let's hope for the best, we always do...

 So grateful for my readers and their comments over these many years. Happy New Year to everyone!

the clock, the memories

 This was my daily writing exercise:

THE CLOCK SHOP

I’ve been to a couple of clock shops in the past few months, trying to get my

father’s clock fixed. Daddy had a bad heart and was forced to sit for hours

in his chair by the fireplace. I don’t know if I inherited the clock or maybe I

just stole it when he died. He was an uneducated man who read all the

time and knew more than most Harvard professors, I bet. This beautiful

clock was right there with him.

Are all clock shops messy? One would think they would be clean and

precise and tidy. That is not my experience. In any event, I picked up the

clock yesterday and Mr. Smith and I had a long talk about people and

clocks. I am not the only one who is attached to a very old clock.

Some clock makers specialize. One guy will only work on French time

pieces, the place in Noe Valley won’t touch electric clocks and the clock

repair woman prefers to work on time pieces manufactured before 1850.

I wish I had bothered to ask about Daddy’s clock when my parents were

still alive. It took Mr. Smith about two months to fix this and yes, I missed

it a lot. And expensive? Almost $300 for the fix-up. Worth it?  You betcha. 

gloomy but efficient

 This is the scenic dumpster area where Kaiser does the Covid testing. There was only one other car and of course I had an appointment yesterday. I had to back out after the swabbing and managed to avoid hitting orange cones and more dumpsters, but all in all, an OK experience. The first of many times here, I fear.

attention must be paid

 Wayne Thiebaud was a prolific Bay Area artist who lived to be 101 and kept working until the end. A lot of his work is food related (cupcakes, ice cream) but my favorites have always been his unusual views of the city. Mr. Thiebaud died a couple of days ago and he certainly will be missed.

words from Winnie

"Some people care too much. I think it's called Love." Winnie the Pooh.

One or the other of us would forget our Wedding Anniversary sometimes over the many years we were married. Then we would usually go out to dinner to celebrate and talk about how fortunate we were. He was so easy to be with most of the time. We understood each other. I think it's called Love.

a happy Pumpkinville Christmas

 A wonderful day despite the rain. The top photo might be my fave ~ three generations of Blogmaid women and then of course we all ate too much once again at the super festive holiday table. I am beyond grateful to and for these dear friends.

the nose, the knife

 Yesterday I took my nose to the Covid testing clinic at 24th and Mission. Kind people helped me as the cell phone is key here. The line was not long at all. Then for dinner Barb and Doug fixed a lavish steak with Hasselback potatoes and the all important green salad. I needed to be out and about, even Hermits know that. Today to Pumpkinville ~ hooray!

tea and memories

 One of the pleasures of hibernation is taking the time to remember those who had the audacity to leave me. This is one of Jennie's china tea cups and I am transported back to her tiny apartment on Market Street where she loved to look out the window and toward the end I did the pouring of the tea. I did not see her often enough when Covid entered our lives. And Marsha's bright red poncho is getting a good work out this season ~ she wore it to Husbando's memorial at The Ramp. As you can imagine I have about 4,000 photos of Bill scattered around and we enjoyed so many holidays together. Being Jewish he got out of all the red and green work as I would remind him on a yearly (daily?) basis. 

one tree

 I will enjoy the Blogmaid's tree (and her family) on Christmas Day. Currently I am appreciating a few quiet at-home days around the fireplace. The rains have returned and we rejoice, but of course I am not one of those romantic souls who likes to walk in the rain. So I bike for exercise. And read.

three highlights

 It's wonderful when holiday cards flutter right into the heart. These three did so. I am loved.

this I like a lot

 Holiday cards are still such a special and necessary part of the yearly traditions. I love hearing from folks near and far, seeing the children and grands grow and just making sure everyone is a-ok. In the meantime, this new Covid strain is popping up far too close to home. Argh.

smaller than usual (but full of joy)

 The writing group gathered at Doug and Barb's yesterday for an early Early Bird Supper and we read a few pieces of our work, but mostly chatted and tried to make sense of this life. Old photos of years gone by magically appeared on our cell phones and we remembered those who weren't there for the yearly celebration and those who are rightly fearful of Covid. The food was terrific, the company comforting and yes, life is strange and yet still quite wonderful. 

news and red roses

 Lindsay, the youngest grand daughter, is moving to NYC in January. She has been living in Israel for a couple of years and although I never visited her there as I wanted to, for sure I will see her in Manhattan. She sent me this photo of her walk-up (4th floor, yikes) on 22nd Street. Lovely no? Then her whole family (Rob, Sarah, Samantha, Lindsay and Honey the dog) sent these beautiful flowers making my whole house festive and special. Fortunate me!

at the True Food Kitchen

 Ah yes, we have all missed Carlini so yesterday I took the BART out to Walnut Creek and had lunch with our friend of many years. That little suburb has grown at an incredible speed and the traffic was worse than SF, or so it seemed. Carlini is doing great with his church and other activities. We had a fine catch-up and a delicious lunch. 

for the January book club

 and from Gini's email:

The January book is called I Was a Stranger by General John Hackett. It is about Gen. Hackett parachuting into the Netherlands during WWII, resulting in terrible wounds, he was hidden by a very kind Dutch family and later made his escape.

John Hackett later became the head of King's College, University of London and even later became SIR John Hackett.

tea and books and red all over

 The Book Club met at Connie's yesterday. Fun to poke around a new place to ooooh and ahhhhh. We exchanged some cool gifts and talked and ate too much and drank tea (!) and felt festive.

the niceness of neighbors

 Laquetta came over yesterday afternoon to weed under the ginkgo tree in front of our house. A long overdue task that I had ignored due to my barking knees and addiction to cat and fireplace. When she finished we had tea and a bit of quiet meditation. Wow, what a difference! 

today's staples: sugar, coffee, test kits

 Grrrrr. I do not want to twirl a giant Q tip in my nostrils, but maybe it won't be so bad. I bought this one on Amazon because there are too many germs in Walgreen's. There is a party next weekend and all the guests have been asked to self-test. Even hermits need holiday gatherings. 

before the rains

 Jeanine's husband (Pat) shot this Saturday night. I have tried for decades to get a good photo from the back room when our city is all a-twinkle in the dark. So hooray ~ I might put this on my computer screen. 

tamales with sides and friends and lights

 Neti took over the kitchen thank god and we had a lovely evenng. All I had to do was buy the tamales at La Palma a few blocks away in the morning,  Pat made the luscious flan and Jeannine brought salad and snacks. Annabelle was at her show offy best and only paraded around the table before the guests arrived. This is NOT allowed, so don't tell a soul. 

RIP Don ~ thanks for the laughs

 A friend texted me two days ago that the The Bad Reporter had died. I knew Don Asmussen through his first wife who is a friend of mine. He had been fighting brain cancer for years, he lost. The Chronicle will do a big splash tomorrow, orchestrated by this wonderful cartoonist himself. 

another farewell

 Brian Williams was on every weeknight here at 8pm on MSNBC. Just the right amount of truth and snarkiness and last night he said "goodbye" to all of us. I adore him and am grateful the he helped me get through those god awful Trump years. (Is snarkiness a word?) And we lost Chris Cuomo (Meatball) too, I do not like these trends. Damn.

you should google this

 Comedy Pet Photography Awards ~ maybe my favorite kind of humor these days. My girl, just in case you are wondering, makes me laugh at least once a day with her antics. I don't miss Facebook at all, but I do love the cat and dog videos on Instagram, so that remains on a once-every-three-days kinda habit. 

peace, calm and nature

 The most welcome light rain Monday night left us with clean air and sunshine yesterday, so Ginger and I walked around Stowe Lake before coffee. A beautiful day and time to breathe between addressing holiday cards and checking off the endless To Do List.

yikes, some scary shit

 Of course I read the book years ago, but somehow watching The Handmaid's Tale on Hulu takes it all to a brand new level of awfulness. It's so Texas, so right wing, so Trump and yes, so possible. This is, however, great acting, plot and drama. It should be required viewing for young people, in my humble.

downtown on Sunday

 My city was packed yesterday, despite all the crime and no parking, etc. I met Neti and Pat at the SF Theater for 12th Night, a Musical, and it was fun. You can see in the bottom photo that the set is gorgeous and the actors were energetic and so talented. We have Bloomingdale's at the Westfield Mall in the top picture and no, I did not go inside. Just a spectator this year, move along now.

a poem for these times

 Try to Praise the Mutilated World

BY ADAM ZAGAJEWSKI

TRANSLATED BY CLARE CAVANAGH

Try to praise the mutilated world.

Remember June's long days,

and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine.

The nettles that methodically overgrow

the abandoned homesteads of exiles.

You must praise the mutilated world.

You watched the stylish yachts and ships;

one of them had a long trip ahead of it,

while salty oblivion awaited others.

You've seen the refugees going nowhere,

you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.

You should praise the mutilated world.

Remember the moments when we were together

in a white room and the curtain fluttered.

Return in thought to the concert where music flared.

You gathered acorns in the park in autumn

and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.

Praise the mutilated world

and the gray feather a thrush lost,

and the gentle light that strays and vanishes

and returns.

(Personal note: the black and white photo is by Lilo Raymond and hangs in our bedroom. Husbando bought it my years ago. Memories.)

 

fireplace days/daze

 This hermit needed a day for her cat and poetry box yesterday. Tomorrow I will post a favorite poem entitled Try to Praise the Mutilated World by Adam Zagajewski. Timely.