Uh-Oh

For those of you who have requested I keep up-to-date on the blog while on the New York trip, this is the first.

I'm leaving for the airport in nine minutes. I woke up this morning and everything was pretty much ready to go. I streamlined packing (it's a HUGE difference when you're only packing for one rather than a family of four), and was calm and relaxed.

Then Doug suggested we go out to breakfast. He never wants to go out for breakfast, I always want to go out for breakfast. So we went. And with my first bite of egg burrito, with salsa, it sort of skids down the front of my shirt, my white shirt, onto my white pants. Okay, not a big deal. I've got another pair of white pants, they're packed, but I've got one. And I'm sure I've got another white tank top, I should have about ten.

I get the pants out of the garment bag, they're on the bottom, but that's okay, I'm not going to let this upset me. Go upstairs to change--no tank tops. Anywhere. Check all my drawers, all Doug's drawers, the hangers in our closets, the boys drawers. I don't have any idea where CJ and/or Janel are hiding them, or maybe the dryer ate them. Whichever, I've now got five minutes to change and leave.

Let's hope this gets better and yes, I know, if this is as bad as my life is, I have no reason to complain.

“Those people . . . ”

There are people I come across in my life who so far exceed my expectations of the human race, I am in awe of them.

I have had the good fortune of being put in the path of a great school for Frankie. It is a Lutheran school not far from our home. It is a wonderful place. Frank just thrives here, and I feel as though in just nine months time, I have a “place” where I, too, can be a part of Frank’s school life, and the church as well.

This environment is a treasure trove of people with an abundance of spirit of enthusiasm, generosity, and friendship. In such a short time, I have been given so many gifts of friendship and fellowship by these people. And, I’m sorry to say, the experience is not one typical for me in Southern California, which I have found to be foreign at times with lack of spirit of community.

It isn’t often we connect with others on such a level, I consider myself and my family, very blessed. I am very thankful and humbled to be a part of this community.

And the other thing: they’re also really fun!

Remember Syd?

A couple of days ago I posted something about Syd and today I got an email from him! How wild is that? I had actually sent an email in one of my middle-of-the-night deleriums asking him if he was going to tour in Southern California anytime soon. And he answered me! Wow, at this age, I'm becoming one of those people who writes to rock stars. Who would've predicted that?

Seriously, it was a very nice email, I love his music, and if he comes to town, I will go and see his show.

No pleasure philosophy, no sensuality, no place nor power, no material success can for a moment give such inner satisfaction as the sense of living for good purposes, for maintenance of integrity, for the preservation of self-approval.
- Minot Simons

Someone I am quite fond of reminded me of this a couple of years ago when I was on the road to forgetting, and I am grateful often for that reminder.

_________________________

A few years ago, before Doug and I were married, I dreamt that I was dreaming, and in the dream, my grandmother came and sat next to me on the bed. She looked great, the way she looked before cancer ravaged her body. I told her so, and I asked her if that was what it was like in heaven, that you went back to the time in life you were happiest. And I told her how much I missed her, and I cried, so hard. Through my tears I asked her if she missed me, and she said, “No my dear, I'm always right here with you.”

There isn't anyone I miss more than I miss her, and I will until the day I die. Because of her, I am the woman I am today, because she believed in me, and she loved me completely, unquestioningly.

I miss her laugh, and her sense of humor; I miss getting up in the morning, creeping downstairs, crawling into bed with her, and begging her to tell me some juicy family gossip for the hundredth time. I miss hearing the scuffle of her moccasins on the kitchen floor as she fixed breakfast and made my lunch for school. I miss washing the dishes with her after dinner, and the things she would teach me whenever we had that precious uninterrupted time to talk. I miss how she said, “Ha-WHY-ya,” instead of “Hawaii” even though at the time it drove me crazy. And I miss how when my grandfather would get off on a rant about something at the dinner table, she would quietly, her voice almost a whisper, say, “Frank, please don't swear.” And his voice would lower and he would stop swearing, but continue on with his story, because she didn’t interrupt him, her message was almost subliminal. That was her way--a slow, quiet, unassuming approach to life--filled with a calm, wise way of looking about her, and being at peace with the world.

Mostly I miss sitting on the floor next to her chair and having her reach over and stroke my hair, and tell me how much she loved me.

I long to have that dream again, to have just a few minutes more to talk to her--just a few minutes more.

Yew Nork

On Monday, I leave for seven days in New York, for BEA, and I intend to keep the blog updated while I am gone.

It will be the first time in seven years I’ve been away on my own, for more than a couple of days. And certainly the first night I will spend away from Beckett since he was born.

While I am enthusiastic about the trip, I am filled with trepidation about being away from my boys. Frank overheard me talking about the trip today, his eyes filled with tears and his lip began to tremble. “I don’t want you to go to Yew Nork, Mommy. Don’t talk about it anymore, it makes me too sad.” And Beckett, my little bundle o’ happiness . . . how will he be? How will he feel in the middle of the night if he wakes up and mommy isn’t here to pick him up, cuddle him, stroke his hair and sing him back to sleep?

It is the most important thing I do, being a mom, the most important job I have. Nothing else compares.

A Very Daring Adventure

Helen Keller said life was either a daring adventure, or nothing.

Sunday night Doug and I went to a dinner/fundraiser for our friend Allan, who is about to embark on a very daring adventure. He is circumnavigating the globe, on his motorcycle. He leaves on July 4th of this year.

Honestly, I am worried for his safety on this trip, and have done my best not to tell him so. My grandmother, whose birthday was July 4th, taught me to always be the one on the dock waving and wishing, “bon voyage,” and ne’er the naysayer. It is tough to heed her lesson, but I try.

Doug and I will faithfully read Allan’s travelogue, and are encouraging Frank’s class, as well as his entire school, to follow this daring adventure.

Godspeed my dear friend Allan. Bon voyage.

Important to Keep in Mind

I find that it is not the circumstances in which we are placed, but the spirit in which we face them, that constitutes our comfort.
- Elizabeth T. King

Syd

I cannot get enough of this guy. Syd. I guess I'm really just an eighteen-year-old girl in an older girl's clothing.

Antigone Rising

You made the call
I watched the door to see you coming through
And every time it was a warm March wind that blew
then on the air that drifted in the faded smell of denial
See, I don’t know so I won't ask I think it’s best that way
can’t be held responsible for what you say
so let’s pretend that I’m not me and it’s not you for a while

If there’s one right thing you’ve got to do
don’t do it tonight
and for once enjoy the view just out of the light
if there’s one last kiss we’ve got to have
let’s have it tomorrow
it’s a longshot, but a chance I’ve got to take

It’s fair to mention from the first that
when you touched me there
you’re starting something that I’ll finish
so just be aware
it’s easy now when I look back
they call that retrospect
if I had know the ripple effect
the sleeping dog would lie

I foresaw the day when you could come and make it clear
some things do better where you found them
so we’ll leave it here
I’m only crying cause the cloud of smoke is burning my eyes
and ever since the times when I am standing close to you
I see the person that you are, the one I never knew
Do you ever feel me anymore or are you too far gone

It’s a longshot, from a world away
in a time slot, on a passing day

It's the Horoscope Again.

Capricorn
You're officially off duty now. And after everything you've been doing lately, even someone as hardworking and diligent as you are wouldn't be able to think of a single reason why you shouldn't be entitled to some serious, guilt-free time off. Now that you've actually been given a chance to sit back and relax, don't mess around. Do it up right. Get yourself some videos, a pizza and some ice cream -- oh, and company. You'll probably want company.

Gotta listen to this one.

Cambria

When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.
—Helen Keller

After what seemed to be a month of twenty hour workdays—I’m just back from a weeklong trip to Cambria.
I’ve been going to Cambria for over twenty-five years, and for twenty-five years, have felt as though I should live there. The first was with my mother, and different friends. On the way there one year, my friend Allan and I discovered that we both lived our life by soundtrack. Twelve years ago, my friend Joe and I went for a long weekend. We sat on a rock on Moonstone Beach and I decided I would be okay if I never married—I had godchildren, and cats—it wouldn’t be the life I envisioned for myself, but I would have a new vision and I was okay with that. A month later I started seeing Doug.
The first time I met Doug’s parents, Roy and Charlotte, we took them to Cambria. They loved it just as Doug had the first time I took him there. After Doug proposed and we were at the Paso Robles Wine Festival, we decided it was where we should have the wedding. We were married in the gardens at Cambria Pines Lodge the following year, during wine festival weekend. This Monday, May 16, was our seventh anniversary.
We rented houses all over town for our wedding. The bridesmaids and I went up a week early and stayed at 4849 Windsor—and that was where Doug carried me over the threshold, and we spent our wedding night. The master bedroom had floor-to-ceiling glass windows along the ocean-side of the room, and a jacuzzi with two seats facing the water with a little refrigerator built-in next to it. When we arrived that night, hundreds of rose petals had been scattered around the room and on the bed—and a bottle of champagne was chilling in the little refrigerator.
My then-future in-laws stayed in 4812 Windsor, and the boys—Doug, the groomsmen and some of Doug’s single buddies—stayed in an oceanfront house on Dorset. I think in all our wedding party and guests rented twelve houses. The rest of our guests stayed along Moonstone Beach Drive, or at the lodge.
The week before the wedding, the bridesmaids and I had great fun. We went wine-tasting and out for wonderful dinners, and had manicures, pedicures and massages at the house. We were the talk of the town. People would tell me they overheard the locals asking each other if they were working “that wedding.”
The weekend marked the first time in many, many years, all four boys—Doug and his three brothers—were together in one place. His brothers, and my friend Joe, were Doug’s groomsmen.
Friday was the wedding rehearsal, and the dinner following was at the Sea Chest. I wasn’t quite sure how it was arranged, but we had the whole back room to ourselves. Doug always teased that he wouldn’t get married unless it was on the top of Half Dome in Yosemite, so I arranged for a cake to be made that was a topographic map of Yosemite Valley, complete with Half Dome and a bride and groom standing on top. Doug loved it. The night was magic. My friend Meredith from Buffalo surprised me by flying in at the last minute, walking in and sitting across from me as if she had just been in the ladies room—very much Meredith’s style. Doug gave his father a watercolor he painted of the Piedras Blancas lighthouse, which brought tears to his father’s eyes. All of the people most important to Doug and I were there that night, including Joe—who had shit-eating grin on his face all night, quietly remembering five years before and our conversation about me ending up one of those crazy old spinsters with lots of cats and lots of hats. I was flanked by Doug and my goddaughter, and happier than I had ever been in my life.
The next day was our wedding, and we were married in the gazebo at high noon. Although rain had been in the forecast, it was a perfect, sunny day. Doug’s father walked me down the aisle while “Share My Heart” by Peter Kater was being played on a grand piano brought out to the garden for the wedding.
At the end of the reception, we piled in cars, drove through town, horns honking, people waving and shouting, and made our way down to Moonstone Beach. The entire wedding party left their shoes in their cars, donned sunglasses and our photographer and my dear friend, Colleen, got great shots of us celebrating on the beach.
Each year, my in-laws fly out the week before our anniversary, and we go to Cambria.
We left on Thursday, around 9:30—it’s the same each year—as we pass the Getty and head through Thousand Oaks on the 101, I can feel the tension leaving my body. When we pass the hotel where Doug and I stayed the weekend he was in the Thousand Oaks Art Festival, we tell Beckett that is where his life began. We go through Oxnard and Ventura, and suddenly the ocean appears on our left. We drive through Summerland, pass San Ysidro Road in Montecito and reminisce about Elaine and Per’s wedding at San Ysidro Ranch, the year before ours. We drive through Santa Barbara and then take the San Marcos Pass past Lake Cachuma (cutting 15 minutes off the trip, and adding more breathtaking scenary) back to the 101, just past Buellton.
This year we made a side trip on 246 through Solvang, to visit the Alisal Ranch, a potential site for a Doug’s parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary and a family reunion. After our tour, we had lunch and then made a quick stop at the Hitching Post, where Roy, having recently seen Sideways, had us take his photo. It wasn’t scheduled to open until later, so we continued on the 101. Along this stretch, golden hillsides are dotted with California Oaks—and as always, I began to feel as though I had truly gotten out of Dodge.
Santa Maria, Nipomo, Arroyo Grande, Pismo Beach then Avila are followed by the exit for San Luis Bay Drive and See Canyon Road, which I will come back to. We passed the Madonna Inn, where Doug and I stayed one night, although I cannot for the life of me remember why—in a room that looked and smelled like a cave. Soon after we exited 101 to Highway 1, and passed the Men’s Colony and Camp San Luis Obispo, where at eighteen and rarely out of Western Pennsylvania, Roy trained before being shipped overseas during the World War II.
On Highway 1, we went through Morro Bay and Morro Rock, and Cayucos; and then I began to feel as though I was really home. Beautiful, golden rolling hillsides and the first sighting of pine trees, through Harmony (population 18), past Villa Creek Road and Highway 46, and into Cambria.
The village of Cambria is divided into east and west. We drove through town, to the West Village, and picked up the key for the house. We crossed over Highway 1, to the fork which to the right goes to Moonstone Beach Drive and to the left, Windsor.







Moonstone Beach in Cambria
We noticed that 4849 Windsor, otherwise known as the wedding night house, was being renovated. And 4812 was familiar and welcoming. Cambria is chilly mid-May, always really, and we bundled up to go into the village for dinner, but with a drive down Moonstone Beach first. This year and last, we had dinner at Linn’s, which Doug and I prefer for breakfast, but Roy seems to always crave his first night in town. We’ve made pact to next year steer him in a different direction.
After a long day of traveling, we gathered back at the house, sat around the dining room table and watched the sun set. That night I slept eleven hours.
Friday morning I was up with the sunrise. The early, early morning is always my time to myself. Sometimes Charlotte joins me and we quietly chat, both early-risers enjoying the sound of waves crashing and scanning the sea for otters. We looked forward to Andy, Doug’s oldest brother, joining us, and at the end of the day, a visit from Colleen to take the annual family photos.
Charlotte, Janel (the boys’ nanny), Beckett and I spent the day shopping, while Doug, Roy and Frank explored Cayucos. We had a lovely lunch at Indigo Moon of brie, green apple and grilled chicken sandwiches, followed by more shopping. It is like visiting old friends to walk around town, where Cecile Bruner roses grow abundantly everywhere you look. We went to our favorite shops . . . Paper Omelette, the Garden Shed, Heart’s Ease . . . where Doug, Andy and Frank caught up with us mid-afternoon. After a stop at the Friday afternoon farmer’s market for cherries, strawberries, baguettes, olives and sweet peas, we picked up a couple of bottles of Viognier and went back to the house for dinner—a feast of grilled portbello mushroom sausages and our farmer’s market buys.


Heart's Ease
Around 6:30, Colleen arrived at the house and we drove down to Moonstone to take photos during that magic hour just before sunset when the light is so amazing. Frank and Beckett played on the beach until they were blue, Colleen took photos all the while. She and Andy are both used to the cold, but the rest of us were anxious to warm up and head back to the house, Colleen took more photos of the boys playing with Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Andy, Mom, Dad and Nanny Janel. The house was filled with warmth and joy, laughter and love.
Photos on the beach with grandma and grandpa
Saturday morning Roy, Charlotte and Andy went down to Santa Maria to meet Colin, Charlotte’s brother and his wife, Joannie for lunch at Chef Rick’s. Doug and Frank went to explore the mission outside of Paso Robles, while Janel, Beckett and I went into SLO for a visit. We had breakfast at Big Sky, walked around town a bit and then went for a drive on See Canyon. You can only go one way on this drive, starting from San Luis Bay Drive. You can go the other way, but who would want to?
We took the exit off the 101, went right and then right again on See Canyon. The road starts off paved, winding creekside through scattered forests and farms, apple trees and meadows with grazing cattle. It winds upward, the pavement ends and the forests open up. Suddenly there is a 360 degree view of the Irish Hills, Morro Rock and the Pacific Ocean. A select few have built homes on See Canyon Road, but it is likely the desire of many who live in and around San Luis Obispo, there could not be a better view. See Canyon turns into Prefumo Canyon Road as it makes it way back through forests and meadows and suddenly into town. The drive takes about half an hour, and it is heaven. Afterward we looked at some houses in SLO and on the way back to Cambria.
We met Doug and Frank back at the house just as Roy, Andy and Charlotte drove up. Around 4:30, I left to go to Moonstone Beach and wait for a table at the Sea Chest. I was the first in line, although three other cars pulled in just behind me. The couple in line after me struck up a conversation and we shared a bottle of wine. Within fifteen minutes the line was around the corner. You either arrive at the Sea Chest to eat at 5:30, when they open, or to put your name in to eat at 7:30 as the tables start to turn.
We were greeted warmly by familiar faces, and given the table in an alcove in the front, with a view of Moonstone. Great wine, garlic bread, clam chowder, halibut and salmon . . . wonderful memories and company. I don’t know how many times I’ve been to the Sea Chest, countless. It remains one of my favorite places, as much for the experience of it as the food.
Sunday we decided to visit some wineries. The drive over Highway 46 is almost as breathtaking as See Canyon. This time Morro Rock was to our right as we drove along the rolling golden hillsides.
Our first stop was Turley, owned by Helen Turley’s brother and formerly Presenti. Their Zinfandels are outstanding as was the Syrah. Next we stopped by Linne Calodo on the recommendation of a friend, then on to an old favorite, Norman. We went all the way out to Justin, for an amazing lunch. More amazing is how much Justin has grown and changed through the years, paid for buy the success of Isosceles I would guess. Frank is an old hand at wine-tasting, he got his start at Duckhorn in Napa. There they taught him how to swirl and smell the wine, in Reidel crystal with pinot blanc grape juice. He was three. His favorite thing is to close his eyes, put his nose deep in the glass and without opening his eyes, call out “cherry” or “strawberry” or whatever it is he smells. My favorite thing is when he goes right back to being a five-year-old and runs around looking at everything, marvelling at the barrels or flowers, or chasing a squirrel in the garden.





Images from our winery tour
Our last stop was Tablas Creek, and with many purchases we took Vineyard Road to Highway 46 back to Cambria. Sunday night we had takeout from the Main Street Grill, all of us had tri-tip sandwiches, the best I’ve ever had.
Monday morning, Roy and Charlotte left with Andy for a visit with him in San Francisco. Frank was so sweet when they left, great big tears rolling down his cheeks. Even the reassurance that they would be back at our house on Thursday, did little to comfort him. He clung to Grandma, Grandpa and Uncle Andy, at which point Beckett started to cry and cling to them as well. Wiping my tears away I took a hold of my two sweet, sensitive boys and we agreed an adventure was in order.
We went up Highway 1, past San Simeon, to the Piedras Blanco lighthouse and then stopped to watch the elephant seals for awhile. On the way back we stopped at the old Sebastian general store near Hearst’s warehouses at San Simeon pier. The guy who runs the store great-grandfather was the second or third owner, and I would imagine owned it while Hearst was still alive. The photos everywhere were captivating. I’ve been to Hearst Castle a couple of times, which were enough, but it is still fun to look at the photos, and listen to the owner, my age, talk to a photographer about the history of the store.

Piedras Blancas

Elephant seals

Chapel in San Simeon with Hearst Castle in the background



The kids and I in front of the general store


We drove through the campground at San Simeon and found a trailhead that went along San Simeon Creek. Later we went into town and had lunch at Mustache Pete’s and visited a gallery that had a George Gibson for sale last year. The gallery had changed ownership and featured mainly oils, Doug had a conversation with the new owner, who told him he should have bought the Gibson when he had the chance, the price was now likely triple and the painting was long gone.

We took Janel and the boys back to the house for naps and Doug and I went up San Simeon Creek Road on another adventure.



The views along San Simeon Creek Road

The road is pretty hairy, and gets more so as you gain elevation. My fingernails were already digging into the seat as we rounded a bend to see three turkey vultures lined up on fence posts. It was an eerie sight and made me gasp. Finally Doug decided to turn around, fifteen minutes or so after I wished he would.




The turkey vultures

That night we had a romantic dinner at the Sow’s Ear in Cambria, a great bottle of Ken Brown Pinot Noir and a long conversation about our goals. Although we wanted to be living somewhere in the Central Coast before Frank started school, our plan is now to be there in three years. In the meantime, we will focus on living the life we’re in now, happily.
We exchanged anniversary gifts while watching the sunset on Moonstone Beach.
Yesterday we drove home after breakfast at Linn’s. Well-stocked with Linn’s pot pies in my freezer, I am now back in Orange County, trying to remember to live the life I’m in happily, but feeling like I’m home too soon.