tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87269825439679730272024-03-23T10:31:35.699-07:00reilly's end of the day storiesI invite folks to read the true stories of my life. I just seem to need to tell them.Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.comBlogger81125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-58115467970204291602024-02-08T13:10:00.000-08:002024-02-08T13:10:15.987-08:00Atmospheric River! : Another Airport Experience
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In March of 2023, we left Palm Springs for the Bay Area to try to organize the refurbishing of our old home in Richmond, California. I have to stipulate California, since most often when I say Richmond, folks say, "I didn't know you were from Virginia!" It seemed like a good idea to fly, rather than drive, since we usually take 2 days to accomplish the 8-1/2 hour trip.
While getting ready to leave and trying to be very organized, I charged up all our electronic devices: both of our phones, my new wireless earbuds, my Apple Watch, the computer, and even a charger that my daughter gave us years ago, should we be without power to plug in while camping. I even made sure I had all of their respective power cords, storing them in a designated pocket of my backpack. We tried to find a good deal flying from Palm Springs, but they usually involved changing planes and detours to Denver or Boise, lasting up to eight hours. A flight from Palm Springs to SFO should only take about an hour and a half.</p><p>
We finally decided to drive the hour and 15 minutes in the pouring rain to the Ontario airport, listening to the ominous news about the "Atmospheric River" that was coming our way. We had never heard of such a thing before, but it seemed like we were already in it. Our Prius needs new windshield wipers and makes irritating, loud fart-like noises when they're on regularly, so I keep on doing the intermittent speed, which almost blocks out your vision before the wipers clear the windshield. Huge trucks, many of them with the blue Amazon Prime swoosh logo on their sides, splashed and sprayed past us, their tires making mysterious noises as they went by.</p><p>
As we pulled in to the airport parking area, the wind was raging, and the downpour made me turn the noisy wipers on full speed to be able to see at all. There was a nice handicapped parking space available, and we grabbed it, since we have the qualifying plates now. Doug, who is 81 now, can use all the help he can get. We sat for a moment to catch our breath, and realized that the rain had stopped! We got out our one suitcase and 2 backpacks, traveling light to get a low fare on Frontier. Covered with rain jackets, hats and an umbrella (my husband, who has bad memories of being raised in Seattle, always insists on one), we ventured out through the puddles.</p>
<p>As soon as we crossed the street, an airport shuttle pulled up, and a cheery driver said "Welcome aboard!", as she lowered the hydraulic bus and made a nice ramp pop out for us. It had just started to rain again, so I said to her, "What a blessing it is to have you stop for us!" At every stop, on the way back to Terminal 2, she helped everyone with their bags, and cheerily wished them safe flights. While driving, she (Diana) sang softly to some soul music she had playing from a little orange speaker on the dashboard. When it was our turn, she called out to us, "Have a Wonderful Flight!" and genuinely sounded like she meant it.</p>
<p> Our flight was on Frontier Airlines, since we were doing our best to be frugal. The $29 seats sounded attractive, but as you continue your booking, you realize that you must choose a seat for an Extra Fee! It was required that you sit, so the price went up. Frontier is known for no-frills, and we were made to understand that we would have to pay extra if we asked for ANY advice. Of course, when at the airport, I couldn't get my phone to connect to any internet to bring up our boarding passes, so I ventured sheepishly over to the desk, where a very kind young man showed me how I could get on to the Frontier app to bring up our passes, and then, to my amazement, showed me how to take a screenshot of them to have in my photos. (Just FYI, on an iPhone, you press the top volume button and the other side button at the same time, and voilá! It takes a picture, actually a screenshot.) I was happy to add this bit of information to my iPhone knowledge, since I'm the "I.T." person in the family. </p>
<p> He called for someone to bring us a wheelchair for Doug. That didn't work as well. We waited and waited, putting off going to the restroom, so we wouldn't miss them. Someone even came by, got him in a chair, and said, no, he'd have to get out again, because she was supposed to pick up someone flying on Delta. Finally, someone left one of the wheelchairs near us, and Doug, rebel that he is, talked me into taking it and pushing him myself. We made it all the way through security, with him steering our rolling bag with the computer bag on top along side, and carrying my backpack on his lap. After we finished security, one of the pushers was finally there to ask if we needed any help....</p>
We accepted the offer, since I was getting tired of being the pusher. Doug, as the pushee, still offered to hold my backpack and the computer bag, while Luis, a short, man of about 60 years old, figured out how to attach the rolling bag on the back of the wheelchair. I walked along freely waving my arms at my side to exercise them. Maybe this would count as exercise on my Apple watch. When we got to the gate, Luis left Doug sitting in the chair, and bowed as he pocketed the $5 Doug handed him. After he left, an announcement came overhead that Frontier flight 192 would be delayed for over an hour because of the weather. Tired, Doug decided we had time to go get a drink. He spotted a "watering hole" close by, and off we went, once again pushing along by ourselves. The bar was crowded, and I left him with our things near a high counter and went to order two Manhattans from a harried bartender with wild looking red hair. Folks I chatted with mentioned that they had also been delayed because of what was being called an "Atmospheric River". We all guessed that it was better to be on the ground than in the air at this point.
Doug and I finished our cocktails and we ventured back to our gate. They were just starting to allow pre-boarding, so that was cool. Luis showed up one more time to push the chair down the ramp. We got all settled in our seats, and had our one bigger bag and computer up in the overhead compartment, and our backpack at my feet. We watched the crowd of relieved passengers venturing down the aisle and trying, sometimes in vain, to shove their oversized bags into the overhead bins. The rain seemed to us to have slowed a bit, and we held hands and said an Our Father as finally the engines revved up. Just as the stewardess was beginning her instructions about seatbelts, the pilot came on, saying, "We're sorry folks, but air traffic control has said that we must offboard all passengers. You'll be notified when it is safe to come back on board. Sorry for any inconvenience. Thank you for choosing Frontier Airlines."
Handicapped passengers are first on and last off, so we sat and waited until an attendant could help us lift our bags down. She said that there was a wheelchair waiting outside for us and we were glad to see Luis once again at the helm of Doug's wheelchair. Going Up the ramp was harder for him to navigate, but he didn't complain. He left us once again at the gate, pocketing another fiver. We had heard all about his family by this time.
We could see the rain pelting down, once we were back at our gate. I realized that I hadn't charged my phone for a long time, and had used it a lot, but when I looked around for a plug near the seats, they were very few and far between, and all were used. This was partially due to the fact that this was a new wing of the airport, and it was still being furnished with seats. Some of them were old, and didn't have outlets attached to them, or if they did they were broken. Everyone had brought out their computers and phones and were taking the chance to charge up. I remembered something my neice Martha told me. She travels a lot on business, and always carries one of those power strips in her bag. She shares the plugs with others, and she says, "I'm very popular at the airport." I made a mental note to adopt that habit.
Doug said, "Heck, it'll be awhile till we get to take off, and I'm hungry. Let's go over to that restaurant down the way. You could probably charge up there." So once again, I pushed the chair along on the carpet, with Doug holding our rolling bag out to the side, until we reached Rock and Brews, the same place we'd had a drink before. We decided to share their Smokehouse Burger, and each had another Manhattan....just because. I also found an outlet under our table to charge my phone and my Apple watch.
Once again, we heard the announcement for boarding for Frontier Airlines, and paid our tab. I pushed us back to the gate, and eventually we were greeted by Hameed, who was assigned to glide Doug down the ramp to pre-board the plane. We knew right where our seats were, and our attendant, Alicia was there to welcome us back on board. "Hmm, haven't I seen you two somewhere before?", she kidded. "Let's hope this time it all comes together better!"
After everyone was seated, Alicia and her cohorts went into their schpiels about safety and all. More people may have been listening this time, about where the emergency ramps were.
We taxied out for a reassuring time, turning slowly every so often, and then the plane stopped, the rain pelting our windows. After an excruciating 20 minutes of silence, there was an announcement ping, followed by an apologetic pilot letting us know that we would be returning to the gate. When we got there, Frontier said that the flight had been canceled altogether because of weather. It turns out that we couldn't get a refund, since it was because of that, and not their fault. Many upset passengers were complaining that they would have to pay for their own hotel bill, since all flights were canceled. That would be us too. We went to our trusty Hotels.com app and found a hotel close by for a reasonable price, and bailed our car out of long term parking for $16. It was tempting to consider driving up to the Bay Area, but in the end, decided to rebook for the next day,..... but this time with Southwest.
Next morning, the skies were cloudless, and after a fairly good night's sleep, I drove us back to the airport, singing the old theme from Sesame Street. "Sunny day! Sweepin' the clouds away..." We were professionals by now. We knew how to catch the wonderful shuttle, to the Southwest desk this time. The wheelchair pusher cheerily collected Doug and helped with our luggage, got us through security easily and to our gate. Doug doled out one of the many fives that he had in his pocket to Hakeem this time. The amazing "Atmospheric River" was finished with us by now. We started to have a new attitude about our ordeal the day before. Bouncing around in wind and rain in an airplane with no visablity wouldn't have been our idea of a good time. We think that next time we'll pay more attention to the Weather Channel.
Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-74873504863646021722023-11-06T16:45:00.003-08:002023-11-09T10:48:45.713-08:00Trapped in the AirportRecently, my husband Doug and I flew from California to JFK on Delta Airlines red-eye flight. Our schedule was cutting things pretty close. We were to land at 8 AM, and his connecting flight would take off at 9 AM. He would go on to visit friends for a week in Virginia, and I would take an Uber to Connecticut to spend a week with my son and his baby while Mommy was going to be away at a family wedding along with her mother in Paris.
The first part of our excursion went as planned. Doug was taken by an arranged wheelchair from check-in in SFO through security, and on to our gate, with me trying to trot along next to the quick-paced wheelchair pusher. I had taken a spill two days before, injuring my right knee, (a bad abrasion of the skin), and wondered at times if I should have asked for a wheelchair for myself, since it was so far to the gate.
One good thing about needing a wheelchair is that you get to board first, and we got settled in for our 5 and a half hour red-eye flight, leaving at 11 PM, California time. Soon after we took off, Doug realized that he had left his cane on a luggage trolley back at SFO. "Darn! That was my new one that had shock absorbers. It's a good thing that I brought my old one in my suitcase!"
I can never seem to sleep on planes, but made the nighttime reservation with the hope that I would. We both took our nighttime pills,and Doug promptly dozed off at take-off. I thought I'd play with my iPhone or listen to my Calm app to relax, or if that didn't work, I'd listen to the end of a Louise Penny, Inspector Gamache book on Audible. Then I discovered, to my dismay, that my phone was in near death mode, and the cord I brought with me to charge it was one of the newer, smaller models, and wouldn't work with the bigger socket on the back of the seat in front of me. I had the old-fashioned one in my checked bag. So much for the new earbuds that I had bought for the trip. I put them back in my pocket. I hadn't brought headphones with me, since my new phone doesn't have a place to plug them in, so I couldn't plug into the entertainment right in front of me on the seat. Finally, the attendant came by offering free headphones! I attempted to amuse myself with a couple of games, occasionally watching Doug peacefully sleep with his head on his chest. He's very talented that way. He awoke in time to have the offered applejuice and cookies, but dozed back off again shortly afterward. I ended up watching 2 and a half movies on the back of the seat in front of me with the earphones that the steward provided. I almost thought I'd see the end of the last one, since we kept on circling around New York, perhaps because of the turbulence we were experiencing. I grabbed Doug's arm as we bounced around, and he drowsily said, "Hmm? Oh, we'll be all right", and went back off to dreamland, to my envy. Time was passing, and I started to worry about Doug's connecting flight.
We landed at 8:40, and though we usually stay seated to be one of the last ones off the plane so we don't hold everyone up, we tried to get up with our backpacks and stand in the aisle. Being at the middle of the plane didn't help, since everyone ahead of us was already crowding the aisle, pulling down their carry-ons. I had half-expected the flight attendants to announce that everyone should let the folks out first who had a connecting flight...but no. A young woman next to me in the aisle commiserated that she was in the same boat. Her phone was working, and she said her flight had been changed to 2:57! I recognized that as the other option I had when making our reservations.
My son Lucas texted me wondering if we had landed yet. He said that he and the baby could hardly wait to see me. Hmm, I thought. We wondered if there were any earlier flights that Doug could take. Doug got a message that his Virginia friends had already arrived in DC, and to let them know when he landed there so they could pick him up. Uh-oh.
When we finally reached the front of the plane, there was a nice man from Portugal waiting to pick Doug up in the wheelchair. He tried to figure out if we could still make it to our flight, but it was taxi-ing away. Uh-oh. We wondered if Doug's luggage had gone with it. The wheelchair man left us at a very far away gate, where he thought another flight was leaving soon. He strode away with the wheelchair, leaving us at a desolate gate with no one in sight. He said someone would be there in about an hour. I plugged my phone into a charger next to the seats, and then I walked around to find a restroom and look at any board I could find with lists of flights. I couldn't find the one he talked about at 10:30. I reported back to Doug, and we agreed we shouldn't just sit there, but without a cane, he couldn't walk far. We spotted one of the wheelchairs abandoned near the escalator, and there was a ramp going up to the next floor near it. Doug encouraged me to abscond with it, saying, "Go ahead! Be bold!", even though they're only to be pushed by the official pushers.
The ramp was longer and steeper than we realized, and as I got toward the top, pushing him, with him holding our backpacks, a Jamaican woman dressed in a uniform called out, "You can't be pushing the wheelchair yourself! It's not allowed!" I huffed and puffed and said, "Just let me get to the top! I can't stop now!" "Okay, but you really shouldn't have done this!" She was nicer after she heard our story, and called around to find out if there was an earlier flight. She even had the manager of the wheelchair team come down, and some other Delta higher-up. They all did their best, but Doug just ended up being pushed what seemed like a mile, with me trying to keep up alongside him, occasionally hopping on a people mover to get a bit of a free ride. I waved as I went by. We ended up near the gate where he would leave from at 2:57, and they brought us to the restaurant nearby so we could have breakfast. They took away the wheelchair again, saying we could call someone to take him over to the gate later. We ordered one breakfast to share, and Irish coffees, with an "it must be 5:00 somewhere" attitude. With our phones plugged in, I contacted my son and Doug's friends with the update. His friend Sarah had decided to visit her sister in DC, so that was lucky, and I told Lucas I would try to figure out how to get an Uber to Connecticut as soon as I could.
After breakfast, it struck me that I had never picked up my luggage, and we wondered where Doug's suitcase was too. I said I'd go try to find out, and he agreed, with the caveat that I try to find him a Wall Street Journal, since he was going through withdrawals from his daily printed paper habit. A Hudson News store was right across the way, and I got their last copy, so he happily sat esconsed with his paper in the restaurant.
I walked and walked, following the signs pointing to baggage claim, making a call to Lucas as I went. My knee started hurting a bit, and I coveted any wheelchair I saw along the way. Finally, I'm almost there, and as I took one step through a door, I realized that there was a sign that said "No Return" that I had just passed. I turned around to be approached by a very officious looking security guard who told me in no uncertain terms that I couldn't come back in! I tried to explain what I was doing, and that "I'll be right back with our suitcases", and "look, just let me come back through the door, and I'll go join my husband again!" "No!", he said, pointing to the ceiling,"Cameras would see you. I would get in trouble! Just go to the office at baggage claim and they'll give you a pass to come back in."
The baggage claim lady had a line of tired looking passengers, some with small children, and even though I hadn't slept all night, I felt blessed to be alone. I also felt proud of myself to find our baggage claim receipts in my pocket, and when she checked them on the computer, she said they were still circling around waiting to be picked up! It was hard to believe, but there they were, two lonely bags going round and round! She told me to go over to Delta on the other end of the airport to try to see if they could give me the pass to get back in to Doug.I walked another long way, pulling both of our suitcases, thinking that my Apple watch would be very proud of me for all my steps. When I finally reached my destination, however, getting a pass to re-enter the airport is something that, I was told, can't be done.
They said that because I didn't have a ticket to go anywhere, I wasn't allowed to go through security! I had Doug's suitcase with his cane and meds in it. I told my sad story to the people that were in charge of wheelchairs, and by the time I talked to the third person, I got the manager. He reassured me that he would get someone to go to the restaurant to get Doug, (which he wouldn't be expecting), they would bring him out through baggage claim, and over to Delta check-in, where he could go through security once again with his suitcase that I had for him, but without me. I tried to call him to give him the heads up, but of course, as usual, his ringer was off on his phone....
I sat, wringing my hands for over an hour, and finally, he wheels up, furious that they wouldn't trust little old me to come back to get him myself. "Did they think that you looked like a terrorist?" I asked if we could sit together for a while until he calmed down, because then he would be taken over to check-in and we would say our good-byes for a week. We promised to keep in touch (he would keep the ringer on on his phone), we would call most days to try to do our Wordle game together, he would have fun with Tom and Sarah in Virginia, I would have fun with Lucas and Thea, and then we'd meet after that for Thea's baptism.
After a tearful good-bye, I pulled my suitcase along with my backpack on top of it, and walked outside to order an Uber. Once settled in, I tried to spot familiar New York City buildings as we drove along, but then discovered that somehow, falling asleep in an Uber was much easier than on a plane.
Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-20794549685171978692023-09-20T17:11:00.000-07:002023-09-20T17:11:00.414-07:00Late For Mass! Ever since our favorite priest, Father Oliver retired, from a church near to us in Nevada, we've followed him around like puppies, since we haven't found anyone who comes close to bringing us the message of Jesus. If you're a retired priest, you don't just sit around on your laurels. There aren't enough of the younger priests to go around to all of the parishes, so the retired ones take care of the shortage.
Father Oliver really loves to say a mass when he's asked, so we've followed him down to Gardnerville, Nevada, and more recently to a small chapel in Coleville, CA, which is about an hour and fifteen minutes from our place in South Lake Tahoe. It's worth it to us to go to listen to him preach. He has a different way of presenting mass that makes you feel as if you're sitting around a campfire listening to Jesus. Every Sunday, he gives an explanation of each reading before it's read, along with personal stories, some from his life growing up in a big family in Ireland, that link in with each reading from scripture. When the reading is finally read, we all understand it more since it wasn't just recited by one of the layity. Everything is tied together neatly for us. He may say, "Thank you for listening to me. I know I do run on!" And we all look at each other and smile, saying with our eyes, that, "that's why we come!"
The last couple of months, we've asked him if we could stop by his home to pick him up on our way to Coleville. It's become a regular thing now. He enjoys being able to look around on the beautiful scenery between Nevada and California along the way down Hwy 395, and afterward, 6 or 8 of the parishoners usually meet together at a nearby restaurant. Then we bring him home.
I usually set several alarms to make sure we get up in time. He likes to leave home by 9 am in order to make it to Our Lady of the Valley in Coleville in plenty of time, so we figure that we should at least give ourselves about 40 minutes to get to his place, plus, time to make breakfast, get ready, etc.
This morning didn't work out quite as expected. For some reason, I neglected to set all my alarms the night before. One alarm always goes off anyway on my phone, at 8 am, belting out "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", and it jolted me awake. I dreamily watched the pine trees out the bedroom windows as I relaxed back into the pillow, until, I sat up straight, like the mother in "Home Alone" when she realized the family had almost overslept for their flight to Europe. "It's Sunday!", I told Doug, "and it's already 10 after 8, and we'll be late to pick up Father!"
That woke him up quickly too, and he said, "Oh no! We'd better get a move on!". "Let's just jump into our clothes and pick up something to eat at MacDonald's"
"No time! There will be a line", I said. "I'm going to call the bakery down the street and have them fix us something we can pick up when we get there. We can eat it in the car." While I pulled up my pants and put on my shoes, I called and ordered a ham and cheese croissant, heated and cut in half and one large coffee, via speaker phone, that we would share in the car as I drove.
"Smart cookie", Doug said as we walked out the door. I locked the door from the inside and we were on our way.....until I got to the car and the door wouldn't unlock. I felt for my keys, and found I didn't have them or even my iphone. I didn't even have the wrist pocket I use for a purse, holding my ID! Doug was almost to the car, so I said, "Could I get your keys from you? I left mine inside!" He felt for his keys and said, "Uh-oh! I don't have mine either!" "No? Gosh! It's a good thing we have a housekey in our outside storage!", I said, trotting down the path to our porch. I reminded myself of our younger neighbor who always walks so fast. But, when I opened the closet, the key wasn't where it was supposed to be! What now? I called out to Doug to tell him it wasn't there, and he started walking back to the house.
Since we rent out our place sometime, I thought, all is not lost, there's a lock box with a key in it. I have the code on my phone.... but I don't have my phone! "Sweetheart! Hand me your phone so I can get the lockbox code from it." "Um. I don't have my phone either!" "Oh no!", I said. "I haven't used the code very much, but maybe I can remember it.
I wracked my brain. "I think it's something like 1,2, something something." I started to frantically punch in several options, to no avail. "You do know that there might be as many as 9,999 possibilities, right?", he offered. "Now Stop that!", I snapped, "Don't be negative. We have to pray. What else are we going to do?"
"Maybe the window is unlocked", Doug offered. "No. We Never leave them unlocked because of bears, right?", I answered. I was starting to lose hope. People were depending on us to pick him up, and we couldn't even call Father Oliver to tell them the situation and that maybe he should start driving himself to Coleville.
1,2, 6,7..1,2 5,8... Then I see Doug walking from the storage room with a screwdriver saying, "I was just thinking..."
"What are you doing?", I whined.
"It's worth a try", he says as he works at the screen on the window. "What are you going to do? Break open the window?", I say. But the next thing he does is slide open the window! "Remember? our neighbors said that the renters had the windows wide open with the heat up high?" "Genius!" I said.
Thankfully, the window sill was low enough for me to climb right in, stepping only on some reuseable shopping bags that we had ready by the door. I ran over to the counter for my keys and wrist pocket and Doug's keys and his phone. I forgot my phone, but it didn't matter. We locked up again, and strode out to the car.
"We'd better skip the breakfast we ordered", I said. "No! I'm hungry! And you might get a bad reputation at the Sugarpine Bakery if we don't pick it up.", he said. That was a thought. I drove down the street and tried to turn in to the exit driveway, and almost ran into someone coming out. I pulled sharply into another parking place and walked quickly into the bakery. "I'm the one who ordered...." "These?" she said as she placed them on the counter,"One ham and cheese croissant, heated and cut in half and a large coffee?" I started to tell her all that we had been through, but thought better of it, and brought it to the car. I took my half and started munching ravenously without even thinking, but I had to start thinking about driving. We hit all of the green lights along Hwy 50 toward the casinos, and then finally hit a red light, and took advantge of stopping so I could have a sip of coffee. I was shaking.
"Try to calm down and concentrate on getting there safely", said Doug. "We're only going to be about 10 minutes late. We'll be fine." He tried to call Father Oliver, but he didn't answer.
We tried once more as we came over Daggett Pass on Kingsbury Grade, but no answer. Then, at 8:59, we received a call from him as we were almost to his place. "We're running a little late, Father, but we'll be there in about 5 minutes! We'll explain later."
He was waiting out in front as we drove up, and I tried to calm myself and drive, but as we recounted our last hour, I got all excited again. He was very forgiving of us, as we drove along. He even tried to distract me with comments about the lovely rock formations that he never noticed as much when he drove himself.
By the time we drove by Topaz Lake, I knew we were almost there. "Good girl!", said Father Oliver. "You made good time, but you did drive pretty fast".
"I'm sorry", I said as we pulled into the driveway to the chapel with 10 minutes to spare. "I bet you were saying your prayers there in the back seat!" "To be sure", he said.
P.S. Three days later, just to show you that my mind was still thinking about Sunday morning, I awoke to realize that I had had my fairly new and unexplored iWatch on my wrist the whole time. I checked, and, sure enough, I could have looked up the list I had on my phone to see the combination for the lock box.Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-91371388276836412502023-06-03T15:05:00.002-07:002023-06-03T17:45:12.948-07:00Rings On Her Fingers......<p> It's been quite a while since I've written about what's going on in our lives. All the while that I haven't been writing, we've been busy remodeling our old family home in order to rent it out again (at a higher price)... We traveled back and forth from Palm Springs to Richmond, figuring out how to organize all the repairs, and we even put on two garage sales, that let us get rid of many things, but didn't make us very much money toward the cause. Some keepsakes were sold cheaply, or given to those folks that showed a genuine interest in them and the story behind them.</p><p>The one things that traveled back and forth and were always with me, are my rings. "You have so many rings on your fingers!" folks exclaim. Well, that's because there's a reason for every one of them.</p><p>My wedding ring is a story unto itself. Before Doug proposed to me, he went with his daughter Charity to the Costco jewelry department and got me a diamond ring to present to me at the Nantucket Restaurant, in Crockett, CA. We had been there before, and had even had a special walk out on the pier, where we would lay down on boards and cuddle while looking at the stars. Pretty romantic, eh? </p><p>We sat at a picnic table outside, and he proposed to me with the beautiful ring, and I said yes, and then my cell phone rang. It was my ex-husband, and it was irritating to Doug that he should call at this time. I didn't pick up, but then he called again. I answered, and told him what had just happened, and that he shouldn't be calling me so often, but I would call him. Every once in a while I had to remind him, "Divorce, right?"</p><p>Time went on, and I got to tag along on one of Doug's many business trips to Europe to buy antiques for his store. He decided to make a side trip to Scotland once, and after we landed and drove to an inn, I pulled my hand out of my pocket, and a diamond was missing from my engagement ring! The little prongs of gold were empty. When we got home, we went to the Costco jeweler and they seemed to happily replace it. Another diamond fell out once again, though, and then I confessed that I would really rather not have a diamond that was so big, (It seemed like it could be used as a weapon!), so we asked that it could be returned and we ran off to the Oaks Jewelers, on Solano Ave, in Berkeley. I chose a modest, even cloudy diamond, lower than the others, and surrounded by three little diamonds on each side. I was happy, and I even saved Doug some money!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje70aEWomq6-hm7085mrGy0Jm9E9iW7GSOAelctY-HrlOKcg_784ibAQ-ISJcXz_15rlf9c2HFMgfRWA4C-5GFn9WBtlUgtNW0ojEnCMKPdeKQBVbi09HqZqeisqa9gVtxtoWzofdU_7Xka13LRwjtXRx9UOOGj5gwDv2NnrMYzO0oV-uNUB4csHr1/s455/IMG_0077.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="455" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje70aEWomq6-hm7085mrGy0Jm9E9iW7GSOAelctY-HrlOKcg_784ibAQ-ISJcXz_15rlf9c2HFMgfRWA4C-5GFn9WBtlUgtNW0ojEnCMKPdeKQBVbi09HqZqeisqa9gVtxtoWzofdU_7Xka13LRwjtXRx9UOOGj5gwDv2NnrMYzO0oV-uNUB4csHr1/w161-h134/IMG_0077.jpeg" width="161" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>After a while, I wanted to have another ring on my left hand, but since I usually am attracted to silver rings, I thought it should be a gold one so they wouldn't clash. I'd call my left one "my gold hand". So, while on a trip to Capitola, a favorite beach town since my childhood, I went into a shop called Super Silver Capitola. They have lots of choices of jewelry and at least at that time, they only charged you by the ounce. I told the person that I wish they had something in gold, and she showed me a couple of bands that were gold-plated, warning me that the gold would eventually wear off, and it would be silver. For the price, I went for it, and the nice Celtic looking ring lived on the third finger of my left hand. Later, it moved to my right hand when, just as she warned, it lost its golden sheen.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0Cpviaywy9Gu_t6PgLYVqaro9xW1XE7OuOf2T31Edvif74fCYCXuRODpeWuParv3umdV6hs-sGUDXkbYatX4tBRRUkHG9k8009ZPdBHTowH0xjTFKNVovppn6EO3ewnt1luKhNRXfT4jdbjJj6ZLxmly0jKaxiLO_OAXWnr1CwfmL2qpe4wHnxS-/s439/IMG_0076.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="439" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq0Cpviaywy9Gu_t6PgLYVqaro9xW1XE7OuOf2T31Edvif74fCYCXuRODpeWuParv3umdV6hs-sGUDXkbYatX4tBRRUkHG9k8009ZPdBHTowH0xjTFKNVovppn6EO3ewnt1luKhNRXfT4jdbjJj6ZLxmly0jKaxiLO_OAXWnr1CwfmL2qpe4wHnxS-/w149-h134/IMG_0076.jpeg" width="149" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYGz6sKjXNYxu38kUEq_lST1NjgSvdnybvn5q489s6v9yT_zNcex8mLD9su81wmfUigeaOqaiw8OJvqLQwSQGTPFaAOv8Y6Mww9q9ThWL6abs3Z0fwbQ68JleCSMeMkHT3SSgXs_tXTVPRB8qZUVnjezQUO77z2K1Xo_FODeJVyemNXg04gA8hv3Hd/s439/IMG_0076.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p></p><p>I had bought another silver ring at that store before, which I still wear. It's one of my favorites. It's smooth and strong, and always shines, showing me it's wave-like design, reminding me of Capitola. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBTh4X-JD_x23A3lUrURoB5sVBqLe5T_WToBmFS3pV_kWQpaW9T4kij_JE9A1EX0v1G2-NQMBQSNwRvRe_LgHlStyCEBDHpkpPSFYKxNGXodorW_fGvA1ECvFLoQaaFACOgOS1_tn-lXrh3hLhY26F-C4zc5kakO0I7NAxpOxuagUwRBqZoqV5ZeyV/s426/IMG_0070.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="404" height="126" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBTh4X-JD_x23A3lUrURoB5sVBqLe5T_WToBmFS3pV_kWQpaW9T4kij_JE9A1EX0v1G2-NQMBQSNwRvRe_LgHlStyCEBDHpkpPSFYKxNGXodorW_fGvA1ECvFLoQaaFACOgOS1_tn-lXrh3hLhY26F-C4zc5kakO0I7NAxpOxuagUwRBqZoqV5ZeyV/w119-h126/IMG_0070.jpeg" width="119" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>The ring that gets the most attention, even from strangers, is the one that Doug bought me at the ranger station at Olympia National Park for 20 bucks. It has a beautiful swirly setting that catches the eye, and if the sun catches it right, the opal fascinates folks. I explain that it is made from little chips of opals, not a whole one. It's still the winner.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SPJFbD5XzxeUAQUnbjYPIejG0AKA5IyNTfkS0Z9xePB2GCXw5pbTeULwOiiOyZkAKeWTlKZ_s9dw1_hH8uXgSEnawZUq4vryypDJpJKWlJvaRfInKk_pI8tlJAQBqTGFlWK_BWpIjVDAoO_kLMQMYUqBwL2XnNWS4ZBzuFNdK7bph14GusSmWiKh/s453/IMG_0073.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="453" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9SPJFbD5XzxeUAQUnbjYPIejG0AKA5IyNTfkS0Z9xePB2GCXw5pbTeULwOiiOyZkAKeWTlKZ_s9dw1_hH8uXgSEnawZUq4vryypDJpJKWlJvaRfInKk_pI8tlJAQBqTGFlWK_BWpIjVDAoO_kLMQMYUqBwL2XnNWS4ZBzuFNdK7bph14GusSmWiKh/w142-h118/IMG_0073.jpeg" width="142" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>A couple of years ago, our granddaughter, Karis, started a little online business for herself, marketing the rings and other jewelry that she makes. I noticed one that I liked, one that she constructed amazingly out of silver wire, winding it around and around in a very pleasing fashion. She quickly made one for me and sent it to me. I hope you'll check out her website: bishopkarebear.wixsite.com. Tell her "Gramma Patty sent me".</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFo6onSxaFo21-zVwQsnSmmXf8494LiS9djRECNtaH5PVPdN-2DZaFbWZ7FwA6YjvDzvz6Unkoe1DXF89v6_NJ5YEmMIaonoZdBgU9K3w53WGDzoP0cQG0mOq9AzNoml-rnH2CEWnFoATHCn5iFfFEHA1OxeRCfT05tVTTs3Dblgvr0Gu-ciKNaQWt/s418/IMG_0068.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="412" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFo6onSxaFo21-zVwQsnSmmXf8494LiS9djRECNtaH5PVPdN-2DZaFbWZ7FwA6YjvDzvz6Unkoe1DXF89v6_NJ5YEmMIaonoZdBgU9K3w53WGDzoP0cQG0mOq9AzNoml-rnH2CEWnFoATHCn5iFfFEHA1OxeRCfT05tVTTs3Dblgvr0Gu-ciKNaQWt/w123-h125/IMG_0068.jpeg" width="123" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>My latest rings happened pretty recently. Doug discovered that we had known each other for 20 years, on April 11th, 2022. He wanted to get me a special ring to commemorate it. The trouble is, that my fingers are rather large, and everywhere we went to try to find that special ring, they didn't have my size 9 in stock. It was the supply chain, because of Covid, they said. (The old story...) Finally, in Macy's, I asked the person to measure my finger for the size, just to be sure. Next day, we looked online on Amazon (of course), for a size 9 ring, and I found one I liked. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEicFNOmukt5r4vyRgKydScmeFRdkl9YhlBfsx5tisrLo-98eYUajpH72hTqvU9FLX_wKebbKAfyT0P0IY9VNAhNTB_zlR0qsW9jfy8H0lOQXXkdZ_79dUrzKNwcVYiU7fsoNpWudAnS5YeCJnLfxw38I8NJX8Zq_U2VnntFP7tXizpxG6heR6xpw3/s455/IMG_0089.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="455" height="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEicFNOmukt5r4vyRgKydScmeFRdkl9YhlBfsx5tisrLo-98eYUajpH72hTqvU9FLX_wKebbKAfyT0P0IY9VNAhNTB_zlR0qsW9jfy8H0lOQXXkdZ_79dUrzKNwcVYiU7fsoNpWudAnS5YeCJnLfxw38I8NJX8Zq_U2VnntFP7tXizpxG6heR6xpw3/w141-h117/IMG_0089.jpeg" width="141" /></a></div><br />It has small diamonds, is silver and has a kind of a twist in it that attracted me....sort of symbolizing our meeting. <p></p><p>A couple of weeks later, before that ring arrived, we had a reason to look into our safe deposit boxes. There I ran across my mother-in-law, Helen's, (Tutu's) wedding ring. I tried it on the middle finger of my left hand just for fun, (where the new one was supposed to go, and it fit so well!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXN347lvzS74DklHVM-uwwuv1kILFwflIAiKaYizPvKRS92nBHKoXT9VhmVLJBA8LzkjzPFeHGTB92q2fbhk9Xsh6szl-CMdVczngwXWq2VqzRMQcncOfr820vaT287lEvBCtJZRZwI-Y50GIYX6baa94Uld58f26dF9clZqa1vuOeYmxUnNZrIn-O/s473/IMG_0087.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="473" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXN347lvzS74DklHVM-uwwuv1kILFwflIAiKaYizPvKRS92nBHKoXT9VhmVLJBA8LzkjzPFeHGTB92q2fbhk9Xsh6szl-CMdVczngwXWq2VqzRMQcncOfr820vaT287lEvBCtJZRZwI-Y50GIYX6baa94Uld58f26dF9clZqa1vuOeYmxUnNZrIn-O/w144-h111/IMG_0087.jpeg" width="144" /></a></div><br /> I always thought that Tutu had smaller fingers than me. It's a platinum band with tiny diamonds as well. I decided to add it to my collection. When the new "meeting" ring came, it was a little too large, and I found that if I put it on first, and then added Tutu's ring on top of it, it held it in place. <p></p><p>All of these rings have a special meaning to me, and they help me to remember people, and even pray for them. I think of where I was when I got them with fond memories. The only trouble is, that it's a full time job keeping them all adjusted and facing upright! Oh well, that gives me more time to look at them....</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6AD5lr4kY7kK2YrziC8drFKSIhzfMYDT4uZJ8HDr39skm9h4mEEYtLsCf3HRs3jp4ErEQv4ec1PJ5BJFeOrPMK6cHDPlFFrgz-pEBcZ8lu1xJgRTsyaNCHZ_bO3Wh9pIt9mdIbNGFSdCGrFHZ5AwZXs0PzCoOXQiY0QZ-m4wlRVpdyAxfU2AOVt3k/s4032/IMG_0094.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6AD5lr4kY7kK2YrziC8drFKSIhzfMYDT4uZJ8HDr39skm9h4mEEYtLsCf3HRs3jp4ErEQv4ec1PJ5BJFeOrPMK6cHDPlFFrgz-pEBcZ8lu1xJgRTsyaNCHZ_bO3Wh9pIt9mdIbNGFSdCGrFHZ5AwZXs0PzCoOXQiY0QZ-m4wlRVpdyAxfU2AOVt3k/w150-h200/IMG_0094.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdXqn04hP4BE--JxM3ofbGfOXNQBkcNUJIUCNpZsYwRa1JpJqYq2dsWe0jfgRP8hovkcYpu4zayzfegt4wQNagNFO-F7wpcHd7lIR6GAU7XxtiKHniJSg4pzC71Cpo-lhg0KK-QBU7QroADFTz1lM6n3qmT81-YaJt9JSQSJ19WSLAohByIXMypGC/s4032/IMG_0091.HEIC" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdXqn04hP4BE--JxM3ofbGfOXNQBkcNUJIUCNpZsYwRa1JpJqYq2dsWe0jfgRP8hovkcYpu4zayzfegt4wQNagNFO-F7wpcHd7lIR6GAU7XxtiKHniJSg4pzC71Cpo-lhg0KK-QBU7QroADFTz1lM6n3qmT81-YaJt9JSQSJ19WSLAohByIXMypGC/w150-h200/IMG_0091.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div>I've decided though, in case you wondered, I don't think I'll ever put bells on my toes.<p></p>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-17465055261992812212023-01-01T13:56:00.002-08:002023-01-02T10:09:08.445-08:00One More Different, Smaller, and a Very Electronic Christmas 2022<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">This year we decided to stay in Southern California, for Christmas, in our trailer/cottage in Palm Springs. There were lots of factors in making the decision. Most of Doug's kids had other plans, or just didn't have time to travel the 8 hours down here from the Bay Area, and we thought Doug was going to have a second cataract operation on the 21st, but then he changed his mind. My kids are both back east, and we just planned to communicate a lot by FaceTime especially when my new grand baby would be born. Doug's two sons and 2 of the grandkids promised to drive down on the day after Christmas, but that left us alone, together for Christmas, opening up a couple of gifts wrapped in Amazon packaging. </span></div></div><p></p><p>It's a good thing that we put up our solar Christmas lights, because before Christmas, Covid raised its ugly head once again. First, Doug tested positive and I tried to not get it by insisting I isolate myself by masking around him and sleeping in the tiny bedroom at the end of the trailer part of our home, as instructed by the doctor. He confessed later, however, that it was a relief to him that I finally tested positive! I guess that's okay, since we both had mild cases. Besides, it was difficult to be so strict when we were in such a small space. My symptoms were mostly exhaustion, everything tasted like garlic, and I had heartburn and nausea. He had a little fever for a couple of days, a headache, and general malaise. We just self-isolated and were brought gifts of homemade sour dough bread, cookies, and even a huge package of toilet paper, (which we had gotten dangerously low on), from friends and neighbors.</p><p>I kept trying to force myself to finish up the annual family calendar I put together, and then when they came, I set up my Mom's old card table in the kitchen to gradually wrap them and any other gifts that I had to send out in the mail. When I finally tested negative, I went to the post office to get some priority mail boxes to pack up all the families' gifts and treats so I could come back to stand, masked, in a surprisingly short line to send them off.</p><p>We had bought each other gifts that we both wanted, even before Christmas. Doug did a thorough study of mobility scooters to buy, since he enjoyed the one we rented in DC a few months before, and he suggested I get an Apple Watch, so I would get credit for any steps I do.</p><p>The scooter came with a caveat that it would have to be stored in our parlour, in front of the wall where I usually compose my "wall tree". I was still tired from Covid, so it didn't take too much convincing for me to let that go. We went to the Angel View Thrift Shop and came home with a little 3 foot fake tree, and covered it heavily with solar lights, and ornaments, and put it in our bedroom. Thank goodness the solar lights are almost worn out. They only work for a few hours and then have a faint twinkle for the rest of the night, not keeping us up. It sits next to our little table with a minimalist creche on it. We added a couple of cute sheep to it this year. They're very cute. The bigger one looks over at the manger, and the baby one looks at us, as if to say, "Are you paying attention?"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKMaDxfLmfjqv3HPvODeqc6hCNjOu1BMuXtgLQQa4tbsR1XpEiDsEkfcGPTQmSE-Z2IME3xVg6-7To-WIh31QSB2zFxwU6sLFE8XZSKmjMhbX3qcdsJE_uWXIjqjLslonP_4Y_9qfj6nmjfgxonWSGUxpkkYRG6ZJXHEtxO5O_YQc8fWM3zK3a_GIa/s4032/IMG_9126.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKMaDxfLmfjqv3HPvODeqc6hCNjOu1BMuXtgLQQa4tbsR1XpEiDsEkfcGPTQmSE-Z2IME3xVg6-7To-WIh31QSB2zFxwU6sLFE8XZSKmjMhbX3qcdsJE_uWXIjqjLslonP_4Y_9qfj6nmjfgxonWSGUxpkkYRG6ZJXHEtxO5O_YQc8fWM3zK3a_GIa/w191-h256/IMG_9126.HEIC" width="191" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Doug loves his little red "scooter", he bought it with the idea that it would encourage him to walk more, rather than less. When we start out, I ride in the scooter, while he walks with his cane, and after about a block and a half, we switch so I can get some steps in. We're in the habit now of doing our walk/ride a few blocks over to the market, or CVS, or to eat lunch at our favorite restaurant, Mario's. I've learned to switch my watch over to the workout mode to get credit for my exercise. It's getting ridiculous, how I'm trying to "close up all my rings" now. Before Christmas, when we both had Covid, my watch seemed very disappointed in me, sitting in my chair and reading or taking a nap, since it urges you to get up for a minute every hour during the day. It's training me pretty well, and I keep on increasing my daily goals. One night before bed, I confess that I went outside to walk a few more steps to close up the move ring!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6k4gFAVk8qMEr2DJlvy2WqhTPxFs0B0m0jVR6znYMXhP2Tusehihn-yVpNKI0UWnDTmIiFTBYTAcOw_75vU8c8lxhJRYPpWB4XglGkvc1IUAxYJEs65qAZciFFacOZVQSkULPJZMHfy_1Ge7ZnnagZbXJRYdQzWR-uRyigaDb6oOxgalw8ewauVjR/s4032/IMG_9217.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6k4gFAVk8qMEr2DJlvy2WqhTPxFs0B0m0jVR6znYMXhP2Tusehihn-yVpNKI0UWnDTmIiFTBYTAcOw_75vU8c8lxhJRYPpWB4XglGkvc1IUAxYJEs65qAZciFFacOZVQSkULPJZMHfy_1Ge7ZnnagZbXJRYdQzWR-uRyigaDb6oOxgalw8ewauVjR/w150-h200/IMG_9217.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkw65Sjy89_125O24cPjLiTu32sqpJMoWZRXlOJoH-vqSjY07ooT6CJnNeY8bn6QIBpggCQW82YYzrE3jFzbAOYuKKdYklxB2VYIADRAV7aMuTEDI8_l1gAouY_yBf-V8kAM10C-vrpFJu8-gLKDur1rHXBqSQkITo332hTmWw5cDxQ03ngTLTWGZ/s4032/IMG_9170.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkw65Sjy89_125O24cPjLiTu32sqpJMoWZRXlOJoH-vqSjY07ooT6CJnNeY8bn6QIBpggCQW82YYzrE3jFzbAOYuKKdYklxB2VYIADRAV7aMuTEDI8_l1gAouY_yBf-V8kAM10C-vrpFJu8-gLKDur1rHXBqSQkITo332hTmWw5cDxQ03ngTLTWGZ/w150-h200/IMG_9170.HEIC" width="150" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p>On Christmas Eve morning, I baked a double batch of Toll House chocolate chip cookies with added pecans and tart dried Montmorency cherries to hand out to friends and neighbors in our mobile park. I put 3 or 4 cookies each in ZipLoc bags and placed them in a beautiful red bag that a friend made for me, and we looked very festive as we did our walk/ride routine all around the neighborhood and visited with all the happy recipients of the cookies. I told them, "If you're lucky, you might get a tart dried cherry in a bite", since the cherries were in short supply. The next day, some folks came up and excitedly said, "And I got a cherry in mine!" </p><p>On Christmas Eve, we went to a beautiful mass at Our Lady of Guadalupe, and I got teary eyed as a little girl in a pretty red dress reverently walked down the aisle with Father Robert, holding the baby Jesus on a cushion, so she could lay him in his manger. Between all the sparkly lights, and the beautiful singing of our favorite cantor, who we have dubbed, "Sings Like An Angel" singing Ave Maria, our Christmas was just about complete. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJ5shYVdiBo_d9gizmABeatV75n1QKrL5XoX9iRx4O25d-8JWyy78qONRq4aopme5Di-VfdC9vrio_JO_ojbY72NGgX-N8vhLvLXPvlt0i4ubhmxAudSxbHNFUAXoKwPNfIZAccZki7MrmNZBYYnvO5lz0XIDMYuY9rD7lx6i8Iv0Qjkh9Tcc7P6z/s3752/IMG_8417.JPEG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2683" data-original-width="3752" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJ5shYVdiBo_d9gizmABeatV75n1QKrL5XoX9iRx4O25d-8JWyy78qONRq4aopme5Di-VfdC9vrio_JO_ojbY72NGgX-N8vhLvLXPvlt0i4ubhmxAudSxbHNFUAXoKwPNfIZAccZki7MrmNZBYYnvO5lz0XIDMYuY9rD7lx6i8Iv0Qjkh9Tcc7P6z/s320/IMG_8417.JPEG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>When we got out to the car though, Doug said, "I don't want to go home to left over Chinese food tonight. Not on Christmas Eve!" He wanted to go someplace special, and his first choice was closed. I suggested a local "dive" bar, a Palm Springs classic, Pete's Hideaway. When we first got there, it was almost empty, except for an older woman all dressed up in her holiday garb at the end of the bar. "She said, "Oh! You're finally here!", to which I curtsied, and then she said, "Oh, I thought you were someone else." We sat at the bar and had a cocktail, and toasted to each other, and then all the people who had reservations started arriving, and a singer came to start singing his holiday songs with his guitar. We decided to stay and share a plate of their Italian stuffed pasta dinner. A lovely time after all. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvtRJymVpGErw_f-nlWOCmr9XE4cezjdFTpxIFmzjK2pm7GAbI_ClebjpHKsNnZcbZkRcx3iUlQDMy9esHN7yyVBq9JniOoeWlXegh57wEqxXqexDGuNhxY7sxu7JvjC3uBWlIbTDs2ocGR0f4Cp7CG3JvBF9Pp0f_ED_HwmzeTO8NsfO5bz8E9KC/s4032/IMG_9180.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDvtRJymVpGErw_f-nlWOCmr9XE4cezjdFTpxIFmzjK2pm7GAbI_ClebjpHKsNnZcbZkRcx3iUlQDMy9esHN7yyVBq9JniOoeWlXegh57wEqxXqexDGuNhxY7sxu7JvjC3uBWlIbTDs2ocGR0f4Cp7CG3JvBF9Pp0f_ED_HwmzeTO8NsfO5bz8E9KC/w200-h150/IMG_9180.HEIC" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Advent wreath.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>Earlier in the day, we had decided that we would join in with our neighbors for a Christmas morning potluck, so I had to come up with a dish to bring. I just had to buy another dozen eggs, and I revised a Christmas sausage and egg and cheese casserole that I found online, similar to one that is usually served at my sister Lorraine's house on Christmas morning.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimrgwx_c1iCdnrGxt3mobF5KY8vTdcFoGuhTY0_Cs6RHiffK38H2HMEFETdJB24IFYIJKXeHYF4tlVXsjAlTrz_2JDplWUUWV3YhswSSbronsEtndSFZL4xSAd1-Kx0zvaims7N3jTLgqtm9g2LSDl3rJolxi_EdGdDT1Hfi9h5tBeLtLA4C6FEFjE/s2048/IMG_9184.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimrgwx_c1iCdnrGxt3mobF5KY8vTdcFoGuhTY0_Cs6RHiffK38H2HMEFETdJB24IFYIJKXeHYF4tlVXsjAlTrz_2JDplWUUWV3YhswSSbronsEtndSFZL4xSAd1-Kx0zvaims7N3jTLgqtm9g2LSDl3rJolxi_EdGdDT1Hfi9h5tBeLtLA4C6FEFjE/s320/IMG_9184.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>We also were invited to Doug's second cousin Greg's and his wife Julie's home in Desert Hot Springs at two on Christmas Day, so we had to leave the brunch early, having tried to not stuff ourselves. We were happy to actually have family to visit with on this special holiday. The desert is becoming pretty popular for retirees. A couple of members of my own family have moved down here recently too. Maybe we'll get together with them next year.<p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The story goes on.... Doug's sons John and Matt and our granddaughters Ava and Resie drove down to visit on December 26th in time for a dinner of what has been dubbed "Harboghetti". Then we all opened gifts to each other, so that seemed even more like a complete Christmas. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSNEaayOR1DU2vzjNInCSE-lNtT-sDq3LGHQmwbZJ2S_r8zFaX3aJNM9MtlI1n3gWCggKxB6HeNyFk84oHt_mw8o7Bd8vW04RrH41S4mKVHaBcELJKqJva_fx86o-n0FMf462YikYycUm8MHBN3xOt-1lju0W9aYXakKyeHWv8HQPI-_dyffL132k/s4032/IMG_9196.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSNEaayOR1DU2vzjNInCSE-lNtT-sDq3LGHQmwbZJ2S_r8zFaX3aJNM9MtlI1n3gWCggKxB6HeNyFk84oHt_mw8o7Bd8vW04RrH41S4mKVHaBcELJKqJva_fx86o-n0FMf462YikYycUm8MHBN3xOt-1lju0W9aYXakKyeHWv8HQPI-_dyffL132k/s320/IMG_9196.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXk0c_rme3DdJb2BrRtG3JsRwaJ9Z3MAaeM_Lr25SNCLTEhnfgEF0ojrpaPRn1TPEQkYUhzvaZECs8OgF031bu7xIiX3SMaysayh80o7ttk_hYr9hRI48i4LO_OZWGasAvLl-mdLgvOPC11WJOXvgAfvHeulpsW9ZFl4H4eYO4G1O_uxw9ynBe81Jm/s4032/IMG_9199.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXk0c_rme3DdJb2BrRtG3JsRwaJ9Z3MAaeM_Lr25SNCLTEhnfgEF0ojrpaPRn1TPEQkYUhzvaZECs8OgF031bu7xIiX3SMaysayh80o7ttk_hYr9hRI48i4LO_OZWGasAvLl-mdLgvOPC11WJOXvgAfvHeulpsW9ZFl4H4eYO4G1O_uxw9ynBe81Jm/s320/IMG_9199.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>John's better at electronic things than us, so he helped us to hook up an upgraded version of Roku that is voice activated for our TV. I had also surprised Doug with an Alexa, another toy that is voice activated, which he was delighted with. (He actually looked like a little boy on Christmas morning with a new train set.) He didn't think I would get one, since I had pooh-poohed the idea. John had to help install Alexa too, and then she, (if there really IS an Alexa), was probably tearing her hair out at all the ridiculous questions she was being asked, but she still happily answered. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNeELCNeR561vBuxVRDlkEoBWEtdud1ERvP9p6-P6FyAEhzyyN0szGNMDO3g1FxhP-cdDuX2KExg8_2UBDfo_4Yph2bW39P7uViSItbkph_A-LK1_qyvyeZTcfNiHstj_ShKy5JSqLc7CoHY8JCsxmd_fIArLL3fL9RxDB1bdAbKXjqW7hUONGBt7P/s1918/123_1-2.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="865" data-original-width="1918" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNeELCNeR561vBuxVRDlkEoBWEtdud1ERvP9p6-P6FyAEhzyyN0szGNMDO3g1FxhP-cdDuX2KExg8_2UBDfo_4Yph2bW39P7uViSItbkph_A-LK1_qyvyeZTcfNiHstj_ShKy5JSqLc7CoHY8JCsxmd_fIArLL3fL9RxDB1bdAbKXjqW7hUONGBt7P/s320/123_1-2.jpeg" width="320" /></a>The weather cleared up for them one day for a nice day at the pool, since it's been unusually cloudy and rainy here. </p><p><br /></p><p>Doug went out to ride in a golfcart with them while Matt and Ava golfed, and I stayed home with Resie. We took a little walk, and then worked together on constructing a Disney Lego project out on the patio, and we accomplished it! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM2R7Vku2OgGRTbcTczxownUg52L7zuRYRRuy38cu9K--Pzp1eP_zIFq_3bCBZ4dJO4FgT90g-TbvyLIMuzkjT1yIeRpiU1SUICAGU-3ZeX9NQjSE9E3AAjf8-Oqfvv4ZxE8UsqUyDB9qe_AhlgWuUv4oxVmg_ZtXn2hmiiL5GnNrcFCip9HBvsuCd/s4032/IMG_9200.HEIC" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM2R7Vku2OgGRTbcTczxownUg52L7zuRYRRuy38cu9K--Pzp1eP_zIFq_3bCBZ4dJO4FgT90g-TbvyLIMuzkjT1yIeRpiU1SUICAGU-3ZeX9NQjSE9E3AAjf8-Oqfvv4ZxE8UsqUyDB9qe_AhlgWuUv4oxVmg_ZtXn2hmiiL5GnNrcFCip9HBvsuCd/w187-h249/IMG_9200.HEIC" width="187" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The next day, we put together a nice ham dinner, and we've all done a good job of working on the great supply of holiday cookies, candies and treats that everyone brought. We're thinking of not looking at the scale for a few days.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Everything's quiet now. Our company is on their way home and we're feeling rather drowsy. Tomorrow night is New Year's Eve. Here's to a wonderful, and especially Peaceful 2023. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsv_FpMRZAEuy1maGnt39dcDuVZJjNvuxnYyI4BCej4rrG8Tb1mYZzkw3tLNLRpKPcbBi5x4-EqsZ6pUIKLsA6g_arof1B7BUCdRrvshvERR0VCzbCq9XssnkU6Hn4-2b3lffCtEVtB0kTHaw9fIdlaNsyaWgrtthWAzI7w2YCwLjkTgixbR91gB8/s1918/123_1.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1918" data-original-width="865" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsv_FpMRZAEuy1maGnt39dcDuVZJjNvuxnYyI4BCej4rrG8Tb1mYZzkw3tLNLRpKPcbBi5x4-EqsZ6pUIKLsA6g_arof1B7BUCdRrvshvERR0VCzbCq9XssnkU6Hn4-2b3lffCtEVtB0kTHaw9fIdlaNsyaWgrtthWAzI7w2YCwLjkTgixbR91gB8/w113-h252/123_1.jpeg" width="113" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfmWk2GbL9nhk3H7dGG3CjAAkgPv9CpNjzyXxVhywl0emnMmxKDILD75UhoW2H_SQvMH1jPAXWeQIzCkAUAHKhQfRsGT_7AaSJf2DOND8GYDllKBCXJJkX2W6CcIuYBeojq2NWsY88fEOsz5rlzZ-qJy6TzE8OBEDPTJ4hpXQxg4Ux4DKwc_qMIoI5/s4032/IMG_0603.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfmWk2GbL9nhk3H7dGG3CjAAkgPv9CpNjzyXxVhywl0emnMmxKDILD75UhoW2H_SQvMH1jPAXWeQIzCkAUAHKhQfRsGT_7AaSJf2DOND8GYDllKBCXJJkX2W6CcIuYBeojq2NWsY88fEOsz5rlzZ-qJy6TzE8OBEDPTJ4hpXQxg4Ux4DKwc_qMIoI5/w200-h150/IMG_0603.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New grand baby Thea and Petie</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-30330623979474355412022-07-25T12:20:00.001-07:002022-07-25T12:20:51.580-07:00Wordle-ing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4_FZ5Hbpcl_vOskm_JVuXHlnVjoP_TLl1pIVGCKKYG_SEzJ-ZeFgvAItnKhMezy98voa-HhvYdULFmHydNBS99LaaRVSRjgMEa-HSzt4aK50zq8l-hsRoQCyPAW5uD6qIw95cv__rLQWh2XA4RLDv8hqXI7XO-L2so78bPQcCY4Ep-GAWq5SE_cdq" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4_FZ5Hbpcl_vOskm_JVuXHlnVjoP_TLl1pIVGCKKYG_SEzJ-ZeFgvAItnKhMezy98voa-HhvYdULFmHydNBS99LaaRVSRjgMEa-HSzt4aK50zq8l-hsRoQCyPAW5uD6qIw95cv__rLQWh2XA4RLDv8hqXI7XO-L2so78bPQcCY4Ep-GAWq5SE_cdq" width="180" /></a></div><br />Probably most people who are in the habit of attempting the game, Wordle, once a day, just use their phones. I've found that I can't concentrate on finding the word within 6 tries by looking at the QWERTY keyboard displayed on the screen. I use a pen and paper, preferably one of my favorite BIC 4-color pens and a spiral notebook. It's probably seen by others as a little obsessive, but I enjoy writing down the 5 lines for blank spaces where the correct word will end up, and then quickly inscribing the alphabet in a fairly neat column. My husband Doug and I decided not to compete with each other on two phones, but rather to do it together, each with our own pen and paper. He'll do his figuring on any scrap of paper he can find, or on an old envelope. Every time we enter a guess, we have a silly habit that I do a drum roll with my tongue, and he taps his pen on the table, (somewhat irritating to me at times, since occasionally he starts his drum roll before I've even brought the game up on my phone!)<p></p><p>One time recently he said, "I don't have anything to write on. I'll just share your paper." That's when I realized how OCDish I had become about my own space. He started writing words we were going to try in the 5 spaces I had reserved for the final answer, and then CROSSING off the letters that didn't work....in MY SPACE! He also didn't have his own pen, and I had to wait my turn to use it.</p><p>Shocked to see what was happening, I said, "What are you doing??"</p><p>"It's just my way of figuring", he said.</p><p>I tried to be more sharing, starting to make a new set of 5 spaces for my own figuring. "Could you please keep away from my alphabet though? I have my own little system where I cross off the letters that are wrong, and put checks next to the ones that show up yellow, and are somewhere else in the word, see? And then I like to put a little square around the letter that's in the right place." "Hmm," he said. finding that after our first guessed word, the 4th letter, O showed up green, and therefore in the correct spot, I placed it there and put a square around it. He kept marking up my original spot, but seemed to get it that that my new area was now reserved only for me.</p><p>We continued to brainstorm, mentioning possible words, and sometimes catching each other in a mistake, like, "How about canoe?" "Nope, there is no N", or "The E can be anywhere but the end." "Darn!", I say, but happy to have missed a close call, and not wasting a turn. Two brains ARE better than one.</p><p>The Wordle people are rather kind if a word is misspelled and not on their word list. For example, for some reason, I have it in my head to spell "bagel" wrong. I put in "bagle", and the letters wiggled on the screen, and said "not on word list", not penalizing us nor counting it as one of our guesses.</p><p>When we first started playing, Doug said, "There must be certain consonants that are in most words.", so he diligently looked up on Google what they recommended. "S, T, R, and N are the most common, so what do you think of starting with store or story as our first word? Yesterday's word ended in E, so maybe we should start with story, since it ends in y."</p><p>He always tries to bring logic into the game and tries to strategize. He realized that past words have most often been nouns. In the last few games, we feel that the maker of the puzzle at the New York Times, is messing with us and giving us the most obscure 5-letter words, leading us to choose the most uncommon one we can think of, or making us take a chance on repeating an already used letter. "Robot" was the word that introduced us to the fact that we could re-use a letter in another spot.</p><p>We were trying to up our game, since at first we thought we were beating the system by starting with "adieu" or "adios" as our first try, thinking that we should try out a lot of vowels first. Then we realized that very few words end in U, and we have yet to see a plural word, so both of those words are a waste of a perfectly good try. Can't have that.</p><p>A few months ago, I traveled to Washington DC to visit my daughter and new grandchild. Doug and I worried how we were going to keep up our streak of about 98 Wordles straight without losing when we were apart. I told him I didn't want to take the chance of breaking our winning streak by doing it on my own. We finally decided to talk on speaker phone together each day, discussing each word.</p><p>One evening I called Doug and we both had our pen and paper ready. I had him on speaker, as we discussed each word possibility . On the 5th try, we had E, O, and Y in their correct (green) spots. Jennie had been overhearing us making suggestions and we both agreed that "epoxy" would work. "But it can't be that," Doug worried, "It's a brand name!" It was a chance to take, but we took it, and thankfully, on the sixth try, it was right. My daughter said it was so hard for her to hear our conversations about it, since she had already done the game for the day. She was thinking, "Yes! It's a word! Go for it!" but all Wordlers are sworn to secrecy, so she painfully kept her mouth shut.</p><p>Then, I said, "I'll have to report into Lucas and Jen, (my son and daughter-in-law), to let them know how we did. We do this every day."</p><p>"What?", she exclaimed. "I want to be in on that too!" Sooner or later, we had her husband chiming in as well, all competing together. For me it's made the world seem a little smaller, since I'm in California and my kids are in New York and DC. Now our little group uses the text also to share photos of everything going on in our lives. </p><p>Actually, after quite a lot of time, Doug and I are the main devotees to Wordle. We're retired, and they aren't, and we all think that the words are getting harder. I mean, tryst? midge? aphid? Really. </p><p>If you've gotten this far in my story, it's probably because you like the game too. We've talked to friends about strategies, and some are as enthusiastic as we are, while I watch others' eyes glaze over at the thought of Wordle. We however, still make time in our day to try our hand at it, even though today we got frustrated and finally lost. All of our logic flew out the window, as we tried all the most obscure words first, finally losing to what we thought would be the most common one, "power"!<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmU5BsEdffa73JYQUQ7fZlcX8bmqF1WDkWk0kZgwCjieQ9jqkk8at6bsZzgl5UV37V44E3w9yeHach1a-xvQy1VROItzsPWEsXdOyds2cl83p3VGIHM6OB8SL7wlB9wgNONafLqETkwyrpz99J6Dl5n86Xyr-xSWZJAOTQFW6DxQgl8Ye8PQUn8wr/s2436/IMG_8481.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2436" data-original-width="1125" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmU5BsEdffa73JYQUQ7fZlcX8bmqF1WDkWk0kZgwCjieQ9jqkk8at6bsZzgl5UV37V44E3w9yeHach1a-xvQy1VROItzsPWEsXdOyds2cl83p3VGIHM6OB8SL7wlB9wgNONafLqETkwyrpz99J6Dl5n86Xyr-xSWZJAOTQFW6DxQgl8Ye8PQUn8wr/w147-h318/IMG_8481.PNG" width="147" /></a></div>There will be days like that, but I guess I'll continue to inscribe the alphabet each day on my tablet. I think my kindergarten teacher would be proud.<p></p><p><br /></p>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-80121443079602706822022-06-09T14:36:00.002-07:002022-06-15T09:20:35.410-07:00Our Prius "Camper"<p>Whenever we tell folks that when we camp, we sleep in our Prius, they say, "What? But you're so tall! How could you do it?" Well, for one thing, the clincher that helped my husband in deciding whether or not to even purchase a Prius is to make sure that we could sleep in it. He secretly took measurements before even letting me know he was interested, so as to not get my hopes up, only to be dashed. The newer version, in 2004 fit the bill, and we test drove it around Berkeley. The salesman wondered outloud, "Why is it that all of the Berkeley people want to make sure that the car is long enough to sleep in?" </p><p>Well, we both liked the idea, since in our former lives we had enjoyed long trips across country. Mine was in an oxidized red '69 Dodge van made in to a camper, and his was in an Austin Estate Wagon. We both like saving money on motels, and we have fond memories of waking up in the morning to birdsong and cooking breakfast outdoors. Coffee tastes best that way.</p><p>This was the beginning of the hybrid craze. and we were right with the folks wanting to do everything they could to save the planet. The idea of saving money on gas made it even a sweeter deal. The Prius was so popular though, that Toyota couldn't seem to keep up with the demand. If we had wanted a certain color, the time for it to be delivered couldn't be promised, but if we took one of the next ones that were delivered to the dealership, we could get it sooner. When they came, they were all silver. Oh well, we weren't that picky.</p><p>Our first adventure was on a trip to Lake Tahoe, just a 3-1/2 hour drive from the Bay Area. We were one of the first in line at Emerald Bay campground, since it was on a first come, first served basis . We scored a place right near one of the restrooms, to make life easier for nighttime bathroom needs. We put our food in a bear locker, and then went out to shop for the rest of our supplies. Unsure of the level of propane we had for our camp stove, we bought a new canister, some tall Jesus candles to light our table at night, some pre-made shish kebobs to barbeque, and of course, Peet's coffee for in the morning. Doug found a deal on some Jameson's Irish Whiskey to warm us around the fire later.</p><p>Spotting a sign for Fallen Leaf Lake on the way back from our shopping excursion to South Lake Tahoe, Doug said, "Let's go check that out! I haven't been there for years. We've got time." So we turned off of Hwy. 89 and drove past the Fallen Leaf Campground, down the road pointing to the little lake. It became a very windy road and mostly one lane, forcing us to pull way over into the grass to let cars and trucks pass by. We finally made it to the end, saw the lake and turned around to go back, when it started to rain. Really hard. </p><p>We turned on our lights and had the windshield wipers going at full speed, as we carefully navigated the curves in the other direction. Glad to be through that and back out to 89, it started hailing! Huge, golf ball chunks of ice rained down on us, and we pulled over to the side for protection under some pine trees, afraid that our poor new car may get dented. After about a half an hour, a drizzly rain resumed, and we ventured out to our reserved campsite, wondering if we should just get a motel room.</p><p>Our campsite hadn't fared very well. We sat in the car and took in the situation. The path to the restroom was flooded, and of course the picnic table was all wet. Doug looked at the radar app we had on our phone, and saw that it looked like the storm was headed north and should stop soon. He said, "Hold on. I'll be right back", as I saw him lift up the hood on his jacket, and run to the back of the car. He was back in a jiffy, a little damp, with our two camping wine glasses, the Jameson's, some crackers, two sticks of string cheese, and a newspaper. "Let's just sit here and wait it out. I don't think it'll be that long." </p><p>I conceded that I'd give it a try, but started to dream of a hot bath in a hotel. We sat there, having a little early happy hour, at 4 pm, and did one of our favorite pastimes together.... the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. Doug specializes in the historical clues and I get the more modern answers. He kept glancing at the MyRadar app on our phone to keep an eye on the storm and bet that it would pass by in about a half hour. I looked at the pond that had formed between us and the restroom, still thinking about that hot bath.</p><p> In about 45 minutes, sure enough, the sun came out. Doug opened the car door saying, "Let's go out and build a campfire! I put our firewood in the bear cabinet, so it will be dry." </p><p>Wow, I thought. He really wants to do this. I put away our snacks, and stepped out, gingerly avoiding the puddle that had formed outside my door. I got out our camp chairs, and positioned them next to the fire pit, where he was busily balling up the green sports section of the newspaper to help start the fire. He got out his axe and chipped off some pieces from the pine logs for kindling. </p><p>I ventured off to see how the restroom fared. There was still a pretty deep puddle between us and it, but there was a hill in the middle of it, providing me with a narrow path to navigate my way there. I decided to bring one of the tall Jesus candles with me, and my flashlight, since it was starting to get dark. Setting the candle at the center of the drier path seemed like a good idea to be able to find my way back without stepping into a pool on either side. When I got to the open door, I heard something inside, and a raccoon came running out. I guess he found a nice place to be in the storm! On the way back on the lighted path, I could see the glow of our campfire, and Doug sitting next to it, happily arranging our shish kebobs on a little rack that we carry with us. "See?", he said, "Everything is perfect!"</p><p>After a satisfying dinner, sitting in our nice, dry camp chairs near the fire, and a couple of more Jameson's with water, we thought we'd better get busy on our usual chores. Water was heating on our camp stove so I could do the dishes, which I don't mind doing at all when we're camping, since it warms up my chilly hands. </p><p>Doug is the one who tends to our sleeping arrangement. He put as much as he could of our supplies in the bearproof cabinet, and then carried over the small hassocks he bought at Bed, Bath and Beyond that we store our camping supplies in. He made the front seats of the Prius go all the way forward, and placed the boxes on the floor behind them so they filled in the foot space. Then the backs of the seats are folded down, and our foam futon mattress goes on top. As I placed the washed dishes upside down on a dishtowel to dry on the picnic table, I could see him working with the dome light illuminating the inside of the car, and my heart melted. He was arranging our sleeping bags and pillows lovingly and folding back the corners to invite us to bed. All that would be missing was a little piece of chocolate on our pillow.</p><p>He had arranged our small suitcases and backpacks on the front seats, so we did what we needed to do to get ready for bed while standing outside the car. No one else seemed to be close by in the campground, I guess they chickened out because of the rain. One more trip over to the restroom with a flashlight, and I noticed that the pond was shrinking already and that the path was a little wider. I put on my jammy bottoms and a t-shirt and filled a bottle with water for us for the night, and walked back to our little nest. I could see it, glowing ahead of me. Doug had added a colorful throw on top of the sleeping bags, and it looked so cozy. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh771Sd-zGYnqHGBf6lfU5Ls3zwXHtR5K7m8BW8ouwZyqmsjDpyHWQenAXs3MegjlSkt4YsL2BcVxePnL233bT0AwwlN2ee75w4cf8D1S1XM-wrjDjqHRjrjL1nyygbo6cv5k_k3M1HcezEOv_q6i4vfmBDyO8xDvg6UFxbVEnbmdoEoawQpLUlei_M/s1600/276056062212.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh771Sd-zGYnqHGBf6lfU5Ls3zwXHtR5K7m8BW8ouwZyqmsjDpyHWQenAXs3MegjlSkt4YsL2BcVxePnL233bT0AwwlN2ee75w4cf8D1S1XM-wrjDjqHRjrjL1nyygbo6cv5k_k3M1HcezEOv_q6i4vfmBDyO8xDvg6UFxbVEnbmdoEoawQpLUlei_M/w200-h150/276056062212.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>As I climbed in, I noticed that he had lowered the two back windows so we wouldn't suffocate, so that was good. We snuggled under the covers and looked up at the grey ceiling, feeling very satisfied and proud of ourselves, stretching our long bodies out comfortably. "And they said it couldn't be done", he said, and turned out the dome light.</p><p>I dozed off, but about a half hour later, I thought I heard something outside. "I think I might be hearing a bear!", I whispered, jostling him awake. </p><p>"It's okay", he said drowsily, " They can't get to us in here. Don't worry. Go back to sleep"</p><p>I tried to relax, but heard more rustling, and remembered what the ranger at the little museum over at D.L.Bliss State Park told us about how many bears there were around Tahoe. She said that they can smell things like candy and even perfume, and want to break in to get them. "Remember what the ranger said about bears?", I said, poking him once more.</p><p>"Oh honey, go to sleep please. I put all of our food in the bear-proof cupboard. We'll be fine."</p><p>After thinking a moment, I remembered the candy I always had stashed in my backpack, and the bag of Werther's that we keep in the compartment between the seats for snacks on the road. "I'm remembering the candy we have in here."</p><p>"What? You want a piece now?"</p><p>"No! Just what if the bear wants to come and get some? What will we do? He could put his big claws inside the open window and pull it out! We have to have a plan!</p><p>"A bear can't do that." I could hear sleepiness and a little annoyance in his voice.</p><p>"I'm gonna rollup my window and open the one in the front a little so at least his claws won't be so close to my face," I whispered. But when I tried that, "Oh no! It won't go up without the power on!"<span> </span></p><p>I struggled loose of my warm sleeping bag, and moved my pillow out of the way, to reach between the front seats to the dashboard. Doug opened his eyes to see my pajamaed rear end wriggling past his face as I stretched to reach the power button. "Now what are you doing?", he asked sleepily.</p><p>"I have to figure out how to reach the brake pedal with one hand, and then press the power button, right?", I said with my head under the steering wheel.</p><p>"Sweetheart, I think if you just press the power button twice it'll work the windows. I read it in the manual."</p><p>"Ooh. That's easier!" It worked, and I readjusted the windows to my satisfaction. "I know! We could also honk the horn and turn on the red hazard lights! I think bears wouldn't like to see all that commotion."</p><p>"Yes dear." I hate it when he says that. "Are you ready for bed now?"</p><p>"Not really, after all that workout, but I feel safer anyway." I couldn't envision sleeping, but snuggled back under the covers, spooning Doug, my face totally buried in his shirt, trying to get my nose warm.</p><p>And then it was morning.</p>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-72375694960564456252022-05-26T13:05:00.001-07:002022-05-29T16:34:37.164-07:00Visitations<p> It was a busy day at Lowe's garden department. The employees complained that too many plants had been delivered, and it was hard to keep them all watered. Customers were just filled with the hope of Spring and happy to see the abundance of flowers and bushes, even if there wasn't a sale. I had chosen a beautiful white rose, that I couldn't resist, with lots of promising looking buds on it. It even attracted the comments of other shoppers I passed, as if it was a cute baby riding in my cart.</p><p>I took my place in the long checkout line, and watched, as an older woman came through the doors from the patio pushing a flatbed cart with things she had chosen. Gosh, I thought, she looks so much like Helen, my mother-in-law who passed away in 1999. Her white, naturally curly, short hair and colorful clothes brought back memories of "Tutu", and made me feel good. </p><p>Then, "Oh!", my heel had been run into by a cart behind me.....and there she was!!</p><p>"Oh my goodness! Did I hurt you?"</p><p>"It's not bad. Don't worry." She had made a quick u-turn to get into line behind me.</p><p>"You know", I said, "I'm glad to be able to talk to you, because when you came in the door, you reminded me of my mother-in-law. I haven't seen her for a long time."</p><p>"Oh my! I hope that is a Good thing!" she said with a little wink.</p><p>"It definitely is. We were great friends. I've even been wearing her wedding band on my finger for the last couple of weeks. It's made me feel closer to her."</p><p>We chatted about the flowers we bought and how busy it was, and I noticed her nice wrinkly Irish face, and her sparkling blue eyes. Hi Tutu, I thought. As I left, I told her how nice it was to meet her, and almost asked for her name. Then I thought better of it. It would have been too weird if it had been Helen.</p><p>I'm remembering another time I "saw" Helen. I was shopping at a Long's Drugs, looking for the perfect shampoo. A lady near me started chatting with me about which one to choose, there were so many types. Once again, the curly white hair and familiar face and attitude. I said, "My goodness, you certainly look a lot like my mother-in-law!"</p><p>She said, "All my life people have said I reminded them of Janet Gaynor. You probably don't know who she was."</p><p>"Actually I do! My Helen always said she was mistaken for that actress, since they were about the same age when she became popular in the movies in the 30's. Now I can see why there's such a resemblance! Thanks for talking to me first, it's exactly what Helen would have done. She was always so friendly to strangers."</p><p>This has happened to me at other times. Years ago in a church where my family attended. My husband, with teary eyes, elbowed me as he watched someone coming down the aisle. I looked and sure enough, a salty haired man who was identical to Wally, my father-in-law, took the seat a couple of pews ahead of us. Wally had passed away a few years before. Every so often we'd see the man again, never having a conversation, but aways nodding at each other and remembering.</p><p>One other time, when I worked as a waitress at a Baker's Square, a woman came in for lunch who reminded me of my Grandma Diddo. Talking to her, her voice sounded so familiar, even with the little chuckle I recall. I confessed to her what I was thinking, and she thought it was nice. After that she always asked to sit in my section, and sometimes I'd even say, "Bye Diddo" as she left. She'd smile.</p><p>What does all this mean? Probably nothing. They were all just what I call a visitation, a surprising little gift from God. I've heard that when a hummingbird comes and flutters near your face, it's called a visitation. This may be something a little bit more. My little visits bring back fond memories of loved ones, and make me think that perhaps they want me to still be thinking about them, and praying for them.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Mxo0wk8AwWvQF_iP4uKvGVzjZjTwDUf-BttsUsSwSa8xG10El8jHQWjAp3r4slOJ5DBpyMeLia0zw6MyM4V57H5hjhRPsITgH4C3cdOTgKequstZGegDbXRNVRXhprHej2Qh8ckCFdvg3otq5m4WFhRlyvTykuxBjws6RWaJ2JePt4_bW5iwxYc6/s300/blogger-image--1711098885.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Mxo0wk8AwWvQF_iP4uKvGVzjZjTwDUf-BttsUsSwSa8xG10El8jHQWjAp3r4slOJ5DBpyMeLia0zw6MyM4V57H5hjhRPsITgH4C3cdOTgKequstZGegDbXRNVRXhprHej2Qh8ckCFdvg3otq5m4WFhRlyvTykuxBjws6RWaJ2JePt4_bW5iwxYc6/w150-h200/blogger-image--1711098885.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helen "Tutu" and me</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEPI3CNVDbcbhE-o8IfY_q_Qw4fr5daQGMz0qelRFbFYOudTwPashakAWJtG6xaXdddWBBqrYYgfSfdBuc4XtCJVM42QhftmvnZ5vXU3S1920_g0WGrjHVzVw3hxwlNNjA0afarPEbqUdI__j4_JB1sGFHWQhBQ-VcQ3hKiUzqShTB0xkhvl42Wb_/s1799/IMG_0857.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1799" data-original-width="1344" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYEPI3CNVDbcbhE-o8IfY_q_Qw4fr5daQGMz0qelRFbFYOudTwPashakAWJtG6xaXdddWBBqrYYgfSfdBuc4XtCJVM42QhftmvnZ5vXU3S1920_g0WGrjHVzVw3hxwlNNjA0afarPEbqUdI__j4_JB1sGFHWQhBQ-VcQ3hKiUzqShTB0xkhvl42Wb_/w131-h176/IMG_0857.JPG" width="131" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wally Romer with baby Walt</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-62540263531383056112022-01-12T12:46:00.003-08:002022-02-03T13:10:11.053-08:00Even Another Different Covid Christmas in 2021: Typhoid Patty!<p> Thanksgiving went very smoothly in Palm Springs. Most of Doug's family came down from the Bay Area, and we all mingled very happily together. All of us were vaccinated, but we ate at yet another relative's home.....some of whom were anti-vaxers, having our celebration outdoors just to be safe. </p><p>Soon after everyone left we started getting into the Christmas spirit,</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg93rse6wNWX28CxvCrBVGtyk8fBtELCL53TL0Gp7IsVkxzqFKg8YxIajRUoYYvqpxa_mnWgWcFNrunBrJYewTNrwN68n8i3HkNwfejVvkJViY4Tk8YfryybBdTO4H9qyZ-BIZoPIjitZARyfWornxwxB21s0PW5rjQEHg_ZACQwYrv7UP6ZPHeurzp=s4032" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg93rse6wNWX28CxvCrBVGtyk8fBtELCL53TL0Gp7IsVkxzqFKg8YxIajRUoYYvqpxa_mnWgWcFNrunBrJYewTNrwN68n8i3HkNwfejVvkJViY4Tk8YfryybBdTO4H9qyZ-BIZoPIjitZARyfWornxwxB21s0PW5rjQEHg_ZACQwYrv7UP6ZPHeurzp=w177-h133" width="177" /></a></div><br /> putting up lights, our advent wreath, my "wall tree", and our little makeshift manger scene. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEju4n9hPWd8_FUc5pnu5x-jaxDJGg4t9z3DclKdJZrMdK6-nNBBlv8ASK0vs_-I-FuuyLnthTTSHXDdwqkSEAkpNTnJa5VXhqCkEoMqIZJgYaJSd0o8j_d09drFjVJescBeCZUCcG5R9jgJI04_dy1wYArLlI6gSPxJawau4GLY7aRy4DfjtP7qsCqU=s4032" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEju4n9hPWd8_FUc5pnu5x-jaxDJGg4t9z3DclKdJZrMdK6-nNBBlv8ASK0vs_-I-FuuyLnthTTSHXDdwqkSEAkpNTnJa5VXhqCkEoMqIZJgYaJSd0o8j_d09drFjVJescBeCZUCcG5R9jgJI04_dy1wYArLlI6gSPxJawau4GLY7aRy4DfjtP7qsCqU=w150-h200" width="150" /></a></div><br />But soon, Christmas became a whole other deal since the Omicron virus raised its stupid head. We decided instead, to cancel our plane reservations in order to reduce our risk of exposure, and drove up to the Bay Area, in tandem with son Matt and his daughter Ava, who had been visiting us for a couple of days. <p></p><p>We stopped for the night in Bakersfield, and the next morning I was delighted to find a See's Candy store in town. One more thing to knock off my list of things to do. The line was uncomfortably long, and indoors, but everyone was masked and in a cheery, holiday mood, once we all inhaled the fine aroma of chocolate. We all started chatting together about our favorite pieces of candy we would include in our specially picked boxes, and all looked forward to the free pieces of candy we would receive at the end. The lady next to me in line had some sort of chronic lung condition, was coughing occasionally, and was very enthusiastic. I was happy she was masked because of Covid, but she alone impressed me when she ordered her boxes. She chose several pieces and then when they were almost full, she said to the masked, gloved and hair-netted See's lady, "Now just sprinkle the milk chocolate covered raisins all around to fill it in." What?, I thought. then I realized...we're paying by the pound, not the piece! My boxes were all sealed, but next time....</p><p> We listened to the news on the car radio, and as more and more Omicron cases were reported, our plans kept changing. What started out as a big family potluck on Christmas Eve at one of their homes, with all 5 of my husband's kids and the grandkids, and even my son flying in from New York, was evolving minute by minute. We had a Zoom meeting to get everyone's fears out on the table.</p><p>It was decided that we shouldn't all be inside in a house together eating, drinking, talking, laughing, and exchanging gifts.....so what to do? We talked to different ones on the phone as we drove. One family decided to bow out since they all had bad colds. Since it was scheduled to rain that day, it looked more and more like we were going to meet in a park under cover of pop-up tents, and order pizza for our Christmas Eve dinner. Ho Ho Ho! Sounds festive, eh? One son volunteered to bring a camp stove along to at least make the traditional hot mulled wine and hot cider, vowing to make this a special occasion no matter what.</p><p>We were supposed to stay with one of the families, but felt they wouldn't want to take any chances, so my sister, who we were already scheduled to spend Christmas morning with, along with my son, told us to come stay with her. Phew! Still on our drive up California, we got a call that my son's wife felt really ill and had just tested positive for Covid in New York! By the next morning, he decided he'd better not get on a plane after being exposed, and that they would just stay home and have Christmas together.</p><p>As we neared my sister's house, I told Doug that it would probably be reassuring to her and her husband if we used the Rapid Tests that we brought with us to show them that we were fine. Telling her of this plan, we asked that they leave the back door open so we could go directly to our room at the other end of the house. We'd see them in about 15 minutes. The house smelled wonderful, of something scrumptious cooking in the kitchen. </p><p>The tests came two in a pack, and I did my test first, setting the little vial with its test strip in the one hole provided. In order to do Doug's test though, I picked up my vial and held it while his marinated the appropriate time, and set the alarms on our phones. I became antsy, the 10 minutes dragging on, and swirled the liquid around, tilting it a bit to see if I could see if a pink line was forming under the label. When my time was up, we said, "Drum roll!", and we're shocked to see that my test strip had a VERY pink line on it! "I'm positive! I can't believe it!", I said, "But I feel so good!" I sat on the side of the tub with my head in my hands worrying about what to do.</p><p>Doug's timer went off, and his had no sign of pink at all. Hmm. What to do? We had been joking that I would come out and announce that "I'm negative,......but the funny thing is, I'm pregnant!" That joke wouldn't work any more.</p><p>We came out and stood one room apart, hearing my niece say, "Here they come!" and "Uh-oh you're wearing masks!" We told them our news. My sister kept saying that she didn't believe the results. I got on the phone to try to get a Kaiser advice nurse to tell me where I could get a quick, official test, but was on hold for over a half an hour, finding out that the testing was being scheduled too far out and then wouldn't come back till another day. By the time I reported back with my findings, still keeping my distance, my brother-in-law's sister was putting her jacket on, and announcing that she had to leave, (because of me), and my niece took her back to her hotel.</p><p>My sister suggested that I take another test, since I had two more, so we went back to the other end of the house to our room, and I re-read the instructions for the test. Hmm. It Did state that the vial must be kept still, so I swabbed the inside of my nose the appropriate way, put the vial in the holder, inserted the test strip as if I was a lab technician, and left the room to work on some of the gifts I had brought for people, adding some of the See's milk chocolate balls to some. When the timer went off, Doug and I stared at the strip together. No PINK! </p><p>"We're FREE!!", we said, as we returned to the Christmas clad living room, holding a box of chocolates. "Evidently it was a false positive! Can we hug you now?"</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgG-dOz5K_6dMfaXFyYGZTGKIfCwbWPL2VehOFhbKITzs_q8vnke2UeREsqxcez4DuKsQP0LzeY1KwZHXkrmTvm8H5F7l2D5UtozNo49ctxIxEWVBNDvNP45Z0pslpGra1EPsacspUABB9nsYmxVER91ftykR4LOti1r7YnLJrqOpHhQwgqKmJzfJUV=s4032" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgG-dOz5K_6dMfaXFyYGZTGKIfCwbWPL2VehOFhbKITzs_q8vnke2UeREsqxcez4DuKsQP0LzeY1KwZHXkrmTvm8H5F7l2D5UtozNo49ctxIxEWVBNDvNP45Z0pslpGra1EPsacspUABB9nsYmxVER91ftykR4LOti1r7YnLJrqOpHhQwgqKmJzfJUV=w150-h200" width="150" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Everything proceeded as planned then. Doug was pleased to find that the wonderful aroma we had smelled when we arrived was a tender roast beef, and we visited and laughed and ate and drank, all happy to be together after all.</p><p>The next morning, Christmas Eve day, I thought I'd better use my last test, just to be able to reassure Doug's family. Very carefully, I repeated the steps, but was shocked to find a very faint pink line! The instructions stated that even if it was very light, it was counted as positive! "I feel fine though!", I repeated. My sister assured me that she could hardly see it, but I wondered about how Doug's family would react. We went ahead and the four of us ate breakfast together, choosing our fruit, yogurt and cereal, and little ginger scones, and making frothy warm milk for our coffee, comfortably sitting at the long table reading the two papers they have delivered. </p><p>Turns out it didn't rain that day, and since we would be outside in the park, it looked like our party with Doug's kids would happen. Just to be prudent, I sent a text out to all five kids about my false positive test fiasco, and confessed that the last one that morning was a very faint pink. We packed up our gifts and headed off to Berkeley to pick up son John. Grace had said that she would bring along the calendars I had made and had delivered to her house. While we waited in the car, for John to come out with his gifts, we received two notices, that the other two girls' families didn't want to take the chance of being around me. John and Matt still wanted to get together, so we drove a few miles back to get the calendars and leave off gifts, all masked up. Doug was sad to see his family's party dwindling by the minute and I started feeling like a pariah, calling myself "Typhoid Patty".</p><p>John had Christmas spirit enough for all of us, with his festive sweater on, and gifts, candy, and alcohol on board. Time was a'wasting though, and we discussed with Matt on the way to Alameda about changing our venue to the Cinema Grill, a restaurant only one block from his place, since it was getting chilly and would be dark before you know it. While we were waiting for his family to come out, we took advantage of the time and each had a swallow of the whiskey that had been brought to make hot toddies with in the park. We drank to a wonderful Christmas celebration.</p><p>John, Matt, his two kids and two grandkids walked with us to the restaurant where we were kindly seated outside with heat lamps to keep us warm.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9bhexu9gqtAvx6dVBX2b_0v6IpMmhomL4f0VSygeNyZCIQ59ON4ga3N8J5QvdhWIey4mO4RIisjcslN4AC3LY6NoN2ZU9_pX-zxNvPNaYUf5KR6K9tmoxv84LSgLJZUrUVSyEWkSaIGRpYOVY0O-jrIoQIFwZtAP0kwXDy1K4EAKWiHFD6iwsaxAE=s4032" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh9bhexu9gqtAvx6dVBX2b_0v6IpMmhomL4f0VSygeNyZCIQ59ON4ga3N8J5QvdhWIey4mO4RIisjcslN4AC3LY6NoN2ZU9_pX-zxNvPNaYUf5KR6K9tmoxv84LSgLJZUrUVSyEWkSaIGRpYOVY0O-jrIoQIFwZtAP0kwXDy1K4EAKWiHFD6iwsaxAE=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div><br /> The food was great, but soon after we got it, the rain started coming down! The wait staff graciously brought us inside, where we were just about the only customers, to finish up. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_xQDfYDWWu3o9QZbaKaFOrF0UlHLJD2X9OH3_rA8cROTN1thNRN6dzxDZq8NrJhkgDUCghBaCaAPP-NgfxJMGB37LOWnEK0PlRUT6coIdU-4lVP8rkDH7cgHOiFTFLwDJ5lPo-92f4vMIQVESe52fW6oiGKRLBx2n41Cjv6mD6oDMQncWHY5RTGLi=s1919" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="863" data-original-width="1919" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi_xQDfYDWWu3o9QZbaKaFOrF0UlHLJD2X9OH3_rA8cROTN1thNRN6dzxDZq8NrJhkgDUCghBaCaAPP-NgfxJMGB37LOWnEK0PlRUT6coIdU-4lVP8rkDH7cgHOiFTFLwDJ5lPo-92f4vMIQVESe52fW6oiGKRLBx2n41Cjv6mD6oDMQncWHY5RTGLi=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>After dinner, we walked in the rain back to our Prius, to open the back hatch, which someone said looked like Santa's sleigh. We exchanged gifts as quickly as we could, in the drizzle, and went on our way. We dropped off John again in Berkeley, and then drove back out to Lafayette to spend the night, wondering if we should just drive on back to Palm Springs in the morning and not take a chance on infecting anyone. But then Lorraine told me that her son promised to bring me another rapid self-test when he and his family arrived for her traditional Christmas morning brunch. </p><p>As folks began to arrive, we decided that we would stay at our end of the house again, just in case, thinking we might just be delegated to stay there during the whole party. The sister-in-law had decided to forego the crowd that day and come by herself later in the afternoon for a less chancy late breakfast. The new test arrived, and I very carefully read and re-read the instructions. I could hear my little great-grandnieces had arrived and were happily running around with little toy puppies on leashes, squealing and laughing. While I timed the test with my iPhone, I kept putting the finishing touches on gifts for Lorraine's kids and grandkids.....should I be allowed to hand them out.</p><p>This seemed like a better quality test, and once again, we both looked at the results together. No pink line! No line at all! Brunch was starting to be served, and I came out waving my happy results, teary eyed. Everyone believed it, and we were welcomed at the happy table, our plates full of frittata, ham, fruit, and homemade cinnamon rolls. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEja6iHum1gJxj3Dx0xnkCh7ax3OkkQJ1D0w3PnjEPw5QyBtTUSG8ChyvJXSDj544biYptlT1biasW_e4gNHhUNsBv-_nrUG7cWZeRSBx7AkHm8Ia_gnGYQCRNEG-sDE4dAdbNc0PPfV90QUsdztyMKKjhy5J7TBZDy-z2IcSRKIjlEykmGnXyVDECcp=s4032" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEja6iHum1gJxj3Dx0xnkCh7ax3OkkQJ1D0w3PnjEPw5QyBtTUSG8ChyvJXSDj544biYptlT1biasW_e4gNHhUNsBv-_nrUG7cWZeRSBx7AkHm8Ia_gnGYQCRNEG-sDE4dAdbNc0PPfV90QUsdztyMKKjhy5J7TBZDy-z2IcSRKIjlEykmGnXyVDECcp=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Next was the opening of gifts around the beautiful tree, and then in to the living room, each getting a red stocking full of thoughtful gifts from Lorraine and Bill. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJyOpSnJy7AkwfIAGb2JR50CAzsJDurk1Jk8ltMgzvoPrEtwR7wBAkxqHrvLRWfw5-5aD9tzUsOQ-6ZuykbdwC8xsbaFze2nuAj7nPa_GRBrFs702cYItjaU7qUuG0umzvr9LVyO0EOc2F7clEvRfvSHOwpekflNnYfa_Lwp90y0EFJac17T5QqHOk=s4032" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhJyOpSnJy7AkwfIAGb2JR50CAzsJDurk1Jk8ltMgzvoPrEtwR7wBAkxqHrvLRWfw5-5aD9tzUsOQ-6ZuykbdwC8xsbaFze2nuAj7nPa_GRBrFs702cYItjaU7qUuG0umzvr9LVyO0EOc2F7clEvRfvSHOwpekflNnYfa_Lwp90y0EFJac17T5QqHOk=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></div><br />My Christmas traditions had been met, but Doug still yearned for more time with his kids. We decided to drive back to the Bay Area and distribute the family calendars and a few more gifts to them. Met outside with masks on again, he got to get a little more family fix for himself.<p></p><p>While we were gone it was a good time for Lorraine's sister-in-law to have her lost meal, and we kept to our room till she was gone, to make her feel better. It was decided that we would stay one more day, and drive home when there should be less traffic, just resting after our ordeal. Once again the four of us sat around the table reading the papers, and eating yummy leftover frittata and ham for breakfast. </p><p>Lorraine and I talked about how happy we were that the two of us decided to see each other this year, no matter what, and laughed that all of us had polished off both 1 pound boxes of chocolates. We've lost our other two sisters in the last few years, and we needed to hug and hear each other laugh. These days, you never know..... </p><p>After a teary farewell, we decided to take the coastal route and headed for Doug's favorite spot for the night, Morro Bay. When we arrived, it turns out that all the power was out in the little town, and if there's no power in the seafood restaurants and hotels.....well. We moved on down the road to San Luis Obispo, where we settled on eating at the Denny's that was next door. Not exactly what we had hoped for. In the morning, I looked online and found the Cowgirl Cafe for breakfast, just to make up for last night's dinner and see a little of the local color. This relaxing morning caused us to get off later than we had planned.</p><p>The entire drive along the coast had been gorgeous, emphasized by the fact that it had been so long since we had seen the ocean, but eventually you have to turn east to get to Palm Springs. That's when the rain started up, it began to get dark early, and we ran into the LA traffic. With the windshield wipers flapping as fast as they would go, we felt we were almost home. Our Prius was allowed in the fast lane, and after we passed the tall, familiar Morongo Hotel, suddenly the special lane veered off to the left, with tall berms on both sides. The rain was pelting down, and our lights couldn't see very far in front of us! I gripped the steering wheel tightly, and kept talking out loud about how nervous I was, like, "How long do you think this alleyway goes on? It's hard for me to see!", I'm sure giving Doug great confidence in my driving. He didn't help me by saying, "This is like we are a bullet going down the barrel of a rifle!"</p><p>Finally our terror was over, and we were let out into the normal stream of traffic, and saw the exit for Palm Springs. Thank you God!! We were so happy to see our solar Christmas lights welcoming us as we drove down our street, and went inside our little cottage-like trailer and turned on the heater. It was time to put on our jammies, have a celebratory drink, make a quick dinner, and turn on our usual SkyNews. Everything was back to normal. </p><p>Here's to a "normal" and healthy New Year to all of you!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-70931050288484360702021-09-08T14:39:00.008-07:002021-09-09T08:13:12.094-07:00Evacuees! It's a Long Story....<p>On Saturday, August 21, 2021, we decided to make the trip down to the Bay Area from South Lake Tahoe for a family birthday party in El Cerrito. It had been getting pretty smoky from the Dixie fire, and now there was talk of a new one, called Caldor. By the morning, our usual and shorter route on Hwy. 50 was reported closed, so we had to opt for Interstate 80, which would add an hour or so to our drive. I hated that idea, since I still hadn't quite recovered from doing most of the driving on the 39 day road trip we took in June and July. Still, Doug's kids seemed genuinely excited to have us come, so we packed our bags, thinking we would be back in two days.</p><p>With the news of the highway closure, and the ominous look of the sky and atmosphere turned eerily a dark red by the smoke over the sun, we packed a few extra things. People posted items that you should pack in a "go-bag", that you would leave by the front door, in case of evacuation. Ours included our briefcase containing important papers, our big bag of pills and vitamins, and all of our chargers, phones and laptops, just in case. </p><p>At the party we kept vowing that we would be going back home on Monday, but we were looking forward to staying with his daughter Grace for the two nights and getting in some good visits with the family. We had just about gotten used to the AQI (air quality index) from the smoke to be at 250 or so, and it was quite a treat to look out at the San Francisco Bay and realize that I was seeing fog rather than smoke. Besides, our raspy sounding voices were noticeable to everyone, and we should maybe give our lungs a break.</p><p>My sister Lorraine asked if we'd like to spend a couple of days in Lafayette with her and her husband, and I jumped at the chance to have a nice long visit with my sister. She'd had an awful lot of company lately, including my daughter and her new baby, but she encouraged us to come. Her comfy bed and nice leisurely breakfasts in the morning, with the four of us reading the Wall Street Journal and the SF Chronicle together sounded relaxing. We started listening for alerts about the spreading Caldor fire by installing the app for a Reno news station on my phone, and we all gathered around the TV for news of the debacle in Afghanistan. </p><p>Doug and I decided to use our time well since we were in the Bay Area. The former store that he had in Berkeley had been vacant for about 5 months, so we went over with gardening tools borrowed from Lorraine and tackled the yard. I pruned the rose bushes and Doug raked up about 6 bags of huge maple leaves. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_isdM0SxIk24SJnZvDJVJmqkZ3jm6C3DTBSFv9dPVC8X8KwDQWrMDPwsuZG7FxQXw2XIYrae0DXGhAufLZOD5zfCPjz8yhR3pBmtQd4VFYRATZ3VVvKROmkw3107OHJ9R2e8P3c8IoI/s2048/IMG_7172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_isdM0SxIk24SJnZvDJVJmqkZ3jm6C3DTBSFv9dPVC8X8KwDQWrMDPwsuZG7FxQXw2XIYrae0DXGhAufLZOD5zfCPjz8yhR3pBmtQd4VFYRATZ3VVvKROmkw3107OHJ9R2e8P3c8IoI/w200-h150/IMG_7172.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><p><br /></p><br />The next day we continued our project, and bought some succulents and gazanias for the window boxes on the sunny side, and some begonias for the other side that has more shade. Now it looks more rentable.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-yYJvgCTm-HGWRGTCA4zy8OKul7HXn88VYETZ2N74TieCvlhb-nJJ2pJkdEzir8Sami0gYvmmxcoOsb1MxTmHlSdyf2KlglsHUyN-GXApe_CP3uiB00zUG3Np1RHrQMkzFThEbwz4e8/s2048/IMG_7222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-yYJvgCTm-HGWRGTCA4zy8OKul7HXn88VYETZ2N74TieCvlhb-nJJ2pJkdEzir8Sami0gYvmmxcoOsb1MxTmHlSdyf2KlglsHUyN-GXApe_CP3uiB00zUG3Np1RHrQMkzFThEbwz4e8/w200-h150/IMG_7222.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIRS8H6d17YuvMF6AYKwa2u27yEaqEVIgfQT6HWfziYNmHoSM3JZ2FvHrpj1yRwf7TOaCRnRdJOu7O4kR4YAovP47pvN6Mv2OhHff_Z4dvu-D5TO0q1xXHtk4R7us7T29hC8GtDhjiG8/s2048/IMG_7172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p></p><p>Things weren't looking good for poor Tahoe though. The AQI was reported at about 450, and the blaze was creeping toward Echo summit and had jumped Hwy 50. We sat with teary eyes as we saw videos of the area of the road when you have what the reporter called an "Aha!" moment. Normally you could suddenly see beautiful Lake Tahoe, but now smoke prevented that. Fire had fallen down into the valley below and was causing what they called "spot fires" in Christmas Valley, where some of our friends live. Doug was asked if we would like to stay in my sister's place at Bodega Bay for a few days, and we of course, said "Yes!" We have many happy memories there, one of which Doug proposed to me, and I said "Yes!". </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4y9SCLKvhktHImiF3Ts7mvXGYat5oVhYSgABiCs7ildVVwW2Bwp-2ZXBkFptD_wYUw8k1W5zTusz6mTQNhHSCckovyLZYFYAJ_0iIxfVnSBYV10dxiCM_7pK6DNde_kMS6JGnmt5F8c/s2048/IMG_7193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW4y9SCLKvhktHImiF3Ts7mvXGYat5oVhYSgABiCs7ildVVwW2Bwp-2ZXBkFptD_wYUw8k1W5zTusz6mTQNhHSCckovyLZYFYAJ_0iIxfVnSBYV10dxiCM_7pK6DNde_kMS6JGnmt5F8c/w320-h240/IMG_7193.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqcjaSet72Iz9-cYm7t7fvVZ4QmtUeAmyOlwNFDhFlqBNAlUHIPfD17Rap7-6KZK4dAOSFWkwWk4ZWMPJn81wg7HLC_enZMxQnewF31yjfQjiqTuehiqy5AfCCOZHKoTbxsgeI1dFA_8/s2048/IMG_7187.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><b> </b></span></a></div><p></p><p>Our time there was idyllic, the sea air, going to see the Bodega Head, looking for possible whales passing by,..... but we felt like we were cheating. Some evacuees where sleeping in Walmart parking lots, for heaven sake, and here we were going out to lunch at the Main Street Grill in Guerneville. We had driven to Guerneville to shop at the Safeway, since it was cheaper than the small, but cute store around Bodega Bay, and we stocked up for our stay.</p><p>On Sunday we went to mass at St. Theresa's church right in the town of Bodega, where "The Birds" was filmed. The schoolhouse that's in the movie is right around the block. We went for a little ride around the area afterward, in denial about what could be happening up in Tahoe.</p><p>Thinking we might be away from Tahoe for quite awhile, we tried to forward our mail to El Cerrito, but they wouldn't let us do it online. It said you had to come in person. The phone line to the post office just rang, with no message tape. They were closed. When we looked online, it said that Tahoe mail had all been forwarded to Carson City, NV. We had also left our California recall ballots on our coffee table in Tahoe, so we called the election office and had them send another ballot to El Cerrito, in case we're still there.</p><p>Everything's becoming so unsettling. We're getting tired of living out of suitcases now, after not quite getting over our big trip across country to see my new granddaughter. This is getting old now. We'd like to be in our own bed, but we wonder if we'll be seeing our nice, king-sized one again. I worry about all the plants and trees I've planted, and if the sprinkler system has been left on to keep them alive.</p><p>We've put together an entire 500 piece jigsaw puzzle and watched every news piece that we could find about the Caldor fire and the poor people in Afghanistan. After hearing that South Lake Tahoe is under mandatory evacuation, we have decided that we should leave Bodega and head for Richmond to my house that is rented, but we have access to the basement apartment, where son John lives. News of the fire getting close to our area is making this very real now. Folks have been calling and emailing us to make sure we're okay. One friend said "You must be in agony, worrying about your home." We looked at each other and decided that there wasn't anything there that we couldn't replace, and our "agony level" was at about 2. On the way there, we stopped at a Kohl's store to add on to our meager wardrobe, which is short of underwear and socks, and t-shirts, and pants, since we weren't planning on such a long trip.</p><p>Living back at the old house is a strange thing, since, for one thing, we're staying under a family of five that are living above us in the main part of the house, and we can hear them clomping around, and going up and down stairs.</p><p>I'm down in a room that has a lot of history. I never lived here myself, but now I know what all the folks that did, heard from our family living above them.</p><p>For one thing, when Jennie took tap-dance lessons at six years old, she used to practice her "shuffle-ball-changes" on the wooden floor in the front hall. I imagine Nana, Walt's Godmother, who we took care of, loved to hear that. She never complained though.</p><p>I've been thinking of all the different people that I rented this room to to make some extra money. So many of them have passed on, but memories of them have been coming back to me. There was Nana, who actually died here, in her hospital bed. When I came into her room, I'd say, "Hi Butterscotch Sundae!" since she loved them so much, and if I anticipated her wishes, she'd say, "You're just like Johnny at the rathole!"</p><p>My mother-in-law, Tutu, said her prayers from her little Catholic book, told us jokes, dressed up each day with her muu-muu, with matching jewelry and shoes, and entertained and counseled my son Lucas and his friends. She sat in her chair and washed our dog Tessa's face tenderly each day with a washcloth. Tessa adored her.</p><p>For about a year, I rented to a stroke patient, a former customer of mine at Baker's Square, who heard about how I had been taking care of Walt, my husband, who also had a stroke. We sort of adopted him into the family, even taking him with us on little vacations. He was Polish, and when we took him to Costco he was astonished to see the array of products, remembering the lack he experienced when he was younger in Poland.</p><p>Even Doug's son Matt came to live with us with his two young daughters when he was going through a messy divorce. By this time, both of my kids had moved out, and it was fun to have the grandchildren in the house, doing artwork and learning to play the piano.</p><p>Now here we were, ourselves. We sleep well here, almost too well. My early alarms go off on my phone, and then we keep on sleeping until 9:30 or even 10, not having a real reason to get up. Voices are heard upstairs, people are coming down the stairs outside our door to do their laundry, a cat meows, and the familiar train whistle blows in the distance. We are starting to feel as if we might be a little depressed. We have friends and family close by, and have visited with them some, but just busy ourselves during the day buying things we need to make ourselves comfortable. It's frustrating that there's no wi-fi here, but John instructed me how to use my phone to get on a Personal Hotspot, and then I could hook my laptop up to that, and we could watch movies on Netflix. I even found we could watch some news on Pluto TV on the computer. We feel desperate for news, looking constantly for how high the air quality numbers are, feeling sad for the folks that will be returning to a pile of cinders where their home once was. Then it's time to sleep again.</p><p>Our big project on Labor Day was to make ourselves chicken soup in the crockpot. Doug did his usual job as sous chef, and after I collected some herbs and spices from Grace for seasoning, it was delicious. We left 2 chicken breasts in the bottom of the pot, whole, so we would be able to make chicken sandwiches with them later. Pretty crafty, I think.</p><p>Next day we hear that Tahoe residents are being changed to an evacuation warning, not mandatory, and are able to return home. We love that idea, but hem and haw about whether we should go, since the air quality is still in the 200's. Deciding to go for it, we packed up our bags and all of our food, including the leftover soup in a plastic container, cleaned up our room and left town. We both felt anxious and shaky, and I felt nervous driving at first. They say that being depressed can contribute to that.</p><p>Before leaving, we put in our destination on GPS, knowing that our usual Hwy 50 would be closed, and the route we'd take would be a little longer on Hwy 80..... but at around Sacramento, the British lady's voice on our GPS announced that "because of a road closure ahead, your route has been changed". Doug looked and saw that the new route had us traveling much further, all the way over to Reno and then Carson City, and then back up to Tahoe. Feeling even more discombobulated at this news of another 2 hours added on to our drive, we tried to find out if maybe the fire had jumped over to the northern side of the lake and closed the road there too. Nothing was on the news on the car radio, and wouldn't you know it? Google wouldn't come up on our phone! We decided to press on, and try our original way, and if there was actually a road block we would have to obey. About 1/3 of the vehicles on the road were Highway Patrol cars or emergency vehicles, or fire trucks, which was pretty disconcerting. We saw a sign at an exit for a Highway Patrol office, but it had closed 3 minutes before. </p><p>Finally, we came to Truckee, and then finding the turn-off for South Lake Tahoe, we took it. No signs of road closures. Hallelujah! Soon after that we saw the beautiful lake. The sky was pretty clear, but smelled smoky. We could see across, but the south shore was enveloped in smoke. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKYvJ8ddL6-0MhvT4keUxcsZRXCZs_GMQf0I_cJa5apRB85nrkX79sj5Ek1mkwOnFHiE76VZDtwEz3lXo7UpDVZk4ivTSXDVMw7dOqSskkp1loKh-kuDMSBzK1JNrYojUhjbl79yvryE/s2048/IMG_7237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKYvJ8ddL6-0MhvT4keUxcsZRXCZs_GMQf0I_cJa5apRB85nrkX79sj5Ek1mkwOnFHiE76VZDtwEz3lXo7UpDVZk4ivTSXDVMw7dOqSskkp1loKh-kuDMSBzK1JNrYojUhjbl79yvryE/s320/IMG_7237.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />The sun was starting to set and was so beautiful (smoke actually makes for gorgeous sunsets), we stopped to take a picture just before we got to Zephyr Cove. Finally driving through town at Stateline, we saw a whole army of firefighters walking past a casino. I wish I would have had the presence of mind to clap my hands out the window or honk my horn in thanks for all they've done. <p></p><p>Driving through the familiar gates of our condo, we honked our arrival, but no one heard us. I think there are only a handful that have moved back in since yesterday. It's eerily quiet, as we walk down our path and discover that thankfully the sprinkling system had never been turned off. We had been worried that all the plants and trees that I had planted would be dried up. But no. They had some ashes on their leaves, but most were pretty healthy, also thanks to a neighbor who watered for me as long as she stayed. First thing I did was fill the blue water bowl I leave outside for the birds and other animals. It was pretty ashy too, and who knows? One of those bears we've been hearing about that are roaming around might want to quench his thirst.</p><p>Next thing was to light our electric fireplace and sit in our comfy mission style recliners and give thanks for our nice cozy condo to live in. We both notice the blue feeling leaving us.</p><p>On the website, Eastern Sierra Fire and Ice, they had a reporter showing a map of what he called the Perfect Storm that saved South Lake Tahoe. When the fire started raging over Hwy 50 at Echo Summit, he said huge "perpendicular" winds threw fire over Christmas Valley, where there are a lot of homes, and on to the Western slope of the Sierra, heading toward Heavenly Valley, and only showering Christmas Valley with spot fires that could be handled. The area is still under evacuation, but he called this "the Christmas Valley Miracle". We'll take that. We felt that some of our prayers have been answered.</p><p>The next morning, I got up to feed my birds, squirrels and chipmunks some nuts and seeds. Only had one taker of each, but word will get out that I'm back, I'm sure. I doused all the plants with extra water from the hose, while wearing a face mask, for the smoke. The fire is only 50% contained, and hopefully firefighters can extinguish it completely. There is a chance that we might have to evacuate again, but for now, life is good.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-90710059698483705692021-05-25T17:41:00.001-07:002022-08-23T14:48:24.445-07:00Living in a Snow Globe<p>Ahead of me, out the picture window at my daughter and son-in-law's home in the Catskills, I can see the nearby mountain. It has a grey look about it, with its leafless maples, ash, aspens and oaks. Each day however, I notice a little more color on the red maples, their red buds are starting to show us that spring is here, just a glimpse of the glorious display of reds, oranges, yellows and purples that I've been told so much about.</p><p>Yesterday, April 21st, it started to snow! I could see the wind blowing flakes across the front of the mountain, and behind the stand of trees that runs down to a creek below. Snow starts to stick to the screens on the porch and on its red roof, and on the branches of the few pines. I was the only one excited about this, since everyone here has already experienced enough for this year. That's what happens when you're a "snowbird".... one who chases the sun, leaving Palm Springs when it's too hot, and arriving in Tahoe only for the last snow.</p><p>I, for one, was mesmerized by the flurries swirling around outside. The wind blows across my view and then catches the flakes in the crook of the house, swirling them out in the other direction, giving the effect of living in a snow globe.</p><p>I hold my very tiny, new grandbaby, and stand, rocking her in my arms, swaying back and forth in front of the window, telling her about all that was going on outside that she might observe for herself some day. There's even a pond, complete with newts and frogs, that her sister will be happy to explain and explore more fully with her. Big sister is just the one to train her in making forts from fallen branches. </p><p>For now, she's not interested in looking out the window.....it's too bright. "But it's your first snow!", I say. She squints and turns her eyes from the light, preferring to peck around on my neck hoping to find something more appealing there. She's fussy, and I resort to a song I sang to her mom, "For Baby". "I walk in the rain by your side, I cling to the warmth of your tiny hand...." Like magic, she calms and closes her eyes, seeming to enjoy hearing my voice as it rumbles in my chest when I hit the low notes. My chin touches the top of her head and I feel her soft hair. Life is good.</p><p>The next day, the snow continued, and since the temps dropped at night, there were icicles hanging from the eaves of the house. When I reported that to my daughter, she said, "Oh no! We've had enough of that! It's time for Spring!". Trying to make myself useful, I put on my brand new snow boots that I bought specifically for this trip, and took a walk down the hill to fill the bird feeder with seeds. With all the commotion of having a new baby, I thought that maybe the feeder was being neglected. My boots made a crunching noise as I made my way down to the post, where the feeder was hanging. I filled it carefully with the scoop provided in the jar, screwed the top back on the long tube, and hung it back up on the nail. Taa-daa! The walk back up the hill was more difficult, since I could feel it in my knee. Too much sitting, I guess, after all the self-isolating.</p><p>Warming up in the house and holding the baby again, I looked up from her sweet sleeping face to see a squirrel going at the bird feeder by hanging upside down. He had knocked off the top of it, and now was trying to eat the seeds from the random holes in the tube! I jumped up to get a closer look, and there was movement out of the corner of my vision....an animal, brown, and about the size of a beaver, but with a different tail. The word "marmot" comes to mind. It walks over the snow-covered grass right below us, chomping on the chilly greens. When I looked it up on Google (of course), I was right, but it's also called a groundhog. I'm thinking that he was disappointed to have snow on the ground again. He looked pretty cute crawling around out there, but when he sat up, he had a surprisingly ferocious looking face. Maybe tomorrow I'll give the bird feeder one more try, screwing the top on more carefully, but right now I can see why some folks are so anti-squirrel.</p><p>The snow continues to dust the trees on the hillside, and swirl past my window. I hope the snow doesn't shock the new growth on the trees. I imagine they'll probably just appreciate the moisture and be encouraged to grow even more. </p><p>I sit back down with baby, wrapped up in a warm blanket. The wind is still blowing the snow from right to left in front of the forest of leafless trees. Drifts of snow are blown suddenly from the bows of the big pine tree, and fluffy flakes dance in front of the window.</p><p>Yep, we're in a snow globe. We rock and sit near the fire by the wood stove. Grandma reads.</p><p><br /></p><p>One month later, we're back at our summer home in Tahoe, and on May 20th, it has started to snow, to everyone's surprise. The weather app on our phone kept predicting it, but even that morning, the sky was sunny. After lunch, little hard flakes fell, even though the sun was peeking through a few clouds. I wondered if I should be looking for a rainbow. We drove along, doing errands and watched the flakes aim at our window. Back at home, the snow started building up, covering the bushes and some of the new hollyhocks and pansies I had recently planted. Tulips were weighed down with snow, and the two tomatoes were already coated, so I guess it was too late to save them from frost. I'm hoping all the plants will take it in their stride.</p><p>Inside, we opened up our blinds wide, so we could watch the changing landscape. The stairs and railing had accumulated about 3 inches. I didn't want to be a stick in the mud indoors, so I donned my aforementioned snow boots, and went for a little walk. Flakes tried to accumulate in my warm pockets and collected on my hat. I only saw one other person out there, taking a bag of garbage out to the bin. She was so bundled up in her well-worn parka with a hood, and boots on that I didn't recognized my neighbor at first. I smiled and said, "Isn't it glorious?!!", and she just groaned and said something about "I'm just ready for summer." </p><p>I wandered back to our condo, red cheeked, and happy. I have a better relationship with my squirrels in Tahoe. Since I'm running low on nuts and seeds to give the critters outside, I made my specialty for them.....two big peanut butter sandwiches, cut into little squares, and scattered them on the ground to watch the grey squirrels, chickarees, Robins and Stellar Jays come after them. Then I heated some water in our electric tea pot to add to their water bowl I have outside that had become all slushy with snow. </p><p>Delighted with the day, I came inside to watch the show through the window. The American Robin drinking from the bowl, was the biggest I'd ever seen.....I think about to deliver, and the squirrels and even chipmunks seemed to think there was enough to go around. The snow continued to swirl around, some of it heavy enough in the branches of the pines to fall off in great plops, and then blow around in the slight wind. </p><p>Once again I'm in a snow globe. Inside this one though, my husband and I judiciously work on a new jigsaw puzzle and have a cup of tea, while the fireplace glows in the corner....cozy and warm while the snow whirls outside.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-46119300083587967132021-01-25T08:16:00.002-08:002021-01-25T08:16:25.773-08:00One Maria Too Many<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the good things about marrying my husband, is that he was used to having a cleaning lady come to the house every two weeks. So when he and a couple of his kids moved over to my house he kept up the habit. I called her "Mi Esposa", (my wife, in Spanish), not to her face, of course. Her name was Maria, and we hit it off famously.<br />
<br />
When we moved to Palm Springs to a mobile home that we call "our cottage", the place was so small, we decided to only have someone come help us clean every couple of months, usually if company was about to arrive. We got a reference from a neighbor, and this woman came to our little trailer and accepted us as clients. When I asked her her name, she said, "Maria".....</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
So, every winter, when we're in Palm Springs, we call for Maria and her crew to come clean. They always marvel at the changes we've made, like painting, or new curtains, or lately, the new washer and dryer. When we were getting ready this time to make the change to the north, we had scheduled a cleaning day, but there were still a lot of painting and plumbing projects going on. It just didn't seem sensible to have the cleaners come when the place was in such an uproar. Doug called Maria to postpone for 2 days later. He usually does the arrangement, since he likes to practice his best Spanish with her. She answered and said that would be fine, and for some reason, asking if we would be there. Doug said, "Por supuesto!" ("Of course!", in Spanish). She'd see us on Friday.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
Since the pressure was off to finish the projects, we went out to lunch. When we came back, the strong odor of something like Lysol surprised us as we opened the door. The house was clean, the bed made nicely, and the kitchen floor was mopped, ......except the 2 rooms where the projects were happening. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">"But I told her to come back in two days! Her crew must not have gotten the message!", he said. When he called Maria back, she said that she never got the message. Puzzled, and figuring it was just some sort of language misunderstanding, she agreed to come back in 2 days and finish the job. We'd pay her then.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Later in the day, we got a call from our property manager for the house in Richmond. He said the tenants were irate that "a friend of our son", who lives in the apartment downstairs, came into the house through the front door which was unlocked, evidently looked around, and then went in to the bathroom and used it. When the flushing was heard, their twin girls, who were home alone at the time, came from their room and asked what she was doing there. They told her to leave, or they would call the police.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Confused, our cleaner, Maria, left the house, and seeing son John working in the garden, she asked him if we were home. He was surprised to see her after so long, and said, "No Maria. They're living down in Palm Springs." He called us soon after, and told us he saw Maria, and that got our minds reeling.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I looked at our phone to see our last calls, and discovered that Doug had chosen "Maria Lopez cleaner", rather than "Maria Palm Springs" from the list of contacts. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Poor, bewildered Maria! No wonder she sounded kind of hesitant to come. We imagined her, walking in the door, as usual, but finding it totally different looking from what she was used to. Before we rented it out, we totally painted and carpeted it and did new window treatments. Now it was decorated in the tenants taste, which I would love to check out, but it must have been so confusing to her. Then, I suppose she thought she might as well take a pee before getting down to work, and then was discovered by two irate teenagers! </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">One lesson learned. Apologize to Maria, but make sure we have the right number.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div>
Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-3429480849436733102020-12-22T10:27:00.001-08:002020-12-27T18:38:32.671-08:00Yet Another Different Kind of Christmas:Thanks to the Coronavirus<p>Now this is the strangest holiday season I think that anyone may have experienced. At least most of the people in our lifetimes have not been through a plague, since the Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918. It's taken us on a long, inconvenient and uncomfortable ride, and most folks are saying, "Come on now! Aren't we there yet?" </p><p>"Pandemic fatigue" has set in, especially as the holidays are upon us. My husband and I made it through Thanksgiving with just the two of us with a roast duck. No kids or grandkids gathered around our table, so I made some yummy Tollhouse cookies without touching them or breathing on them, and handed them out to friends in our mobile park in ZipLoc bags. They were very thankful for the treats. We participated in a couple of Zoom calls from family and friends, which made us feel that we weren't alone, and we all texted photos of our meals and toasted each other on FaceTime. Thank God for Zoom and social media giving us a little feeling of togetherness.</p><p>I announced to my husband that "we need to put up lots of lights this year! Let's shine away 2020!" I ran to the laptop to order more solar Christmas lights from Amazon, since some years we've had lots of lights and a huge electric bill for December. This should do the trick. When they arrived, though, I found that some of the lights I ordered were classified as "fairy lights", very tiny, twinkly things, surprisingly bright for their size, but not quite right. I went back and ordered ones shaped like colorful snowflakes, in honor of the vintage 12-inch snowflake lights I used to string on the hedge each year. I checked the size on solar ones, and they were only about 1-1/4" wide, but they'd do. Then we ordered a nice, new 72 foot string of colorful solar lights for the "wall tree" that I've arranged on our living room wall for the last few years. As I kept on receiving the boxes in the mail, my husband said, "But didn't you just order some lights?" I told Doug that it was okay that I was ordering so many things, since we would be saving so much money every Christmas on electricity! Heck, we would even be doing our part to save the planet!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5L4PdOhOKt_cbOotz0HqRCJigBn4ztoZAMxgXqZCbKM8pujRgxh-G8VIm95gqakklNkpLEFCyrj8DdvlRU8OxoLMXscowHywZ3eh9aWfBzAMw26NGtO1Z0AJLKrBhM7ZpWwul_0l18_U/s2048/IMG_5941.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5L4PdOhOKt_cbOotz0HqRCJigBn4ztoZAMxgXqZCbKM8pujRgxh-G8VIm95gqakklNkpLEFCyrj8DdvlRU8OxoLMXscowHywZ3eh9aWfBzAMw26NGtO1Z0AJLKrBhM7ZpWwul_0l18_U/w223-h297/IMG_5941.JPG" width="223" /></a></div>The lights went up pretty fast, and then the wall tree, with the traditional "Elf" movie playing in the background. It struck me as perfect, when I looked over at the TV and Will Ferrel, as Elf, said "You're very good at decorating that tree!"<br /><p></p><p>I first arranged the lights, by using a string from the top to the bottom as a guide line, and then zig-zagged them back and forth on nails, thankful that the 72 foot length worked out just fine! Next, I added the green foil garlands from the Dollar Store, and then layered on lots of favorite ornaments.<br /><br />Everything automatically lit up the first night, at 5:03, as the sun went down, and now each evening it's getting a little sooner. Last night, the sky darkened at 5:00 PM, even, and on they came. </p><p>It took me over a month to gather photos online of family members for the calendar I make each year, </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2sANJ5kWWrJpbHqAec4nBRRw6zia4nCUM-2tED8QlTjuy6xSejZ1zsCxII9t6QovWkE0SGJOhvy0SGi9tPdseX0nC3M900TWatoD34UjL_3S5dHYirvJAU2hVySiEMY-Bjq6nRkuuqqk/s2048/IMG_5936.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2sANJ5kWWrJpbHqAec4nBRRw6zia4nCUM-2tED8QlTjuy6xSejZ1zsCxII9t6QovWkE0SGJOhvy0SGi9tPdseX0nC3M900TWatoD34UjL_3S5dHYirvJAU2hVySiEMY-Bjq6nRkuuqqk/w150-h200/IMG_5936.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>and, being ever frugal, I figured out how to mail several of them directly to people with free shipping, saving a bunch on postage. Next was the task of finding age appropriate gifts for kids, mostly sent by Amazon, saving postage once again, but I refused mostly, to pay the $4.99 extra for a gift bag. Not realizing that my name wouldn't be on the outside of the box as the sender, only on the receipt inside, I told everyone, "If it is addressed just to the kids, don't open it, just put it under your tree." I imagine many trees are going to have lots of unwrapped cardboard boxes under them. Maybe we should stick a bow on top just to try to make it look a little more festive. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZf7qZBbMuQOr12lketA7Pa9sP54bzmR1Ek8IMW1O27wKiITpjR6ZqlMXppL1S7AttRypyvezMtNlu1XnqKl8_V6FbnemGY3Q5fwuKixY1aVw1FX39vDMm_UQMwA067ivAf3nznXqMVFQ/s2048/IMG_5975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZf7qZBbMuQOr12lketA7Pa9sP54bzmR1Ek8IMW1O27wKiITpjR6ZqlMXppL1S7AttRypyvezMtNlu1XnqKl8_V6FbnemGY3Q5fwuKixY1aVw1FX39vDMm_UQMwA067ivAf3nznXqMVFQ/s320/IMG_5975.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I've never seen so many delivery vans, and now I notice UPS drivers in their brown uniforms and hats, sporting a blue surgical mask, driving U-Haul trucks. On Sundays you might spot a postal truck being driven around, since Amazon is renting them from the post office on a day they aren't usually used.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">We feel really sorry for the local businesses and restaurants, especially here in California, where we are in such a lockdown. Our friend Kim and her family own the Mario's restaurant here in Palm Springs, and we try to get something to go a couple of times a week to support them. Besides, we miss going out to lunch. We're afraid that more small businesses will be closing before this whole thing is over. It's so sad.</span></div><p>When we went to Lowe's last week, most of their Christmas decorations were sold out. I just went in for birdseed, but I mean! Even outside where they sell their live Christmas trees, the pickings were slim, with only about 20 trees left. It was in the paper the other day that more people are staying at home and trying to brighten up their lives with a bigger than usual Christmas tree. I guess we aren't the only ones decorating a little early.</p><p>A couple of weeks ago, we had a short visit from one of Doug's kid's and her family. It was long planned that they and 2 other friends and their families would meet up in Phoenix for a week at an AIRBNB. Each family self-isolated for 2 weeks at home, and they packed all of their food so they wouldn't have to stop along the way. After their nice time of playing in the sun, they stopped by to see us, all wearing their masks. They texted that they would pick up burritos for everyone at Chipotle, and we sat out on the patio over 6 feet apart, So Christmas will be more Zooming with family, and this time it will be just us and a rack of lamb. </p><p>It was hard, but everyone agreed to not come near us to visit, especially after we heard that a friend's wife passed away three days ago, after having family over for Thanksgiving. Most of the people at that party contracted Covid. This was both chilling and sad to hear, and a real wake-up call. </p><p>So.... You know the drill. Don't forget to wear your mask when you go outside your house. Be "stand-offish" when you are around folks that aren't in your "bubble". Smile at people with your eyes, since they can't see your mouth.....and have the Merriest Christmas that you can. </p><p>2021 HAS to be better, right?</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p></div>Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-24875572892337020042020-09-17T11:31:00.001-07:002021-05-10T18:06:12.907-07:00Tahoe Wildlife<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This title could be a little misleading. It's not about the wild life that we lead here at South Lake Tahoe. No, we're actually pretty calm and predictable. The story is just about the critters that we come across right outside our front door.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
There's been talk of a big bear that comes around many times a week, that folks are starting to call "Bob". We haven't seen Bob ourselves, but we hear he's pretty large, and lumbers along. He seems to know when garbage day is, since he makes sure to check out the garbage enclosures the night before, opens the gate with the handle and then lifts the heavy lid on the bin with ease.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />Our most exciting story, was when a black bear probably drank all the water from a bowl we have outside our front door two nights in a row. The missing water was first noted one morning when our neighbor's fence had been knocked down the night before, and the next day, it was reported that a bear had torn off a plank from the garbage enclosure. He must have worked up a thirst after all that work, and knew he could come by for a drink afterward. When I told my husband about all this, he said, "What?? I've been coming in and sitting in my recliner chair right by the door the last few nights. He was about 6 feet from my head! I think you'd better get rid of that water bowl, or at least move it!"<br />
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I opted for moving it, since I've been providing water for all the smaller critters for the last 5 or 6 years, and I think they depend on me. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOmWFynHgXjKAUkTmLOcSJ9bNsp8Gtr35mSCsjGny6JJdBo4W9rfIsk8WjB5zZgeorgAeJ_yBCqbK3e_SMxc09YtVPvrJl7IB65ak9D7tSpp9CUZnJ8nk3RWbH1XrHyMY2Aj3yCVQXKE/s2048/IMG_5588.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Brewer's Blackbirds" border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOmWFynHgXjKAUkTmLOcSJ9bNsp8Gtr35mSCsjGny6JJdBo4W9rfIsk8WjB5zZgeorgAeJ_yBCqbK3e_SMxc09YtVPvrJl7IB65ak9D7tSpp9CUZnJ8nk3RWbH1XrHyMY2Aj3yCVQXKE/w200-h150/IMG_5588.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />The blue glass bowl was repositioned farther away, over behind a bush, and I placed a stone next to it so that the birds and chipmunks would have something to hop up on to get a drink. I watched and worried every day to see if anyone noticed the change. I sat and read quietly in my zero-gravity chair, looking around the edge of my book to see if I had any takers. I even put extra bird seed close by, which would get eaten, but there were no takers for a drink afterward. For a few days, the water level never went down, and finally Doug told me it would be okay if I put the bowl a little more out in the open. Soon after, it was discovered again, not only for refreshment, but for lovely baths!<br />
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The bathers, are the occasional American Robin, but two or three Brewer's Blackbirds from the flock that frequents our yard are appreciating a dip at the same time. One gets in and flaps around while the other two politely sit on the edge awaiting their turn.<br />
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Every morning, I go out with a copper cup that's meant for a Moscow Mule cocktail, filled 2/3 full with birdseed, and then topped off with shelled sunflower seeds and peanuts. I don't want a bunch of shells littering our forest floor, and I think the little animals appreciate the little effort they have to put out to get a nice buffet. Later on, I'll add a few grapes that have past their prime or some crusts of bread. I think they'll all be missing me when we go back down to Palm Springs in the end of October. A neighbor says that she fills the water bowl during the winter if she sees it getting low.<br />
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The squirrels are knocking down an abundant amount of pine cones from the Ponderosa pines lately. Someone told us that this means that we'll have an early winter or a big one. One of the two. They chew them off from way up high, and the immature cones drop down like bombs, with a big "thud" making you wonder if you should be wearing a bicycle helmet along with your mask. Then, the squirrel runs down the tree and very conscientiously chews off bits that are called scales, leaving them in a mess all over the ground, and eating up the seeds that are underneath. Only something like a corn cob is left on the ground. The more mature pine cones, that are all opened up, with their scales all flailed out, are left alone by the squirrels. I just noticed the difference this year, since I have so much time on my hands, I suppose. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWeJQ64b6AoUx-PTGwCCXSuWrZ4fLDy0IqgSmYhHiwy5IYQNmR346p0tWN3yirhk3pJCvs5Hjb8WZIDFyhg-Jiue9LemWFfcUROp_N5Ha3gDWKL0JrbVzjV8aADqygoAjNu62ZR22HI_s/s2048/IMG_5585.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1880" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWeJQ64b6AoUx-PTGwCCXSuWrZ4fLDy0IqgSmYhHiwy5IYQNmR346p0tWN3yirhk3pJCvs5Hjb8WZIDFyhg-Jiue9LemWFfcUROp_N5Ha3gDWKL0JrbVzjV8aADqygoAjNu62ZR22HI_s/w235-h256/IMG_5585.jpeg" width="235" /></a></div><br />
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Doug laughs that I identify the squirrels as babies, teenagers, and adults. But I keep watching. These brown squirrels, called Douglas, or Chickarees, seem to first appear as small as chipmunks, squealing like birds, and mostly brown, with golden bellies. As they age, to the "teenage" years, they start getting darker strips on their sides, and grow larger. The babies are fearless, and don't mind coming close to me, but the teenagers seem to grow more skittish, undoubtedly having had some experiences with danger. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I used to think that the smaller brown squirrels were the younger grey squirrels, but no.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The Grey Squirrels are much larger, with deer-like faces, longer ears, and have huge, fluffy tails. As they grow older, they grow more salt and pepper grey. They climb down the trees in the morning to see what I've provided for breakfast. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicyKigSJzlXKjekLxa7mESANLYBYWUL0PQiRE1kNic4hWoflyGpTVj5HkrRBLH-w9GwRdEnCYliOvmDcDh80mK3K4Xm8CNW5Su_yh9eE0z9zXcqna4L0wktK04UbkJ0jG2gAvbJ-bBT24/s2048/IMG_1647.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicyKigSJzlXKjekLxa7mESANLYBYWUL0PQiRE1kNic4hWoflyGpTVj5HkrRBLH-w9GwRdEnCYliOvmDcDh80mK3K4Xm8CNW5Su_yh9eE0z9zXcqna4L0wktK04UbkJ0jG2gAvbJ-bBT24/w240-h320/IMG_1647.JPG" width="240" /></a></div></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />Right now, in the beginning of September, I'm starting to think that both of the species don't appreciate my thoughtfulness so much, since they have been digging around many of the plants that I have planted recently. I always say that they think that there's a new squirrel in town that has hidden a nut, but a friend told me that they just like to chew on the roots of my plants. Still though, I'm just glad that they aren't voles, like we had a few years ago, tunneling around and killing the plants. Some may hate them, but I still love watching my squirrels.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The chipmunks have been just darling lately, baby ones I'm sure, coming around in pairs of two, just like "Chip and Dale" from the old cartoons. They skitter around so quickly, from a bush, across the path, and under the steps, that I can hardly point them out to Doug in time, before they are gone again. Even the older ones, with their striped backs, (they all have them from birth), are so quick and wary, jump up to take a drink from my blue bowl. I'm delighted to provide for them.<br />
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The species of birds are many, from the big flock of Brewer's Blackbirds that I mentioned, to the Stellar Jays and their cacophony that we hear telling their friends that breakfast is served each morning. Later on in the day, a couple of mourning doves will show themselves, sometimes defending what they believe is their territory, making us think that their reputation for being so peaceful is in jeopardy. A few American Robins hang around, not necessarily interested in my bird seeds, but I think more concentrating on the worms that might be attracted to our automatic watering system. Most of them have orangish-red breasts, and some have speckled ones. I thought those were maybe the females, not being as flashy, but I've read that they are the juveniles.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Notably louder, we have huge crows, that swoop over our heads near the pool so low that we can hear their wings flap. Then they go up high in the pines and caw to each other or make a strange gurgling sound, we think is to attract a mate. There are even a few even larger ravens, that march around on the ground, almost as big as turkeys.<br />
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Another special bird is the Northern Flicker. My ears are getting so attuned to the calls of the birds, that I joke that I may have been one once. The other day I was inside, and heard a different birdcall, and looked out to see a big bird on the side of a tree, pecking at it. It didn't have a red head like some of the woodpeckers up here do, just a little bit on it's cheeks, and it was tan and kind of speckled. When it took off flying it had a beautiful salmon color under it's wings. I ran for my trusty bird book, and found it! A Flicker! Today, I found that online I could hear samples of this bird's call, so I did a funny thing and brought my computer outside and played a couple of them loudly. The other birds looked shocked and took off, but on about the third try, a Flicker swooped over to land on the side of one of the Ponderosa pines! Then he hopped down to the ground and pecked awhile. He didn't seem very interested in hearing any more of my calls, so maybe it was just a coincidence. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">For the last two years, a pair of Chickadees have made their nest in a knot hole in the trim above our condo. They're winning the award for my favorite flock of birds. They fly down to a small pine tree out front, and sometimes come close to me when I'm walking by, or they hop around near by while I'm gardening, seeming rather curious and friendly. Their chirp sounds like a sort of smooching, kissing sound. I try to make that sound when I come out in the morning and every so often one flies down to me.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8c1hekGqG1NigF6qM8L8Jjk-eZAMcqnKY6X0qJ2km8qaGzPwN8FimzspsTRI-NilNMUH2v42C9wJBrUAAt0z5uNMjrpxw6vN-SBKTlb3F77TLNm2S1jFxObF2di8A6c8bq6OI_TdCnVk/s2048/IMG_5591.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8c1hekGqG1NigF6qM8L8Jjk-eZAMcqnKY6X0qJ2km8qaGzPwN8FimzspsTRI-NilNMUH2v42C9wJBrUAAt0z5uNMjrpxw6vN-SBKTlb3F77TLNm2S1jFxObF2di8A6c8bq6OI_TdCnVk/w320-h240/IMG_5591.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />
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Their heads look like they're wearing little bicycle helmets, and sometimes the peanuts they try to pick up and fly away with, look half the size of their little round body.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">A couple of months some of the neighbors were delighted that a mallard duck had made a nest, but were worried that she made her nest full of feathers in a precarious place, down low in a juniper bush. There were three eggs in there, and we all looked forward to when the little ducklings would be following their mother around the condo complex. Our hopes were dashed one day, when it looked like a coyote had found the nest. All that was left were the shells amongst her soft feathers, and Mama was walking around quacking, looking forlorn.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWHul4ty9esAXjaqPazdksFN2BO1bIuXTrto4vY5uXwV63pnpLcV3rB2grOsEigYlSa7sdpTviRooN-pYEJXoEZT90I70r_q8rmjyM8wbwOIg7CuDPN5CBUqwYtyJeI00F9es1Kt1oic/s2048/IMG_5400.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWHul4ty9esAXjaqPazdksFN2BO1bIuXTrto4vY5uXwV63pnpLcV3rB2grOsEigYlSa7sdpTviRooN-pYEJXoEZT90I70r_q8rmjyM8wbwOIg7CuDPN5CBUqwYtyJeI00F9es1Kt1oic/w150-h200/IMG_5400.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><br /> A few days later, Mama duck had taken to swimming in the pool, which seemed okay, since it was closed to us due to the pandemic. We were entertained by her dramatic landings in the water, and were happy that she had a spa, (or pond), to recover from her loss. She'd hang out at the edge, and eventually surprised us by depositing a large egg right there on the cement.... and leaving it. The neighbors all talked about how to help her, all wearing our masks and socially distancing, of course. We worried that the abandoned egg would get too cold, since the temps were going to drop that night. Finally, the maintenance guy checked it out closer and found it to be cracked. The poor thing was unceremoniously deposited in the garbage bin. Mama never showed up again.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Well, it looks like from my ramblings that I still have a lot of time on my hands. I've told you about everything wild here so far. Guess I'd better go outside again to see what's up.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><br /><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-8859624502972386522020-07-16T10:17:00.000-07:002020-07-23T11:15:52.675-07:00The Little Creep!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've been up at South Lake Tahoe since the beginning of May, and I've been having a grand time gardening for the whole condo complex, with the larger stipend of $750. they've given me for plants. I DO like to find the best deals I can, and it's even better when I'm spending someone else's money.<br />
My new saying is "I work for compliments", since I don't get paid for the digging, but I consider gardening my main form of exercise. Besides, one of the owners said that whenever she spots a new flower, she says to herself, "The gardening fairy must have been here!" That's my new moniker, and I like it.<br />
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My routine in the morning, after we do a short meditation and prayer, is to go out and feed the birds, squirrels and chipmunks. I fill their water bowl and toss a mixture of birdseed, and peanuts and sunflower seeds without the shell on the ground like I'm feeding chickens. It's delightful for me to watch their movements out the window, but for the last two mornings, I've gone out to find the two most recent plants I've planted in our own little plot, with holes dug next to them. Whenever that happens, I just figure that one of the critters must think that there's a new squirrel in town that has buried a nice juicy nut, so I use the toe of my slipper to fill in the hole, forgiving them.<br />
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Once again, right next to the Milkweed I planted to provide Monarch butterflies a place to set up housekeeping, and my nice, red Coral Bells plant that I got for Doug for Father's Day, big holes, and the red-leafed one had had it's roots chewed on! Now this morning, everything was fine, until after I fed the little darlings their treats. We dished up breakfast, and then I glanced out the window to find the Coral Bells completely uprooted and lying on its side! Oh no!<br />
"What the.....! Don't you guys know that I'm the one that provides for you every day?" This means war!<br />
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Leaving my coffee and turkey bacon and toast with honey and peanut butter on it to get cold, I ran back in to the kitchen to rummage through the spice cupboard to find my stash of hot red peppers like you put on pizza. These were left over from the arsenal I had used to fight off the voles 2 years ago. Doug watched as I whizzed by him to defend my territory. I plopped the poor plant back in to it's hole, filled it in, and sprinkled the hot peppers thickly around it. Take that, you little creep! Then I went in to eat my breakfast.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWBoctg8UxjBHpfaoeMs6jPvFH4fZ_WHVC6pRrRBpOcvcpti1NAlMXdzSQczo5MxR0qFonywErPS5BirosI12b3JdkMdudC16zemaFetWjkTB8anzdATGDvdu8_7IMo3Bx99zgX7UfEM/s1600/IMG_5466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWBoctg8UxjBHpfaoeMs6jPvFH4fZ_WHVC6pRrRBpOcvcpti1NAlMXdzSQczo5MxR0qFonywErPS5BirosI12b3JdkMdudC16zemaFetWjkTB8anzdATGDvdu8_7IMo3Bx99zgX7UfEM/s200/IMG_5466.JPG" width="150" /></a>About an hour later, we were dressed up to finally go to mass, (we had to make reservations), and Doug saw through the window that there was a big fat squirrel standing up holding the Coral Bells and chewing on the roots! Perhaps he enjoyed the extra spicy seasoning! I opened the door and he ran off, leaving the plant looking wilted and missing half of it's roots. I only had time to toss it back in it's hole and give it some water and wish it well.<br />
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When we came home, it looked like it needed artificial respiration. I decided to give it more water and then cover it with a big glass bowl, sort of like a terrarium. Then it got overheated in the sun, and the glass was coated in moisture, so I set two ice cubes on top of the bowl. Desperate measures.....<br />
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That worked for a little while, but then when I took off the bowl, even though it looked a little perkier, I worried about the plant being attacked again over night, so I put the bowl on again.<br />
After being exposed again in the morning though, some of the leaves were feeling as crispy as potato chips, and I decided to dig it up and put it in a pot, (no less, a ceramic pot I made myself back in the 80's).<br />
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The next day, I sat in my zero-gravity lounge chair and read a book, while glancing up intermittently to gaze lovingly at my group of critters as they grazed on their morning buffet. One of the chipmunks, not realizing I was there sat near me on the ground chewing on seeds. A robin skitters to and fro, and I notice that she keeps her head down and forward as she runs along, and then stops, more upright, and looks and listens.<br />
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But then I notice a big squirrel that is sniffing around and pawing at the ground across the way, digging little holes, and then stopping to scratch himself. Maybe he has a flea. "This is the guy!", I'm thinking. He repeats the process a few times, and by now I'm calling him "Itchy". Then he comes right over to where the red plant had been, and sniffed around. "Aha!" I wish I had a squirt gun to surprise him with.<br />
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Oh well. At least my little plant is safe up on the table. Hmm. Perhaps I should bring it in to the dining room at night.<br />
I know there are other folks who might get out a BB gun at this point....and I AM considering a trip to the Dollar Store later to shop for a Super Soaker, but in this time of self isolating, at least I have some cheap entertainment.<br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-6015340630539622332020-05-23T10:47:00.002-07:002020-05-23T10:49:36.855-07:00The Snowbirds Have Landed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've stayed longer in Palm Springs than we usually do, thinking that if we put off returning to Lake Tahoe until May 13th or so, perhaps the fears over Coronavirus would dwindle. We forgot the fact that the temperature would be rising in the south. As it continued rising into the 100's, my husband suggested that we leave the next day. Unfortunately, I had ordered a few things online, and worried whether they would be properly forwarded to us without a huge charge. So we waited, continuing to be lazy about decluttering and organizing and packing for our six months up north. Finally! The most important items were delivered and the departure date was set for two days later. The temp had risen to 104 degrees, and even though it was hard to do any work outside, most of our packing and straightening was done indoors and we put all three of our little air conditioners to work along with the swamp cooler! It became mandatory that we get our act together.<br />
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The morning we left, April 30th, friends dropped by, all donning their masks, and standing the prescribed 6 feet away, to say good-bye, give us pretend hugs from a distance, and snacks to eat on the way. I kept bringing out bags and small boxes, and our suitcases, as everyone marveled at how it might all fit in to the Prius. "Doug always makes it work. He's the Master Packer!", I said, "And besides, this year we've sort of added on a room!" I pointed to the top of the car where sat our new Roof Bag, a roof-top carrier that zips open and is made of something like raft material.<br />
"This is one reason I wasn't worried about fitting in her old guitar this time", he said. "And all my craft supplies that I insist on traveling back and forth with us", I added. Doug rolled his eyes and shrugged. "It'll all fit fine", he said.<br />
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By 10:15, we entered our destination into MapQuest on the iPhone, and we left town, already munching on some yummy oatmeal cookies that our friend had baked for us the night before. We vowed that we would make the 9 hour trip in one day, and not dawdle, taking turns with the driving. Bagels and cream cheese, turkey sandwiches, and fruit had been packed for meals on the way, and lots of water that was in refillable bottles, would make it so we wouldn't have to stop except to pee.<br />
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The quickest route is to go right up Hwy. 395. The beginning of the route would be on I-10, past the windmills and of course heavy winds. It was the first test of our roof-top carrier, and it endured it okay, except for scooting back a little closer to the antenna. Doug tightened the straps a little more, and there was no more problem. I still tried to not drive like a speed demon, just to make sure.<br />
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About 3 hours later, for a bathroom break, we stopped at a kind of funky truck-stop, and we wore our gloves and masks, and felt we should buy a bottle of iced tea and some Cornnuts, just to pay for the use of the bathroom. Our bottle of hand sanitizer was used liberally when we got back out to the car. It's so strange to have to always be thinking about ways of being careful!<br />
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Our radio wasn't picking up much of anything, so we listened to a Trevor Noah podcast, and a little bit of a book on Audible and then some of Blossom Dearie radio station on Pandora, as we glided by old lava flows and snow-covered mountains on our left in the Sierras. Near Mammoth Lakes, we hit a rest stop that was thankfully open. The air was crisp and cool, and I took the chance to stick my nose near the bark of a Ponderosa pine to smell the aroma of butterscotch. "We're almost there", Doug said, "It'll only be another hour and a half!" That sounded pretty long to me, since it was my turn to drive again, but once we turned up Kingsbury Grade, I knew we only had another half hour.<br />
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As we drove through town, in Stateline, Nevada, the casinos were closed, and our favorite little one, Lakeside Inn, that we like for their food, gave up the ghost last month and shut down for good. So sad. Everyone's wondering if businesses can make a comeback. It'll be in a different way for sure.<br />
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We turned in to our condo area, and carried a couple of things in with us. The condo is rented out usually in the summer, so when we walk in the door, it's all nice and clean, as if we are renters ourselves. We turned on the heater and our electric fireplace, and after getting a few of the more valuable things from the car, Doug poured us each a nice drink and we sat, marveling happily that we had the opportunity to live in two such wonderful places.<br />
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Still giddy in the morning, I fed my squirrels and birds their usual seeds and nuts and filled their blue glass water bowl. They seemed really happy that we had returned. Our paper had been delivered out near the car. Everything was falling back in to place and we had breakfast from things we had brought up.<br />
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Then it was time for a walk around our condo property. We've been planting bulbs all over the place, about 1000 in the last 3 years, and we were anxious to see all the tulips and daffodils that have sprouted up.<br />
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While we were strolling around, our phone rang in my pocket, and I saw that it was our dentist's office calling. I thought, this is really strange, since they had already canceled Doug's appointment for cleaning, and I didn't think they would be opening their office yet.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjs4NSekbwnab1eOrPpI3veytQY_jXwYdEJ6sF8QdZv5BMELq8JChxiyVReJRDTvoaPUaxGdZBd8BCUe5fRD9S-qL3DlT0GcjFFW5ZcGQoBSG_u1LhIWa9LCqiYeK7QNZrRGCmddUHhk/s1600/IMG_5307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxjs4NSekbwnab1eOrPpI3veytQY_jXwYdEJ6sF8QdZv5BMELq8JChxiyVReJRDTvoaPUaxGdZBd8BCUe5fRD9S-qL3DlT0GcjFFW5ZcGQoBSG_u1LhIWa9LCqiYeK7QNZrRGCmddUHhk/s200/IMG_5307.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
I handed the phone to Doug, and the secretary told him that she had just received a call from someone who had found his wallet in the men's room at the rest stop we had stopped at near Mammoth Lakes! They tried different ways to figure out how to contact us, finally calling the number on the dental appointment card that Doug had saved in his wallet. She gave us their phone number to call them so it could be sent to us.<br />
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Oh my gosh! Doug had had trouble finding it this morning, and his next plan was to look under the bed when we went back home! Right away, we called and got Dan and Teresa, the people who Doug said, "restored my faith in human nature!" They said Dan had found it right on the floor of the bathroom, with lots of money and checks in it. "We figured someone might be missing it," he said, so they went around asking folks in cars and trucks, to no avail.<br />
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It's funny. Doug had read somewhere, that we should keep some cash on hand, should the economy take a big downturn. I had asked him where he was going to keep it while we were traveling. He said, "I think my wallet is the safest place, don't you think?" I agreed, since our track record of putting things "in a really good place", hasn't panned out very well. We can't find most of those things.<br />
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So Dan and Teresa told us they were going to send the wallet to us, and call us with the tracking number, which they did the next day. It didn't come as soon as it was supposed to, so Dan called another time to tell us that he had been tracking the package too, and hoped it would be delivered soon. A couple of days later, the USPS website said it had been delivered, and we ran over to the post office. There was the missing wallet, all intact, accompanied by a nice card. We sent them one back, thanking them and enclosed a just reward for their honesty. Another few days later, Dan and Teresa called, thanking us back, and suggested that next time we are on our way back to Palm Springs, we should stop to see them. We both thought, "now these are some folks that we would like to meet!"<br />
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That was a nice, positive way to start our Tahoe summer. This season won't be the same though. Just as everywhere else, the pandemic has the hot tub empty and the pool closed. Most restaurants are only open for pick up, and there won't be the usual amount of tourists, since the hotels are closed, and if anyone rents out their place by AIRBNB, there will be a $1000. fine.<br />
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A guy was selling used bicycles out in front of his home the other day though, and I bought one for myself to toodle around the area. Not on roads though. I'm afraid of traffic.<br />
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The lake is looking beautiful, and will no doubt be less polluted this year, without all the people boating and going to the beach. Not that Lake Tahoe is very polluted. It's always been noted that one can see an object dropped to 70 feet. I guess this is an opportunity to keep it that way. The corona virus may be a terrible hit for human beings, but at the same time it should be a nice breather for the environment.<br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-49771643271850301012020-04-20T19:46:00.000-07:002020-04-26T21:22:23.630-07:00Corona Virus Ramblings....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Guess it's time to cut my own bangs. It'll make me feel better. There really is something to the phrase, "bad hair day". I've trimmed them before, and I've learned from past mistakes, of not holding my eyebrows up like I'm very interested. When you relax your brows your bangs are much shorter than you were hoping they'd be. A friend who has given me haircuts before, once asked me how short I'd like them. I said, "Not too short. Not like my eighth grade picture!" "Oh", he said, "so you don't want to go for the Mamie Eisenhower look?"<br />
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Perhaps I've had too much time on my hands and have been looking in the mirror too much, but now I see a few hairs sticking out of my chin. Where are tweezers when you need them? It turns out that toenail clippers don't do an efficient job, not pulling out the root, and then an even stronger looking hair continues to grow. Tweezers went on to my list for when we went shopping and I am now "whisker" free. Well, maybe until I go into the bathroom again and look in the mirror.<br />
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Also, in this time of self-isolating, I'm overdue for a pedicure. I've been treating myself to one for years, since as time goes by, I'm not as flexible, and I usually get a cramp trying to get in to the position to trim my own nails. Besides, I like to get pampered a little bit, except for when they think they have to buff all the callouses off the bottom of your feet. They seem to think it's funny, as I grab the arms of the chair and try not to squeal, at the same time trying to explain to the pedicurist to go easy on me. Then they're forgiven when a hot towel is put over my legs, and lotion is applied with a nice massage.<br />
I trimmed the nails on one foot the other night, and today I'll do the other one, and maybe another day I'll remove the old green polish that I chose for St. Patrick's Day. The toes were never shown off, because we had to cancel our annual party because the virus was just getting under way. I'm not sure if I'll try to put nail polish on again myself, because I don't have any. I looked for some the last time we went to the drug store and each bottle was amazingly about 9 or 10 dollars! I thought the price would be about $3.00, so I guess you can tell how long it's been since I've done my own toes. Oh well, it'll probably be healthier for my toenails to be able to breathe for a while.<br />
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There are a few things I've been appreciating during this time though. We've done a lot more cooking at home. My husband and I usually go out to lunch every day, which I really loved, since I used to be a waitress who wished that she could be the one who was being served each day. So now, we've bought a bunch of food, and have been putting together fine meals, which produce leftovers and we've been making soups, especially since the weather in Palm Springs has been unusually chilly so far this year. Doug is the sous chef and I sauté a lot of the ingredients before adding them to the pot or crockpot, and then I season it. When you think about it, it's wonderful how all those raw ingredients meld together, softening, and take on each others' flavors.<br />
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Another thing I've noticed lately, is about eggs. I'm becoming an expert at making over medium eggs. The neat thing about them is that eggs kinda like to keep to themselves. I put four eggs in a fry pan with a little spray oil, and let them start cooking for a while on medium heat. then I let them sit off to the side while toast is made, and the coffee is almost ready. When I come back to them, ready to flip them over, they come apart, even though one has crept on top of the edge of another. I gently separate them, and their little cells know whose is whose. I think that is pretty fascinating. I'm sure there's a scientific explanation for that, but as you might have noticed, I'm not a scientist.<br />
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Lately I'm always looking for things to wash. I have my eyes on all the throw rugs next. This is because we bought a stackable washer and dryer last year, and they're big and shiny and they sing to me when I turn them on. In the evening, Doug and I fold things together. I prefer to do my own things, because I have my ways...., folding my jeans a certain way, and making sure that shirts are hanging on the hangers in one direction.....but it's a nice, companionable thing to do. Besides, he does all of his own socks and underwear.<br />
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Since we live in California, and I'm programmed in to thinking "water shortage!" all the time. I've had a big bowl in my kitchen sink to catch water if we rinse off vegetables, etc. We faithfully, (well, I), take that bowl, when it's full, out to water some plants, so it won't be wasted. Now that we're all washing our hands to the tune of "Happy Birthday", that bowl gets filled up many times a day. It was really rainy here for awhile, so I used the water for putting things down the garbage disposal instead. Now that the weather is going to rise up to 94 on Wednesday, and then 98 the rest of the week, we'll be glad to be pouring that water that would have been going down the drain onto our plants.<br />
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There's talk right now that we might leave and go to Tahoe earlier just to get out of the heat. If we do, we'll do a very quick transition, not stopping for the night anywhere, or visiting family, and "skedaddling", as Doug says, driving for maybe 12 hours, taking turns driving, and packing a lunch and dinner.<br />
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Not that we've been thinking too hard about it. We'll see. I suppose it's almost time for these snowbirds to fly home.<br />
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But, "Oh-oh! We have some things we've ordered from Amazon that haven't arrived yet. I find that I do love ordering things online. I'll have to put myself on restriction, and hold back on shopping till we get back north. There's suffering everywhere. Mine is very small.<br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-37376596171880194182020-03-22T17:36:00.000-07:002020-03-22T17:38:20.306-07:00Our Personal Retreat: The Corona Virus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We just listened to Eckhart Tolle speak on YouTube about being present and breathing, of course, especially in these strange times of uncertainty and unusual fear. The phrase that stuck in my mind, though, was to consider this time when we are self-isolating as a time for a "personal retreat". We may think that we have to schedule such a time, like a vacation, but here it is, thrust upon us. It's a gift of time to consider our life, and to appreciate what we have.<br />
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My husband and I are in a pretty special place here in our mobile park in Palm Springs. We see the news like everyone else, and it looks like the US is on the same track as poor Italy. We almost got freaked out 2 days ago, and were making sudden plans to head north to Tahoe just in case the government started not allowing folks to travel in their cars. Then, we thought, we could be stranded down here in the heat of the summer. Canadians are leaving by the droves, since they have restrictions on how long they can stay away, and their health coverage isn't as good here as at home.<br />
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So that night we ordered a rooftop carrier on Amazon for our Prius, to hold all the extra supplies we've bought. The next morning, I couldn't sleep for worrying about all the packing and cleaning we had to do,<br />
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so I got up early and went outside to garden at 7 am, just as the sun was coming up. I chopped and yanked at and pulled out what we call "devil grass" from between the stones outside our door, in order to plant some Canna Lilies that my friend gave me the day before.<br />
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Some little crickets scurried from under the rocks, and a little daddy long legs hobbled away. I smiled, since I had never appreciated their unusual gait before.<br />
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When I straightened up, and walked over to our vegetable garden to water, our lettuce was finally growing like crazy along with the Swiss chard.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHI_7oDz0nEMaqrjpeyUYaEZOtLuhIbkjqxRLXEFJuzi7WAKjXYhCQg45P726QigdhK7Gxk0qFHs92RC2TWAltakRW-wMGYan8mNJfd1WGEwjQTdqgJnA-c5QAofKzps0LH1wcoeDyEwY/s1600/IMG_5101.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1330" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHI_7oDz0nEMaqrjpeyUYaEZOtLuhIbkjqxRLXEFJuzi7WAKjXYhCQg45P726QigdhK7Gxk0qFHs92RC2TWAltakRW-wMGYan8mNJfd1WGEwjQTdqgJnA-c5QAofKzps0LH1wcoeDyEwY/s200/IMG_5101.jpeg" width="166" /></a><br />
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The flower seeds I planted in November have taken off too, sprouting yellow daisies and the cosmos plant was just blooming. The snapdragons are showing off rather psychedelically in the morning sun. Tomato plants are finally sporting some fair-sized green tomatoes. If we leave now, someone else will eat them. If we stay, we'll still share them. I don't want to go.<br />
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I came in the house and told Doug how much better off we'd be here than in the snow. He agreed, since he had been having second thoughts too. We ordered a new, bigger air conditioner, in case we do get stuck here in the 120 degree summer, and then made plans to go to the pool. The weather in Palm Springs has been so cold and different this season, so we were happy to walk, on the sunniest day that we had seen, over to the nice pool that had just had a new heater installed. There was only one other person there, so no problem with keeping away from her. As we were doing our exercises in the deep end, two mallards swooped right in and landed close by to delight us. The female seemed more interested in bathing and scrubbing and scratching and ducking down to rinse. The teal-headed male washed himself some, but mostly stayed close to her. ("Just like a man", I thought.) They performed for us for about 20 minutes, and then hopped out on to the side to preen themselves and flap their wings dry. Sufficiently refreshed, they took off just as suddenly as they had arrived. We were sorry to see them go. They were like a gift.<br />
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Listening to Eckhart's message today made me sit down to write right away, something I've been meaning to do more of. So many people are complaining about being home, but maybe they can use this odd time to be creative in ways that they don't usually have time for. It's sort of like a forced retirement. I'm thinking of taking up painting again, and playing my ancient guitar once more. Perhaps I'll make some more pots on my wheel, or just paint the wall that's full of holes from having the wall tree on it at Christmas. It's about time. I already bought the paint.<br />
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Or you can go for a walk, or a hike, or ride your bike. It's good to be outside, breathing in the fresh air, just as long as you don't share that air with others. Concentrate on that breath, and be thankful that you can breathe. Wherever you are, be present and appreciative. Perhaps a hummingbird will come and hover over you as you walk along, or you'll catch a glint of sunlight coming through the window and making a rainbow prism on the wall. How does it make you feel? Good, I think.<br />
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Enjoy your "personal retreat".<br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-22361904652096050902020-01-14T11:26:00.000-08:002020-01-14T14:18:53.450-08:00There's Porridge, and then There's Porridge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When at home, on a chilly morning, I'll choose to cook up some nice, steel-cut oats, rather than have cold cereal with lots of fruit. Sometimes it'll be eggs and toast, but many times, oatmeal.<br />
I call my version of oatmeal, "Elf Oatmeal", since it contains quite a few sweet things like Will Ferrell would have in the movie, "Elf". I even include maple syrup, as he is partial to, although ours is sugar-free.<br />
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My recipe, enough for two, is made to start with only one serving of Trader Joe's Steel-cut Oats, and water and and then I heat it while the pot is covered. As it cooks, I cut up a banana and some strawberries, leaving the pan uncovered as I stir them in. I continue to add a few red seedless grapes, blueberries, raisins, tart dried Montmorency cherries, and as it bubbles and needs more liquid, I add almond milk or low-fat milk, so no worries about being lumpy or thick. For a little special flavor, I add a couple of squirts of sugar-free maple syrup. After it's all placed in the bowls that have been warmed in the microwave, I stir in chunky peanut butter, a little brown sugar, or perhaps Splenda, some sort of berry jam, like boysenberry, and more of that sugar-free maple syrup. I heat a cup of low-fat milk in the microwave, adding 1/2 to each bowl, so nothing gets cooled down by adding it cold. My husband used to turn up his nose at the idea of oatmeal for breakfast, but after he tasted my concoction, he even requests it some mornings.<br />
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Sometimes when we go out for breakfast, I hesitate to order the oatmeal that most restaurants serve, since they usually only offer raisins, brown sugar, and milk. Only one time was I pleased with what was offered. It was at a diner in Massachusetts, and we were served by a waitress that reminded me of "Flo", in the old TV show, "Alice". I knew I could get jam and syrup from her, but when I asked if she had peanut butter, she came back with, "Creamy or chunky?"<br />
"God bless you!", I said. I could have kissed her.<br />
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On a recent trip to Ireland, we stayed at a B&B in Kinsale, on the Southern coast, for an entire week. We were served such an assortment for breakfast, by our host, Jimmie Conran, each morning. He always remembered what our favorite things were, and he encouraged us to have porridge, as if it was a tonic for the soul. "Is porridge a type of oatmeal, or is it cream of wheat?" I asked. "Oh, it's oatmeal, but I make it over night and I like to know who will be having it so I'm sure to prepare enough," he explained in his melodic Irish accent. I succumbed, but said, "Only a half portion, if that's all right," since he had already brought out a half pink grapefruit, already sectioned for me. It was a grapefruit from Spain, and unbelievable sweet and juicy. My mouth is watering now, just thinking about it.<br />
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Then, along with the French Press coffee pot, which we were instructed to wait a few moments before pressing down, he brought me my half bowl of porridge. He pointed out the ingredients on the table to ad: honey, cinnamon, tiny bowls of raisins and blueberries, butter, and milk and sugar. He didn't balk at all when I asked for maple syrup. Amazingly, this new recipe became a new, if not favorite concoction that I looked forward to each breakfast. I mixed it all in to my bowl every morning as if it was a ritual.<br />
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Jimmie's breakfast didn't stop there. He always offered eggs cooked to order, sausage or bacon, (which had no fat to speak of), and white or black pudding. We shied away from the black pudding, since we knew it was usually called blood pudding. The white pudding, he said contains some oatmeal, and I think it tastes like a sausage patty, which I'm partial to. There's always the basket of bread on the table, and we both loved the fruit bread, spread with his soft butter, and brought a few slices of the wheat bread up to our room wrapped in a napkin to save for sandwiches we'd make for lunch. After a couple of days, we figured out that we didn't have to order everything that Jimmie offered us, as if we were eating an entire buffet. Some of the folks at the other tables, we noticed, had smaller breakfasts of eggs and sausage and bread and coffee. It didn't take us too long to learn our lesson.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8rVdYI0xnD37-0akHMXGGt6jBI5xQa2pBE3UZvOI39LLYOHd6uGTUx5_9g5M_6RmrQqK3xKyKUzd-0VIvsUOCb7_x1iFppMFk0jUl0dv65bCmhSBHs4mf8z0RMIK_vv5VJ59Ze__qeI/s1600/IMG_4152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY8rVdYI0xnD37-0akHMXGGt6jBI5xQa2pBE3UZvOI39LLYOHd6uGTUx5_9g5M_6RmrQqK3xKyKUzd-0VIvsUOCb7_x1iFppMFk0jUl0dv65bCmhSBHs4mf8z0RMIK_vv5VJ59Ze__qeI/s200/IMG_4152.JPG" width="200" /></a>We left the care of Jimmie, at his B&B called San Antonio,<br />
almost tearfully, in a cab that he go generously called for us, and headed for the train station.<br />
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It was a long travel day, with a train to Tralee, and then a bus that took us the rest of the way to Dingle. Mistakenly, we dragged our rolling bags and backpacks all over town trying to find our next B&B, thinking it was just around the bend. Probably, we should have tried to call a cab, since the walking became too much for Doug. We found a pub on a corner and asked directions. "It's just up that hill," the bartender said. After looking out the door and up the hill, it was decided that it would be best to take the load off our feet and stop for a Guinness.<br />
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Reinvigorated, we tackled the hill, stopping to look at the charming rock walls along the way.<br />
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We finally found Highfield House, on up the hill, and were thankfully greeted by Stephan. He took took our bags off our hands and manfully carried them upstairs for us.<br />
His Mum, Mary, served us breakfast in the breakfast room, each day. At first I didn't dare try the "porridge".<br />
On our last day, she said, "But you must try it with a shot of Bailey's, dear!"<br />
Bailey's Irish Cream, Hmm.... a liqueur that I've avoided, with no reason that I can think of. So I tried it.<br />
Hmm.... Now That was yummy! It wasn't thick, but I added some milk, then raisins, and butter and the liqueur added a savory coffee flavor to it.<br />
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They also had a sideboard full of lovely bowls of grapefruit, and stewed prunes, and a platter of cheeses. Then, out comes what we actually ordered....scrambled cheesy eggs for me and scrambled eggs with onions and lox for Doug....and of course lots of bread and butter. Once again, we'll have to learn the lesson that it's not up to us to order everything on the menu.<br />
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After we came back to California, we had one night to stay in a hotel. It was a Days Inn, a pretty reasonable price, and it included what they called a "continental breakfast". We could tell we were back in America, by the usual offerings of do-it-yourself waffles, bagels, toast, yogurt, coffee and tea. ...except the waffle machine was broken.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEios35ojMgDEPRLpCQ1pW8LmB9RRdVTjACWPxe_TSwUR6BTYG6DJvdsFvcwghJ7qhlrtNt6nT1WklKUZjiuFuHFNqXQDqZ0OuSsnkY3sADgUtSENfLCi8tOisUbzUIOl-b1d-K-0kzfg00/s1600/IMG_4607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEios35ojMgDEPRLpCQ1pW8LmB9RRdVTjACWPxe_TSwUR6BTYG6DJvdsFvcwghJ7qhlrtNt6nT1WklKUZjiuFuHFNqXQDqZ0OuSsnkY3sADgUtSENfLCi8tOisUbzUIOl-b1d-K-0kzfg00/s200/IMG_4607.JPG" width="150" /></a> We almost left to go to a restaurant for breakfast, and then I spotted a big electric pot that said "Quaker Oats" on it's side, and the usual cheery face that I've seen on the side of the cardboard canister all my life. I decided to give it a try.<br />
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It was surprisingly good! I found some jam, peanut butter, and raisins, and heated up some milk in the microwave. I even added just a little touch of coffee to try to bring back a hint of the Bailey's. It may have had to be eaten from a styrofoam cup, but it was passable.<br />
No worries. Soon we would be home again and have access to all my usual ingredients. In the meantime, I've found that I don't have to be so nose-in-the-air about my oatmeal, oh er, porridge.<br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-9527106614620787472019-12-11T19:34:00.000-08:002020-01-02T09:33:28.900-08:00Another Different Kind of Christmas: Thanksmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We've had my husband's kids and our grandkids come down to visit us in Palm Springs for 4 of the 5 years we've been here. It's always been surprisingly chilly. The kids, being kids, still swam in the pool, just because it was there, and considered the big draw.<br />
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So we decided last year to change things up a little bit. Thanksgiving in Palm Springs is usually pretty warm, so why not celebrate Christmas early? We'd still have a nice turkey dinner, which we would all contribute to at the community hall in our mobile park. It would be Thanksgiving to everyone else, but to us..... it would be Christmas dinner.<br />
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So Doug and I started to prepare for the great event. To get in the mood, we put on our Amy Grant Christmas album in the car, and sang along, belting out, "It's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!" And we took off to the stores to shop. We were happier than most, discovering that stores were decorated early and sold supplies for Christmas way before Halloween.<br />
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I worked on things in stages, making lists and crossing accomplishments off.....being rather proud of my obsessiveness. For days, I fussed over the calendar I make for the family every year. Each person has a photo of themself on and around their birthday, and a few are added in the blank spaces at the beginning and ending of each month. The top page of each month displays an array of photos of our travels, or places we visit near where we live. I must admit, it's a nice way to get people to look at photos of "what I did on my vacation" without tying them to the sofa with a big album on their lap. I imagine folks standing and brushing their teeth while gazing at the photos. Well, I do that some times....<br />
My concentration gets so focused on the computer, for so long, that just as Doug is about to complain he's being neglected, Ta-Daa!! It's done! It's sent by computer to Shutterfly, and the hard copies are delivered in a nice orange box in just a few days.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhvZq5AmARtvRij3rAQDwJ_tKF36ExZvktfYVB0YXLySp5Qz7Uonz3rq5vQD0X3uEKU6EJvuSOVQBh58RsCavitkC2zRO3fqWNMDz-EiK8bhJ4WtUD801Xjjhh3j-fzpxVohYbYCu4pU/s1600/IMG_4839.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhvZq5AmARtvRij3rAQDwJ_tKF36ExZvktfYVB0YXLySp5Qz7Uonz3rq5vQD0X3uEKU6EJvuSOVQBh58RsCavitkC2zRO3fqWNMDz-EiK8bhJ4WtUD801Xjjhh3j-fzpxVohYbYCu4pU/s320/IMG_4839.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wonder if anyone will get the meaning of the print?</td></tr>
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The next task is the family Christmas ornament, with each person's name written on it. Usually, I can find these at the last minute, at Cost Plus, or Michael's, when everything for Christmas is half off, since I have to buy over 20 of them. But no. All the ornaments that were available were beautiful, but at full<br />
price, they were over my budget. But then, in Michael's, a huge craft store, they had wood cut "DIY" ornaments, Do It Yourself. Hmm. And.... they were only $1... And they were Half Off! I figured that I could get away with painting a red nose on the reindeer, and just minimal highlights on all the others. I bought a couple of colorful indelible markers, knowing that I had some acrylic paint and brushes at home. I decided to get up early in the morning and work on them. So at 6:30, I sat at the kitchen table with a nice cup of tea, sorting all the types of ornaments according to families, and sparsely painting something on each one. Well, THAT doesn't look very festive! I'll have to add more paint. But THAT should be sparkly, to reflect light from the tree! Another trip to the craft store was made to decide from their grand array of glitter paint, (which I didn't even know had been invented)! Only 2 more early mornings, and I finished, rather proud of myself.<br />
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Christmas presents hadn't even been thought of yet. Mainly they're for the grandkids, but so many of them are tweens and teens now, that it was suggested that they might like "cold, hard cash". So checks were in order, but we decided on an amount for each one including a smaller, more personal gift that was more fun to open up. Michael's proved once again to come through with creative things like special pens and journals for the older ones, and there were other arty projects, scientific discovery games and beads to string for the younger ones.<br />
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Doug offered to help me to wrap them all when I was ready. I had done a few, and was happy for the offer. He tackled the first box, and was wrestling with the paper and scissors at the same table as me. I quickly realized that he didn't have the gift wrapping gene. As I grimaced and squirmed in my chair, he caught it that I wasn't approving. He said, "I'm sure glad you're not my manager! I'm not meant for this menial type of job!". Grinning, he announced, "I need more of an executive position! I went to Yale, you know!"<br />
Laughing, I came back with, " Well, I'm your manager, and we're shorthanded, so I'm working in the trenches with you.... but, (wanting to save my reputation as a pretty neat wrapper), "I think I'll promote you to the job of unpacking the gift bags, writing names on the tags, and then writing out the checks."<br />
"Oh now that would be fine!", he said, "That's right up my alley!"<br />
After that, manager and employee worked well together, giggling and bantering back and forth all evening.<br />
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Now that the gifts were pretty much done, the "Wall Tree" had to be tackled. I've hammered nails in to a wall in the shape of a Christmas tree for the last 4 years, and I've strung lights and green foil garlands around them, and then arranged the ornaments from them.<br />
Last year, we came up with the idea to use a long string of solar Christmas lights for the tree. The small solar panel is parked outside our door, and goes along the floor a bit till it can be included in the tree. We anticipate each evening the exact moment that the sun will go down and the tree lights will come on. Every night they turn on a minute or so sooner.<br />
I really wasn't looking forward to putting it up this year, since arranging the in and out formation of the "branches" is so difficult to plan out. By now, I have made so many nail holes in the wall, I can't copy from last year. (I vow to fill the holes and paint this wall in January. It's getting embarrassing, and no amount of framed paintings that hang there the rest of the year can hide them all.) The new idea is to put a string, like a plumb line, or guide line, hanging from a top nail, and coming down and out to the side, making a nice, crisp, sort of modernistic tree shape. Once again, I was happy, and once again, the lights all came out even, crisscrossing back and forth on the Thanksmas tree.<br />
Here it was, only November 22, and we were ready for Christmas! Oh, er, Thanksmas! Family started arriving a couple of days before Thanksgiving, and it was cold and fiercely raining. There were complaints that it was supposed to be warm in Palm Springs. Then we saw that it was not only raining elsewhere, but snow storms, and something called a "bomb cyclone" was expected to happen along the northern California coast! That appeased everyone somewhat, and the kids ran off to the pool through the rain, accompanied by a couple of adults that watched from the nearby hot tub.<br />
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We cooked our turkey for the dinner at the hall, made gravy, and Doug prepared his traditional Danish red cabbage dish. Each of the "kids" prepared something to share, since there were 14 of us. After dinner, we decided that our Thanksmas celebration and gift opening would be the next morning, since we were all so full of pie and good cheer already. And the kids wanted to go to the pool again.<br />
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Next morning, we all gathered at our little place after breakfast, and the excitement of the grandkids deepened as we found seats for all 14 of us in what we call the "parlour", (where we parle). Presents were arranged in front of the tree by Sinjin, who appointed himself to be Santa's helper, handing them out to everyone.<br />
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The only trouble was, that the tree lights weren't on, since it wasn't dark outside..... It didn't look very festive at all. Suddenly, Doug's daughter, Grace, suggested "What if you cover over the solar panel so it thinks the sun has gone down?" Whoa! What a good idea! Sinjin ran around looking for something to cover it with, and came up with a tile I had on the stove top to set spoons on. No sooner had he placed it, halleujah! The tree lit up!<br />
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Of course, Doug wanted us to do the other Danish tradition of dancing around the tree while singing carols. That was impossible, since we'd bump in to the wall, but we all sat in our places in the little room and sang a few songs, holding hands. It did the trick.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkcFAQqgy3uItRFTet3h-TChyAz75jDWOV4nbTuvPG3Q2QpZgnOuFpkVteCwHunY44TcqWWS3W_UDEmRKirVW9KPat7PL_Jma6YudNQPMIhyphenhyphentjDmHzxVQJURUDMaThFKGg16U-mQBijo/s1600/IMG_4768.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkcFAQqgy3uItRFTet3h-TChyAz75jDWOV4nbTuvPG3Q2QpZgnOuFpkVteCwHunY44TcqWWS3W_UDEmRKirVW9KPat7PL_Jma6YudNQPMIhyphenhyphentjDmHzxVQJURUDMaThFKGg16U-mQBijo/s200/IMG_4768.MOV" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkcFAQqgy3uItRFTet3h-TChyAz75jDWOV4nbTuvPG3Q2QpZgnOuFpkVteCwHunY44TcqWWS3W_UDEmRKirVW9KPat7PL_Jma6YudNQPMIhyphenhyphentjDmHzxVQJURUDMaThFKGg16U-mQBijo/s1600/IMG_4768.MOV" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black;">Finally, Sinjin got to hand out the "stocking bags". I used to fill stockings with treats and gifts, but decided to give the antique, handmade stockings to their owners, and just go with $1 store gift bags. Everyone munched on their chocolates as Santa's helper handed out our wrapped calendars. I heard him say to someone, "I think I know what this is.", with a smile. I was happy to see everyone opening theirs up and searching for familiar faces, probably especially for themselves. Someone said, "Patty, this is your best work!" That made it all worth while.</span></span></a></div>
The "Nut Prize" was next on the agenda. That's another family tradition, where everyone gets a cup of chocolate pudding, and only 1 has a pecan secretly placed in it. Quickly, I cover the tops of all of them with whipped cream to disguise the winning cup, and they're served to everyone on a tray. There is quiet, while everyone carefully eats their way through the pudding, and then, Ava, 10 years old, happily announced, "I got it!" She had waited years for this. The prize this year was a fancy, rather adult coloring book about sea life and creatures, and she was pleased.<br />
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The kids stayed a couple of more days, occupying themselves with crafts, like these cute reindeer made from Palm tree bark that fell down during the storm. They now live happily on the side of our Palm tree out on the patio, and the birds like to sit on their antlers.<br />
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Rainy days kept everyone painting too.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqV7PC-KglhE2yr5ITm32ZTcvT91YcraG0z-fTBzYSnxfb_POBtiyJJlx3OrfU5wYCIxm1Y4CrlwRAmPls2hyphenhyphenkFZiDRfCUZOUcH6Yo94k_fH6wQSRqQ03u9Vu9j6N5qYX6QbUWnoQXRqY/s1600/IMG_4793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqV7PC-KglhE2yr5ITm32ZTcvT91YcraG0z-fTBzYSnxfb_POBtiyJJlx3OrfU5wYCIxm1Y4CrlwRAmPls2hyphenhyphenkFZiDRfCUZOUcH6Yo94k_fH6wQSRqQ03u9Vu9j6N5qYX6QbUWnoQXRqY/s200/IMG_4793.JPG" width="200" /></a>One day, many of us went to the Living Desert, a local zoo that focuses on animals from desert climates. It was pretty cold that day too, but we bundled up and braved the brisk 45 degree F. temps. Well, That's pretty brisk for Palm Springs!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuktxT_KIs5GKjAVtuC0km3uXAMUTMcEiKKFRuss6lw1KFAJkGAGLxsFK9JT4aZaWi0UaO0ET9XQM4Z2C2gkcPTcPDQUnCJ5ybUWQYlsKUQEM1f333kFI-YDS5ewZIICcqzzd7FIp4WI/s1600/IMG_4777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeuktxT_KIs5GKjAVtuC0km3uXAMUTMcEiKKFRuss6lw1KFAJkGAGLxsFK9JT4aZaWi0UaO0ET9XQM4Z2C2gkcPTcPDQUnCJ5ybUWQYlsKUQEM1f333kFI-YDS5ewZIICcqzzd7FIp4WI/s200/IMG_4777.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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The next day, most of the family had long, tiring drives back to the Bay Area, through some snow over the Grapevine and then stalled traffic. The trip that would normally take about 8 hours, added up to 11 or 12. We're thinking they might be too discouraged to come back again next year. Maybe it will be our turn to go to them next Christmas.<br />
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Now it's back to just the two of us. It's such a relaxing feeling to know that we have Christmas done already, except for sending out gifts and cards to those who didn't celebrate early, as we did. When we were in CVS yesterday, I saw a woman grabbing about a dozen pairs of warm fuzzy socks and throwing them in her cart. She had kind of a frantic look on her face and a long list in her hand. Phew! Been there, done that.<br />
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So we still sit in the room with the tree in the evening and bet when the lights will come on. Only one night they didn't! I thought, "Oh no! They're broken! I'll have to start the tree all over again!" It turns out though, that Doug had strung a few more lights over the front of the house, and he figured that it was so bright that the solar panel didn't know that the sun had gone down. He had an idea, and out came the little tile from the stove again to save the day. <br />
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As soon as the tile was placed, on came the lights! Voila!<br />
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Hmm. but now we'll have to find something else to occupy ourselves with, instead of the betting-when-the-lights-will come-on game.<br />
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(Retirement concerns.....)<br />
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Oh wait! It's still almost Jesus' birthday! We can still wait in anticipation for the gift he continues to give us every year.<br />
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<span style="color: red;"> Happy Christmas Everyone! </span><span style="color: lime;">Here's to a very calm New Year.</span><br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-63752972694722116432019-06-11T10:54:00.001-07:002019-06-11T10:54:34.629-07:00Traffic Stop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This story has been brewing in my mind, and I feel enough time has passed now, that the cop that stopped me may have forgotten all about it.<br />
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The day started out with breakfast at IHOP in Palm Springs. We had our usual, sharing a vegetarian omelet, and fruit instead of pancakes. Always watching the waistline, you know. We read the paper, Doug did the Jumble, and I, part of the crossword.<br />
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Coming out to the car, everything seemed fine, until we got in. It REEKED of skunk.....not the animal, but the scent that we've been smelling more and more around here since marijuana has been legalized in California. We looked at each other, shocked. Our Prius' windows were all rolled up, and the car had been locked. Could someone have left a burning joint under our car? We immediately opened all the windows, turned the air conditioner on full blast, and drove along Hi-way 111 trying to air it out.<br />
We were on our way anyway, to Trader Joe's in Cathedral City, and thought that would do the trick. Almost there, we noticed that the light on the dashboard that tells you it's time to get gas, was blinking. It actually started blinking yesterday. It's pretty embarrassing to think of running out of gas in a plug-in Prius, so we drove a little past Trader Joe's, and I pulled into an Arco station. After Doug finished pumping, washing the windows, and paying, I pulled over to a driveway to exit the gas station.<br />
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Hi-way 111 is a pretty busy street, and folks drive along at quite a clip, so after waiting awhile to turn left to go shopping, I gave up and turned right, so I could make a u-turn at the next corner. I scooted across the 3 lanes, and got into the left turn lane. When I looked up, I noticed a "No U-Turn" sign. While sitting waiting for the light to change, I noticed that there was a 7/11 on the corner. Thinking fast, as I turned, I decided to do something, that some of you may have done before..... Doug may have been surprised, as I turned left in to the 7/11 parking lot, since it wasn't in the plan. As I turned in, I said out loud, "Oh, let's go to 7/11", but I was about to then say, kind of laughing, "Oh never mind! We don't need anything here", and then I was going to go out the other end of the parking lot, thus performing a U-turn.<br />
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But actually, as I made the left turn in to the 7/11 parking lot, I saw lights on a patrol car following right behind me! I thought, what I consider now, to be quickly, and skidded in to a parking spot, bumping into the cement berm in front, making quite a loud noise. I then, conspiratorially looked at Doug, and said, "You really need a Coke Zero now, right?"<br />
I saw the officer get out of his cruiser, and as I casually got out of my Prius and closed the door, I looked back toward the officer. He was walking toward me saying, "Are you feeling alright Ma'am?"<br />
"Yes, I am officer," I said, "What's going on?"<br />
"Well, I think you were driving rather erratically."<br />
"You do?"<br />
"Yes, well, you made an illegal turn in to this driveway."<br />
I looked past him, over his shoulder to see what was so illegal about my turn. "Hmm, well, there's a double line out there, not a double-double line, right? I think it's okay to turn in to a driveway if it's only a double yellow line", I explained, looking straight into his eyes.<br />
"Well not at this intersection, Ma'am, it's very busy".<br />
"Well, that shouldn't make a difference though, should it?", I asked.<br />
"Um, uh, I had to check to make sure you were okay, as I said before."<br />
"I'm fine, sir. Thanks."<br />
"Okay then", he said. "Drive carefully."<br />
He turned to get back in his police car, and to turn off the red lights that were still flashing. I walked in to the 7/11 to get the planned can of Coke Zero.<br />
As I entered the store, I noticed that the checker's back was facing a big window and I could see our car right outside. The people in her line were all chatting together and then smiled over at me as I walked toward the soda fridge. When it was my turn at the register, I commented to the girl, "I guess everyone saw me outside with the police officer. You must not get much business coming from Hi-way 111, if people can't turn left into your driveway."<br />
She looked at me quizzically, and said, "Oh, no. They turn in that way all the time."<br />
"Hmm", I thought.<br />
When I went back out to the car, Doug said, "Do you know how lucky you are?"<br />
"That did turn out pretty well, didn't it?", I said, proud of the way I had talked to the officer.<br />
"No", he explained, "You were lucky you got out of the car, and didn't just roll down your window! Can you imagine what would have happened if he had leaned his head down and smelled this skunk?"<br />
Eyes wide and feeling my face turn red, I very carefully backed out of the parking space, the low front bumper on the Prius, scraping once more on the berm, reminding me to "drive safely".<br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-37017056425923026232019-01-13T19:04:00.003-08:002019-01-24T21:24:30.358-08:00Irene Good Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My husband just played the old song "Irene Good Night" on his keyboard, and it brought back a flood of memories.<br />
I probably first heard it on the Lawrence Welk Show, or maybe my Grandma Cuneo or my Mom played it on the piano. My kids and I learned the first few lines when we had our cherry-headed Conure, Polly. We covered her cage with a king-sized pillowcase and wanted her to go to sleep, thinking there was a chance that she might get past her repertoire of "Hello" if we sang her a song. We made it a habit of singing "Irene Good Night" to her. She never did one "peep" of the song.<br />
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While working at the eye clinic at Kaiser Richmond, there was a favorite patient of mine who came in with her daughter every couple of months. Irene, with her metal cane clicking away, was pretty spry for about 92 years. She had a twinkle in her Irish eyes, and was probably pretty spunky back in her day, but now she was a little forgetful, and her mind wandered from her tasks, like reading the eye chart in the hall. Of course, she couldn't see it very well, so she probably got bored trying.<br />
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Since my mind connects words and phrases often to songs in my memory, when I first met Irene, I thought of that song. After finishing with the eye chart, she kept stopping on our walk to the exam room, to say something, or just to wonder what we were doing. When I said, "You know, Irene, your name reminds me of a song. Do you know which one?"<br />
She said "Maybe".<br />
"Well", I said winking, "sing it with me if you know it, and we can continue walking down the hall".<br />
"Okay", she said.<br />
I started in singing "Irene Good Night", as she smiled up at me. I shifted her chart into my left hand, offered her my right elbow, and we shuffled along together, arm-in-arm, without stopping, singing to each other,<br />
<br />
"Irene, good night. Irene, good night.<br />
Good night Irene, good night Irene,<br />
I'll see you in my dreams".<br />
<br />
That was all of the song I ever knew, and Irene didn't seem to mind. She stepped up onto the blue exam chair and was ready to see her corneal specialist. He came in smiling, knowing this patient, and her attitude would give him joy, as usual.<br />
Over the years, it was the habit of Irene's and mine, to happily sing our song down the aisle to her eye appointment.<br />
<br />
Too soon, Irene's daughter came asking to see me in the eye clinic. She had tears in her eyes, and told me of her mom's passing. She wanted to ask me if I would consider coming to Irene's memorial service, which would be at her home.<br />
I had never communicated with patients outside of the clinic, but told her I'd be happy to.<br />
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The next Saturday, I drove up to the address in the Bay Area hills, and made my way to what was Irene's house. Family was gathered there, and I was introduced over and over again to sons, daughters, cousins......not many aunts or uncles, since Irene was the oldest of all of them. She had been sitting in what is called, "the front row" for some time.<br />
We all partook of the array of spare ribs, chicken, potato salad, baked beans, desserts..... whatever is included in a potluck to honor the dead. Heartfelt toasts, with beer and wine, were made to her in her kitchen, in her dining room, and living room by all her family and friends.<br />
But, when it came to the actual memorial service, I'm not sure what happened. We were all in the living room, which looked out at the San Francisco Bay. As many of us that could, fit in there, and I happened to be among them.<br />
There were a few relatives that stood to speak some words of memories of their auntie, or sister, or friend, but it seemed that the remembrances were falling short.<br />
Someone stood up and started to say, "Thank you all for coming.", but I couldn't help myself, and thought maybe I should speak up.<br />
I raised my hand, asking for attention, and stood. I told of my relationship with Irene in the Eye Clinic, and how we had sung our song. "So, do you think? Maybe? Before we end up this special memorial for her, that we could sing the song together that I sang with her?"<br />
Everyone nodded, or said yes.<br />
<br />
"So", I said, "Let's sing....."<br />
<br />
And we all sang....... "Irene, good night. Irene, good night.<br />
Good night, Irene, good night Irene,<br />
I'll see you in my dreams."<br />
<br />
There wasn't a dry eye in Irene's house.</div>
Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-52442089347122675772018-12-28T13:48:00.001-08:002019-08-04T20:19:06.827-07:00Another Different Kind of Christmas, Palm Springs Style<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We've adapted pretty well to living in a smaller space, going from a 5 bedroom, 3 bath home in the San Francisco Bay Area with plenty of room for a 7 foot Christmas tree, to a trailer in a mobile home park in Palm Springs, California. Well, as I like to say, ours isn't your average trailer, and just get the thought out of your mind about "trailer trash".<br />
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Ours may have been one of the first trailers to be installed here. We think so, because we have our own mailbox. Nobody else does. Our lot butts up to the city street, and we propose that it was one of the first "mobiles" to be installed in the park. It's a 1955 Columbia, and the first owners cleverly added on a big room with a vaulted ceiling and wood-framed windows that make it look more like a beach cottage. One friend enthused that it reminded him of cabins in Maine. Another room was added on to the other side of the trailer probably years later, and now folks have a hard time even realizing that there's a mobile home smack dab in the middle of it.<br />
Still, our first Christmas here, I knew, wouldn't be a big Douglas Fir tree in the living room.<br />
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<br />
It worried me.<br />
I would have to be creative.<br />
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Then came an inspiration. Actually it was in a dream. I figure out a lot of things in my dreams. There's a nice, tall wall in one of the added-on rooms, where we had installed a sconce light on the wall. I decided to use that as the top of a Wall Tree (my new invention). I made the outline of a simple Christmas tree with strands of holiday lights.<br />
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So, I don't suppose we will be doing the traditional Danish singing and dancing in a circle around This tree. After all, someone might bump in to the wall.... I knew it was a good idea, when someone mentioned to us that he had walked by our place one night and saw our tree through the window and he thought, "How did they get that Huge tree into their place?"<br />
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The coolest thing about this tree is that we've figured out how to use solar lights to illuminate it! The tiny solar panel sits outside the door. We waited like "Johnny at the rat hole"* to see when they came on in the evening. At first it was at 4:46pm, and then gradually got a couple of minutes later each night as the days got longer. If you blink or turn away, you miss it. So frustrating!<br />
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Along with the cherished ornaments, I brought down the, what I call "antique" snowflake ornaments that we used to hang on our ivy covered wall back in the Bay Area.<br />
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Our Ficus hedge was just the place for it here in Palm Springs, so there it twinkles proudly after sundown.<br />
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I regretted not bringing down more of the historical ornaments, since my idea of decorating a tree involves not having any uncovered spaces. Never fear though. The entire Coachella Valley is known for wonderful thrift shops, chock full of Christmas cheer for me to pick through.<br />
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We have a theory about why there are so many. Palm Springs has been a mecca for retirees for years, and you know, ahem, when they finally go to their final reward, their collection of ornaments are liable to end up in a thrift shop, for all of us to pour over. I have a friend who returns most of her decorations every year and starts from scratch. I would never do that.<br />
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I'm too sentimental....but this little guy was chosen to come home with us, and he seems happy hanging on our front door.<br />
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So, family traveled down from the Bay Area for our first Christmas here. While I was going through stuff in our Richmond garage I ran across some marionettes my family had made in what seems like another lifetime.<br />
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After a trip to a craft store for some missing parts, I had enough supplies to make 8 puppets and, once again delighted a new generation with our "Boogie Birds", a toy that had been manufactured back in the 70's and 80's......long before any of the grandkids were born.<br />
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As dinner time approached, everyone helped out in our tiny trailer kitchen, taking turns with the mixer and the cutting boards and the oven, happily bumping in to each other. The assorted tables were being set out on the patio, but then it was realized we were short by 7 forks!<br />
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"How about some plastic ones?", someone suggested?<br />
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"Nooo!", said I, since I've been campaigning against plastic for years. I stood there, sweat forming on my forehead both from the oven and the outside temp of 82 degrees. And then it dawned on me. "Oh gosh", I said, "I remember when Doug and I got together, I bought some new silverware to accommodate his big family, AND, I thought ahead and bought another set of forks" (as, I thought, most assuredly this family would be growing.)<br />
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"Now, what did I DO with them?!" We had moved and sorted through all of our possessions so much. Where were they??<br />
Then I automatically started asking .... "St. Anthony, Please come around, the forks are missing, and can't be found."<br />
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My mother-in-law, Helen, used to swear by this, and now Doug and I find amazing parking places with St. Anthony's help. Catholics are just that way.<br />
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Well, what do you know? I marched right in to the little bedroom of the actual trailer and found a box that we hadn't yet unpacked, and there they were, all still wrapped in their original packaging!!<br />
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So....a good feast was had by all, and no one had to share a fork. This will hereafter be called "The Miracle of the Christmas Forks."<br />
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Hope everyone had a wonder filled Christmas. Here's to a new and improved 2019.<br />
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* What does "Johnny at the rat hole" mean? I believe it refers to an animal, such as a dog, waiting at the edge of a gopher hole, anticipating the emergence of the gopher. ....or someone who anticipates your needs.<br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-87984913490113197492018-10-04T23:19:00.000-07:002019-05-25T12:42:35.879-07:00My Gardening Obsession: Seasonal Gardening at South Lake Tahoe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some of you may have read a previous post about what I call my "stealth gardening" at our condo at South Lake Tahoe, California. When we first moved here for the summers in 2014, the landscape was pretty bare, but the watering system was regularly sprinkling the dirt at least twice a day......and this was during one of the worst droughts we've had!<br />
I couldn't stand it, since I consider myself the Water Police when we're in Palm Springs, Even though the HOA (Homeowners Association) handbook said "Thou shall not change the landscaping", I decided I would disobey, and plant a few things in front of our place wherever I saw water being wasted. Our yard started looking pretty nice, so I expanded to the area around the pool.<br />
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After 3 years, I finally confessed to the board of the HOA, that it was I who have been beautifying the neighborhood, and they proclaimed that they thought it was great and proclaimed me "The Beautification Committee". They also gave me the dubious honor of being in charge of the sprinkler system, and told the residents to come to me if they wanted to add a little feeder to the existing water hose in their yard. I even got a special tool to attach them..... Little did they all know that I am learning as I go, and have only had success at gardening the last few years.<br />
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This year, I decided that I would open my mouth and ask if some of the residents would perhaps give me small gift certificates to the local garden center, since Doug and I had been purchasing all the plants and soil ourselves for the last three years. But our maintenance man, who appreciates the free help I give him, piped up and said, "How about we give Pat $250.00 this season from the budget, and we can address it again next year?" There was some discussion, and then to our surprise, after the maintenance guy pointed out that "She doesn't charge for labor", they okay'd it. The only thing was, they said, "We'd like you to beautify the WHOLE complex." My jaw kind of dropped, since there are 72 units, but I'm figuring out that I can also plant some wildflower and poppy seeds and then more bulbs at the end of the season. Feeling kind of flush, I got a good deal on a couple of lilac trees...$20. each, since I've seen them making a splashy impression around town. Many of the perennials have come back from the years before, having hidden under the snow in the winter.<br />
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The GOOD news is, that the rodents, the "Name that shall not be said.", except in a whisper, "the voles AKA the Little Bastards", haven't shown their fuzzy little heads yet. (Shh!) They caused me such heartache last year, and I was glad to see them gone......I think they are.<br />
I have great fun feeding the squirrels and chipmunks every morning, even though I know they are rodents too.<br />
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A squirrel, though, may dig a little hole next to a newly sown plant or bulb, probably thinking there's a new squirrel in town that has buried a nice nut that he wants to abscond with. But no, it was only me beautifying the place. At least he doesn't tunnel under it and eat it's roots.<br />
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The birds have great fun eating the nuts and seeds with the chipmunks and squirrels and drinking out of my blue glass bowl of water I provide for them. They've come to expect me to come out the front door in the morning to pick up the morning paper, and shaking my jar of seeds. Blue Jays fly to the tree above me and on the fence and squawk to the rest of their friends, announcing that it's feeding time. I'm discovering that one of them likes to collect the peanuts and set them on top of the fence post of the pool for a later snack. A pair of Mourning Doves make noises with their wings as they soar to a different branch, but actually one of those doves has "attitude" and chases after the Stellar Jays, who squawk back at him. Quite the drama to behold as we sit on the porch or I peer from our front window.<br />
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Chipmunks sit near the steps or hide under a Lupine bush, venturing a little closer if I sit to watch, then run to the rock to get a drink out of the bowl, holding on to the edge of it with their little hands.<br />
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When we first arrived in May, there was a pesky bunny that chewed off the tops of most of the plants that I planted. He especially likes the Shasta daisies that I want to plant. He ate them even though I faithfully sprinkled hot pepper flakes on the dirt around the plants, and now, in July, he's been gone for so long, that I stopped doing even that. Guess he burned his tongue. One of the best native plants to plant around Tahoe is Lamb's Ear. I imagine the bunnies don't care for it because it's fuzzy grey leaves probably feel icky on their tongues.<br />
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When I finished spending my stipend for plants for the year early, I asked one of the board members if I could get a little extra so I could buy more plants while the season was still young. I was so hot to plant my vision of a bunch of hollyhocks and daffodils and Clarkias, and I was on a roll. He said that the board was trying to stay in a budget, so no. The next day however, his wife came over with a nice donation of quite a bit of cash and 3 plants!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow Clarkias and Magenta Hollyhocks </td></tr>
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We immediately went down to this other nursery and found plants that I hadn't seen lately, but were a bit more expensive.... hollyhocks that were two in a pot for $12 and close to blooming, and stargazer lilies which everyone had been missing by the pool, since the voles (shh!) ate up their roots last year.<br />
Then, when our friends upstairs, who are becoming my co-gardeners, took us down to Costco in Carson City, we bought $100. worth of daffodils, tulips, and freesias. They went back the next week and bought 5 More bags. All four of us had the best time running around digging holes for a few days, and depositing an "uneven amount" (maybe a wives tale to guarantee success) of bulbs in each hole all over the complex. The effect should be glorious in the spring!<br />
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I saw a T-shirt advertised that I should probably have bought,(but I don't like T-shirts). It had a nice, colorful painting of several birds, and on top of that said "Easily distracted by birds". I really have been lately. It's become another obsession. Sometimes I'll be talking to someone, and notice a bird, and interrupt my own sentence, or theirs, to point it out. Well, the birds DO seem to like me.....<br />
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Recently I was planting a couple of yarrow plants over near this huge pine tree that looks like the most beautiful, perfect, 30-foot Christmas tree. I've always noticed that a flock of Chickadees likes to hang out in it. The whole time I was digging, they were nearby, making their cute little sounds that I liken to a squeak toy. I was, of course, squeaking back, as I do. I sometimes feel at one with St Francis and his love for animals as I am with the birds, digging holes, planting plants. I took my little watering can to pour some water in the hole, and one of the little birds flew down to get a drink as it came out of the spout! It fluttered mid-air as I kept pouring. Delighted, I poured a little more, and another one came flying to me! I ran to the house to get some birdseed to give them a little gift, and place some on a wooden post that they frequent. When I peeked later, they were busy eating the seeds. Now, is it just me, or isn't that the cutest thing?<br />
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So now, as I finish writing this, at the beginning of October 2018, we've only got one more bag of freesias to plant, and it's scheduled to snow in about a week and a half in Tahoe. Just before then, the watering system will be shut off and my plants will be on their own. The bunny was spotted again the other day, and cute as he is, he was caught munching on a Hollyhock leaf. Humpf! We'll be leaving in about 2 weeks for Palm Springs, so I won't have too many days of watching my growing garden succumb to the cold weather. The good thing is, the bulbs will greet us when we come back in May, and it'll be exciting to see all the perennials popping their little heads out of the ground to have another go at it.<br />
As my Grandma Diddo used to say...."Ain't Life Grand?"</div>
Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8726982543967973027.post-45551336052718283082018-07-08T22:49:00.000-07:002018-07-08T22:49:30.604-07:00This Artist's Yard Is His Gallery<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In the Bijou area of South Lake Tahoe, California, you don't have to travel far to find original art.<br />
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Every person who has come to visit us in the past few years, we have treated to a tour that includes a drive past a certain house on Bobby Grey Circle. It's hard to miss the place. The house, garage, and entire property are covered in designs made of barbed wire, branches and old rusty tools.<br />
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This artist, Gilberto Ramos, is not new to South Lake Tahoe. Born is Jalisco, Mexico, he's lived with his wife, Lilliana (a dealer at Harvey's Tahoe), in South Lake Tahoe for 30 years and has been working at Cafe Fiore for 27 years.....25 of those as the head chef. The restaurant is just off of Ski Run Blvd, and is known for being a romantic place to go for a special occasion and to taste the delicious Italian cuisine, but it also is another<br />
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venue to appreciate Gilberto's rustic art.<br />
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You're greeted at the door by a 9-foot tall weathered wood and rusty metal guitar. "Nothing is thrown away," he says, as proven by the rusty nails for tuning pegs and the old wrench as the guitar's nut.<br />
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Diners are treated to smaller items by their table while they're sipping their wine. The owner, Nick, lets me fill up the empty spaces on the wall. If someone likes them...." he gestures toward a heart, made out of wine corks and sticks, displaying a blue Lake Tahoe shape, "....they can buy them."<br />
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Back home on Bobby Grey Circle, we walk under this mare and her colt, as we come through the gate.<br />
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"I don't work so much with barbed wire much any more. It's too hard on my hands", he says.<br />
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Still, he has a a huge display of wire-made items, including what I call "Woman Walking", which shows off his talent for design.<br />
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Ramos has never been trained as an artist. He says, as he raises up his hands to the sky, "I just receive inspiration from God."<br />
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Something that he says he'll never sell is a replica of Roberto, a<br />
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small donkey that he grew up with in Jalisco. the baby donkey's mother died when he was one day old, so Gilberto's mama raised him indoors like a family pet. When he grew big enough he was put outside, but Roberto knew how to get into the house, which was made from adobe and sticks.<br />
He commonly entered the kitchen on his own to pilfer some fresh tortillas and then ran back outside.<br />
The donkey lived till he was 25, finally succumbing to a rattlesnake bite. Ramos' model of him is a loving tribute.<br />
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When asked which piece was the artist's favorite, he thought for a moment and his eyes landed on the big wooden bird that stands in his yard. It's also the favorite of a woodpecker that has bored a very round hole high up on its neck for a nest.<br />
The majestic bird resembles a Sandhill crane, and it is sturdily attached to the ground by rebar and made to hold fast against the wind by a hardly noticeable wire. The legs are made from branches that have tufts of moss on them, and the body is formed from only a few big pieces of weathered wood.<br />
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Finding the right piece of wood for the bird's head is the deciding point of beginning your basic bird. It's a gift that Ramos has, it appears.<br />
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There are a couple more of Ramos' big birds hanging out at the pool at the Alder Inn on Ski Run Blvd. The owners, Mike and Laura, are big fans of Ramos' work, and have even included some of his smaller items in their room decors.<br />
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Probably the most surprising piece is yet another guitar. Ramos loves it when folks do a double-take and are shocked by his work. That's his goal.<br />
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This guitar is made of mostly branches, and is still a work in progress, but the decision has been made to leave the branches sticking out in the back. Now that makes it a "Wow!" piece! It's as if the guitar just blew into town, or it emerged right out of a tree. This piece should have Hard Rock Hotel and Casino's name on it. <br />
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His personal collection of cowbells, spurs and cow horns, reminds Ramos of his past, growing up in Jalisco with horses and cows.<br />
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He once had a booth at the cowboy Fest in<br />
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Genoa, Nevada, where he appropriately displayed some of his baskets made from lariats. People told him "you've moved so far away from everybody else.... your work is so different." Those words are ones he loves to hear. <br />
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In his gallery of a backyard, nature has an effect on his work. The stream that runs right now at the edge of his overflowed so much after the big snow in 2016-17, it crept up almost 2 feet on the "outhouse" he built to keep some of his supplies.<br />
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"It was kind of scary," he says, his wife Lilliana nodding in agreement. "We could see the water coming closer and closer to our deck!" <br />
Just imagine his big bird wading around in the marshy yard.<br />
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You'll just have to make a trip to see Gilberto's work for yourself. There is so much more to see, like the big wooden swordfish swimming on the side of his house. The tail was made from one piece and stripped of bark until he came down to the core.<br />
There's the other, metal fish jumping, it seems in mid-air, to be caught on the hook of a giant fishing pole.<br />
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Then, there's the life-sized teepee made from barbed wire, rusted knife blades and railroad spikes.<br />
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"Everything is recycled," he says.<br />
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This guy is prolific! And there's going to be more-<br />
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- a beautifully made little wagon is stocked with more branches. "It'll all be used", he says. "God always inspires me."<br />
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Many of his items can be found locally at Wildwood Makers Market on Tallac Avenue, in South Lake Tahoe, and more of his art is on display at Fire and Rain Gallery in Folsom, CA.<br />
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Not everyone wants to buy the big things, so I make some small things for them."<br />
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________This article was printed in the Tahoe Daily Tribune on July 7, 2018, but only with 3 pictures, so I thought I'd do Gilberto justice by putting it on my blog. Pat Reilly Harbo <br />
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Pat Reilly Harbohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14487877940640655220noreply@blogger.com0