Movin' Monday

Moving along the coast during a busy day. It started off with a call from Ellen, was off for Presidents' Day, and we had good long talk. As soon as we hung up, I went over to Vickie's. We weren't to meet Suzanne until noon, so we had time to chat. Drove to Rincon, which is a brewery and I don't know why Suzanne would choose that, as she doesn't drink anything but N.A. (non-alcoholic).  Vickie doesn't either, but she had an N.A. I, of course, had a robust IPA called "beefeaters," for some reason. I had asked for a citrusy one and boy, this happily non-non-alcoholic was good. Had a hamburger and salad, too. Vickie brought Suzanne a bell, which she liked, and she and I treated Suzanne to lunch. Here's Suzanne with the bell and the three of us:

We had an enjoyable time, then Suzanne left to go home and Vickie proposed that she and I go to Santa Barbara to see Betty. She's been saying she wanted to take me there and this time, I took her up on it. 

During the hour ride, we really got to know each other. We talked frankly about her orientation, her life with Mary, mine with Pat, as well as our backgrounds and childhoods, which differ so much. By the time we got to Villa Alamar, we were fast friends.  

We found Betty, as usual, in the recreation room. She greeted me with her usual dazed smile and Vickie couldn't have been warmer and natural with her (unfortunately, she's had experience). 

(I still don't know how to get pictures side by side without all the white space!)

I showed Vickie around Villa Alamar, including the atrium, dining room, and Betty's room, which I think the best in the place; It's on a corner with two big windows, plus has a foyer, as far as I know, the only one in the place that does. We didn't stay long, of course, probably less than an hour, but that was plenty.

When we got in the car, Vickie's GPS said there had been an accident on the 101, resulting in a half-hour or so backup. Vickie solved that problem by proposing we stop for a drink at Joe's Cafe. She knew the place, as she and Mary had lived in Santa Barbara for five years, while Mary was with a research company. Joe's is a neat place: Opened in 1928, it's all dark wood, plush hangings, and a big long bar. I had a mimosa and Vickie an N.A. beer (how can she stand the stuff?!) and naturally, we continued our free-wheeling talk. 

Left after a leisurely time and we drove back to Ventura. Vickie got me to Stone Fire Grille to join my Soaring Spirits pals for our usual third-Monday-in-the month dinner and that was a good, convivial time, too.

Vera, as usual, took me home and I didn't get in until after 8:00. It was a good day, but unfortunately, was topped off by an unpleasant incident: As I got up at Stone Fire Grille, I noticed a pain in my right knee. I hadn't fallen or bumped it and I thought it would wear off, but as I went with Vera to her car, it continued to hurt. Long story short: By the time I went to bed, I was worried I may have to seek care. I did fall asleep, but awoke at 2:15, still being bothered by it. I took a hydrocodone tablet I happened to have and rubbed some Aspercreme on it. Was able to fall asleep and it feels better this morning, but only to a point. If it doesn't improve after a time, I'll have to call the doctor, then maybe get Lyfte to take me there. 

So This Was Sunday--

Stripped the bed, washed the sheets, and re-made, my regular Sunday routine. I also dusted and mopped the hard floors and washed the throw rugs. Suzanne stopped in to chat and to give me some greeting cards; she says she gets a lot from various charities and can't use them all. She also gave me a group of  recipes from U.S. first ladies. Chester Arthur's wife made something I'm just dying to try: Rhode Island eels 😁. 

Prepared lunch for Jim and me.  He was a little earlier than his usual 12:30, but told me there were no spots left in general parking, so he had to park on Hill Street. As ever, we sat and chatted before sitting down to the garlic chicken pasta. I had some good rolls, too, the ones Vickie had brought a few months ago. I stowed the leftovers in the freezer and they were as good as new. I'm glad I read years ago that storing bread in the fridge makes it hard. I never do now; always put it in the freezer, then take it out a day ahead. 

We had an okay time, but the usual: me holding forth on everything under the sun and Jim often having to be prompted to say something. Of course, he was busy eating, too. There were three slices of orange cake; Jim ate two and I told him to take the other one home. Walked him out when he left about 3:00.

I got a Message from my nephew, Patrick, asking if I had a copy of this picture of my father and his track team at Villanova, c. 1919:

Dad is standing second from left. I always thought of him as big and tall, but these things are relative, of course. Yes, he was considerably taller than my mother, but she was only five feet.

Anyway, I researched it on this blog--which comes in very handy in situations like this. I saw that I had had a disk made of this picture and one of my Dad on the debating team and had lent it to Patrick's brother, Jim, who eventually sent it back, but put it on the cloud, so it can be accessed, I guess, by any of us (run-on sentence, do you think?).

Today, Vickie and I are taking Suzanne to Rincon for lunch for her birthday. Tonight, I have dinner with Soaring Sprits--not sure, though, if I won't to eat out twice in a day--I'll decide after lunch.

Such A Saturday!

Because--DAMN! I had written out quite a bit and somehow erased it all! Don't know how I did it and couldn't bring up the "redo" thing to bring it back. Don't feel like going into another long narrative, so I'll just quickly run over my day: Went to The Market near the transit center to get Nori (seaweed wafers), which they haven't had lately at The Market near me. Found a place to have my lunch (packed from home): believe it or not, at Community Memorial Hospital. There, they have a nice shaded terrace with tables and chairs--foliage, too. Probably for patients and employees, but nobody seemed to care and I enjoyed it.

Home, I wrote granddaughter Violet a letter which included several pics of her ancestors. I hadn't yet had the following colorized, so didn't send that, but will later.

These are my paternal grandparents, Thomas and Elizabeth (Hughes) Byrne and this is their wedding portrait. It's funny how old he seemed to me when I first saw this picture; now I know they were both in their twenties, he a few years older than his bride. She was born in Ireland, he here (Pennsylvania). I never actually saw either, nor did I my other grandparents; they all died before I was born.

Called Jim and invited him for lunch today. I fear he's getting more and more confused--there are lots of signs. We talked a bit, then I ran over to Von's and bought a Viola! frozen meal, which we  both like. I'll serve it with rolls and orange cake for dessert. Wine for him and beer for me, too, of course. 

Mail for Mike included a biggie from Bank of America, so I video-messaged him after dinner. It turned out he had already addressed it, so I just chatted with him, Paula, and Violet. It was 9:00 am, their time.

Speaking of my dear boy, here's a picture he posted on Facebook. They met at UCSB and they dated first 36 years ago; they've been together ever since. I love this picture--and the two in it, of course:

💘💘💘💘

Festive Friday

Why festive? Because I followed through with my new resolve and at home, was down two pounds. That was nothin' though, when I saw the result at T.O.P.S.: a 3.7 loss, to 128.4 YAY! 

Diane and I had planned to meet near O'Leary's and eat our lunches there, but she texted me early that it was cold and very windy. She suggested instead I go to her place and she'd make lunch, and I agreed. Home from T.O.P.S. at 10:00, I had breakfast, then prepared to go to Diane's. I had intended to walk to Telephone, then take the 11 to Petit, but it was so windy, I hopped on the 6 to Telephone first. Got there, as planned, at 12:30. 

Diane had made salad, fried rice, and apple something; all very good. I had brought my beer, and after, we both had Chardonnay while we talked and talked and talked. We don't agree on everything--Diane has a great interest and belief in all kinds of supernatural, pseudo-science topics, which she insists had been "proven," but I don't share them. However, although we disagree, we conversed without animosity. Incredibly, I didn't leave until almost 4:00 after also hashing over our childhoods, marriages, love life histories, her years in Mexico, and the Dionne quintuplets, among much else.    

I thought I'd call Jim and invite him for lunch today, but I might hold off: call him tonight and have him over tomorrow. Not sure--maybe I should consult one of Diane's psychics for advice 😁.

The pieces below are by granddaughter, Violet. She's only 14 and I think they're evidence that she may have inherited her designer/artist mother ability.  The first is batik, which involves using wax and dye on fabrics (Thailand is especially well-known for this technique); I love the delicate rendering of the flowers. The second seems to me pretty powerful; Violet hand-painted the rat's head.

I haven't asked Violet, but I think the montage could be interpreted as a commentary on the corruption of the media. According to polls, fewer and fewer people trust what they're fed concerning the news--in print, on television, and on the Internet. Hmm...I wonder why.

Thursday

That shelf divider I bought the other day won't fit on any of my shelves, so I walked to The Market and took it back. I then went to Wal-Mart for vinegar and a few other things and nearby, found a nice place to have my (packed) lunch. Believe it or not, it's in the middle of an office complex on Ralston Avenue. There are tables, chairs, and umbrellas, as well as a lovely small fountain bubbling out of a kind of wooden base--grass and lots of foliage, too. I suppose I was trespassing, but I really doubt if anybody would care. A few people who, presumably, work there, walked by, but paid no attention. I greatly enjoy finding new places to eat outdoors and this was a goodie.

Diane declined to come to my place on Sunday, as she's afraid to again negotiate the walk from the front to my apartment. She suggested we meet today near O'Leary's for lunch and I agreed. I called Noreen to say I'd put it off, and when I finally got her, she was fine with that. 

What I'm not fine with, is the situation with trying to get in touch with Noreen--it's frustrating. Like Jim, she has no mobile phone, but he, at least, has a computer and uses email; she doesn't. Also, frequently, you call and get a message that she hasn't set up her voice mail--or that's it's full or something. 

Home, I prepared the two verses I'm sending to the T.O.P.S. magazine's poetry* contest. There's no prize, they'll just publish some. Mine are mediocre, I think, but we'll see if they meet with favor.

When I got home, about 3:30, for some reason, I felt tired. I set the phone alarm for a half-hour and lay down for a nap. Next thing I knew, I woke up to find it was 5:10; I must have failed to hit the "set" button. I was worried I might be sleepless when I went to bed for the night, but happily, no. Woke for the usual about 2:00, fell back, and didn't wake up until 4:30.   

 I ordered this sink insert yesterday from Temu: 

Let's hope it fits my double sink and proves useful.

Did this jigsaw of little me, in my dining room about 15 years ago:

I'm not quite sure, but I think we were going to some affair at the clubhouse in Sunrise Bay. Wish I still had that outfit!

* Emily Dickinson and William Butler Yeats, my gods, wrote poetry. I write trivial little verses, really doggerel, that I won't pretend is anything approaching their genius. 

Whistlin' Wednesday*

I discovered a terrific new writer, thanks to my newly subscribed "Food" site. He's the "angry chef" Anthony Warner. A resident of the U.K., he cuts through a lot of the hogwash about obesity, nutrition, and diet and also writes generally about food and eating topics.  I printed out some of his stuff, which I'll bring tomorrow to T.O.P.S. and also sent for his book: The Angry Chef's Guide to Spotting Bullshit in the World of Food/Bad Science And The Truth About Healthy Eating.  

Wrote a letter to Muckie and included pics, many of which I've posted here; also gave her the address for this blog. She doesn't use electronic communication in any way (not even text), but her son, Matthew does, of course; if she's so inclined, she can read 1,606 entries on his computer 😲. Speaking of...nor does Noreen--use anything on the web, that is. I had left her a message and she called me back to invite her to H.H. She's busy Saturday, but can come Sunday. I left Diane a message inviting her, too, and will call Nancy ditto.

Otherwise, I pretty much kept my nose to the grindstone yesterday. Did some household chores, then wrote Muckie a letter and mailed it, as I had told her I would. Went over to Von's to stock up on veggies and ran into Michelle coming back. She had a long tale about somebody trying to take her phone and keys in the washroom, jumping to all kinds of conclusions, as she regularly does.  I accompanied her back to the building and we discovered that somebody had left his or her keys in the lock. Michelle was sure it was part of some nefarious scheme by "outsiders," but having no reason to believe that, I took the keys to the office and gave them to Bianca. I also asked--again--about reserving the all-purpose room and she said it hadn't been secured yet. I might just have the acting group in there, anyway; I doubt if many people would be walking through.

The Ventura Star had an article on how the IRS will do people's income tax, so I scanned and emailed it to Jim. Ellen sent me a darling Valentine card and I called to thank her--had a nice talk. This mosaic below is at the entrance to CMH (Community Memorial Hospital) and is about 20 feet high. I took a photo the other and started a jigsaw of it but it was so difficult, I abandoned it and will start another. The problem isn't the intricacy of the scene; it's the fact the mosaic is much paler than it looks here.

I made a big batch of my signature roasted tomatoes, onions, garlic, olive oil, and vinegar. I used to put it, cold, on salads, but I had it hot for dinner, along with fresh shrimp and the last of the herbes de provence potatoes.  Delish.

* I know that makes no sense, I just like the sound of it 😜.

Tuesday

Did a quick color wash before breakfast. After, I walked to The Market and Wal-Mart and got tomatoes and a shelf divider at the first, the  sleep aid I've been taking for 25 years at the second, plus a few other items. Ate my lunch in the little park nearby, which was nice, but the Santa Ana winds were blowing, so I bused home after. (Shelf divider doesn't fit the shelf I wanted it for, so will return.)

Took a half-hour nap, then got up and putzed around. I had called Muckie earlier and her voice mail was on. While I was reading at the kitchen table, she called back. This was at 4:00 o'clock--we hung up at  six! Lots and lots to talk about, not only her cancer (last check day before yesterday showed it hasn't metastasized and seems not to have grown, which is wonderful news); old friends and classmates (I told her Pat R. had informed me about John S.); T.V. shows (we both loved Friends and Frasier, among others); the horrifying fact that her grandson goes to Michigan State and was in his  dorm when the recent shooting took place*; and a lot of other topics. What's funny is that she asked if I had heard from Jimmy Downes lately--I hadn't since he called me on New Year's Day six weeks ago. Incredibly, just after I finished dinner, the phone rang and who was it? Yep--Jim Downes. 

Now, my friend, Diane, would be absolutely, positively sure that was not a coincidence, but some kind supernatural mechanism that brought that about. Okay, if you say so.

Talked to Jim for fifteen or so; he sounded more natural and less boastful than he has , so more likable.  Another coincidence: He mentioned that he had had a cancerous "bump" removed from his neck. I was surprised that he had no idea if it was a Basel cell, squamous cell, or a melanoma; he seemed not to know there was any difference.  He asked about Betty, of course, and we talked about a few other deaths connected with HSHS.  He went to grammar school there, too, and gets a newsletter from somebody in his class. Anyway, it was pleasant to talk to him this time.

Ellen called after dinner to wish me Happy Valentine's Day and to ask if I got her card. No, not yet, and she really doesn't have to send me one, but I thanked her and we chatted for a bit.

Speaking of, I got this from the little sweetie-pie in Tokyo (his name obscured):

My mother was born on Valentine's Day; yesterday, she would have been 121 years old. Here she is as a bridesmaid about a hundred years ago:

 

+++++++++++++

Incredibly, I read this in a report of the shooting:

--Police in Ewing, New Jersey, shared a statement on Tuesday noting that McRae "had a note in his pocket that indicated a threat to two Ewing Public Schools" and that an "investigation revealed that McRae had a history of mental health issues." McRae "had local ties to Ewing," police said in the statement. In nearby Trenton, police sent officers to local schools early Tuesday out of an abundance of caution.--

My family and I lived in Ewing for more than 50 years; our children all went to twelve years of school there. What connection could the killer have had to Ewing? I'll keep trying to find out.