Life of Wry

If I bend down a bit more and change cameras, I get this (somebody get that woman a tripod):

And this calendula…

of which there are hundreds already:

And though these are considered a weed by some, I love the clover…

…and trusty rosemary:

There are also some other pretty small blue flowers…

..and lots of soon-to-be ladybugs:

Saturday was a three parter. Nothing a flexible mind and a full tank of gas can’t pull off.

The day started with an early morning drive through the central valley to attend the first baseball game of the season — a scrimmage against St. Mary’s in Stockton — on a day perfect for such things. Sun, green grass, seventies.

This shot of the protective netting was supposed to be a shot of Peter’s first at-bat as a JV ball player.

It’s okay.. he popped up to second, not a lot to see there.

Any day that I get to watch Peter play baseball is a great day, and I’d have loved to luxuriate in it, especially the first one since early last fall. Fun to be with the other parents, fun to see how the kids had all grown (a phenomenon so startling!) and just plain fun to be in full spring time baseball mode.

He played the whole game at short stop, minus an inning pitching, and would later make a spectacular catch at short stop, but I missed it, because right after his at-bat, I took off for San Francisco….

A month or two ago, before baseball schedules were out, I’d managed to get a single ticket to see the Dalai Lama.  So.. I grudgingly left the game and headed to the Bay Area for part two of the day.

Very nice drive across the valley and hills. Lot of windmills along 205, very pretty. Hit a bit of traffic on the Bay Bridge (though I do love Fasttrack):

But made it in time to find parking, clear the security checks and settle in. Here’s a pre-talk shot of the stage in Davies Symphony Hall:

His appearance was sponsored by the American Himalayan Foundation–an organization founded by Richard Blum and one I know pretty well, having attended two of their dinners now–and another of Blum’s passions, the Blum Center for Developing Economies at UC Berkeley. Blum, an investment banker and Dianne Feinstein’s husband, puts a lot of his wealth into the remote communities of the Himalayas and toward other efforts to alleviate poverty globally.  Everything I’ve seen of him has been genuinely gracious and compassionate.  Seems a good man.

Seeing the Dalai Lama seemed a no brainer–of course I’d want to be in his presence and hear what he had to say.  And.. I was glad to have had the experience of being there, to see what is done to welcome and introduce him, even to see the protests outside the hall (he’s not universally respected).  And while it was indeed exciting and worth being there, I didn’t understand any of what he said. Even with my hearing aids cranked full volume, I couldn’t do better than a word here or there, and never strung together enough words to understand a single sentence. Not one. Between his accent, his pronunciation and cadence, and his gravelly voice, I missed it all.  More often than not, he’d present his comments in slightly awkward english, but from time to time, he’d slip into his own dialect of Chinese, in which case, his interpreter would take over. I often did not even detect the language change until his interpreter spoke up.  Basically, I was clueless.  (Later last night, I watched a video of, more or less, the same talk recorded in Santa Barbara a few years ago. I got a better sense of what he said and how he spoke, but yesterday, on the fly, I was utterly and disappointingly lost.) After the first minute, I knew I was doomed. I considered leaving, but then decided to just sit back, close my eyes and listen to the rhythm. Mostly I heard every single cough and throat clearing in the hall; it seemed like every last person had a cold.

Walked around the Civic Center a bit. There were Ukraine protests and just lots of bright spring day hanging around going on.

Here’s a shot of the back side of City Hall from the second floor of Davies:

Here’s the front side of City Hall with a rainbow flag. Yay SF:

Left the city, got home about 6:00 and immediately took off for part three — dinner at friends’.  Ate burritos and watched Fargo, for something completely different than the day’s earlier Buddhist and americana themes.

Fargo’s a great movie.

..I love you so.

There are other urban, multicultural, progressive, student ghettos in the world, but none as close and as warm (today) as Berkeley. And a window seat, no less, to watch it all go by.

Had a slow and luxurious two-hour lunch at Alborz, a Persian restaurant near the corner of Oxford and Central.  Discovered it a couple months ago with Jim and Dror the night we went to hear Monica sing at Freight and Salvage, and have been dying to go back. Parto was game and what’s more, she knew her way around the menu and did some fine ordering. All of the staff and most of the clientele was Iranian, which is a pretty good indication of authenticity. Parto gave it a pretty decent review.

This is the neighborhood (Alborz is the red awning):

We had a couple of appetizers mast-o-musir (yogurt with crushed dried garlic) and shirazi (diced tomato, cucumber, onions in lemon and olive oil). They both went well with the flatbread, but we also added them to our entrees. We shared joogeh kabab (chicken breast marinated in lime, saffron and olive oil) and khoresht bodemjan (lamb shank with eggplant and sour grapes). Both came with a mountain of basmati w/ saffron.  And we had them bring a sliced white onlon. The lamb was the better of the two entrees, but I loved both.  Parto had a coke, but talked me into a drink I’d never had: doogh, which is a yogurt-based, savory beverage, carbonated and seasoned a bit with mint. I liked it!  For dessert we had persian tea with hard sugar cubes you’re supposed to put in your mouth while you drink the tea, and these: faloodeh (frozen rice noodles with rose water, to which you could add a squirt of lemon juice) and a rice pudding with almonds (i think) and I’m not sure what else on top.  I actually preferred the frozen rice noodles, but Parto said it wasn’t the best implementation.

Inspired to return. So many restaurants to try.

After lunch we went for a walk down by the marina.  Warm, breezy air.  Spectacular, as always.

Hung out with my Aunt Joy and Uncle Vic in Pleasanton today.

My aunt’s able bodied, but my uncle, approaching 92, is dealing with an array of health issues, and none of it is easy.  So today: a doctor’s appointment, a physical therapist home visit, and a lot of schlepping of walkers and wheelchairs. I will say he is an amazingly good sport. My dad’s brother, been a regular part of my life from the start, I love him so much.

Here’s a somewhat recent photo, taken at his 90th birthday party.

While we sat and talked at one point, he asked if I’d ever seen this photo of my grandparents (I hadn’t). An iPhone photo of an aging 3″x4″ photo… not great… but apparently, it’s my grandpa in his WWI uniform.  He had polio and I’m sure he saw no active duty. I’ll have to find out what he did do.  He is probably about 25, and my grandma around 19.  The year, about 1917.

Love her floppy sweater jacket and the dark Annie Hall-like monotone clothes!  By the time I came along in the 50s, she was wearing colorful, floral dresses over corsets and stockings.

… means revealing the back fence.  Uh oh.

My gardening partner Frances and I have so many plans for the back yard. Until we removed that volunteer fig tree and took out this sun-blocking, no-name hedge (which, of course, was much denser before the hacking), replacing the back fence was not one of them.

Here’s where the list does stand as of today:

– Redistribute all the wood chips that once surrounded the play structure. This is a bit sad, but we are not in need of a soft landing anymore.  Back in 2002, Jim scattered 10 yards of redwood chips, much of which will serve nicely today as mulch in numerous flower beds.  Yay.

– Sadder: repurpose the play structure.  It’s a lovely two-story, redwood edifice, the bottom of which will serve nicely as a garden shed.  Just need to replace the sandbox with a solid floor and we’re good to go: garden shed with its own built-in sitting deck on top (as long as you are fit enough to climb the ladder).  Related: sell or give away the big red slide.

– Re-lay garden paths. Years of boy play has resulted in paths that are ghosts of their former rock selves.  Current concept is to create enormous stamped concrete stepping stones along newly routed paths. We’ll see what the hardscape guy says about that.

– Build a large raised bed for vegetables and herbs in what is now the pit, formerly the northwest sitting deck (definitely a pre-kid thing).

– Build a platform and relocate the compost bins to a more suitable spot on the south end.

– Plant a new nectarine or peach tree, plant said vegetable garden, relocate a whole bunch of snow-in-summer that presently (and beautifully, I might add) fills the pit, and consider a few more plants to fill in areas created by removal of fig and hedge.

These are the last phases of a project that has included replacing the entire irrigation system, re-rocking the dry creek bed, replanting the entire mound with native grasses, and a whole, whole bunch of new plantings everywhere.  We’ve removed, pruned, weeded, and relocated all manner of plants and/or beds over the last couple of years and it’s looking really great back there! It was an effort that needed to wait until Peter was done with his assault.

Jim and I have some side yard work to do (Jim’s a collector of anything with future potential), and Peter and I have some porch work to do (presently, he has a ping pong table, three workout benches and weight paraphernalia galore interfering with our view of the yard… we’ve agreed to a more discreet arrangement in a more out of the way spot).

Then, we’ll be done for awhile in the back yard. Unless we decide to replace that back fence.

The front yard’s been a priority the last couple years; I’ll report on its progress at another time.

I will get to writing.  In the meantime, enjoy the algae along Putah Creek.  Not even going to address the guano.  

… is to describe the above picture of a blooming tree and a speckled sky without using the words cotton ball.

Sunday driver, yeah.

It was a nice day for a driver training practice drive.  Riding shotgun, as I do, I got a couple of early spring drive-bys…

An old barn:

A blooming orchard:

On this particular driving expedition, somewhere south of Davis, along a gravel road, surrounded by mooing cows, Peter decided he wanted to race the car.  Inexplicably, I agreed (I’m that mom):

And then we got to the end of the road…

There’s some very good energy around the bench right now.  A new plaque went in this week. David’s preparing for a 12-city tour; departure date June 4. We’ve been having productive Google Hangout meetings about plans and proposals.  An artist named Jeff painted a beautiful picture of the corner. Bench withstood recent rains okay. Gofundme site’s been active. Dalai Lama comes to Northern California in a week. 

I ran into an old acquaintance today at the store who asked what I was going to be doing for Valentines Day. I said we were going to make a potluck dinner — Jim: main courses, me: dessert — and watch a couple three episodes of season #2 of House of Cards. He asked how long we’d been married. When I said 17 years, he said our plans sounded more like those of a 30-year marriage, shrugged and walked away.

Huh.

Sounded pretty damn great to me.  And it was.

Jim’s roasted chicken, roasted veggies, and rice were perfection. I tried two new desserts:

Martha Stewart’s brownies (cut in shape of hearts and dusted with powdered sugar):

And Martha Stewart’s shortbread dipped in chocolate:

Both were good.  The shortbread especially so.  Martha Stewart recipes are so fussy, and these were no exceptions.  The brownies were more like super dense chocolate cake, rather than flaky, chewy brownies, but they were rich and elegant. Yes, for brownies, they seemed sophisticated.  The shortbread was just ridiculous.. buttery, and perfectly shortbready.  The chocolate part worked out well, too.