Life of Wry

For a day spent largely buried in Grad Night Committee planning, I’m surprised at how many great pictures I got. (Yolo County did all the work.. I just had to pull over and shoot.)

Out at about the intersection of Roads 29 and 99:

It was just so pretty, I had to stop and take pictures in multiple directions:

Even my car looks great in front of a yet-to-be-planted field…

And coming home, this is around the corner from us.. just some nice tall yellow flowers I couldn’t resist:

There was one funny thing that happened while holed up in my office today… this:

That is about 50 senior citizens walking down the middle of street, lead by the Cal Aggie Marching Band-uh, playing a rousing rendition of White Rabbit. Yep, not kidding. It’s the annual celebration of fitness month. (I’m telling you… our place across the street from the Senior Center is going to come in very handy one of these days!)

The weird news: I went to a baseball game tonight with my baseball pal Dianna.

The bad news: Davis wasn’t one of the teams we were watching.

It was a semifinal playoff game between Elk Grove and Oak Ridge… powerhouses, both. We’d beaten each once and lost to each once this season.

The true news: We shoulda–coulda easily have–been there.

The good news: I didn’t cry. Almost did, but didn’t. Instead, just cheered on Elk Grove, because: Delta League (they lost), and used my nostalgia filter to capture the moment.

~~

Bear with me. There won’t be too many more tortured baseball posts.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am blogging about the kitchen sink. Midnight approaching and desperate for a topic? Well, yes… but also, I really like this new faucet and think it’s worth writing about.

In fact, this new faucet is so great it makes it feel like we’ve gotten a whole new kitchen. I found dish-doing so novel tonight, I actually enjoyed cleaning up.

Okay.. so here’s the before:

(Boo, hiss, just look at that thing.)

And, ta da, here’s the after:

Slick and shiny and functioning.

The thing to notice about the new faucet is all the space beneath the spout part. Lots of room to maneuver! It makes our sink suddenly feel so much larger and deeper. Also–you can’t tell by looking–the faucet moves effortlessly from one sink to the other.  Just a dainty little swipe of the finger and the nozzle is exactly where you need it to be.  The one we replaced took all your muscle to move it left or right. And the removable spray element stays put; no more of this dangling appendage thing. And Jim also replaced the soap dispenser, so that works like a dream, too, just like it yoosta.

There is just so much to be happy about. We won’t have to move after all.

Our dear friend Rick, a retired California appellate court judge, and his librarian wife Linda, gave Peter this set of books as a high school graduation gift.

So nice to have learned, wise friends.

It came with a typed letter, with explicit instructions from Rick about the exact order in which to read these books.

Unliterary me was not familiar with Lawrence Durrell, who wrote this particular set of four books–the so-called Alexandria Quartet–in the late 50s/early 60s, and the entire series was even on the short list, it was later learned, for the Nobel Prize. Durrell palled around with Henry Miller and Anais Nin, so says Wikipedia, and was all kinds of respected for his writing, which is said to be sophisticated, poetic, masterful. These books follow a love story from a variety of perspectives, set in WWII Egypt, and are exotic, erotic and memorable. “Breathtakingly inventive, written in sensuous, shimmering prose, blazing with emotional intensity and intellectual fire, hailed as modern classics.”

Rick says: essential reading.

I’ll go with that. And it seemed to pique Peter’s interest.

It sounds heavy for a guy who doesn’t read many bookish books.  Peter does read and explores endlessly, but almost exclusively online. I always admired him deeply for his curiosity. There is no question he is an intellectually driven guy.. but not typically in that curl up with a good literary masterpiece kind of way.  So we shall see.

I’m thinking maybe I’ll dive in first… the description sure appealed to me.

In any case, I thought it was a very fine and thoughtful gift, and hope that it will inspire Peter to broaden his scope a bit. Tis what college is about, eh?

~~

Now, having said that Peter is not a great reader of books…. quite unusually, when I came home yesterday, and on and off since, I noticed Peter with his nose buried in a mountain climbing novel… with another on the table beside him. Inspired, likely, by his intention to do some backpacking and climbing this summer with Solly. It was quite a surprise to see him sprawled out, Jeremy-style, actually reading a book. A book with a cover. And pages. So last century.

So… maybe… maybe he does a little reading this summer. Maybe Rick and Linda’s gift will light a little fire.

Sometimes, it’s just time to buy a suit.

Jim and Peter decided today was that time.

(This photo was taken by Jim from inside the Nordstrom’s fitting room, and texted to me. I like it.)

I’m kind of losing it today. The Blue Devils lost their playoff game last night to Oak Ridge… a story I’ll tell later… which marks the end of baseball for us. And oh.. I just can’t tell you.. the bittersweet.  It was all so great, and now it’s over. I’m unbearably sad, but it was so great! I am definitely crying because it’s over, overwhelmed with a grief that I also recognize as full of happy. I can’t even begin to express the happy, as I’m all weepy and numbish.

I think there’s a platitude for this.

Well, it’s a Dr. Seuss quote, actually, so it’s a little more stomachable than a platitude. It goes:

Which is kind of helping today. It’s helping me get to the oh, c’mon Kari, pull yourself together already part… which is good.

Deep breath.

I feel so lucky that Peter…our family…had such a thing as the baseball experience. It was a thread that ran through Peter’s whole childhood. He started at the beginning with T-ball and just rode it the whole way. It was a consistent, fun, worthwhile, constructive presence for just about all of his conscious, rememberable life.

I am grateful for all of it.. the structure, the community, the camaraderie. It provided Peter with an identity, a go-to, a landing spot. It taught him a ton about everything that you expect and want a team sport to teach you.

Of course.

And he would have been fine without it.. something else would have filled in…but I’m just glad we had it anyway. Because I love baseball. That sure worked out, didn’t it? Thank you stars.

I’m probably most proud of his perseverance.  That he remained engaged, that he was inspired to stay with it for all of those years. I am grateful beyond words that he formed deep friendships, a sense of belonging, and a strong sense of self.

Just holy shit. What more do we want for our kids?

Ok… so… some photos?  From the way back?

Here is Peter’s first T-Ball team, the Diamondbacks. It all starts with stretching (the focus started early!):

His coach was.. oh dear.. I’ll have to look up his name… the nicest guy. He was excited and a little nervous because he’d never coached before. He recruited his dad to help, and they were very tender and caring with the boys. They both liked Peter (they liked all the kids) and they encouraged him so much and made it really fun. The coach’s kid was enthusiastic, but I don’t think he went beyond T-Ball.

It’s amazing how you take kids who don’t know which way to run around the base paths and turn them into baseball players (sorta). But it all comes together.

And that was the start. First game, five years old… and on his way.

This is one of the very first shots we ever got of Peter on the diamond (such as it is in T-ball). I love the finger’s out, the foot’s on the bag. He looks a bit uncertain.

These (the below) were some of the last shots I got of him on the diamond. It’s now a little over TWELVE years later. A lifetime.

Hanging on the field before the game.. far more certain of himself:

The above and below shots were taken during warm up for last night’s game. They are not the most spectacular shots, but they are relaxed and confident and infinitely comfortable…a profound contrast to the uncertainty and tentativeness of that first day.

What I do remember about those first days of T-ball was his eagerness. He was so thrilled to finally be officially on a baseball team, starting the baseball program. We/he didn’t have any view of the future, we could not have imagined that he’d ride it until the end, that he’d become a varsity pitcher on his high school team. But he did know he was very excited to be playing baseball. On a team. With rules. With other kids.

We’d been playing catch for years. I remember very clearly the careful tosses to his glove, only on the right side, so he’d experience success always and build his confidence. He loved it. I remember the feeling, very explicitly, of going across the street, lying in the grass, on our backs, looking up at blue sky, feeling warm air on our skin after a long winter, excited about being out there and playing spring catch. I don’t mean to sound too Rockwellian, and we didn’t always do this, but I have a very crisp memory of the times we did, knowing then that it was a special moment, a very precise moment in the larger baseball experience.

I am not exaggerating at all. He loved it. It was a perfect start. Every time, he had fun. His eagerness is what makes me cry now (for happy). T-ball, and the fun we had playing catch across the street, was so simple and such a sweet start on which to build.

And it did build!

I like this picture. It’s important to me because it’s taken at his last game as a varsity player, and also because he looks so quietly comfortable. Such a wonderful and sweet contrast to his T-ball pictures. So mature, so evolved, so grown up, so competent.

At the end of the game, Dan held them for a very long time. Long meeting. I have no idea what all he said, what the other boys said, what the mood was. The parents, plenty emotional ourselves (senior parents, anyway) were dealing. I was in such a world. I was so overcome with the end, which I’d seen coming forever, but experiencing emotionally for weeks. A little tough to process.. simply because we were in a gaggle of parents, everyone handling the end/loss in their grown up ways, quite a range. Not quite sure how to receive our boys when they did, finally, come out.

One by one, some in pairs, they showed up. Quiet, not smiling, some trying to look settled in their feelings and strong. Finding Peter in the group felt almost desperate.. I was feeling so tender toward him, all of them, but especially Peter, hoping he was okay.

He offered a weak smile. We closed around him and started toward the car. And then he lost it. Not in a wracking sob kind of way, but he cried. He was caught off guard by the surge of emotion. He said he was “fine” until he saw us. He was uncomfortable with his tears and tried to shake them off, but they kept coming. We talked a little, said things like, “it was a great ride,” and “wish it could have kept going.” And who knows what else. Jim and I had come in separate cars, so Peter had to decide who he was going to ride home with.. he chose the crying parent.

We didn’t talk that much on the ride home, but we both sniffled a lot. I told him I was incredibly proud of him, so glad for the experience of baseball, so amazed and glad and impressed he went the distance. Said good things about his final season, how it was such a great note to end on.. things like that. He didn’t shrug me off or tell me to stop.

I’m sure as the days go on, especially the weeks, months and years, the baseball narrative will settle into its perfect elements. So many disappointments along the way, so many coulda beens and shoulda beens. But way way way overall, a fantastic, perfect thing. I’m insanely grateful for it all. As I said above… I reflect on his growth, his community of peers, our community of families, his skill building, the development of his athleticism, his identity as a baseball player, his safe landing in a supportive, camaraderie-filled place, the lessons, the opportunities, the friendships, the role models, the successes. He grew and developed in so many positive ways because of his experiences in baseball. And had so, so much fun at every step along the way.

It’s a total cliche. And it’s all absolutely the way it absolutely is.

So, yes, I am SO smiling because it happened.

And oh my god, I love him so much.

Walked into the kitchen this early morning, to see this perfect pepper just sitting on the counter–intended for, but left out of, last night’s dinner?

These days, you know, one is always close to one’s image capturing device–in my case, iPhone’s cradled in my hand as I made the rounds from bedroom to kitchen. It’s the modern way.

Anyway, walk in kitchen, see pepper, so, naturally, I circumnavigated, and here’s what else I got…

(…and as I performed my 360, I applied different filters… the above shot in Dreamstate, because it’s early and I just got up and didn’t have my contacts in yet).

Some HDR to get the most out of the detail and color inside the room (and out), and apparently, the imperfections in the butcher block:

Forget…maybe Madison Ave, just for classic, still-life effect:

Tail Fins, to emphasize the sunbeams:

The subject, itself:

Like a drone:

Not as perfect as I initially thought… iPhone’s impressive macro setting:

And voila–maybe a lifeofwry world record–my blog is done for the day!

At first, I’m like… what? I’m standing in the kitchen with my almost-adult offspring, cutting and glueing clip-art to sing-song poetry… just like when he was in… oh, maybe second grade. This morning I’m doing this. Not exaggerating… it’s totally back to elementary school: the scissors, the double-sided tape, the glue… they’re all there; he’s cutting, arranging, affixing art images to text. It’s a rush job, of course, because: Peter. So there’s a bit of panic in the air. Also just like it ever was.

This cutting and glueing and pasting is for a twelfth grade English assignment. Twelfth grade, I mutter to myself. What on earth? Most of these kids-in-adult-bodies are heading off to college, many are drinking and partying and experimenting awkwardly with the worst of adult behaviors. At the very least, all of them are trying on versions of their adult selves… maybe drinking coffee, maybe just going out for a drive, maybe wearing a tie to school and feeling grown up.

And yet.. here we are, standing at the large kitchen island, clip-art spread out before us… and I’m helping him by tearing off pieces of double-stick tape, while he adheres said clip-art to pages of his children’s book.

His teacher assigned the writing and illustrating of a children’s book. Which seemed so.. odd.  That’s not a very sophisticated project, I thinking. It wouldn’t seem an appropriate, age-related project for grown up, fancy pants seniors.

But then I started to think, no… it’s actually perfect. Just as they are preparing to leave their little feathered nests and fly off into the world, their English teacher is making them write a children’s book.  Maybe he wants them to reconnect with their innermost child selves, maybe he wants to remind them of the values their parents worked so hard to instill in them, maybe he wants to suggest that what they learned in kindergarten should still guide them today, as they prepare to leave home and make their way on their own.

Well played, Mr. Elliot, well played.

So, Peter, faithful to habits he’s honed since day one of homeworksville, was working until about 2:00am on his book’s final touches (probably its starting touches, too). Last thing he said to me before I went to bed around midnight was, “When you get up in the morning, can you print a file for me?” (All his print jobs funnel through my computer. And yes, I’m going to miss these days.)

And this morning, I did that.

The story…

A bit of its premise…

This, I guess, is a goop making tree…

Well, maybe you get the idea.

The story sing songs its way through a tale of goop making. It involves a mean man who wants the goop, we presume for some nefarious reason. Other things happen. And then it ends on a moral high note…

Sure the kids’ll love it.

As usual, please don’t mention to him that you saw this post or heard about his book. Thanks.

~~

I don’t know, but senior year is a funny time.

I did my first Tasty.. you know those compelling 30-second, hyper-sped up food preparation videos that are forever making the rounds on Facebook that make cooking look fast and easy?

I saw one a couple of mornings ago–I’m guessing when I was particularly hungry–and thought, wow, that looks really, really good, and very easy… why, I’m making that for dinner. 

So, I did that. Here’s the result:

Cross-hatched and marinated a pork shoulder in soy, sugar, scallions and garlic (lots) for an hour:

Tossed some asparagus and diced potatoes in olive oil, sprinkled with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper, and arranged on oven platter:

Baked for an hour or so on 275:

Made a glaze of dark brown sugar, honey and soy:

Spread on top of pork and returned to a 500 degree oven for 20 minutes. Here’s the result:

Looks pretty good, and should have been, but for these problems:

• Recipe called for boneless, skin-on pork. Coop doesn’t leave the skin on, so the cross-hatching part didn’t work and the meat didn’t hold together well. Still, it might have been okay, if you like fatty meat, which I don’t. I’d rather use a loin or something far leaner. I think you’d get as good a dish, but maybe not quite as flavorful.. in that fat-adds-flavor way.. but more appealing.
• This one’s key: You have to wait until the oven reaches 500 before you put the meat/veggies back in. Because I just returned the platter to the oven and let the temperature rise while the meat and veggies were inside. The glaze, instead of forming a discreet, crisp top to the pork, warmed and spread all over everything, turning what was supposed to be a savory dish with a nice contrasty sweet, crusty top, into a sickeningly sweet, goopy mess. I didn’t get a photo, but at one point, while in the oven, the glaze had bubbled and frothed to souffle-ish proportions, covering everything in a lava-like layer… and I thought, uh oh, this is not good (it wasn’t). Once removed from the oven, the expanded glaze layer settled back down, but not before it had soaked everything on the platter, to very sticky effect. Add to that, the potatoes were strangely chewy.. not sure why. And the asparagus spears were tough-overdone, not crisp-overdone and they were soggy after being drenched in the sugary glaze.

So pretty much none of it came out edible.. another food fail.

On a roll.

The playoffs have begun. We had our first game today against Vacaville and won 2-1.

There are twelve teams in the division 1 (large high schools) section of the Sac Joaquin Northern bracket. The teams come from three different leagues: the top five teams from the Delta League (ours); the top four from the Sierra Foothill League; and the top three from the Montecito Empire League. Todays round was an elimination round, meaning if you lose, you’re out of the playoffs. Glad we won. Thursday’s game is also a “play in” game, so it’s also a must win (or go home) situation. Then, should we survive beyond that, we enter the four-team tournament, which is double elimination. The winner of that is crowned Northern Bracket champ, and goes on to compete against the winner of the southern bracket. THAT is the big prize. And that is the one Davis has won three times (as recently as 2014). It takes a lot of talent and a good measure of luck to get that far. Wish us a bit of the latter.

Lotta tournament detail for ya.

Anyway, the game today against Vacaville was played on our field, and it represented the final game ever on the Blue Devil diamond for the graduating seniors. All remaining games–and we hope there will be many–will be played at Sac City College and, if we’re still in ’til the end, University of the Pacific down in Stockton.

Sniff.

So… here are some parting shots:

Taken last week on Senior Day… this is our graduating senior:

Photo credit: Mark Martin

Below is the home game press box crew:

Anya and Shelby, DHS seniors who are volunteer team managers, and who run the scoreboard, cue walk-up music, fetch line-ups, ice, and do whatever the coaches need them to do. Sweet and helpful.

And Dianna and me… seasoned, faithful (or is it obsessive) scorekeepers:

Peter took the above picture. Speaking of whom, this is Peter, our absolutely wonderful announcer, posing with Dianna:

I guess we’re all feeling sentimental… here’s another:

(Damn, I’m gonna miss this stuff.)

Here’s the view from my perch…

Here’s one that Wes took just after today’s victory..

Coach Dan Ariola and his graduating seniors:

Daniel, Mason, Ryan, James, Solly, Hunter, Pierce, Gabe, Peter and Ray.

~~

And finally, in the this-doesn’t-happen-often catagory…

The boys decided to wear dress shirts and ties to school today in honor of the opening day of the playoffs: