Life of Wry

A subject I hope not to write a lot about, ever: falling down.

It’s sort of a cliche with folks of a certain age, but for gooness sakes, I’m not there yet.

Be that as it may, I fell last night on a cold, dark sidewalk. I will tell the brief story in pictures and not belabor it. ‘K?

So, I’d been downtown having a glass of wine with Vicki S at the recently renamed Davis Wine Bar, on Second. That turned into 1 1/2 glasses, but that does not factor into this story. I’d walked, so was heading home around 7:00, dark. Coincidentally, Jim texted as I was leaving and asked if I wanted an escort, something he’s taken to doing more often these days, what with the mean streets of Davis becoming more of a thing. To which I replied, sure!, even as I was about halfway home. I was walking at a rapid clip and thought I might get home before he’d even left.

I also texted my route.. because that varies with just about every trip downtown and back. I’d picked the most trafficky: Second to B to Russell to A.

As I was walking west on Russell, having just trotted j-walkedly across the boulevard, I saw him coming. I thought to myself: there he is, that was fast! and he looks a little bowl-legged.

Deep into both thoughts, and looking at him at a distance illuminated in the street light, I missed seeing a lip in the sidewalk. My toe slammed right into it and sent me stuttering, ingracefully, along.. trying to get my feet back under me, but my forward momentum was faster than my feet. So.. yeah.. I went down.

That’s the whole story. Crazy huh? Or.. maybe not. Just a root-lifted hunk o’ sidewalk with a monster lip in the dark of night.. and a medium old lady (I DID just turn 66 two days ago) not watching where she was going.

She did spare her new iPhone the worst of the impact; she’s got her priorities straight.

First things first, speaking of the iPhone, here’s the munched case. It should be noted, I’d just put this on my phone yesterday, AND, this is the second iPhone case I’d ordered, as the first was for the larger sized iPhone 13 which I’ve yet to return. (Also, can you believe these things cost 59 bucks?)

Here is what my thick down coat looked like after hitting the asphalt and rolling around a bit. Waaaah!

And, despite a thick down sleeve between my elbow and the sidewalk, I still got a decent raspberry, which kinda hurts. (I do believe, however, that I will live.)

And here’s the best pic of all: the sidewalk’s offending raised lip… right in front of City Hall, I might add!

Jim immediately sent a photo and report to the city via that GORequest app. The picture he sent last night was not as clear as this one, though (which he took this afternoon by the light of day).

That is quite the trip hazard, no?

I feel like the City ought to replace my iPhone case, and maybe even my jacket. Jim says they don’t do that, though… can’t imagine why. And, of course, they should fix the damn sidewalk.

Last night, a family member asked if I had a picture of Peter in his spider Halloween costume from way (way!) back in the day. (And I guess there’s nothing secret about who asked.. it was Monica, as she and Nina were sitting around talking Halloween costumes… as you do.) Her request took me deep into the photo archives and pretty soon I was looking at all of Peter’s Halloween costumes. I’ve long intended to do a photo montage of Halloweens through the years. Last night was just the impetus for this long-undone project!

[Note: my photo archive currently comprises digital photos only. Any photos taken before 2001, when we got our first digital camera, have not yet been scanned. So, this collection misses a couple early years of costumes.]

~~

2001 (age 3)

Peter wanted to be a lion, so Jim sewed him a lion suit.

Looks like we had a Halloween party (and treasure hunt!). Mystery Little Red Riding Hood, Chef Sabrina with Morgan and Jocelyn, Rowan, Chenoa (in another Lion costume!) and Peter:

And cupcakes were had! Vicki must have come to the party. 🙂

It looks like this was also the year Peter wore a leopard costume. This particular leopard costume was sewn by Vovo, Jim and Monica’s maternal grandmother, a lifelong seamstress. The costume’s been in the family for decades, and I believe it was worn by some, if not most, of her grandkids.

Peter, making his best leopard face:

2002, still age 3

It’s March, but Peter wanted to be a mouse and, somehow, we acquired a mouse costume. He’s all ready for Halloween, but by October I believe he’d outgrown the costume! He was a cute mouse in March, though. Here are Chenoa and Peter eating kettle corn at Farmer’s Market.

2003, Age 4

Okay, looks like another two-costume year. And looks like another Halloween party with treasure hunt in our backyard. First, there was the pirate costume. Here are Bradley, Peter, Skye, Rowan, Daniel and Chenoa.

And here is a Halloween pinata party, I’m not sure whose, where Peter’s in a witch costume. The only child I recognize is Jocelyn standing on the left with Sabrina:

Here’re Peter and Jocelyn:

2003, Age 5

This was the year Peter was a Black Widow. Another Jim design!

Here it is from the back:

This year, the Halloween party was at Chenoa’s house. There was bobbing for apples:

And bobbing for donuts!

(Jonah’s little brother Keevan, mom Teri, Skye, Peter, Brian, Chenoa, Jonah and Daniel. I’m trying to remember the kiddo in the yellow ..bird?.. but can’t quite get the name)

Got one!

The actual work of Halloween.. this was up the street at Dick’s house:

And the two Frame boys… maybe he’s eaten too much candy!

2004, Age 6

So, it’s first grade and the kids at school are dressed in Halloween finery. I see Ana Christina, ME (Madison Elizabeth) and Maya… among countless others whose names I can’t remember. Peter’s in there, too.

Peter looks to be a bat…

Senora Bugsch always had them dancing. Here are Peter and Ryan (who will go on to play for the Detroit Tigers in the major leagues (as of this writing, he’s still in the farm league, but working his way up).

One of my favorite Halloween pics!

In his batness. It also looks like Peter was in charge of pumpkin carving.

2005, Age 7

Moving right along….

This year, it’s the gulper eel, a particularly wicked looking sea creature. Jim strikes again with a homemade implementation:

Peter wore it to school. Here he is with pals from Senorita Cruz’s class…

And a couple trick or treating with Eli and not sure:

2006, Age 8

I HAVE NO PICTURES! I have no idea what happened in his 3rd grade year….am I getting casual about documenting every little thing already?

2007, Age 9

Peter’s fourth grade teacher, Senorita Marchand was full of spirit and imagination. She was a book lover and did so much with those kids in writing and literature. Here she is reading something spooky, no doubt.

They had a wonderful Halloween party in the classroom that year…

I brought ghoulish witch’s fingers..

Peter dressed at plutonium this year. Eli went as a toxic waste dump.

Here they are at the downtown merchants’ massive candy giveaway craziness… (hope Peter didn’t trip on those laces…) I think that’s Daniel Sedillo and Katheryn Murdoch with them.

This was also a good pumpkin carving year for Peter… he went full nerd with a carving of pi:

That sure looks like blood on the napkin there….

Here is Peter at Lisa and Ted Slabach’s.. they really do Halloween at their house.

Jim and I went to the Slabach’s annual party both dressed as Jim!

2008, Age 10

It was all politics this year. The presidential election was just a few days away, and there was intense Obama fever throughout the land (especially Davis).

With a stoke of irony, Peter went to school dressed as Reagan:

And went trick or treating as George W. Bush:

But make no mistake, we were an Obama household!

2009, Age 11

The best I can do for this year is a photo of his costume in progress. M&M, by Jim.

And…. skip ahead to:

2012, Age 14

I believe trick or treating is beginning to fall by the wayside. I don’t know if our big boy went out in 2010 or 2011 (I imagine he did, but dressed as what?). In 2012, there appears to be a reprisal of the M&M! He has not outgrown the holiday or the costume!

And that completes the Halloween costume retrospective!

Sentimental Halloween costume documentation project. Check!

[Note: If I should ever get to my scanning of photos from 1998-2001, I shall insert edit whatever I might find for costumes of the infant and toddler Peter!]

September 8, 1929 – January 20, 2022

Alan Dean Frame, Jim’s uncle, passed away tonight. He was 92.

I enjoyed Dean. He was a bit gruff on the outside and, unless he was telling stories — of which he had many — he was a man of few, well-selected words. He had a good sense of wry humor, but he didn’t laugh much. He was smart, astute, accomplished, generous. And, as I said, direct.

We saw him last on his birthday in September. He celebrated Thanksgiving with all (or most) of the AD Frame branch (we were in Davis), and we expected to see him at Christmas, but he wasn’t feeling well and opted to stay home. We knew that wasn’t a good sign.

He was getting worse, and by the time he went to the doctor, a week ago, he had a UTI and sepsis and they sent him right to the hospital in Berkeley. They then discovered he was in need of an aortic valve replacement. No visitors (except one family designate) due to Covid. They were unable to stabilize him, however… and tonight he died.

It seems quick, and, like deaths of close family members, it feels a little sudden and a bit shocking. But it was also not at all unexpected.

From experience, I know it’s a comfort to have a lot of siblings around when a parent dies, and in the case of the AD Frames, they have their five, plus three double cousins from the JH Frame clan as well. But I still imagine everyone’s feeling the loss tonight. When two sisters marry two brothers, have eight kids between them, and choose to live in the same neighborhood for decades …. well…. lots of life happens… all the day to day, all the celebrations, all the milestones, all the holidays, vacations and reunions. And lifelong memories and stories follow. They are quite a family with a whole bunch of strong personalities. Dean, the last of the two-brothers-two-sisters foursome, had become the patriarch.

Here are a few pictures:

This is the original Frame family: In the middle, James Horace Frame, and to his right, his wife (forgive me, I can’t remember her name); and surrounding them, their eleven children. Jim’s dad — James Horace Frame, Junior, is the eldest son (third born) and is in the front row, far right. Nice looking fellow. Dean is well down in the kid line-up, maybe the middle child?, and is that (also) very handsome guy in the top row, far right. This is on the porch of their Kansas home (where all eleven kids were born).

I just have to say, his grandson (also Dean!) looks just like this! Noticing that for the first time.

This one was taken at the 2011 family reunion in Arcadia (the first photo was from this day, as well). Annita passed away almost six years ago, also at the age of 92:

This was a photo taken at Jim’s dad’s memorial in Arizona in January 2017 and is Dean with his brother Michael (the youngest brother in that photo above). Michael and his sister Sandra are now the only siblings remaining (Sandra, who still lives in Kansas, is the blonde next to Jim’s dad) .

And finally, this is a photo from the last time we (Jim and I) saw Dean. He’s walking to his car after his birthday celebration in September. He was struggling physically at this point, but was sharp.

I’m going to miss Dean.

RIP.

This text is an apt snapshot on the day… (Referring to the one from this morning, not the others.)

Jim had left before I woke up this morning (unusual for me to sleep in, but I blame Matt for keeping me up into the wee hours playing Words with Friends, aka NonWords with Mutt the Butt, as I wrote about previously). So I must have thought he needed a play by play of my morning. Mostly, I was BRAGGING on my excellent Wordle score.

Now… I promise I will not turn my blog into a running commentary on how great I am doing with the daily Wordle. For one thing, luck plays a huge role in solving these and I fully expect to run out of luck soon. But I will enjoy a bit of beginner’s luck as long as I’ve got it.

Here is today’s thing of beauty:

Yep! I solved it in TWO tries! Hilarious, no?

And go ahead….. ask me how I did in the NYT Spelling Bee!

~~

So.. onto the other noteworthy items in my text to Jim this morning..

ONE: I got a new iPhone 13 Pro last week. Maybe I gloated about this already? Took me a week to turn it on because: electronic gadgets. But last night at about 9:00 or 10:00, I went for it. And by the time I went to bed, I had a functioning iPhone. (Time stamp on “first text,” above: 10:59.) (Let that be a lesson to me.) (I’ll never learn that lesson.) I had to do a whole bunch of electronic gymnastics to get it paired and synced to my Apple Watch, which required some operating system updates and such… so it wasn’t until this morning that I was really in full operation. But that is all Big News hereabouts. Last iPhone I had was a 6…. purchased seven years ago.

TWO: Aging. That will probably be a common heading to my life for …. well…. the duration. This adventure in aging had to do with putting my contacts in this morning and then not being able to see out of my left eye, and then not being able to find the contact. I looked, and felt, all over my eye — as you do when you are a contact wearer and have lost your contact — but couldn’t find it. So I assumed it had fallen out. Once out of your eye and/or out of the saline solution, a contact will dry and shrivel up pretty quickly. So I expected to find a stiff wrinkle of thin plastic stuck to a towel or on the bathroom rug or, as happens sometimes, on my person, usually in a ridiculous place. But I couldn’t find it anywhere. Looked high and low, literally, on hands and knees.. everywhere. This is especially hard when you have only one functional eye and are blind in the other. Still…. no findy. In desperation (relative desperation… this isn’t really the end of the world, just annoying as hell), I gave my eye one more once over, rubbing my finger along my eyeball, again, as you do. But no. Gone. So I get out another little packet and as I’m about to peel back the cover and fish out a fresh contact, I realize I can see. The world had come into focus. To be absolutely sure I wasn’t imagining this, I went into my left eye to peel off my contact… because, if I could see, it must be there, and sure enough it was. It was harder than usual to peel off, as though it’d been stuck there forever. Which it most certainly hadn’t. It hadn’t been there at all. Until it was. Which… what?

Ok, so this is a mystery. It’s a story of aging in several respects: /A/ How in the world had I lost the contact in the first place? I put these in daily, and have for forty-some years; it is rare beyond rare to lose one like that; /B/ How was it gone and then how did it materialize w/o my having been able to find it in my eye? Had I been mistaken about not being able to see? and /C/ How’d it get so stuck on my eyeball? That is a very dry eye! That must be an aging thing?

I’m not sure where the problem was, but one thing’s certain: it’s only going to get weirder. I still characterize most of these things as amusing, rather than disturbing. Let’s hope that’s the case for the next few decades.

But I do imagine… this is probably why I love these word games so much, and especially love getting good scores! Proves I’m not ready for the glue factory yet.

I just want to note: I loved the six-hour documentary Get Back, about the recording of the Beatles’ last album together — Let it Be — in 1969.

I’ve read a bunch of stuff about their relationships and the circumstances of their split. I don’t know what is true. I’ve read the recording sessions for Let it Be were hell and a low point in their band lives. But, man, that’s not at all what the film shows.

So… I’ll just say, I was stunned and so impressed by their level of talent and musicianship. It was a thing of beauty to see how much they enjoyed playing music. Together, too. Mostly, I was deeply moved. Moved by the music.. music we all know so well, music we grew up with, music that defined us, defined the times — our times. I was moved by the respect they showed one another, even as I read of the strains. I also read that Paul McCartney today feels affirmed by the film, as he remembered joy and love between them and the film shows that so clearly. I can’t imagine what it was like for him to see his young 29 year old self, to listen to his young voice, to observe his own decency, open heartedness, reverence for John, and talent.

I choked up so many times. It was so bittersweet seeing their youth and energy, especially the chemistry between John and Paul. And then juxtaposing what happened in the 10, 20, 50 years that followed. I feel gutted at the thought of John’s murder. I remember it, of course, the horror and loss. I remember Jay’s devastation and his urgency to attend a vigil held somewhere in Palos Verdes (there must have been thousands of them all over the world). And George’s death. I remember proclaiming George as my early on favorite, mostly because everyone else had claimed Paul or John (and the quirky people chose Ringo).

Watching them work together…it was just crazy. I loved every moment, even the slow parts of the studio sessions. It was mesmerizing and nostalgic and especially fascinating to watch what are now such familiar songs being writte — as we watched, in real time. We actually watched these young guys piece the songs together.. notes, rhythms, melodies, lyrics.. in real time! With joy. Impossible to imagine they haven’t existed forever.

And just.. damn.. for time passing.. for loss.. it’s hard to process.

After watching Get Back, I’m changing my old proclamation: it’s Paul and John all the way. Their faces and voices, musical brilliance, have a place deep inside.

So, whatever the stories are, whatever the difficulties, I’m holding onto the images we watched of that 30-day (was it?) studio jam and writing session. It was a beautiful thing.

Here are some pics I grabbed from the interwebs:

And Paul, today.

I used to be a indefatigable Spider player. (I don’t know if the inventor of that fun-to-say word meant for it to be used in the context of a solitaire game app, but I’m using it in this context anyway).

Then, Peter got Jim and me to play the NYT Daily Mini Crossword. So that’s been going on for over a year.

Then, Matt got me to play Words with Friends, which I’ve been playing fiendishly since Thanksgiving. For the first couple of months I lost each and every game to that annoying Mutt the Butt, who comes up with words that don’t exist anywhere but in this stupid game, apparently. In the past week or so, the tables have turned. I’ve learned how to form the same ridiculous words for super large scores and now I seem to be winning more than losing. Now, Words with Friends (which…. since Matt’s the only one I play with I call Words with Matt, and sometimes I call it NonWords with Matt, or better still: NonWords with Mutt the Butt!) is rather fun and I play it seemingly constantly.

Then, a friend from Sweden days, Julie, suggested to her Facebook tribe that we try Wordle. No way am I taking on another game. But I thought no harm in trying it.. it is all the rage these days. Recent articles: Wordle: A Love Story (NYT, two days ago); Wordle is Our New Drug (Washington Post, two days ago); Why is Everyone Playing Wordle? (Marketwatch, two days ago); Here’s Why We Can’t Stop Playing Wordle (Mashable, nine days ago). So today was my first official game (I messed up on the instructions on my first effort yesterday).

Worth noting: I did it in three tries. That is a decent effort! Yay me. Can’t wait til tomorrow’s!

And, just for yucks, because someone else on Julie’s thread begged everyone to play the NYT’s Spelling Bee, I did that today, too. And…. loved it. Here was my not-too-shabs first outing:

They said one could have found 39 words — so I missed a few — but 30 was considered genius. How ’bout that!

Like Wordle and the Daily Mini, the Spelling Bee comes out just once a day and requires a relatively minimal amount of time to solve….. unlike Spider and NonWords with Mutt the Butt, which can both be played all day every day (!!) and suck all the life right out of your soul.

Suck away, I’m addicted to them all.

~~

Just to prove I did something other than puzzles today, here’s a gorgeous Rorschach of Putah Creek this morning.

Hi. Been a long time, how’re y’all doing?

So, this is random. Not the way I intended to return to blogging, but sometimes you just jump in.

Actually, I never just jump in, or, if I do, it’s rare. Rather, I am too much of a fussy, process-oriented planner for that. Meaning, in this context: planning how I’ll start up blogging again; how I’ll back-fill all I’ve skipped in 2021; whether I’ll do it chronologically or by event; whether it’ll just be a photo with captions or a full-on, detailed summary; how far back will I go (all of the ones I’ve missed, or just the key ones). That kind of planning. You can’t just jump in without a plan of attack. You certainly can’t just jump in cold without some forewarning or explanation. And you can’t be gone for half a year and come in with something trivial, something wholly unimportant (let’s be real, most of my blog is small-ball stuff), right smack out of the blue. I mean, you can’t do any of that!

But I am. Random. Yeah. I just feeling like writing and don’t want to wait around for a plan. So, here goes.

~~

I noticed the quince in the front yard is blooming. I’m not sure if that’s a record, but it’s definitely early. I’m sure I’ve written in the past about the shock of early spring, how it’s now totally coming in January around here.. but I’ll have to look back to see if January 12 for the flowering quince is a record.

Early spring comes at a fantastic time, though, I must say, because I achieved holiday season closure today (that would be holidays = Thanksgiving and Christmas), which means only one thing: time to get on with the new year! Move on to brightness and lightness and freshness and order, and a refreshing absence of red-green-sparkly-illuminated clutter (Truth: not total TOTAL Christmas closure as I still have a 2022 calendar to design-order-send to a small bunch of family members, and if I’m being full disclosure, there are a couple people whose Christmas notes deserve a response, but those are discreet things and I’m deciding they don’t warrant a holding up of the jolly Christmas Is Over celebration.)

I’ll admit — even as I feel, each and every year, cynical about the approaching holiday season — that I love how our house transforms during the holidays. Especially cozy this year because of dark, cold and very inclement weather for nearly two whole months. But holy cow… putting it all away is cause for delirious happy dancing, and looking back and reflecting on how wonderful it all was: bonus!!

Because, god. This was a season for the record books. I am just going to have to pat myself on the back for a job well done from start to ever-lovin’ finish.

The 30-thousand foot view is a simple proposition: Peter, brothers, significant others here for Thanksgiving. Check. Peter and Maya here for Christmas. Check.

But, Mr. Devil is in the forty gatrillion details that were listed (on todo lists coming out of my ears) and checked off (!). And carried out with mucho aplomb. Mucho mucho MUCHO aplomb. (See how super satisfied I am with myself?)

We’re talking the usual meal planning and executing, both for day-off stuff, as well as pre-post-meals and snacks for a variety of situations and people. We’re talking all the usual Christmas tasks — shopping, decorating, wrapping, shipping, cards, baking, delivering — plus bunches of accompanying extra nice touches. We’re talking more hosting and spontaneous entertaining than usual, including some extra-curricular activity planning. And we’re talking extra to-dos that had to do with finishing off home/yard/garden/guest room projects in time for guests, that were more about using the occasion of holiday visitors to create a hard deadline (which.. helps gets final things over the finish line, amiright?).

I’m particularly mindful of the workload because today I’ve been doing the very last of a few niggly things… thank you notes and mailing label database updates, and — very satisfyingly — consolidating a mountain of todo lists, triumphantly crossing off anything I missed, and realizing omg omg omg there was a lot of teeny tiny granularity among those big ticket items.. because there always is. But it’s all done.

And it’s sunny.

And the quince is blooming.

~~

My intention is to back blog and fill in some missing details. But in the event I don’t get to that — it’s entirely possible — here are two photos that speak to the love and happiness that Thanksgiving and Christmas represented for me this year.

My Thanksgiving peeps:

And my Christmas peeps: