Life of Wry

Growing up in PV, one of the main go-to restaurants in town was the Red Onion–right up there with the Admiral Risty and the Velvet Turtle. Always good for a celebration dinner.  It opened back in the 50s and is still around.

The hall is lined with memorabilia. Here are a couple shots:

When the top of the hill was still wide open spaces (I think the horses here are for effect only) …

An early menu, from the late 50s…

Ten cents for a coupla corn tortillas. I can’t imagine buying anything for ten cents.

Anyway, we met my mom’s birthday group for lunch. This is a group she’s been gathering with for decades. They are all tennis players, most of whom started playing together in the 60s when the Jack Kramer Club was founded. Many 50+ year friendships around that table.

It was Dolores’ 87th (or 86th) birthday today; she’s on the left, Reenie (Irene, low to mid 80s) is on the right:

Here are Jody, 87, and Sue (not sure of age)…

(Both Jody and Irene played golf this morning, Sue plays tennis five days a week, when not bothered by her knee.)

There were nine of us.  Very fun to drop into my mom’s social world. It’s a very shrinking world, but I’m glad she’s still got the birthday group.

From there, we headed to Manhattan Beach and shopped ’til we dropped. I am not kidding… that woman is a shopper. Then, finally, home to pack.

Chris came by and told us about the bombing in Nice; we talked about that and the changing world… it’s always fascinating to hear his take on things. He really soars, intellectually, when he’s talking about what he’s reading and prognosticating about what the future holds.

Then I left…

Here’s my fabulous hot dog dinner (Rock and Brews, terminal 1 at LAX):

I love dining at the airport. Even if I’m only flying back to Sac, it feels all travel-y and exciting.

The first thing that happened today was I got my hair cut. Been thinking about it for months and planning to do it for weeks. I made the appointment with my mom’s hair cutter, Klaes the swede, a few weeks ago, and kept mum about it, 1) in case I chickened out and 2) as a surprise for Jim.

I sneakily took this selfie last week while sitting in the backseat, driving home from Dutch Flat, knowing it was probably the last time in a long time I’d be long of hair. I even smiled. I’m embarrassed to smile for my own selfies. Gawd.

Klaes is a heck of a nice guy. We had endless things to talk about other than cutting my hair. And, because he’s Swedish and such a nice guy, he was the kindest conversationalist ever, as I worked through some very rusty Swedish.

It was a long appointment. It started with him rubber-banding my hair in four places, and then cutting it right off! This is a bit creepy, but here’s what that process yielded:

Then some weaving, then some washing, then some more cutting, then some drying, then some styling, then some product (this time around I’m willing to use product). This was the result of that whole process:

I look half hysterical, half happy. But mostly happy.

I drove home to mom, who was anxiously waiting; she’d been in on this whole plan from the start and managed to keep quiet about it. She loved it.

We were going to meet Matt for lunch and, if it wasn’t a bother, take a look at the restaurant three days before its launch. She thought Matt would not notice; I was sure he would. We bet lunch.

Matt did not notice. Lunch on Kari.

(For the record, Michael did not notice. Nor did Eric. What’s with men?)

We did a get a chance to tour the restaurant. It was crawling with contractors, staff and delivery people. It was just nutty busy. But he showed us around and we were impressed!

Here’s mom and a coupla very relaxed partners:

Eric was meeting with folks and couldn’t join us for lunch..

Michael, Matt, Mom and I ate down the street at a Greek restaurant, which was good enough, then wandered around a bit.

We’re about four short blocks up from Highway 1 and the beach, but you still see people walking down the street in bathing suits–going into stores, sitting in sidewalk cafes… can’t even imagine how fantastic that must feel.

It’s a very touristy area…

The shorts (shorts??) say, “I pooped today,” which explains her expression.

In addition to tee-shirt shops, Main Street’s full of restaurants…

This museum is across the street from the new Legends:

Michael and Mom kitty corner from the restaurant:

Here’s us reflected in a Legend’s window:

Before heading back north, we drove around some neighborhoods close to downtown. Love the leaning, lanky trees:

Huntington Beach is becoming quite the tourist destination. The beaches are gorgeous and extensive.

And they have a Legends in the heart of downtown!

Alternating active days with chill days turns out to be a good idea with mom. So after a big day yesterday, we cooled our jets today and mostly played gin.  We track our scores and track winners (what’d you expect?).  At this point in my visit, mom is way ahead.

Being a lifelong card player–historically mostly bridge, but these days mostly gin–she believes in cards. She believes in streaks. She believes that sometimes you have to change decks or switch chairs to interrupt cards that are on a bad run. She’s very superstitious.

She happens to be on a roll right now. Here is a hand she was dealt. DEALT. Not a hand she massaged and manipulated through fortunate card drawing and careful card arranging. She didn’t work this hand; it came right off the deck this way:

This, to her, is a clear signal that when the cards are with you, they’re with you. I don’t believe this and refuse to change decks.

At my peril.

Anyway, I’m way behind.

By late afternoon, we’d decided to go to the beach. Somebody needed some fresh air. Here are some shots.

Mom on the bench near Avenue I:

And, our view:

I’m going to use this spot to post a few more beach shots. I took these yesterday. I had a couple hours to kill before we took off for Matt’s and Michael’s and decided to spend it down at RAT (missing the annual RAT Beach reunion later this month).

The path down:

Looking north toward Torrance, Redondo, Hermosa and Manhattan, in that order:

Ran into about a dozen groups of Junior Lifeguards, this one was running to PV and back to Torrance:

Watched them do some drills:

Watched a bird:

The view from where I sat:

The walk back:

Parked next to the junior high. I like this ceramic mural:

T’was a choice place to go to school…

Anyway. We returned home, played more cards (I did much better! Started catching up, even) and had a late dinner. Like, 10:00 late. You can do that when it’s just you and your night owl mom, and you’re eating from a batch of soup Matt made a few days earlier.

We celebrated this guy today:

We, being the Southern California contingent.

Celebration, being graduation and 18th birthday.

Where, being Matt’s and Michael’s great place, always a treat.

Celebration included satisfyingly salty apps, soft pollo & carne tacos, muchos cervezas and other bebidas, birthday cheesecake, cards & gifts—all served up poolside (except for those who played chess in the taxidermy room) on a beautiful So Cal day.

Here are some shots….

Clockwise around the fire pit and under the cabana, we have River, Alexis and John (I only now noticed the matching tatoos)…

John and mom (oh, the expressions) …

Aunt Ellie and Uncle Bud (rockin’ the yellow shirts!)…

On deck, Peter, with twins Dean and Matthew…

At the bar, Matt and Chris…can’t guess the conversation, but three must have been involved…

Poolside, Alexis, River, Sophie, Violet and Joey (Klondyke is MIA)…

A driveway moment with Betsy, Peter and Bev… I know, right into sun, sorry guys…

Cutting the strawberry cheesecake, which started out neatly enough…

but which turned into a bit of a messy proposition…

And one more of this guy, because, damn, he’s cute…

I’m bummed I didn’t get any good shots of Michael, Jim or Maita!  But they were all there, too.. behind people, out of focus, oddly expressioned.

And with that, I believe we have concluded the graduation and birthday celebrations for Mr. Peter Keaton Frame.

It was a chill day for 87-year old mom (and me), and a family/travel day for Jim and Peter.

Eric and Matt are opening up a second Legends, this one on Main Street in Huntington Beach (opening day, Saturday, July 16). Peter and Jim went down to check it out, and hang out with Staci, Kate, Courtney and Ry (the kids are Peter’s second cousins).

I actually took the below shot when mom and I spontaneously dropped in a few days later (more photos to come in a later blog). It’s a good one to post here, though, as it shows the exterior and signage

“Legends” refers to famous sports people. The interior of the restaurant is densely packed with sports paraphernalia, just like the restaurant in Belmont Shores. Michael played a huge role in the acquisition and framing of hundreds of pieces of sports memorabilia (hurray for eBay). It has taken days to arrange all of it on the walls, ceilings, shelves… basically any available surface.

The walls of the new HB restaurant are also covered with TV screens. Here’s a shot Jim took of one small swatch that includes two TV screens, a couple dozen sports souvenirs, and a surfboard (this being HB, there are many of those throughout the restaurant).

There are so many fascinating stories about how this sports stuff gets out into the world, how it changes hands, how it gets valued, etc. It’s pretty interesting looking at all the photos, clippings and balls/uniforms/gloves/pennants/awards. Etcetera. Stories and history everywhere.

There’s already a great story for their annals about ordering the fancy labels for an extensive Tigar [sic] Woods collection of paraphernalia. No head rolling–only eye rolling–as the typo was discovered and then quickly resolved.

It’s also fascinating to hear about the challenges of identifying and telecasting the day’s sporting events–of which there are always numerous, sometimes dozens. The cost alone of setting up the system, the monthly cost of supporting it, and the logistics of projecting the events on screens all over the restaurant is also mind boggling. It’s a bit unfathomable to me the interest, fanaticism, and even the insanity of sports; the atmosphere in a sports bar/restaurant can be electric, thrilling and also scary.  Add crowds and alcohol and you understand why they have an impressively large security staff always on hand, strategically positioned in every nook and corner of the place.

Anyway, Peter and Jim got to hang out with cousins… here’s a shot of Ry, at a restaurant they ate at down the street… (looks like they were paid a visit by a traveling balloon hat maker)…

AND they got a great look at a large restaurant on the eve of its grand opening. So much has to come together–permits, contracts and leases, goodwill building, the space, furniture, decor, the food & drink, supplies, the staff, their training, promotion… Eric is a pro–having done this so many times with so many different restaurants–and Matt’s learned a ton in the last five years, and I have no doubt this Legends will be as ridiculously successful as their Long Beach one.

And Huntington Beach. Wow. Peter is starting to get a sense of what Southern California beach life is all about… from South Bay beaches, to Long Beach, Huntington, and soon the beaches of North County, La Jolla and San Diego. I think he gets that he’s soon to be entering a whole new culture and life.

I don’t think he’s displeased at all.

Who doesn’t love a 7:00am flight? Maybe someone out there, but not me (I don’t not love it). After the initial shock of the 4:00am get up, the rest is awesome.

For example, sunrise from the plane:

Great shadows on mountains:

Got to PV, picked up my mom, and headed right out to breakfast… our new favorite in Hermosa Beach–Uncle Stavros Greek restaurant. Here are a couple of suave guys across the table:

Uncle Stavros is a block from the water, so we walked off a huge breakfast there… along the strand. Mom and Jim.. and the ever fabulous places to live…

It’s a beach scene every part of which I  love.

Mom and I played gin rummy for most of the rest of the afternoon while Jim and Peter explored. They found Trump’s golf course on a particularly scenic part of the peninsula..

Evidently, in return for the privilege of converting prime coastal land to private use, Trump had to provide a ton of public access. Peter and Jim said the trails that surround the course, as well as the dramatic trails along the cliffs, were nice enough. Given the state of current presidential politics, I’m a bit curious as to how those negotiations went. No matter, I’d have preferred the land remained undeveloped.

Yesterday, I helped Vicki hang her show at the I-House. I and three others… takes a lot of hands. It was a photo show of her recent trip to Africa, mostly large closeups of the men, women and children of two indigenous tribes in Tanzania.  It was Vicki’s job to decide how many would fit in the spaces, which ones told the best stories, which would have the greatest visual impact. We were there to provide second opinions, and especially to help with the hook-wire-hanging-rehanging-up-and-down-the-ladder stuff.

(Note to Jim: you would have passed out from frustration.)

(Note to Vicki: not because it was frustrating, at all, but because Jim has a legendarily low tolerance for hanging pictures with anybody, anyhow.)

Here’s a before shot of the gallery, pre-hanging…

Here’s an in-process shot of the kids’ wall. Ray (best neighbor ever) was a huge help. (The monthly art show/reception at the International House was Ray’s idea a few decades ago…it’s been a going concern all these years, and he’s always on hand to help with the set up. Great guy.)

(SO hard to get straight. Note the selection of wires on the table… most of which are not bent, most of which are part of a matching pair..)

And here is tonight at the opening reception:

Vicki in her element…

… among her many friends and fans, sharing photos from her travels, storytelling. Stepping beyond the comfort zone… her first art show ever.

And a job very well done.

Same tournament (District 64  9-10s), different team in the press box…

Long story, but in the end, Peter served as announcer, I as scorekeeper, and the show went on.

Not only did the show go on, but Peter 1) did a great job and 2) actually enjoyed himself.

And it turned into a very nice experience for all concerned. May that long story go where other unpleasant long stories go, and be soon forgotten.

Every year, mostly, I get this great gig… scorekeeping for a Little League baseball tournament for 9-10 year olds, a double elimination competition among the best teams in our broader region–a region known as District 64.

It’s fun on many counts… it was a tournament that Peter played in when he was nine, representing the National League of DLL. When he was ten, he played in the 10-11 division, and he got a chance to play two years at the 11-12 level. The District 64 tournaments were always big for us.

And now I get to be a scorekeeper. Davis typically hosts the 9-10 tournament.. the littlest guys..and it’s always incredibly impressive.  They are such talented, enthusiastic mini-baseball players. It’s like real baseball, just a million times smaller.

I scored two games tonight. No pictures, but in honor, I’ll post a favorite from the olden days…when Peter was that same age.

Or something like that. Who’s counting?

Here are a few shots on the day…

Jim and I started the day eating pancakes with Darlene at the Little League fields, watching micro ball players do cute things.

Tear-worthy many times over.

Chilled for a good part of the late morning, early afternoon, then headed up the hill to attend Rick and Linda’s BBQ at the Flying Fish Mine in Dutch Flat. That is actually the name of their house, designated an historic landmark for reasons I can’t quite remember. I’m sure I’ve written about it before… a very neat old home, beautifully preserved with vintage flair, nestled in pines on the outskirts of downtown Dutch Flat.

Here is our host, who also was honored earlier in the day, I think for the second time, as parade Grand Marshall (note sash). Nothing subtle about Rick’s attire, patriotic from top….

…. to bottom:

There were bunches of folks… a mix of locals, friends, family and work associates…

Rick reserved a table for his former colleagues, all retired California state court judges..

Rick, accompanied on guitar, lead us in an all-verses rendition of America the Beautiful…

Peter and Jim singing along…

Good buddy Jimmy Johnson, always in full smile…

Some standard Fourth of July fare, though I have to say the barbecued turkey was not standard… Rick’s preparation was shockingly moist and flavorful… best turkey I’ve ever eaten.

Took Peter on a mini tour–there is no other kind–of Dutch Flat. We got a look at the parade route through the tiny town center; numerous other front yard parties in progress; sweet woodsy cabins tucked amongst the towering trees, most decked to the hilt in patriotic crepe paper; the charming community pool; the dense forest surrounds. Dutch Flat is definitely old timey and shoots you back to any number of bygone eras. Fun place to be on the 4th.

Here’s a parting shot as we left town. Sun is very low in the sky and we are wondering if we’ll make Davis–a little more than an hour’s drive–by fireworks time (we did, barely).

Firework note: It was dark when we got to Davis, or nearly so. We figured the fireworks would be starting at any moment, no time to settle on a blanket at Community Park, so decided to forgo. But then I decided that maybe I could get a little closer, so headed out on my bike to get a slightly better view than we usually have on A Street. Got to Vets… still no fireworks launched, so I kept going. Ran into Sharon, who was meeting friends, so I parked my bike and tagged along. Still no fireworks had gone off. She was following texted directions from her friends as to their location; we wended our way through the dense crowd, stepping on blankets, stepping over bikes and kids. Finally got to their spot (an impossible objective I’d assumed…), and plunked on a blanket spread with room for all four of us. It was right in front, on the tape line, the vast space in front of us (soccer field) marked off limits–the buffer between the crowd and launching pad. Wow. No sooner did we sit, than we had to rise for the National Anthem. Sat back down and BOOM, off they went. Hadn’t sat so close in years… it was neat to see the explosion at the very same instant I heard the explosion… no distance delay at all! Felt each boom reverberate deep in my gut. Huge smile on my face as I lay there, feeling like I’d gotten the most possible out of that situation.