Life of Wry

A day in several parts:

Jim, Peter and I started the day with a walk over to and up Skunk Hill.

Then we all headed over to Eric and Staci’s for a LOVELY Mother’s Day lunch and hang out with their brood, Aunt Ellie and Uncle Bud, Bob and Tam, Matty and Chris, Mom, us, and Staci’s parents.

Peter really enjoyed playing with his cousins… here they are at a relatively sedate moment: Ry (5 in a couple weeks), Kate (9 in a couple weeks), Courtney (7) and P:

I didn’t get very many worthy photos today, so will use the few good ones I got… like this one of Chris:

Then we went over to Matt’s to have a quieter celebration of Mom’s 85th birthday… just us immediate family folks: Mom, Chris, Matt, us and John came by, too, before work. Here are Matt, Chris and Mom in the kitchen.  Biggest political discussion was over the minimum wage, with Matt the restaurant owner not wanting anyone to tell him what to pay his employees, and pretty much the rest of us arguing for a living wage.

Yeah, nothing to do with Mom turning 85 or anything. But at least people are smiling.

Peter drove us to all the venues, including the John Wayne Airport, where he and Jim boarded a flight for Sacramento tonight.  They’ve now landed and are on the shuttle home… yay.

Good Mother’s Day/Birthday weekend.  Here’s a parting shot–taken yesterday: the two people who are the subjects of Mother’s Day for me:

Maybe that’s too crude?

But really, Peter, on the verge of getting his driver’s license, gets to take Grandma’s beamer for a spin around the winding coastal, cliffy, rolling hills of Palos Verdes on a brilliantly sunny, warm Saturday afternoon.  With mom.  Well….. it was almost perfect.

Above, we’ve pulled over along Paseo Del Mar to get a look at Bluff Cove.

Here’s Peter, standing on a cliff overlooking the cove, a cliff I spent a fair amount of time on (told him the story about my sitting on the edge, writing in my journal, and along comes a snake..)  We checked out the surf (a PV thing).  You can’t see them, but there are a number of surfers at the various surf spots within the cove.. Upper Indicator, Lower Indicator… you know.

(Isn’t he cooperative?)

Then we drove over to Lunada Bay… not somewhere I went as often…  just beyond the high school… and checked out some more surf. Lunada Bay’s the sight of many a battle between the local surf community and would-be surfers from outside the area. Not a proud statement.

After that, we drove out toward the Wayfarer’s Chapel (Lloyd Wright’s–son of Frank–glass church), past the Pt. Vicente lighthouse, the former Marineland (now a Trump resort development), then along the uppity downity portion of PV Dr. West that is eroding and sinking all over the place. Very fun road to undulate around on.  Then turned around and came back.

Super exciting for the boy.

Now going out for steak at grandma’s favorite local bar/restaurant (60+ year old dive, but very popular), The Bull Pen.  Old school but always reliable. And, you know, steak.  (Fifteen year old, wet dream… right?)

Or, down I-5.

To Grandma’s house we go.  Annual trek south for Mother’s Day, Mom’s birthday (this year, her 85th) and avoidance of Whole Earth Festival.  (Kidding on that last one… I used to enjoy WEF a lot.)

So, this characterized our day.

Partially notable was the fact Peter drove, I rode shotgun and Jim snoozed in the back. When I wasn’t snoozing in the back. Partially because Peter only drove for a portion of the trip–the piece from Davis to the West Sac Subway (yes) and from Santa Nella to the Paso Robles cut off near Coalinga.  Just two out of the eightish hours.  The bloom is off the rose a bit, as he prefers reading and playing 2048 to keeping vigilant on the interstate.  Can’t blame him for that.  But shoot.. less  snooze time for us.

But, dang, he is great company.  Really great company.  Love that kid.

I’m reminded of the book by Calef Brown, Polkabats and Octopus Slacks.  Peter’s Aunt Teresa and Uncle Chad gave it to him when he was a little guy, and it was a huge favorite of his… though Jim and I were probably much bigger fans.  I wrote about Funky Snowman, one of the poems in the book, a few years ago here. Interestingly, that blog post remains the Life of Wry entry with the greatest number of hits… by orders of magnitude.  Seriously, that blog post brings them in in droves. (The Brazen Little Raisin post is a distant second!)

Anyway, here’s what came to mind when I saw this photo (and thought to myself, “how greenish!”):

Clementown is greenish,

the people tall and leanish,

the dogs bark very loudish,

but not because they’re meanish.

 

The food is rather reddish,

delicious radish relish,

there’s never any rubbish,

that would just be foolish. 

 

Well, you know… you have to know that poem, and it has to be something you read a lot back in the day, and it has to be a poem that, to this day, you think about whenever you say, or even think, the word greenish.

By the way, photo taken today at UCD arboretum. Lake Spafford.

The Davis High JV baseball team played its last game today. Ten weeks and 26 games (this doesn’t count the weeks and weeks leading up to the start of the season).  Lot of baseball.

For Peter, it was a great season. He got stronger as the season went on, securing a spot in the starting lineup, usually at second. He got some playing time at third, a little bit at short, and pitched in 7 games.

For us, we’re just happy he enjoyed himself, tried hard, and did about as well as he could have done.  His confidence is up and he’s got some momentum leading into the summer season, and he’s enthusiastic about it, so that is great. We will just enjoy that.  As I’ve said all season, every day he gets to play for DHS is a great day. No sense looking too far ahead. Nothing is certain going forward, so best to have fun while he can.

The team did well this season. They were 17 and 9 overall, and in league play were 12 and 3. The Delta Valley Conference has six teams (we played each team three times); some are strong and some are terrible.  Davis’ only league losses were to the Elk Grove Thundering Herd (all three games), who went on to win the conference title with a 13 and 2 record. Close!

It was sort of fun to close the season with such a challenging opponent, and it was especially fun that Peter got to be the starting pitcher in our last game. He pitched okay, held them to three runs over 4 1/3 inning, and for a while Davis was actually in the lead, but things got sort of funky in the last two innings. All three of Elk Grove’s final runs came in on walks and hit batters with bases loaded. Frustrating. Coach Creely registered his disdain for the Elk Grove tactic of leaning into pitches to draw a HBP. Hrrmph.

Lots more to say about the season, but then this would read like a baseball article; can’t have that.

Instead, here are some pictures:

Peter’s final at bat: a hit (lucky nobody was covering first as several players went after his bloop single that dropped just out of the infield) and an RBI.

Peter ended up with pretty solid batting stats for the year, which I don’t think anybody expected. He got to bat in the #5 spot today, which I think he both loved and earned. Another nice stat: he went the entire season without a single strike out. He wouldn’t let me bring that up for the last couple weeks in order not to jinx him.  So I guess that worked.

[Enjoy this. Enjoy this. Enjoy this.]

Okay, so enough baseball speak.  Here are some shots from a great-little-find-of-a-restaurant–The Squeeze Inn–where eight of the guys went for the post game dinner. Wish the other six had joined, and even the coaches, but there will be a more celebratory banquet in a couple weeks where a more formal season wrap-up will take place. Or not. These Davis coaches don’t go in so much for these sorts of bonding and camaraderie building rituals. The guys gotta make their own fun. And, they do.

The Squeeze Inn:

Here’s what one might eat in this out-of-the-way diner:

I’m not kidding. That is cheese spilling out of the burger, fried with the burger and crisped on the grill. Insane.. Not that I would have ordered one, diet that I am on. You should have seen the baskets of fries, especially the crinkly sweet potato fries. I’m going back someday for the full experience. (My chicken taco, while also fried, cheesy and extremely tasty, was not the way to go.)

So.

Here are Noah, Danny, Gooey, Peter, and Ray:

And here are Tyler, James and Solly (and a bit of Noah again):

I’m the kind of person who can’t just do stuff she’s been wanting to do forever. The time has to be right. There has to be a rhyme or a reason. It has to fit.  People who know me, know this very anal retentive thing about me.

If it’s something like reading, well, I can’t just read. I have to have the psychic space, the time, the capacity to read. Especially in the case of reading, the decks have to be cleared so I can kick back and absorb the moment fully without worrying that other stuff isn’t getting done. Those other things have to be done. I might even have to have a clean house or at least order around me. I have to have peace.. not literally, but peace in my head, an openness, a readiness.

I am a champion book collector. I buy so many books, it’s a little disturbing. I so love the idea of reading and the expectation that I am going to have the time, soon, to read, that I acquire books at an alarming rate. I have books stacked up everywhere–in baskets, on shelves, on end tables of various sorts. I read reviews (and then buy the book). I listen as other people rave about the book they’re reading (and then buy the book). I listen to stories about books on the radio with great enthusiasm (and then buy the book). I love receiving books.

And yet.

I never read. I have the intention, and, as I said, the expectation. But the time just hasn’t been right. Too much other stuff on my plate. Super, super important stuff, you guys. (Uh..)

I’m not even that bothered by any of this. It’s weird. I just know I will read when I am ready.

(I should mention here, I read a lot, but not books. I read articles, and essays, and Facebook, and online news stories. I even read a bit of the newspaper. It’s not like I don’t consume info. And, I should also clarify: I read other people’s draft novels.. in the last few years, I’ve proofread and/or edited four of these.. two non-fiction, two fiction… and I love that. But it’s not the for pleasure kind of reading I’ve been longing to have the time/space for.)

So… all that said… guess what!  I have started a book and I am now in the middle of it. I have had this [growing] definitive stack of “must reads” in my office, about twenty books all ready to go, but this particular book jumped to the top of the stack because Jim gave it to me for Christmas (2013) and I was too embarrassed not to make it my first.. since it was the latest and greatest acquisition (of the gift variety).  It’s gotten very impressive reviews and when I say I’m reading it, most people nod in recognition, or, in many cases, have already read it.

I feel so awesome when I’m in that club. Self esteem points way up.

I’ve always wanted to be that person sitting in a cafe with the leisure time and wherewithal to be reading. Right? Isn’t that just the best? And…. four or five times in the last two weeks, I’VE BEEN THAT PERSON! Me, at Mishka’s, drinking my au lait, eating my favorite muffin, listening to music, wearing my reading glasses, and reading my book. Sometimes my feet are up on an adjacent chair. It is very cool.

For Mother’s Day, I asked Jim to build me a post on which to string our hammock… because during the summer, I’m going to read there. Yup: newly re-landscaped backyard, hammock hanging between the play structure and the new post, shade, maybe some lemonade (or a beer!).  And a book.

Plenty more to say about this, about this leisure time of which I speak–what it means, what it represents, how I feel about being a 58 year old person who’s got so much of it. I am processing this. And I am a bit unsettled about the whole thing. So… more on that.  In the meantime, I am happy to be reading, because I’ve said I’ve wanted to for a very long time. I said I would have the time one of these days, and now I do. Took a while, but I finally got there.

This is what I’m reading.. Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. And that’s a table at Mishka’s.

So far, so good.

:

Is this insanely pretty or what? It’s that corner again in South Davis that I drive by when I’m coming home from Davis Swim and Fitness.  Breathtaking, especially on a day like this.

What about this one? Along 102, looking north.

And then there was this… Peter and I, in the drive-through of In ‘N Out, found ourselves in the middle of a violent downpour… he was pretty stoked.

Enjoying Peter as he enjoys music. Tonight he played some Pink Floyd on Jim’s guitar and sang. Sang completely unabashedly–nothing at all to be abashed by, but the singing was new. And incredibly sweet.

He knows all the lyrics to so many songs from my generation, songs I should know the lyrics to, and don’t.  I didn’t anticipate that.

Anyway, took no pictures, so went into the archives. Here are his former best pals, Little T and Big T. Rocking out, playing the guitar and singing. Obviously.

Such the portent.

Wish You Were Here

Today, Ruben–and his various crew folk–finished the flagstone path around the yard. Pretty damn excited about this, as it re-establishes some structure to the backyard and defines some planting areas (i.e., next projects).  In the last, oh, fifteen years, say, the backyard has grown rather amorphous looking.. there were remnants of a previous landscape design, but groomed areas had given way to neglect and a certain tussled-ness became the predominant theme.  Not entirely unkept, but definitely not garden-tour worthy.

Anyway, here’s the more-or-less 360:

One’s first view, when crossing the bridge:

Heading left and around to the backside:

Rounding the former play structure and soon-to-be garden shed with terrace-roof (note spur trail off to right, which leads down to the future raised bed:

Over the creek, past the ailing nectarine tree, and back to the bridge:

He reinforced what was a haphazardly laid stone path, which is now pretty cool, which also leads to the future raised bed:

And he repurposed a once randomly placed boulder into a perfect garden bench:

It’s a little hard to tell, but the new bench is perfectly flat on top. It’s a great place to sit in a very shaded, and now very accessible, spot. We’re also going to be adding a post for stringing a hammock (other end will secure to the garden shed (as it were).

All ready for the next project(s).

This is a photo of Peter and Daniel working through some signs. Maybe. At least that’s what we’d like to believe.

It was Crush’s first season, the fall of 2008. They are 10.

That was only five and a half years ago, but a lifetime for them.

A couple of days ago, right after school, I dropped Peter’s bat bag off just before practice. We met, as we typically do, at the corner of Catalina and Covell, adjacent to the JV field.  Daniel had just re-parked his car (yes, his car) on Catalina so it’d be close when practice ended.

So here they are, one big 16 year old and another nearly 16 year old, walking together to practice.

Still playing together.

(Note: It bears mentioning, that when Peter was a teeny toddler, I’d take him to Central Park to play on the play structure.  I’d take him to all the parks in town, but frequently, when at Central Park, we’d run into retired DJUSD superintendent Floyd Fenocchio, whom I used to work with, and who was taking care of his grandson, who happened to be the same age as Peter.  And, yeah.. that was Daniel. Little did we know then, that five years later, they’d both start T-Ball, and five years after that, they’d be on the same travel team. Both had been selected to play in the District 64 tournament for their respective leagues, and when a brand new travel team was formed with the best from each of those teams, Peter and Daniel ended up playing together.  They played for four years together on Crush. Both then made the freshman team, and this year, both made the JV team. We still see Floyd at all the games. Been a great ride. Hoping it continues..)