Life of Wry

… the subject is rain. We are in the throes of the worst storm in years and years. They say. The media, government officials, school officials, medical institutions–everyone–has been warning us to take precautions and protect ourselves from, like, everything imaginable. Which, of course, I appreciate.

So far, it’s been a wet one, but nothing out of the ordinary, at least not here. Just many puddles to clear, lest our leather clogs get waterlogged n’ soggy.

Here’s who’s lovin’ the rain…these guys:

Probably the bigger news in our house is Jim’s second broken off tooth. The first [very prominent, very visible] incisor broke off last winter sometime, but he just finished the whole implant install about a month ago, so it seems like there is just no end to this toothless smile business. Poor, poor guy.

Today they removed what was left, so he’s all tender and abused. Can’t chew nuthin. Nor can he have anything hot. So it’s smoothies and cool soft stuff for the rest of the day:

Frozen fruits and bananas for smoothies, vanilla yogurt, vanilla filmjolk (Swedish drinkable yogurt, sorta like kefir), tapioca, chocolate pudding… and candy bars for the caregiver.  (Kidding; he needs no caregiver, but gingerbread chocolate bars and coconut mint chocolate bars? Oh yes.)

Went to a Davis High School girls varsity basketball game tonight.

There is something about the vibe at a high school girls sporting event that ignites a flame deep, deep within. That was my world, the girl jock world, and I still feel connected, like I belong there.

Those were my people then, those were my people tonight.  I never played basketball in high school, but all I wanted to do was get out there and play. Crazy, huh? I think so highly of my prowess, I figured I could fold right in. Crazier still.

Fact is, basketball probably would have been a good fit, but the girls’ season in high school conflicted with the end of tennis and the beginning of track and it was never going to work out. But I got my chance in the late 80s when Davis legend and former All-American basketball player from Wisconsin, John Pamperin drafted me (kidding) and a bunch of other over 30 women to play on a team he was forming and hoping to travel with. He ran practices out at Chestnut Park and it was amazingly fun. The whole thing fizzled out before we became famous (kidding again), but not before he’d told me I was the most natural player he’d ever seen. Only I could love this story so much. And even though I’m not sure there was a shred of truth in it, I loved it anyway. That was the start and the end of my basketball career, but it was exquisite while it lasted. My souvenir was learning to do a lay up.  (Lots of other stuff too, but that’s the one skill I pull out whenever I get near a basketball court.)

I’m kind of cracking up at the memory of all this.  Glory days, huh?

So… here’s a pic.  I am a terrible sports photographer!

Ball? Ball? What ball?! I was fixated on Anna Belenis, Peter’s kindergarten buddy who’s an exceptionally good player and has played on the varsity team since she was a freshman. She’s #2 in the white, and played a great game tonight.

One of the things I totally dig about the end of the year is going through all the photos I’ve taken over that year and picking out and setting aside my favorites. I now have a Best of 2014 album that has 308 landscapes and 160 people shots.  And counting… we’re not at December 31 just yet!

Many, most, have shown up in this year’s blogaday/photoaday Life of Wrys.  But since I’ve yet to blog our annual Yosemite trip (I will, I will, hopefully before the year is over), you guys haven’t seen any photos from Aug 4-12. There were some very good ones from this year’s trip.. Yosemite being kind of a perfect subject and all.

Here’s one I took with the Panasonic. We were on a mellow group hike with the John Frames–four adults and five kids. We’d just come down off of Lembert Dome and were making our way down a trail around the backside when Peter decided he wanted to go see Dog Lake.  Nobody else wanted to take the half-mile spur trail that leads to the lake so he took off by himself. A little while later, I decided I’d join him after all, so started to run to catch up. He had also run, so by the time I caught up to him, he had already reached the lake, looked around and was running back.  I thought, well, heck, I’m going to go see the lake since I’d gotten that far, and continued my run. Glad I did, I was rewarded with this: a perfectly still lake and a fantastic view of Mt. Dana in the distance (Yosemite’s second highest peak–13,000 and change–and one of our favorite climbs).

And speaking of reflections, the next day we all went to climb Mt. Hoffman (a peak known for its location in the dead center of Yosemite National Park, 10,852). This time we were joined by the Matalon/Frames, so now we were twelve. This is a shot of May Lake at the beginning of the hike. You can’t see Mt. Hoffman in this picture; it’s well out of view behind the peaks on the other side of the lake. We’ve climbed Mt. Hoffman numerous times and it’s definitely challenging and one of my favorites.

Finally, in the favorite photos of 2014 not yet seen in LOW category is a photo I took while messing around the Lyell Fork (of the Tuolumne) with Betsy, my oldest buddy in the world whose family was staying in the valley, but she was able to shake loose and drive up to see me for an afternoon and have dinner with us.  We got some spectacular clouds as a storm was threatening to move in that night (and it did) and even more reflections, this time on a slightly moving river. I took this with my iPhone.

That actually may also be Mt. Dana in the distance on the left.  You can definitely see it from this meadow, but I can’t tell if it’s that distant peak or one even further to the left out of view in this shot. No matter. This is one gorgeous spot; some of my all time favorite photos are from this area… all jigsaw puzzle worthy.

Committing to write a daily blog requires that one reflect daily. I really like this part of blogging. I appreciate the check-in, the attention I have to pay, the consciousness. I’ve been sitting here, for example, for about an hour with my mind wandering all over the place, thinking about the day, writing a little, dozing by the fire, content as a cat. I’ve written half sentences, half paragraphs, still looking for an opening. Usually, it takes some shape as stream of consciousness morphs into a theme. Sometimes, however, like now, nothing coherent comes. Just random stuff.

A lot comes up in this process, though, one way or the other.

Thinking about the conversations I had over coffee at two different times today with two different friends.. my takeaway: there is a lot of life going on out there… my hat’s off to everybody. You’re all–we’re all–dealing with a lot-o-sh*t. Life’s good, life’s messy and I’m reminded of a recent expression: Not my circus, not my monkeys. Which is now a thing. But it’s also apt. Not because other people’s lives are none of our business.. there’s plenty of room for empathy, compassion and generosity.. but because there are a LOT of circuses out there with a LOT of monkeys. We are not the only ones on earth livin’ our crazy; there are a LOT of brands of crazy out there, which is to say lots of challenges, lots of alternative happinesses. Many ways to walk through this world.

Thinking, for the 58th consecutive year, what the hell Christmas is about… reminding myself that one thing it’s not is the ticking off of items on my ridiculously organized to-do list, though in early December, that’s exactly what it feels like. Maybe that’s okay. Maybe things in life are most enjoyed when you’ve worked hard to get there. Tranquility is most sublime after slogging through the chaos and muck. We all thrive on accomplishment. Accomplishment is one of the essential food groups.

And still working on finding the sweet spot in the holidays. Our numerous, numerous little things are adding up to a whole that is its own glowing magic.

And yeah, I am deeply grateful for the serenity of our home. For me, peace at home, in part, is a function of order, uncluttered space, and calm. As well, comfort and aesthetics. Respite from the storm. All important. Our home does winter particularly well.

Speaking of, weather today was unremarkable, foggy this morning and overcast this afternoon, neither pleasant nor terribly cold. But I, like everyone else in the state, am so relieved at the forecast of an epic storm on the way. I’m ready to hunker down for a couple of days of rain and wind, willing trees not to fall on our roof, as I do.

I’m appreciating that Peter gabbed eagerly and forthcomingly at dinner tonight, then voluntarily, without being asked, cleared everyone’s plates from the table…then dropped one on the way to the sink and it shattered, the shock of which made him drop his glass, and milk went everywhere. He laughed out of embarrassment, but he also knew we weren’t going to kill him, which is my favorite part of that story.

A minute ago he and I radar’d the speed of a rubber band, shot from one end of room to the other. This is Peter–my how fast, how far, how deep, how long guy. (By the way, any guesses?**)

Very amused by an online program called Elfster that I set up tonight for eight Frame cousins (inlaws and outlaws) that will facilitate the draw for our annual gift exchange. Yet another modern time-saving planning device brought to you by the internet.

Not very amused that Jim broke yet another (very prominent) tooth and will have to have yet another implant. Especially after having gone nine months with a very visible gap in his smile. He’s already decided to get fitted for a “flipper” (?) which is a temporary, removable tooth to fill the space, a purely cosmetic device, and in my opinion worth whatever it costs. Poor, poor, poor guy. Hell awaits, including painful shots of novocaine into excruciatingly awkward places.

Texted furiously this evening with my cousin, who’s on the front line of elder care, and at the end of a trying, difficult and heartbreaking day with her aging parents. Today’s traumas included a near-tragic miscommunication that left my uncle cold and alone, stranded in his wheelchair on the driveway for about half an hour before somebody noticed, and a tumbling fall on a hard tile floor. Both very unfair, violent and insulting. Hearing that news at 10pm, you don’t get into your car and drive an hour. You don’t call and offer words of encouragement. You just sit with it. And try not to see the picture of either in your mind.

So.

Today was a quiet Monday in early December. Life notwithstanding, it was a sweet and gratifying day.

I make a point of taking pictures every day so I have something to work from, but sometimes the photo doesn’t tell the right story. Here’s a downtown shot.. E Street Plaza, including the city’s just installed and decorated tree. I’m the one holding a large bag full of gifts.

Finishing, nearly, my Christmas shopping does, definitely, define this day.

** We radar’d many: 71mph, 91mph, 84mph, 88mph. You win if you guessed any of those.

For the last, I don’t know, five years or so?, we’ve been going to Silveyville for our Christmas tree. Usually we cut one down, but this year we chose a silvertiip fir, which is pre-cut and rests in a pot of water on the lot. Years past, they’ve been out of them, at least when we’ve been there; they come from Oregon and typically in smallish loads.

I’ve been pining (as it were) for a silvertip because I’m pretty sure that’s the variety of tree my grandparents used to get every year, on which they’d place (precariously sometimes) candles, which my grandpa would light on Christmas night with the family gathered around in due reverence (and in the dark)… and you know, it was a big deal and a Danish (and Peterson) tradition and all wrapped up in warm and glowy memories for me, so I thought it’d be nice to, if not light real live candles, at least get that kind of tree.

So, we did.

Here’s some Wikipedia info:

Abies magnifica, the Red fir or silvertip fir, is a western North American fir, native to the mountains of southwest Oregon and California in the United States. It is a high elevation tree, typically occurring at 1,400–2,700 metres (4,600–8,900 ft) elevation, though only rarely reaching tree line. The name red fir derives from the bark color of old trees.

Here’s the before:

Pricy little bugger.

And here’s the after:

And so tonight, we trimmed the tree (Peter even helped, which thrilled me no end) and put up the usual decorations in the usual places.

Some shots:

Here’s that Scandinavian candle thing (I actually think a lot of European cultures claim this one) — the heat from the candles spins the angel, whose little baton hits two bells (again and again and again and…) — it’s very sweet:

And a little collection of other Swedish holiday paraphernalia:

And nutcrackers, angels and Santas collected from various places over the years:

And because I figured out how to use the macro feature on my iPhone camera, some ornaments:

And with that, I’d say Christmas is in full swing.

Jim and I realized this morning that between us, between the two of our families, we will be celebrating the 90th birthday of two patriarchal members– my Uncle Bud, whose celebration takes place on December 21, and Jim’s dad, whose birthday next month will bring all the Jim Frame Sr kids (and families) together in (or around) San Diego. Two family 90-year-old birthday parties in two months.

And… we each have a 90+ member of our family who is struggling–my Uncle Vic (92) and Jim’s Aunt Annita (91).

I visited Uncle Vic today.  I spent most of the time with my cousin Heidi, doing stuff around the house for my aunt, and we had lots of conversations about aging at home and other difficult and heartbreaking end-of-life issues. The day was filled with cautionary tales–among many: knowing how you want to live out your final days (years, weeks, days) and ensuring the pieces are in place so you’re not caught off guard. We ran errands, put things into and took things out of the attic, made a dump run… and supported each other as we recounted the challenging experiences of dealing with our parents. Pretty open and frank conversations as we know each other’s parents so well, as if they were our own.

I only have two uncles and two aunts. All four are still around, but all are definitely in that zone.

My Uncle Vic is definitely slowing way down, but managed lots of smiles, and was enormously gracious. Here he is decked out in a Niners snuggly preparing to watch an action movie, which is something he apparently really enjoys these days. Funny.

Very unrelated but also in the category of cautionary tales:

Here is my first Uber vehicle…

… that is, the first one I’ve seen on the road. You can’t quite make out the Uber name on the license plate, but that’s what it says. UBER.

Other things to notice: people still drive Hummers?! And wow, how ’bout those clouds! You should have seen Mt. Diablo and the Suisun marsh. Holy sh*t what a gorgeous day.

The cautionary tale part?  I have decided that this is my last ever photo taken while driving.

I know.

I did a great job of harshly (very harshly) lecturing myself while I stressed about wanting a photo but thinking it was a bad idea to take one while driving, and proceeded to take it (them) anyway. I said to myself, You want a photo? Pull off the road and take it! Nothing is worth crashing over. The lecture went on and on and had to do with how stupid it was to be speeding along the interstate at 75mph taking a stupid picture that surely wasn’t worth the risk, to myself or anyone else, how arrogant, hypocritical and thoughtless that was to assume I was capable of snapping a picture while driving when I rail against anyone else who would text while driving (and I so do… rail, I mean, I DEFINITELY do not text anymore).  What an insanely pathetic way to die… losing control of a car while trying to take a stupid picture of the nice clouds (which I did) … or a car with an UBER license plate.  Right? Really, really stupid?

So I declared to myself, and now to the world (the tiny world of LOW readers) that I am NEVER going to do that again. Not ever. I totally promise.

(The great thing about this is, I won’t. I’m that kind of person. It truly was my last photo while driving. I am so relieved.)

In the throes of photo reviewing–for Christmas card, for 2015 calendars, for custom jigsaw puzzles, for Uncle Bud’s 90th birthday, for sweet collages of aging aunts and uncles…up to my digital eyeballs in photos–vintage and current–and came upon this.

So it’s today’s photo. A bit of a cop out, but hey.

By way of explanation: me in corduroy pedal pushers*, cotton knit sleeveless, breezy summer do, and, out of view, fashion flip flops, back then called go-aheads. I’m going to guess about four years old, on patio in the backyard (at house where my mom still lives).

* Pedal pushers are calf-length trousers that were popular during the 1950s and the early 1960s (says Wikipedia).

Gosh you guys… I just couldn’t stop taking pictures today, you know, big fancy photographer me… it was crazy beautiful all day, and warm besides (any December day above 65 degrees is just nuts). What on earth is going on?

Between storms, I hope, and just plain warm and springlike.. that was today.

Anyway… it was a perfect Fall day… Leaves and color. Here are some favorites.  I am most grateful to the folks who endured my many stops to take just one more picture.

LOVE a leafy sidewalk. C Street.

Some yellows around Spafford Lake..

And around the bend, the reds..This area was flooded yesterday when Lake Spafford overflowed its shores. That bench was largely under water. YESTERDAY.

A little closer and to the right…

Then the main attraction… those two gingkos on the hill..  Gingko #1…

And Gingko #2…

They are past their main drop (though there are still so many leaves left to fall!)… Just look at this lusciousness. I couldn’t wait to see them and they didn’t disappoint.

Heading back into town, ran into more yellow… this could be tallow.  Shadows are mine and Vicki’s.

Later this afternoon, over on F Street, the sky above the old City Hall, a new color scheme… (enhanced with a cross process filter)

And later still over by the University Mall…

I’ll close with a shot of clouds I futzed a bit with… because it was a day of leaves, color AND clouds…

(And I will spare you the gorgeous near-full moon rise through dramatic clouds, because the pictures didn’t come out so well, but trust me, it was a great way to end a beautiful day.)

Can we all just take a long deep breath and enjoy like mad all that refreshing wet air? It’s fantastic! As I write this, the rain is pounding the roof, as it has much of the day. I’ve already heard the buzzkill water guys state that it is too little too late, which, okay, I can do the math, too…. but for now I’m just going to enjoy the rich, dark, sogginess and hope it continues for a few more days.

Some shots from the driver’s seat:

2nd & E with either a lo-fi or lomographic filter…

B St, between 2nd & 3rd (I used to live in the apartment on the right, senior year (my second senior year)), this photo has either a polarized or color dodge filter…

And a bit further down, still B St, still between 2nd and 3rd, but with a cross process filter…

I took these yesterday, but decided to wait until today to post, simply because I’d also taken some pictures of the between-storm skies over Davis and that seemed more appropriate for yesterday’s post since it’s supposed to darken up and rain like hell for the next couple of days.

Anyway… this is the countdown calendar, that little wooden drawer-filled cabinet tradition thing that has signified the beginning of the Christmas season in our house for about the last fifteen years or so?  We acquired this when Peter was about two or three years old at the suggestion of Pam, whose daughter Chenoa was Peter’s little bestie during “the Katie years” (daycare provider) and if they both had a countdown calendar, they could share stories about the goodies they found and whatnot and it would be fun for them.. and…

.. it seemed like a good idea. And it was.

Every year, I find twenty four little trinkety things to fit into the micro drawers, and each day, Peter opens one drawer… yeah.. I’m sure you know the drill.

And man, December 1st comes so unexpectedly fast each year. I’M STILL EATING LEFTOVER TURKEY FOR CHRISSAKES.

I ran around yesterday gathering tiny little things that are at least a little age appropriate which is always a bit of a challenge. TWENTY FOUR THINGS!  Used to be micro toys and candy worked just fine.. and marbles, miniature decks of cards, bouncing balls, a nickel, things like that.  In later years it’s been things like thumb drives, ear buds, and iTunes cards which are far pricier.

I gave up years ago thinking Peter was too old for this ritual… and have now totally accepted that it’s a thing until he is no longer living here for twenty four consecutive days in December… meaning, we probably have only two years left–this and next–and what the hell, it’s fun, and he still loves it.

Shhhhhhh…. don’t tell his big guy friends.

Day one (yesterday) he pulled an iPhone 6 out of the drawer… really a tiny eraser in the style of a smart phone. Kind of a joke since he’s been out of his mind wanting the new iPhone, but the right deal hasn’t come along, which has frustrated him no end, and maybe it was mean of me to put the little rubber replica in the drawer instead, but hey, all is fair in love and tacky consumerism.

Especially for the SIXTEEN year old countdown calendar guy.