Life in the Country

I drove up to Fort Bragg the other day, with one of my local besties, Susan.  She had to stop by a grower's house to pick up plants for the nursery she and her husband own.   

It was hot in the sun as I walked around and snapped photos.  I couldn't help but feel lucky for living where I do.  The trees were amazing and the sky was big that day- colored that incredible blue that makes you feel lucky to be alive.

There were lots of old tools around I wanted to photograph but I would have had to go into some of the buildings, which I thought a bit invasive. So I stuck to what was outside in plain view.

And then there were the shapes and patterns that I find so interesting to shoot. The photo below looks like pipes of some kind, but they're simply empty plant containers.

 I was quite taken with the rusting frame below, but don't know what it is.  A thresher?

Neatly stacked wood.  For what I don't know.  But I wish whoever did it could come to our house and stack a cord of wood.

Luckily the local animal shelter was closed.  Susan always likes to stop there.  I dread it because I'm always afraid I'll come out carrying something.  Susan says she wouldn't do that.  But she does have three dogs and three cats at present.  I'm suffering from empty nest syndrome.

Two weeks previously Barry and I drove up to Mendocino to see the Mendocino Music festival, where we met up with friends, Pam and Howard.  Equally beautiful.  Just different.

Susan Waterfall, my brother's one time girlfriend who went to the same high school as I, and one of the two founders of the Festival, delivered a great talk on Mozart. She  exemplified points she wanted to make with video, actors, singers, and her own piano playing.  It was two hours and I wasn't bored for a minute.  Her talk was great and she has a terrific speaking voice.

Allan, Susan's husband, and co-founder conducted the orchestra for two of the shows we saw.  He's energetic and fun to watch.  The music, Brahms Requiem, was beautiful.  Our friend, Paddy, was in the chorus, and they sounded great.  So all in all we had a great time. 

Pam and I did a little retail therapy.  Luckily Pam needed more therapy than I!  And I'm glad to report that much to my relief she did not steel the pink pelican. Those things are so hard to sneak and getting them into the car is no easy feat.

But I would be remiss if I did not say I hate it when you're with a girlfriend and she looks so much cuter than you!  It's annoying, don't you think?

I often come back from Mendocino with photos which look like they might be from a gothic horror movie.

 If I ever get married again I want something like below on top of my wedding cake.  It makes me laugh.

Mendocino is full of water towers.

Can churches be any more picturesque than this?

And then there were the flowers.  We went to Trillium for lunch one day and wandered through their lovely garden.

And these flowers were in the little garden at the B&B where we stayed.

 A couple weeks of lovely sights, good music, too much food and occasionally fun travel companions. Let's see, if I were ranking what was best, what would I do?

My Fuckface at 70 years.

Wednesday, November 10th, is my husband's 70th birthday.  We're having four very good friends over for dinner.  I asked them to write something about Barry.  "Talk about why you love Barry" I said.

Sounds like an easy question to answer, doesn't it?  But stop and think about it.  Seriously.  Why do you love your spouse?  It has been a long time since I really thought about this.  I'm at an age now in which friends talk freely about KY Jelly, as if it were WD40, but we don't talk about why we love our husbands.  Besides, a lot of my friends don't have them, or don't love them, so it would be a difficult conversation.

Thirty two years ago, on Barry's 38th birthday, I moved to New York City to be with him.  I could have answered so easily then why I love him.  It would have come burbling out of me.  I probably couldn't have stopped it.  I was besotted with him.  I loved every single thing about him.  Or thought I did.  There's a picture of the two of us.  You can tell how we feel.

But today it's different.  I love him as much.  Maybe more.  But it isn't always burbling up like it was then.  Though I dare you to criticize him.  Then something would burble up all right.  But that's a different thing.

Just a side thought.  I recently sent a friend, Bert, a letter about what a good guy he is.  I'd written it a couple months before for his birthday.  It was hard to write.  But it was so much harder to send.  I think I'm not used to saying such nice things to people. I say it about them, but not to them.  It felt gushy and over the top.  I finally sent it.  And I'm glad I did because he said it made him feel good.  Anyway, off the topic, but I'm having as much trouble writing this as I did that.

Okay, I love his humor.  Barry has always made me laugh.  He has a very good, dry sense of humor.  He's quiet funny.  Really quick.  He says he's funnier than I am.  I'm more obvious: he's subtle.  And he likes subtle.

He can be funny in a less subtle way-- in a physical comedy kind of way too.  He does a great raised eyebrow and some decent funny faces.  And he's a very apt mimic.  I'm always jealous of that ability.

He's very smart, which is almost as important as his humor.

And I love his hands.  I have always loved his hands.  They're sensitive and beautiful, without being effeminate.  Not the long fingers of a piano player.  Just right.

I love how kind he is to most people.  And to animals.  And I love his strong sense of right and wrong, even if I sometimes don't agree with the specifics. Actually I usually disagree, but that's a topic for another day.

I love it that Barry thinks about me.  He goes to the market, and even though I didn't ask for it, he buys something he thinks I'd like.  Or he notices that I have no keyboard batteries left so he orders them.  He puts the little stickers on my car that the DMV sends yearly to show that your car is registered.  (He still shudders from the story of me trying to sell the little Opal GT I owned in San Diego and LA.  The buyer asked if I had an up-to-date registration sticker because the one on it was 6-7 years old.  I didn't know what he was talking about.  That's because I opened the DMV envelopes enough to see that my payment had been received, my registration updated.  Then I threw the envelope away and the sticker with it.  Didn't even realize there were stickers.)

So if Barry dies before me, in addition to hiring the recycling boy, I'm going to have to hire a sticker boy.  I don't think I could replace the one who thinks about me though. And the funny one.  He'd be hard to replace too.  Let alone the one who holds me in the night.

On Barry's 38th birthday I had a birthday cake wishing a happy birthday to fuckface, which is what I called him then.  Still my fuckface at 70.  Yikes!

The View from Gull Cottage

I walked into the house and heard my husband’s raised voice saying, “It’s all your fault”, which is how I knew he had been a good boy and called his mother.

This picture is not as good as the recent photo of my mother-in-law (m-i-l), Jewel, in her hometown paper.   Apparently it is newsworthy that at age 92 she had just gone to a fast food restaurant for the first time in her life.  Never having a quarter-pounder until age 92?  What would life have been like?

The picture below says something about what life was like.  For some reason I'm fascinated by this picture.  First, I just like it: it makes me smile.  And second, it's so unlike the m-i-l I know.  She's the one on the left with the plaster-of-Paris or knee sock on her left leg.  Turns out she was pregnant with my husband (can you can imagine what an old fart he is?!) and that legging is for varicose veins.

  

Her Aunt Belle is kneeling next to her.  Belle looks fun, she has on killer shoes, a great smile, and she looks so stylish, Jewel so un-stylish.  I've never in over 30 years seen her in what I would call a "house dress."  And that's what she has on.  Her mother is standing and looks just like Jewel.  Or visa versa.  And she doesn't look too stylish either.

On the other hand, there's something very sweet about this photo.  Jewel is un-posed and looks very happy.  She looks young and innocent and sweet.  And today she is none of those things.

My husband just walked in and asked if I'm doing this to embarrass him.  No, not at all. Wait till I start discussing the two of us.  He'll be wishing for more on his mother.  I guess it's kind of odd to start this blog with my mother-in-law.  However, aren't mother-in-laws at the bottom of everything?  Along with mothers.