Life of Wry

On December 10th in 1948 the UN adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. This was an effort that Eleanor Roosevelt championed and one which she considered to be her greatest professional and life accomplishment.

The Declaration has a short preamble (seven whereas’s and a proclamation) and 30 articles that affirm the values of global human rights, dignity and freedom.

It has no binding authority, but it is a powerful and inspiring document.

So, our neighbors Verena and Ray put on a event annually at the International House in observance of the document’s adoption. They organize a multi-cultural, multi-lingual reading of the declaration, followed by a short discussion, followed by cookies.

Sixty-one people participate in the reading: a person to read the preamble, and two people to read each of the articles–one who translates the article into the language of his/her country, and another to read it in English. I counted 21 different languages (some languages repeated, like Spanish, Arabic and Farsi). The reading is hugely symbolic and therefore pretty moving.

This is Barak Zilber who is reading Article 7 in Hebrew. Article 7 has to do with all people being equal under the law and entitled to equal protection against discrimination. To his left, Bengali, French and Chinese; to his right, Czech, Spanish and Japanese.

And so it went.

Peter and I participated this year (our second time). I read Article 27, Peter 28.

Maybe not surprisingly, I saw lots of people I knew–bunches of neighbors, a couple city council members, an old friend from the way back, the son of one of my first bosses, some old work contacts… it was fun and all community-ish.

And, thankfully, Peter ran into two friends who were also recruited as readers: Sam and Madison (“M.E.” whom he’s known since they were in the same kindergarten class!).

This picture is funny to me, not because of Peter’s half-annoyed, half-bemused expression, but because I had expressed all manner of displeasure at his wardrobe selection, explaining to him that an event like this deserved the respect of nice clothing, something OTHER THAN a hoodie. He disagreed (What does he know!, I thought but didn’t say). You will note that both Sam and Madison are wearing hoodies.

One of my favorite parts of the night was the post-reading discussion. A couple of people spoke about Trump–one said he’d violated about half of the articles and undermined most of the intent of the Declaration. Sam stood up and said he was aware of the relatively privileged life he was leading, being a white guy in an affluent community with easy access to basic and essential amenities and freedoms. He went on to say he was prepared to dedicate his life to reaching out to people in other parts of the world who struggle for even the most fundamental of human rights. He was absolutely serious.

It gave me hope.

Jim has this cool project coming up for the university. He’s been contracted to measure and map the depth of Putah Creek. Not just any Putah Creek…the Putah Creek right down the street…the stretch that runs from the east end (Whole Foods parking lot, shovel gateway) to Spafford Lake (right next to Mrak Hall).

To do this, man needs a boat.

Exhibit A:

Maybe I could help to trim the sails?

Hallelujah.

So, last night, I’m up late, sitting at my computer, and I begin to fiddle with my rings. I rarely remove my wedding band, but I’m reading some article online, probably a recap of President Obama’s address on terrorism and gun violence, and maybe I’m agitated, or nervous, but I’m sort of mindlessly playing with my ring… I’d pulled it off and was spinning it around on my finger.

As I spun it around, I realized it felt weird. The edge was too sharp. The ring felt too light. I looked at it and noticed it was too narrow. This is not my ring!

It was 1:00am and I may not have been processing well, but a million thoughts and theories were flying. I thought perhaps Jim had switched rings: maybe he was going to take mine into the jeweler and do something exciting with it. (I know, with a wedding band?) Or maybe he was going to use it to have a new ring sized, a special Christmas present! This didn’t make any sense at all, but it was the best I could come up with.

I went into the bedroom. He woke up. I asked. He grumbled something that was the opposite of affirmative. I went to sleep baffled.

I woke up this morning baffled and resumed my theorizing. I followed one lead to a dead end (Spa Central).

I’m already out of leads.

And I am truly, truly flummoxed.

First off, I rarely take off my ring. When I do, it’s only for a moment, or it’s because I’m getting a manicure or massage, and even then I rarely take it off. But of course, being nearly 60 and getting all kinds of forgetful, it’s possible I took it off somewhere. But if I did take it off, and then found myself without it, it would be lost. Or at least misplaced. Or even just left behind somewhere. So.. it’s possible that I could be without my ring. Remote, but possible.

But what makes NO SENSE, is that not only is my ring gone, but I’m wearing somebody else’s. So not only did I lose my ring, but I somehow acquired somebody else’s in the deal. That suggests a switcheroo. But WHERE? HOW? WITH WHOM? I must have left it in the company of another ring/s, and then picked up the wrong one.

Naturally, I have ZERO recollection of anything of the sort.

Here are a few ideas I can rule out:

I haven’t had it cleaned in years, so it didn’t happen at De Luna’s;

I don’t take it off at airport security.

I didn’t try on or exchange rings with anybody for fun and then forget and wander off with their ring. 

So here it is…

Mine looks just like it, of course, but is slightly wider.

I have to say, knowing it’s not mine kind of gives me the creeps… I’m not sure what to do with it. I’m also not sure how long I’ve been wearing it. I guess I’ll keep it on, at least for a while…  but anxious to have my ring back.

Any ideas are welcome.

Head’s been down most of the day…busy sorting photos for most of it, looking for good ones for both our Christmas card and calendar. Took a break from that to spend a couple hours with Peter reality checking his college application list.. a conversation that started trickily but ended productively.  These are difficult choices.. but as choices go, are probably pretty good ones to have.

Anyway… it was a productive head down kind of day.

But it does pay to look up once in a while..

I’ll say this: After looking at maybe 7-9,000 photos today–the entire 2015 archive–I can say without question, I take a lot of sky shots. There are a lot of recurring photographic themes over the course of the year, but sky shots are definitely one of the big ones. Sometimes I’m looking up to the sky, and a lot of the time I’m in the sky looking down.

You probably already knew this.

(I’m titling the post ^ thusly so that I can remember what kind of tree we got this year. I’m always forgetting and feel like we start from scratch each year with the conversation: “What kind of tree shall we get?” “I don’t know, but something that smells good.”)

(Actually, last year was a Silver Tip and it was great, but this year, their Silver Tips were too short, so a noble it is; Peter is a tall tree kinda guy.)

The other thing we seem to mess up each year is finding our way to Silveyville…. we drove apparently aimlessly for awhile, unintentionally circumnavigating our destination. Well, almost.

Saw some nice countryside..

Finally went to the googles and got a bearing… posted on Facebook, too, and got a quick navigation suggestion from Don Shor, who happens to live out that way. Pretty funny.

Anyway, we did find the Silveyville Christmas Tree farm, after our annual, unplanned tour of the farms and ranches in the area.

We decided to visit the teeny museum they have on their property… really more of a tribute to Jerry, the founder of the Silveyville Christmas Tree farm, who died last year. We learned a little about the farm’s history: Jerry, and his wife Alberta, decided that after his retirement from some kind of machine building, they’d plant a tree farm, and name it in honor of the village of Silveyville (history of that is later in this post):

In 1979, they removed eleven acres of almonds, amended the soil, and planted their first crop of trees, and by 1981, they opened for business. The place has been a beloved local institution ever since.

Long ago, it looked like this:

The two wide dark strips are the rows of trees. We typically park in a large lot to the left of that red barn. This is looking south, Silveyville road in foreground.

This is it now. Some directions give you a nice, peaceful scene…

What you can’t see in this picture are the hundreds of saw-wielding patrons–some on sleigh rides; the huge (and very young) staff; Santa Claus; the giant fire pit; the store and museum; the games; apple cider, hot chocolate and popcorn venders.. and the music, decorations and general festive atmosphere.  Peter hasn’t gone with us now for two years… but we still go. Sigh.

We made quick work of our tree purchase–a 7′ noble fir. Shaken and netted.

What an operation.

Then, we headed out. We turned left, instead of right, following another suggestion Don gave us–to take a look at the historic marker for the once-village of Silveyville.

We found it and here’s what we learned: Silveyville was a settlement considered the halfway point between Sacramento and Benicia/SF Bay Area.  It was first settled by Elijah Silvey in 1852 and, in its about 16 years of existence, grew to include a post office, a church, a school building, a store and a telegraph office.

Here’s the marker on Silveyville Road, near the intersection with Schroeder, that basically says all that.

Later, in 1860, a Pony Express station was established in the village. It was called the Halfway Station.

Even later, when the California Pacific RR was finished in 1868, all the residents packed up and moved to Dixon.  They even took their church with them; it still exists as a place of worship in Dixon.

The Pony Express was pretty short-lived. But here is its historical marker:

Quite the historic morning, huh?

Found our way back to Davis using a much more straight forward route (I mean really… this tree farm is only ten minutes from Davis), catching a few nice fall scenes along the way:

And that was that.

The tree’s in and anchored in its place. I’d love to leave it as is.. undecorated… just a nice smelling fir..

I should hire myself out as a Christmas planner. Not really, but I am good at this.

About two decades ago, I came up with a Christmas to-do list. I work from it every year. I refine it every year, as well, so you gotta know it’s a pretty awesome document.

Every year I also shake my head and mutter things like, It’s really come to this? Then I say, Yes, yes it has.  But most of the time, though slightly horrified by my own ocd, I think it’s pretty damn useful.

Yesterday was the day I pulled together this year’s list. I sat in Mishka’s with an extra large au lait, rain pelting the windows, and, using last year’s as a template, I entered and updated all the relevant data for this year’s list. It’s a bit of an annual ritual. An out with the old, in with the new kind of thing.

It’s 14 pages long.

Yep. That’s why I got the extra large.

Anyway. So today was the official Day 1: Get Supplies Day. I have a very specific list of the things I’m going to need … for baking, for cards, for gift baskets, for wrapping, for trimming and decorating. I assess current supplies, make a detailed list of what’s missing, then head out to acquire the stuff. I know the stores I’m going to go to and the specific supplies at each one. I know how many and how much I’m going to need of just about everything because I do pretty much the exact same thing every year. That was the deal I made with myself a long time ago:  “You can do it easy, or you can do it hard. Choose easy.”

(Actually, page one of my 14-page Christmas list is this nice little 5-point strategy slash pep talk that I devised many years ago and quickly review most years to remind myself that It’s. Just. Christmas. The points are all about keeping the holiday simple and fun. I know…. it’s a list of things I do to manage my list of things to do. But hey, it works. You have to get all the logistical business out of the way so you can slow it up, enjoy your peeps, and nestle down into the season of peace and light. Right?)

It was funny today… I rarely shop at Office Max, but I always go at Christmas time to get four boxes of a certain self-sticking envelope in a variety of colors. I know exactly where I’m going to find them. As I was walking down that aisle, I was thinking, Jeeez, I was JUST here! And indeed, it felt like it had been only a couple of months ago, but, in fact, it’s been a year. Time doing that time thing.

So… supply acquisition day went well. We are provisioned and ready for business.

Mostly, it was a STUNNINGLY beautiful day in Northern California. I took a few pics…

Managed to get a parking spot on G, south of Second. Pickin’s were slim on a Friday afternoon!

Came out of the toy store (I actually had some extra time to shop and got 5 1/2 out of 7 of the little kid presents… yay!):

Walking out of Office Max in South Davis…

And driving home along 8th…

The season of light has begun.

Weekend tasks: tree chopping down… trimming and decorating if there’s time, and card and calendar making.

This happened:

I heard a weather guy on the radio this morning saying it was going to be a perfect little California winter storm. Nothing fancy…. just straight forward and productive. And it was.

Later, this happened:

As seen this late afternoon (while leaving work early due to nothing to work on).

And then, continuing the theme of I can’t seem to pour stuff into my intended vessels, this happened:

Now, don’t laugh, but this was me pouring a bunch of chocolate chips into a ramekin for a post dinner snack… (aka dessert, except I’d already eaten dessert). It’s a real effort. I just missed. I was as surprised as the next guy.

If you spend as much time as Jim and I do (especially Jim) at a certain local eatery (Crepeville, of course), shiny new things (like teapots) are pretty exciting.

This was my vessel today for apricot tea:

New…shiny… but not so easy to use, it would seem.  I spilled boiling hot tea water all over the table, when it was actually my cup I was aiming for. (Should you order tea at Crepeville, and should it come in one of their new teapots, I suggest you lift that little doohicky at the end of the spout.)

Once I figured out how to work the thing, it was GREAT. Gonna be a nice winter tea season.

We enjoyed Emmy’s pulled pork sandwiches so much while in Florida, Jim decided to try making them himself…

Jim first made some BBQ sauce:

Combine 2 c of catsup; 1 c water; 1/2 c apple cider vinegar; 5 T each of white and brown sugar; 1/2 T each of pepper, onion powder and ground mustard; 1 T each of lemon juice and Worcestershire sauce. Bring all that to a boil, then simmer uncovered for 1 hour and 15 mins.

Then…

Put a 4 lb shoulder cut of pork into slow cooker with a tsp of oil. Add a cup of the BBQ sauce and 1/2 cup each of vinegar and chicken broth.  Then add 1/4 cup of brown sugar; a tablespoon each of yellow mustard, Worcestershire sauce and chili powder; a large chopped onion; a couple crushed garlic cloves; and a tsp and a half of thyme. Cook on high for 5-6 hours. Voila!

Serve on a hamburger bun.

They tasted very different than Emmy’s, but were still good!