Life of Wry

Still hitting the 80s hereabouts. Makes it a little confusing for trees ready to lose their leaves, but a few are giving it the old college try:

The above was shot across the street. A quick scan of my photo archive from last year suggests fall arrived more or less on time in 2014. This year, not so much.

Walking downtown for breakfast, noticed a sign on the heritage elm near the corner of Third and C. This tree is 109 years old and is definitely feeling its age. The drought is not helping.

(Rob Cain, nice guy, is the city arborist, whose job is probably pretty stressful these days.)

Finally, in other city tree news, after a few years of nudging–some of it gentle, some of it tending more toward desperate–the City’s arborist (same Rob Cain) and the Street Tree Commission have, at last, agreed that our neighbor’s Modesto ash has reached the end of its useful life. It is now, as of the commission’s meeting last Thursday, slated for removal. Its departure will give our sycamore some room to grow and spread out a bit, which is a good thing. And I can finally sleep anxiety-free during those fierce north winds knowing that thing’s not going to come crashing down on our bedroom roof.

Here’s the dead tree in question (on the right):

Here is an illustration of the tangle that will be eliminated once the ash comes out and our sycamore can fill toward the north (and straighten up a bit):

We still have a giant redwood two doors up, just to the north of the ash, to sort of worry about (if you’re me and fear falling trees), but the arborist assures us this one’s solidly rooted. Tall, and within reach of our house, yes, but not a reasonable threat. Medium relaxed about this.

I don’t know much about botany, but I think I know enough to know that it’s usual to have Meyer lemons (winter), magnolias and narcissus (spring) and tomatoes, melon, peppers and eggplant (summer, fall) all coming to the same blooming party.

A small corner of our front yard, if you look carefully, has all this going on:

Ya know…   sometimes it’s just the small things… like the warm and fuzzy feeling you get when you stop at the store on your way home for milk and you end up just so grateful to be living where you’re living.

I’m not kidding. I was second in line, waiting to place my few items on the conveyor and I glanced at the magazine rack–the place where you ordinarily catch up on the cheesiest of hollywood gossip or where you’re likely to feel shamed for your flawed and aging body, or amused-slash-repulsed by some grotesquely exaggerated (non)fact of human indignity (she did what with a hockey puck?).  Instead…

The closest they come to provocative headlines is that one, “Strange But True,” which is on the cover of National Geographic… so I think it’s safe. (At least until Rupert Murdoch gets control of the editorial board. Big, fat sigh.)

The Coop’s impulse-buy magazine rack is a gentle, constructive, shock-free zone. Thanks Coop magazine buyers. We appreciate you.

Feeling all warm and un-cynical–a nice way to feel–I headed out to my car, past their lovely fall display…

Here’s a close up of the display’s big daddy…

Way to stick with your branding, guys! A sign of a very heads up marketing staff.

As I do about half the time, I left my bag in my car… so here’s a shot of my cartful of groceries that I’ll transfer to a canvas bag. Mostly it’s a shot of a human scale, garden-filled parking lot, situated in a quiet, tree-lined, downtown neighborhood. If you have to shop….

And finally… a parting shot as I return the cart…

I guess I can call this a typical non-work day, since I’m, um, now working three days a week: a long workout and yoga session this morning; followed by a 90-minute massage to fix that stubbornly displaced hip; a pair-o-errands because ya gotta; a stop at Mishka’s for a cafe au lait, croissant and a bit of reading on the patio; the above trip to the coop; and dinner/movie with the husb in a bit.

I pretty much think that’s why I’m happy. There’s a lot of life to love in Davis.

So my friend [from kindergarten] Sarah and her husband Gabe had this really good idea: Build a cool little performance venue on their property in the foothills, make a bunch of great desserts, whip together a batch of hot apple cider (spiked according to taste), invite a couple of super talented folk artists, gather a whole lot of friends on a warm-enough fall evening…. and… perfection. Obviously.

Sarah and Gabe built this structure… a three-sided space about the size of a paddle tennis court–stacked rocks that look like an ancient ruin. They strung lights and placed candles in glass tubes all over the place. There’s a fire pit. There’s a dramatic crack (intentional). There’s room for chairs, plus tables that hold the delectables. The whole thing is surrounded by trees, sky, stars and magic. And, they call it, “The Ruins.”

Here is a picture of Kelley Mcrae and her partner Matt Castelein, playing at the Ruins:

And because it’s hard to see the singers, I’ll post this one from their website:

Their website’s got some music videos…worth a listen. They earned another fan (or forty) tonight.

It was just a really fun evening. Started by meeting Susan and Jim for dinner outside of Auburn at that place you see on the billboards: Dingus McGee’s Roadhouse (who knew?). Lovely setting. This is our table out back:

And this one’s a shot from the porch as you exit the restaurant…

Nice way to spend a Thursday night.

Now I remember. Working takes time. As in, working happens during the time you might have done other things. Lots and lots of other things. So I’m a little behind today, scrambling to get a bunch of things done that I didn’t do this afternoon because I was working.

Ergo, not much of a blog tonight.

So, I shall dub today, Wing It Wednesday.

I went to my photo archive to see if I had anything to share from my “Pretty Good Stuff” file. Tons. I’m picking this one because I’m still–and expect to be for a while–chewing on the idea of writing…how do you become a writer, how active a process is it, are writers born or self-invented, who writes and why, what is writing…. stuff like that.

Here’s what Ray Bradbury said about it:

Funny thing number one:

Recall, a couple of days ago, I received an email from Subway (the national sandwich chain) confirming my order of four sandwiches (turkey & cheese, Philly cheese steak, rotisserie chicken, and sweet onion chicken teriyaki, if you must know).

Trouble was, I didn’t order any sandwiches. Though, the email was definitely addressed to me and sent to my gmail address (kariannpeterson at gmail dot com). The other more troubling trouble was, the Subway was in Benson, Minnesota, and the sandwiches were charged against a credit card that I did not recognize. This just wasn’t adding up.

Recall as well, the email receipt came on the heals of a couple of other suspicious credit card events occurring over the past couple days (the taxi cab driver who used an old fashioned credit card press to take an impression of my card, and a couple of instances where two of my cards were declined).

The fishiness was mounting.

Finally, recall that when I went to look for my wallet to see if any of my credit card numbers matched the one on the Subway receipt, I discovered my wallet was missing.

Okay, so, all that is old news, covered in yesterday’s blog.

So tonight, I got to wondering…. is there actually a real Subway in Benson, MN, or was this some kind of phishing expedition? And, if it was a real place and a legitimate transaction, how do these online orders work, and how was I involved? I found the Subway shop in Benson immediately, called them right up, and ended up having a lovely conversation with Karen the manager, who is a lifetime resident of Benson (population 3500) and knows everybody. She said the town has lots of Petersons, and she knows a few Karis. She said it was more than plausible a Kari Peterson had patronized her shop two nights ago. She grabbed her local phone book, but couldn’t, actually, find a Kari Peterson. This stumped her.

While I was talking to her, I decided to look again at Subway’s email to me, and when I did, I noticed the receipt included the phone number for the supposed Kari Peterson who’d placed the online order. Karen the manager said it was a number from the town of Marshall, just south of Benson (population 13,100).  She thought it totally reasonable that a person from Marshall was buying sandwiches while passing through Benson.

This was turning into a very good conversation. Plus, her Minnesotan accent was thick and earnest. Things were definitely looking up.

I decided I’d call Kari Peterson of Marshall, MN.

It sounded like I may have woken her up, but she was very nice about it and listened to my story. She also had a thick and earnest accent, which made me feel all homey, like I was talking to an old friend (not to mention we were both Kari Ann Petersons of scandinavian descent). She confirmed that, in fact, she was in Benson on Sunday night and had gone to Subway to pick up four sandwiches that she’d advanced-ordered online. When I told her about receiving the email, she hypothesized that she’d probably mis-entered her email address. As it turns out, her name is Kariann N. Peterson, and her gmail address is exactly the same as mine, but with an extra “N” in the middle; she’d just forgotten the “N,” so the email came to me.

Which…. solves that mystery. It’s not a case of identity theft as a couple of credit card agents had suggested to me, after all. YAY!

So… Yes, my wallet was just lost or stolen. Yes, I’d just mysteriously had not one, but two cards declined at not one, but two different establishments. Yes, I’d just handed over my primary credit card to a taxi driver who took a physical impression of it (!) in these paranoia-fueled days of technologically sophisticated, hyper-secure, fraud-avoiding, bullet-proof procedures for ensuring safe credit card transactions.

But this goofy credit card snafu was entirely unrelated. A truly benign stand-alone credit card incident, in a sea of seriously suspicious credit card incidents. I still have a wallet to find and a whole bunch of cards to cancel and replace, and I’m still feeling all uneasy, exposed and vulnerable. But this case of potential identity theft is closed.

Huh.

After our phone conversation, other-Kari and I exchanged a couple of follow up emails. I must say, the people of Minnesota are super down to earth and very nice.

Funny thing number two:

I started a job today. A paying job with scheduled hours, tax forms, an employee handbook, a break room, co-workers… the whole enchilada.

We shall see just how good an idea this is after ten years of unstructured, unencumbered time.

Stay tuned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So…. a photo..

I do not have a pic from today of the newest member of the Davis work force (!), but how about a photo from yesterday as we drove home from the airport? We were driving along F Street through some pretty, colorful trees in seasonal transition (seemed like fall happened in the four days while I was away!) , and I was fumbling to get my camera out. I missed the best part of the display, so I switched perspectives and tried to capture it behind me. A pretty good idea, but the view was too limited (will you look at all those bumper stickers!) and the implementation was terrible–as I furiously click click clicked (maybe I look more challenged than furious here…), I ended up with more awkward selfies than gorgeous fall-ish streetscapes.

I’m really into shooting iPhone pictures from airplanes.

(That is a lot more fun than trying to get through airport security without any form of identification, which requires spending a lot more time with TSA than usual, including answering myriad nosy questions, and getting an ultra-deluxe, all-over body scan, which, as I said on my Facebook post this afternoon, is impressively comprehensive, especially as it’s conducted in the middle of a busy terminal, in the full and somewhat embarrassing view of hundreds of people…sigh.)

Here are my favorites from today:

Iconic structures at LAX…

The South Bay beaches…. El Segundo, Manhattan, Hermosa, Redondo, Torrance, and Palos Verdes…

Farmland approaching Sacramento…

And one I took of the Sac Airport when I flew out last week… I’ve always loved the landscaping around the airport; it’s nice to see how it lays out…I-5 in the foreground…

I’ll just say it. I lost my credit card wallet thing… that slim, hard-sided box that, when opened, expands accordian-style to display my credit cards. (When a Mishka’s barista–who stands by as hundreds of customers a day navigate their wallets, purses and pockets–tells you your credit card holder is the best thing going, you know you’ve got a good system.)

I am extremely annoyed by this.

I am SURE this is just a faint hint of what is to come as we age and our body sloughs, at an increasing rate, the brain cells essential for memory and every-day cognitive functionality. I mean, shit…. this forgetfulness and spaciness that I seem to be experiencing more frequently these days might be amusing if it weren’t so disorienting and super counter-productive. Like… uh… now… where did my wallet get to? Didn’t I just use it?

I discovered it was missing tonight. Not sure how long it’s been MIA. Trying to reconstruct the last few days was comical, because I can’t remember sh*t. But bottom line, it’s gone (for now..maybe ever). I misplaced it, left it somewhere, or perhaps it was stolen from my purse, perhaps while I wandered in the dark, crowded rooms of the aquarium on Saturday while focused on navigating a wheelchair to optimal sea-life-viewing spots.

One of the bank agents I called tonight to report the missing card(s) to suggested I may be a victim of identity theft. She based this on my set of credit card mishaps that have occurred over the past few days which seem like they could be related:

1. On my taxi ride from LAX to mom’s house three days ago, the driver used one of those old-fashioned credit card slides, which are largely out of use today because it’s too easy for people to steel your number. I felt uneasy, but what are you going to do in that situation?
2. Two days ago, first one credit card was denied, then a second, when I tried to add money to my Starbuck’s card. That seemed fishy. I assumed it was a problem with their machine, until the same two cards were denied at Safeway a few minutes later. A call to the bank later cleared them both, but it was still peculiar.
3. This evening, I got an email from a Subway in Minnesota, confirming my purchase of four sandwiches. That was weird, but what was weirder was that they were charged to a credit card that is not mine. The email address was mine, the name on the email communique was mine, but the card number was not. WTF.
4. And then–as I tried to figure out just which of my credit cards that other Kari Peterson of Benson, Minnesota used to charge her sandwiches–I realized I’d lost all my cards, and have not, for the life of me, been able to figure out conclusively when or where (aforementioned brain cell situation).

Is any of this making sense to you? None of it really adds up.

But I do know I’m without three credit cards, my license, my (and Peter’s) Kaiser cards, my Starbucks, Peet’s and AAA cards, and some miscellaneous coffee and book store punch cards. Waaaah. Gotta get them all canceled and/or reissued.

Then, tonight, my mom’s kitchen sink boiling water dispenser sprang a leak and we spent about an hour cleaning that up.

Did I mention we drove to the theater on top of the hill this afternoon to see the new Steven Speilberg movie and it was sold out? A matinee!

Such the day.

Here’s one thing that was really nice about today, though:

Dinner with Betsy Boo. My mom and I assembled an all-star spread of left-overs… the best ever. And we had one more hand on deck for both the kitchen sink fiasco and a frantic search of the house and car for the missing card case.

What are old friends for?

Saturday turned into a Long Beach day.

(I do love the architecture in downtown Long Beach.)

Chris and I took mom for a spin around the Long Beach Aquarium. What a fun and larky thing to do that was!

It took a little bit of coaxing (okay, like a ton of coaxing) to get her to agree to enjoy the aquarium from the comfort of a wheelchair, but once she acquiesced, there was no looking back. It didn’t take long before she was channeling Miss Daisy; she’d get downright snippy if we lingered too long at one tank or not long enough at another–mostly the latter.

The truth is, she enjoyed it immensely and soaked in as much marine science as a person could reasonably soak in in a very crowded aquarium, surrounded by thousands of rambunctious kids. She was insistent about reading the information signs posted all over the place. She is truly a curious person. I really love that about her.

The LB Aquarium is very nice… far smaller than Monterey, so it feels doable, but great oceanic representation nonetheless. I hadn’t been there since we went with Peter and his big cousin John over ten years ago.

Here are a few shots:

The clown fish were super cute…

The jellies trippy and mesmerizing…

These guys just like a pair of your favorite uncles…

Chris talked about what it’s like to crunch upon dried kelp roots when you encounter them on the beach.. also, note that eel… and that lobster’s tail…

And, of course, the colors were like something out of a candy store….

If this willingness to tool around in a wheelchair continues, we might be opening some pretty major doors. We can suddenly visit a whole bunch of real sights and attractions! LA museums next..

We then decided to visit the Boathouse again–one of Eric’s many ventures–and were not disappointed. What a fantastic dinner we had: cocktails, oysters on the half shell, wedge salads, sea bass, swordfish, halibut, wine, coffee and a pretty great little cheesecake. All of it exceptional. Rolled and groaned our way right out of there.

We had a table with a sparkling view of the bay and Uncle Bud and Aunt Ellie’s house. Better planning next time around.. maybe they can boat over to join us on our next visit.

Um… that sounds a little violent.

Let me rephrase. Shots of LA.

Better.

They’re getting a little bit of weather:

Here’s one I’m wondering about…. is it Dodger Stadium? Is that Mount Washington? If so… I was flying over Dodger Stadium AS THE DODGERS WERE LOSING THE NLDS to the Mets. Poor Dodgers.

Is this the unique and haunting LA light they speak of?

Then.. some LA shots, as seen from the back seat of my Taxi (actually, Manhattan Beach, Hermosa Beach, Redondo Beach…)

Little palm soldiers, all in a row.

I did another version of this picture with that mystery reflection cut out, but it was not as complete, so I left it as is. I love the grace of those trunks.

This last one is Hollywood Riviera, just before driving into PV.  I love the energy.

It was funny, while driving to the airport in Sac, I heard a message come in on my cell from my mom: “Do you want dinner at home or should we go out? Shall I cook? Oh… I’ll cook. Poo.”

A couple of hours later, I was walking through the door. I smelled something amazing.

Dinner:

I am not kidding. This was insane… the beef was so tender and so richly, deeply, perfectly spiced–garlic, pepper, herbs, wine, butter. The beef just fell apart, the potatoes were perfect. Jeez gawd. Fantastic.

I cannot make things taste the way she does. First off, I don’t have the nerve to put that much butter in things, but secondly, she’s got a touch that is all her own. She can use ingredients we’ve all used, but dishes will never come out tasting like hers.