up bagged ice ever again!
 
 The fun began when we selected a short line. Why? Everyone in Western civilization know the short line is never, ever short. It may appear to be. It's an illusion. There were two women in front of us. They were together. A mother, who I'd say was in her 80's with her daughter somewhere in her 60's. They had an adorable Scottish terrier with them.
 
They only had a few items. Warning Will Robinson! I didn't pick up on that. The few items were loaves of bread. I mean how long can that take to check out? It was going fine until it was time to pay for these items. The coupons began to come out. The bar code was not being scanned or refused to scan. The reason the bar code didn't match the coupon offer. The offer was for multi-grain bread. The bread on the check out was not multi-grain. This led into a long discussion by the buyer of the non multi-grain bread that lay before untouched and waiting to be bagged. The younger of the two women said, I don't like multi-grain. I'd never buy multi-grain. Jeff whispered, Apparently since this bread is not multi-grained bread Somehow this was not being understood by the buyer or the checker. The checker explained that the coupon was for multi-grain and not non multi-grained. I whispered back to Jeff, Don't they realize it doesn't matter how many times this is mentioned or attempted to be read, the bar code and the non multi-bread wouldn't change it's price?  At this point the Scottish terrier having had this moment several times while shopping with these two let out a sigh and lay down on the linoleum.
 
At length. the older woman decided against having the checker run the bar code for the umpteenth time. There were several more coupons to go. Finally, when the transaction was completed and it looked the skies would open and sunshine would appear the older woman asked if they could have rolled quarters?
 
Jeff at this time who had been really good (it was just a matter of time until he couldn't be) whispered, It's a good thing the ice machine doesn't have ice in it, we'd have 25 lbs. of water by now. I replied, Are you kidding? I wish it did have ice in it, pointing ahead to the Kessler staring at us from the wall, I'd have put some in a glass and poured Kessler over it, and I don't even like Kessler!
 
We made our purchase and meandered out the front doors. Jeff, who had driven was heading in the direction of the jeep. Except he wasn't. Jeff, where's the jeep? By the tree in aisle C like Carie. Jeff we're in C and it's not by any tree in this aisle. Looking across the lot I saw it parked by a tree. Jeff, it's in aisle B like Betcha thought you'd find your jeep here!
Lol, what is it about this Wal Mart parking lot that I can never find my vehicle?
 
Home, sweet home. The ice machine is set up and making ice.  Jeff cheffed up pot stickers with homemade chili sauce, rice and baby corn.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sunday, May 8, 2016

MOTHER'S DAY...

 
 
 
Sunday. Mother's Day. Of course, this is when we think of and honor our mothers. Daughters and mothers. A complicated dance between our similarities and vast differences and the love that balances the tapestry of everything in-between.
 
My maternal grandmother named my mother Cecelia Anne Elizabeth. Apparently, a first name with two middle names is a commonality in our family. My full name is Carie Lyn Christina and interestingly enough, my next to oldest granddaughter, Emma May Karen, also carries this tradition.  Although, my mother's side being Irish (with French and Italian thrown in for good measure) and also being Roman Catholic is what I think the reason for my mother's name. I could wrong. 
 
My photographs of mom are still packed safely away since our summer move so that I can't share them. To give you a visual of what my mother looked like I would say think Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast At Tiffany's but, substitute green eyes and auburn colored hair.  My mother was 5 foot 11' and when I was small she was 95 lbs. I think the heaviest she ever became was 110 but that was an extreme rarity and only occurred later in her life. She had a great metabolism, never dieted. And she had the most amazing gams. .Her legs went on forever. Sadly, I didn't get that, however, my daughters and granddaughters did. Go, figure!
 
In school she had been voted Best Dressed. Most fun. She was an A student, head cheer leader. The bar had been set high for me to follow in her size-7 footsteps.
 
When my dad met her she was 21 years old and modeling in San Francisco.  She was an intellectual as was my dad, but neither were stuffy. Their marriage lasted until I was 2 when they separated. My mom had this great wit. Could lop off sarcasm with a smile that would make individuals wonder if they'd been complimented or insulted.
 
Her nick name for my dad was Rogue, it was fitting on several levels. One of the classic family stories that sum up what must have been an ongoing trait of my father's happened  on a weekend. My dad's bff (until my father's death) was uncle Paul. Paul was to dad what Lem Billing's was to JFK. I think they were together on every weekend their entire adult lives, weather it was both of them taking their plane and flying out of state, hunting, et al, they were joined at the hip. On this one particular weekend dad and Paul set out for donuts. When they returned the next morning with donuts in hand (a good touch). Dad rushed to explain they had flown down to Palm Springs (my parents lived in the Bay area). Without missing a beat my mother replied, Rogue, don't you think that's a bit far to go for donuts?
 
Mom was a phenomenal cook. Much on the same level as Julia Child. She made the best Veal Scaloppini I've ever had, even to this day. Simple dishes were equally special such as Tuna casserole. Desserts were amazing; 7-layered cakes, chocolate fudge at Christmas. Amanda has totally inherited this quality. I'm an excellent cook but will never be on the same level as my mom. I'm more like you want cake? Two layers max and you're lucky to get that these days. I just don't have the time to pour into it, literally.
 
Growing up was interesting. What was normal for me most definitely was not the norm for anyone I knew. I was like the first Kramer vs. Kramer in 1962. It was amazing and I feel very lucky to have followed this path, of course, I would have preferred that they not divorce but I had a great childhood. An only child with a huge extended network of aunts, uncles, cousins. My mother's side is mostly who I hung with growing up; aunts, uncles, cousins, Godparents. Although, I was super close to my dad's sister and her husband and cousins who were my paternal grandmother and grandfather's nieces and nephews, there were so many of us.
 
Rewind back to mom. Weekends and holidays, every other... were something I Iooked forward to throughout the school week. If I were staying at home which was a misnomer as those weekends I would be with my dad, sitting at the airport, while he and uncle Paul or uncle Ralph (another bff of long standing) would pull the airplane from the hanger and we would take off for parts unknown.
 
With my mom it would be weekends in San Francisco shopping at Gump's department store or the City of Paris or Macys. Clam chowder at Grotto #9 on the wharf. The sound of seagulls overhead and the smell of fresh crab being steamed, painted turtles for sale. Riding the cable car up to The Top of The Mark, China town, Ghirardelli Square, North Beach. Mom had a knack for making the ordinary become extraordinary. She was fun, generous, beautiful and up for any adventure.
 
Her friends 'lunched' while they're husband's 'clubbed'. Clubbing in those days meant golf and poker nights. Not today's connotation of clubbing. Mom was a great Bridge player but I think she preferred Canasta and Mahjong. She and I would have epic games of Monopoly, Scrabble and Yahtzee with my maternal grandparents.
 
Her preferred leisure activity du jour was reading as it was my dad's as well. They were equally voracious readers-- 2 to 3 a week. Both actively encouraged my reading.  Which would explain the books surrounding me as I write this in my living room.
 
Sundays meant my mother would be having her coffee while doing the New York Times Cross-word puzzles. In ink.
 
I wouldn't be the woman I am today without having her as my mother. For that, I am eternally thankful.  When I was a very little girl I couldn't think of ever having another mom. I can so clearly see her gracefully entering a room with the delicious scent of Chanel No. 5 accompanying her. She dressed beautifully. Anything she wore looked like a million dollars. She could make a dishrag look glamorous, There was always an innate sense of elegance in everything she did. She smoked Benson and Hedges and to this day I can see her seated elegantly holding this cigarette in her hand as the smoke curled upwards.
 
She loved music and was an amazing dancer. I can remember going out to dinner with her and Mateo (her Italian partner of several decades) where they took the dance floor and the other couples would stop, watch and then applaud them.  She loved music and introduced it to me at a very early age. I think I was still in the single digits when I fell in love with the blues and jazz.
 
Growing up in the 1960's was a magical time to be a child. It really was the best of times. Being raised in that era with my set of parents was having been exceedingly blessed. I really am very much like my mother and I'm okay with that.
 
 
 
 
 

Saturday, April 23, 2016

PAST IS PROLOGUE

 
 
Do you realize I haven't blogged for over 10 months! Not since before my move back to Sonora in July. That's saying something! Apparently, I've been a very busy girl....

What started me back on my blogging journey was finally, I say finally, because I'm concluding a project that I've wanted to put together for a decade but didn't have the time to set aside or the materials at hand that worked for me. Who knows? Anyway, I picked up a lovely scrapbook one day this week.  It was there waiting for me on the shelf at Joanne's. How do I know this to be true?  I am not a scrapbook girl.  Not for me the various papers and cutesy things to adhere to each page. No, I'm a digital scrapbook girl. Shutterfly was designed for me. I can change layouts, embellishments, frames, textbox's with a click of my wrist. If it doesn't work it can be changed. When you are working with glue, scissors, etcetera it's much more permanent and then... you're stuck with what you may have thought was a great plan is anything but. And then what do you do?
Rewind to Joanne's: This lovely white scrapbook with baby blue stripes and the letter B in blue in the center of the scrapbook album caught my eye. The project I'm working on is a collection of letters from my aunt Bette to me from 1970 until 1984. They begin when I was in high school. My aunt's recovery from a radical mastecemy continuing on with my being a newlywed (at 20) moving into my first apartment, the births of David (1980) and Tara (1983). We talk about vacations, recipes, family and friends. Movies, music, concerts, books, everyday life. It concludes 4 weeks before my aunt's death in 1984. The cancer had returned as a tumor in her arm then traveled to her lungs. It's a fantastic scrapbook. My aunt was elegant, cultured, well-traveled and funny! love how this scrapbook is coming together. Is there anything more personal than hand-written pages and the expressing of thoughts onto paper? By next weekend I should be finished.

Another album I've put together in the short term is a collection of my Christmas letters. These begin upon our move to Sonora in 1989 and go until 2007. My family is so scattered that life before Facebook was letter writing which morphed into computerized holiday greetings. These will be in book form and published for Dave and Amanda.  It begins with Dave being 9, Tara 6, Amanda 3 until Dave was married and had children. Amanda had Landie, I had divorced their dad and had remarried and we were buying a house in San Andreas. Which brings me to this blog, who'd have thunk there was a connection. The connection is as I came across the intro to my 2007 newsletter it could almost, seriously, almost have been written by me this past Christmas. The more things change the more they remain the same. SO, I thought I would share here what my Christmas introduction said then. Poor Dave and Amanda this is the curse of having a mother that is a writer... everything is documented. I have almost everyday of their life recorded in a journal somewhere.  Fasten your seat belts, here we go!

Reach for the fullness of human life- if you but touch it, it will fascinate. We live it all, but few live it knowingly. -- Goethe

Dearest family and friends:
My medium, alas, continues to be things. An avalanche of things. Some thing accrue into collections or nascent collections; reminders of deliciously decadent weekends, luxuriantly spent scavenging through historic Mother Lode street-front shops, thrift stores and flea markets, instant collections. I need books, either new or previously owned books. Stuff adds up. I've seemed to have moved in repeated circles between Santa Clara, Los Gatos, Santa Clara, Tracy, Sonora, Copper, Murphys, Copper, Angels Camp, San Andreas (and now back to Sonora). Great heaving tectonic moves. Each time I've dragged along everything I've owned, and each time, I've left with more than when I arrived, even though I've always seemed to have given half of it away. Home's a place where to put everything from the Cities and small-sized rural towns I've lived in. A place where on rainy afternoons, I would sift through it all and try to make sense of the journey. For 30-plus years my residences have charmed guests with artful trophies from past lives, many of them mine. Gold rimmed china, art, books, photographs, more books, music collections including 78's, 45's and 33 LPM vinyl recordings, cassettes, CD's, et al. A few more books, a box of treasured postal cards (now in an album), more books, vintage, hand-painted silk garters that belonged to my grandmother. Movies; Blue Ray and non Blue Ray DVD's, VHS movies, more books, beautifully crafted hand-made gifts from my children (and now grandchildren). More books, my grandfather's 1904 steamer trunk. I'd turned into a custodian of the past and an archivist of goods. This compost was rich material for someone who might be say, fascinated by me, O yeah, that person would be me!
The objects you buy at 17 tell you who you are going to be, the objects you own at 50 remind you of who you once were.
Moving, I've discovered is like... peeling an onion. One layer leads to the next layer, but each layer has it's own meaning. As I let go of the shells of my past, I closed the door on an essential truth, somewhere after the 20th box went out the door, none of it seemed to important any more. As I jettisoned the baggage of decades past, I discovered new joy and freedom. As Mies vander Rohe said, less is more. It's also about different. Once you get there, everything shifts in your life, often in marvelous ways. Our new home reflects the distance I've traveled in my life and yet reverberates with a zest for music, art, movies, food and books.

Then moving into my intro to January I quoted Nickelback:

I miss that town
I miss their faces
You can't erase
You can't replace it
I miss it now
I can't believe it
So hard to stay
Too hard to leave it
If I could relive those days
I know the one thing that would never change
Look at this photograph
Every time I do it makes me laugh
Every time I do it makes me....