That discouraging word

Remember that old cowboy song Home on the Range? "Where never is heard a discouraging word, and the sky is not cloudy all day." or something like that. What is a "discouraging word" anyway? I think of it like a bad attitude. And I have a bad attitude about discipline - that's my discouraging word.

These days I'm trying to learn how to do most of the things I want to do while still finishing projects, i.e. learn discipline. I'm a person who loves to start a lot of things at once, and then lets them hang over my head until I finish them much later. I do eventually finish them, but planning and starting is the fun part. Finishing, not so much.

This reminds me of a former relationship I was in, where my partner liked to tear apart things in the house, starting a renewal project, and then let it sit unfinished forever. Drove me crazy, and now I'm doing much the same thing.

With all this in mind, I've established a time for writing. Every day. Stephen King does it and look at his production. If I can do even a fraction of what he does, I'll be way ahead of where I am now, which is madly trying to finish something at the last minute to submit to my writing group once every two months. Writing is one of the things I want to do, and it's never really finished of its own accord. So if I just think about it, wish I had time to do it, and never put any words down, I've failed.

I'm writing an hour every day, 11:00 a.m. to noon. At this moment, I'm not worried about what I'm writing, as long as I write something. So far it's been three days, and twenty one days makes a habit. Wish me discipline.

Portlandia

Wayne and I have been in Portland OR for the past several days, staying with my grandson Jack and his family's foreign exchange student Alvaro while my son and daughter-in-law are in Mexico. Alvaro is from Madrid. He's 13, will be 14 in April, and has been studying English since he was 5 years old, in pre-school. His English is very good. On top of that, he's a delightful boy/young man, right where he should be - balanced between the worlds of child and adult. I have been texting with his mom in Madrid, and she can hardly wait to get him back. Obviously. He's been here in Portland with my son's family for a month. It's a long time, but the experience will be with him for a lifetime.

Here is Alvaro, doing homework from Spain at the dining room table.

We thought we had rain in northern California! It's been a really hard winter in Portland - endless rain, snow, more rain, cold, snow. So when my son asked us to come, we of course said yes. They have an annual vacation in Mexico with my daughter-in-law's family and it gives them a mid-winter chance to see and feel some sun. Totally necessary.

Jack, my 14-year-old grandson, did not want to go. He didn't want to miss school. All his cousins are much younger so there's no one his age. There's spotty internet. Big Problems when you're 14. Not to mention they wouldn't have been able to have Alvaro if they were all going away. This is the last week he will be here before going home to Madrid.


We brought a little sun from California. For the first time in months (according to my son), there was a day of sun after we arrived and before they left for Mexico. It's rained every day since, but Thursday (day after tomorrow) there's supposed to be sun in Portland. Hallelujia! There's some hope for spring, I can see crocus and daffodils in yards as I walk Tuli, the adorable little-girl dog. Here's Tuli (short for Tulip) on the left.

Here's sun in Portland on the right. Verified.

I love both these boys, and my son and daughter-in-law, or I wouldn't put up with this weather. We are having fun, although most of it is indoors. On Friday, I'll deliver Alvaro to his group to begin their journey back to Madrid. My son and daughter-in-law return from Mexico on Saturday, we return to Oakland on Sunday. It's all going fast.

Here is a caricature of Jack and Alvaro, amazingly accurate, that was drawn by an artist at the Portland Saturday Market before we came. Alvaro will take it back to Spain with him, but I have a photo, which I will cherish. Youth. Love.

The second flight of stairs

My son Arthur and grandson Jack were here visiting last week. That time just flew by! But while they were here, Arthur helped me with two projects I've been meaning to do. One, he cut back a lot of the dead wood and "suckers" out of the trees and bushes in front of our house. I love the way it looks now! And I'm going to plant a succulent garden there - beautiful and drought-resistant. Arthur loves succulents and he inspired me. He has a greenhouse full of them at his home in Portland. We went for walks in my neighborhood while he was here and saw many yards full of beautiful succulents. It makes perfect sense in our perpetual drought situation.

     The other project he got me started on was the second half of our stairs going up to the second story. Wayne and I had taken the carpet off the lower half long ago, and had sanded and more-or-less finished the steps and landing nicely. But we left the carpet on the second half of the stairs "for later". Funny how longer "later" can be! Here was the first half.

     Arthur and I stripped that dirty old carpet and its underlayer off, and he got all the nails and boards and staples out too. Of course, like the first half, the treads and risers are covered in a yucky brown and fully leaded paint. Who knows why? And it's worn, so people must have walked on it for a long time "as is". Ghastly.
 
We don't like to sand leaded paint in the house, and I don't like wearing that big mask to avoid breathing in all that lead. So I am stripping the stairs of the lead paint before sanding. And I'm using a safer stripper so I don't have to wear a mask at all. The kind I'm using is called Citristrip, and it works very well. It has to stay on about 30 to 45 minutes, and then you scrape it and the paint off. I have to use a wire brush on the treads because the wood grain is grooved and there's paint in them thar' grooves. Still, it works and it doesn't eat your hands or poison you. Here's what I've done so far. More tomorrow.
     When the stripping is finished and the sanding is done, we plan to varnish and seal the steps. They don't really need to be stained as they're quite a nice color. Can't wait to have beautiful stairs!
     It sure was fun having Arthur and Jack here, and not just because they "helped". Now I miss them, of course!

Summer restaurants

Wayne and I decided we'd travel locally a bit this summer, since I wasn't committed to working the pool bar at the Claremont Club & Spa every weekend. By "locally" we meant northern California, possibly requiring one overnight but no further away than that. We made some wonderful road trips! Of course anyone who knows me knows I love food, and much of the wonderfulness of these trips for me revolved around discovering amazing restaurants. Here are a few we enjoyed, just in case you might be in one of their neighborhoods.

Santa Cruz, July 31: The Ideal Bar & Grill

Of course Santa Cruz has a number of good and great restaurants. But if you're going to the Boardwalk, and if you have in tow your teenage grandson who likes to eat certain things and definitely won't touch others, you have more limited choices. I have to say the restaurants in and around the SC Boardwalk are generally touristy and not very interesting, with one exception. We have always had good food at the Ideal Bar & Grill, right on Santa Cruz's Main Beach.
This time we ordered burgers and fries (Jack's choice, meat and bun only, no sauce, no condiments for him). In the end, he gave the final verdict. "Good food." That's high praise from Jack. And it was good - very fresh, flavorful, and fast friendly service.

Jenner, August 29: River's End Restaurant

Jenner is off the beaten path, to put it mildly. We got here on our way to Mendocino on the north California coast. It's where the Russian River meets Highway 1 and the Pacific Ocean, hence River's End. You either have to know about this restaurant or get lucky, like we did, on your way to somewhere else. This is a big fishing area, and oysters and salmon were fresh out of the water when we arrived. We both had salmon chowder, and big lunch salads. Mine had duck and it was just out of this world.  Wonderful food, elegant service. We'll find an excuse to drive out here again!

Mendocino, August 30: Trillium

I've been to Mendocino lots of times, but Wayne hasn't so it was fun to show it to him. It's quite a long drive, especially if you take Highway 1, which we did. Beautiful though, along the Pacific most of the way.

I'd even eaten at Trillium before, years ago, but then it was called Chocolate Moose (loved that name). I had a soup there, a fish chowder, that I copied and still make at home. It's one of my favorite soups.

The weather was gorgeous in August, although not hot. Mendocino is far enough north and right on the ocean so it gets a fair amount of chill and wind most of the year. This day was lovely enough that we had lunch on the patio overlooking the kitchen garden and looking out to Big River Bay between the sweet old buildings of Main Street. We both remarked on the air. It was so clean, so clear, that we felt like we could breathe better than we had in a long time...an unfortunate legacy of our normal lives in a big city and in a part of the country prone to wildfires, which even if they're far off fill the air with smoke.

Trillium's kitchen garden was of great interest. We sat on benches there waiting for the restaurant to open for lunch. There were a multitude of vegetables and herbs growing, with insects and birds buzzing around, and wonderful herby smells. Quite entrancing, not to mention whetting your appetite.

I had a curried vegetable pot pie, which was fresh and lovely. Wayne had a salad with fish. Both were delicious, fresh and simple. The atmosphere was magical, and when we were finished with lunch we got in the car for our return to reality.

Sonoma, September 18: La Salette

Needless to say, every other restaurant in Sonoma is famous and fabulous. We were here for some pre-birthday celebrating, however, and wanted to eat something different, something not 'California wine country cuisine'. Wayne saw this Portuguese/Brazilian spot online and we decided to go for it! We were so glad we did - what a discovery!

It had been a hot day in Sonoma, so we sat outside on the patio for dinner. The evening coolness felt great. The first exciting event was a little shot glass of tomato water, compliments of the chef. I wish I knew how to make it. It was the most intensely tomato-flavored water I could imagine - delicious and so refreshing. Then we both decided to order steak and fries, which we never do. We actually don't eat beef, unless someone serves it to us in their home. So this night was a special occasion.

The steaks arrived on a bed of fries with a fried egg on top. Wow, hadn't seen that before. The fries were swimming in au jus from the steak, so no real need for any other condiment. Yum! Tender, juicy, delicious, meaty, eggy, we ate every drop. We'll be back here again too!
An added bonus was a little nightclub next door and down a few steps, where a band was finishing their last set and we danced to a couple of tunes before heading back to the hotel.

Sonoma, September 19: El Molino Central

This unassuming little place is one of our favorites, and we try to eat there as many times as possible whenever we're in Sonoma. Best. Mexican. Food. Ever. And it's not your usual Mexican either. Wayne's tostadas this time came covered in fresh crab and avocado. My enchiladas were stuffed with red chard. It's a seasonal menu, and just the best. So humble that you have to walk through the kitchen to get to a table, which is a picnic table. Love, love, love this place! Highly recommended.

Looks like we ate our way around northern California, doesn't it? Couldn't have been more fun or more yummy.

Reflection on long-ago summers

I don't think I have a favorite summer.

             I never actually liked summer better than winter, or any other season. As a girl, I was stuck on the farm in summer. I missed my friends, and had no one to play with except my little brother and the older girls who lived at the next farm, a mile up the road. They were no fun.

            Summers were spent lying out in a clover field, whichever one my dad had decided to let lie fallow that year, reading book after book and daydreaming about the wonderful exciting life I would lead someday, in a city full of people. Summers were hot and sticky, and the girdle my mother insisted I wear was like heavy armor. As I grew older, my thirst for people led me to ride my bike the mile and a half into town nearly every day, and the municipal swimming pool became the center of my existence. No girdles were required under a swimming suit! Once I got my driver's license, I spent even less time on the farm. In summer I worked at the A & W carhopping, or sewed dresses for the next school year with my friends. With my eye toward the End of Summer.

            Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. My birthday is in autumn. School was back in session and there were football games and band rehearsals and a million things to do. The days got crisp and I could wear sweaters and corduroy skirts, my favorites. Leaves turned gorgeous red, yellow, and orange, crunching as you walked through them, and the smell of bonfires foretold Homecoming, when the heroes who had gone off to college returned, and Halloween. It was an exciting time after the doldrums of summer.

Amazing Upholstery Adventure - the Finale

I never did post the final final of the chair I upholstered, with the very able and crucial help of my friend Rolando, who knows what he's doing! Good thing someone did!

Here it is, happily living in our dining room. As I mentioned at the beginning, it really is Wayne's grandfather's chair, and it was sad and in pretty bad shape before we took it all apart, fixed it, and made it beautiful again.

We are very happy with it! Thank you, Rolando!

The Moon

I've belonged to a writing group since 2004, meeting once a month and submitting a piece for comments every other month. It's really fun and I've become great friends with the ten or so members of the group. Really great friends. In the course of writing - many of us write memoir - you get to learn so much about yourself and each other. Even if you write fiction, you learn a lot.

It's inspiration too. I'm sure I wouldn't still be writing if it weren't for the group. Someday maybe I'll publish all the stories I've written about my life. Maybe you'll read them.

Every month Larry, our leader, puts out an idea, called a Prompt, that we each write 10 minutes on. This is in addition to our regular submissions. We can approach it any way we want. It's just a little creative thing, something to have fun with.

The prompt in November of 2015 was: "Write about the moon, about something it means to you, good or bad." Here was my entry; maybe you're old enough to relate.

MOON 

My friend Brian Bobby and I sat upright on cushions in front of a 19-inch black and white TV.

            "It looks exactly like the space shorts we used to see before the main movie when I was a kid," I said.  "Captain Something, or Flash. That's what it was, Flash Gordon."

            "Yeah, grainy and wavy like that," Brian agreed. He scooped up a big handful of popcorn from the bowl next to his leg and took a slug from his can of Budweiser.

            It was July 1969, and on TV Neil Armstrong was descending the stairs from his spacecraft to the surface of the moon. Supposedly. A big puff of dust rose around his feet as one foot stepped off the ladder.

            "Wow," Brian said. "What if there's nothing there but dust and he sinks out of sight?"

            "The space ship's sitting on something, silly." Brian wasn't the sharpest tack in the box.

            "Oh yeah," around a mouthful of popcorn.

            Amidst a hail of static the astronaut intoned, "One small step for man . . ." The picture wavered, then faded in and out.

            "I don't know, Brian. What keeps this from being just a movie? How would we know?" I didn't believe a word of it. It was so like Flash Gordon, I was pretty sure it was faked.

            "Nah. They wouldn't do that."

            Right. I'm still not completely convinced it was real.