What we did instead of flying to Nepal

By the time we woke this morning, the hilarity of the situation had completely worn off.  Grumpy disappointment had set in.  Not much talking was going on, and I’m sure Gideon and I both were mentally going over who was to blame for last night’s blunder.  I quickly realized blame was futile—there was nothing to do but try to enjoy the day and try to be thankful that we weren’t folded like pretzels in airplane seats at the moment… that will come soon enough, and we’ll have endless hours to endure.

By late morning, we headed out for the day.  Stop one was the coffee bar for me.  I got my cup of Joe, and jumped back in the truck (Brian’s truck, which we were borrowing for the day), fully expecting Gideon to have come up with a plan and to whisk me off on a fun adventure.  He obviously had expected that I would come up with an exciting idea of how to spend the day.  We sat in the parking lot mumbling under our breaths at each other for a few minutes, trying to make the other do the thinking.  Finally, we stopped our pouting long enough to decide to head to Muir Woods, just a twenty minute drive toward the coast.  Off we went.

The grumpy twins stumbled about in the woods trying to resist the calming effect of Nature.  I succumbed, and started enjoying myself, marveling at the mighty Coast Redwoods and the small delights of the forest as well.

 

  

  

 

Gideon took a bit longer to thaw out.  A visit to Muir Beach did the trick for him; water tends to have that effect on him.  We watched surfers riding the winter waves, the little kids dodging the flowing surf at their toes, and the dogs running willy-nilly on one of the only leash-free beaches in the area.

A ranger on the beach informed us that there was a tsunami watch in effect for the area due to the recent earthquake in Chile.  That was enough motivation for me to beat it to the Muir overlook in the hills above the beach.  Despite having my rather dressy traveling shoes on, I hoofed it up to the top without stopping.  There I could enjoy the view without stressing about a rogue wave (which never came, by the way).

We ended up having a lovely day.  The fresh air and exercise will be sorely missed during our 32 hours of travel to Kathmandu, but we got out there today and took advantage of it while we could.

Tonight we head back to the airport for another go of it.  Now, let me go recheck the flight information one more time…

And we’re off… not

There’s nothing like the rush of arriving at the international terminal of the airport after the last minute running around prior to departure.  When you arrive at the airport, that’s it; everything that's going to be packed is packed; the adventure is all there is before you; there’s no turning back.

Unless, of course, you arrive at the airport on the wrong day.

Here’s how the conversation went with the man at the Cathay Pacific check in counter at 10pm last night.

Me (handing over our passports): Hello.  We’re heading to Kathmandu.
Him: Okay, let me look.  (Long pause as he is typing away on his keyboard.) Hmm.  I have no record of you.
Me (smiling and thinking of Tiffany, our travel agent): Oh.  Gideon?
Him: Let me look again.  Do you have any confirmation papers?
Me:  Gideon??
Him: What is your itinerary?
Me: San Francisco to Hong Kong to Dakar to Kathmandu.
Him: Ahh, yes, there you are.  You leave this time tomorrow night.
Me (bursting into laughter after consciously deciding to see the humor in this): Oh!  Well!  Isn't that something?  Sorry about that!  My bad!

And off we went to hail a cab to take us back to our friends, Brian and Katie’s house for the night.

You know, I’ve been watching the Olympics a lot over the past few weeks.  I particularly like watching speed skating.  But nothing is more annoying than a false start, don’t you think?  That’s really taken on a whole new meaning to me and Gideon.

So, we've got another day to putz around here in the good ole U.S. of A.  Tonight, by golly, we will be on a plane heading somewhere... hopefully to Nepal.

Congratulations Gideon!

Hallelujah and thank the Lord.  Gideon is done with the California Bar. 

Day after day, since Christmas, the poor boy has been cooped up in the cabin studying all sorts of legalese.  Yes, he’d bust out from time to time and climb a tree or take the dogs for a W-A-L-K, but for the most part his nose was stuck in a Barbri book and his fingers were banging out practice essays on the computer. 

Sometimes he’d get so fed up he’d throw himself onto the couch from across the room, or the dog bed, with or without Josie there.  Sometimes he’d put on his running shoes and let the pack of dogs chase him down the road to the firehouse and back.  Sometimes he’d practice putting his long curly locks in a ponytail… this didn’t really kick in until the past week or so. 

But for the past three days, he’s gone to Oakland and spent full days sitting for the exam along with hundreds of other poor saps.  It’s been a long three days and his brain is pretty much fried, but he is done, and I'm seriously proud of him.  I don't think I could have done what he just did, at least not without crying like a baby and poking pencils in my eyes everyday.    

Now he can start packing for Nepal!

Two days ‘til take off... and I'm driving myself crazy

Two days from now Gideon and I will be at the airport preparing to board our Cathay Pacific flight to Kathmandu. 

I’m pretty much as ready as I’m going to be.  I’m sure I will unpack and repack my luggage four or five more times before we head to the airport on Friday evening, but I don’t think I’ll be adding or subtracting much more from my accumulation of travel necessities. 

I really dislike the generalized feeling of anxiety I wrestle with the few days before a big trip.  I feel like I’m in a holding pattern.  I can’t stick to my regular routine.  I can’t wear certain clothes because they are packed or will be packed.  I can’t totally relax.  Oh, and then there are those pesky passport dreams.  Always the same thing—I show up at the airport without my passport, or worse, not even realizing I needed a passport in the first place.  I’m left behind, all the big plans ruined.

In an effort to quell my angst, I tend to shop.  I stalk the aisles of Target, CVS, R.E.I., Borders, Marshalls—anyplace will do, really—to see if some all-important travel necessity catches my eye.  There’s usually something… anti-bacterial wet wipes, slippers for the plane, small gifts for folks we’ll meet in Nepal, energy bars for the trek, a few more pairs of socks.  But really, is it necessary?  I admit, many of the purchases I’ve made probably won’t even be used in Nepal, but for some reason, feeling prepared for just about anything calms me down. 

The fact is, I am ready to get on with it.  It’s time to travel and I won’t rest until I’m on that plane and poking through my carefully packed carry-on bag deciding what snack to eat first, or what book to read first.  Until then, I’ll be flitting around like a busy bee, accomplishing nothing of great importance.

I should know you

Since I was six or seven years old there has been a mysterious family lurking in the wings of my life.  From time to time, I heard stories about these people, mostly of times long past.  I knew some of their names; I had a vague idea where they lived; but I knew no details about their lives and I never met them or even seen photos of most of them.

This family is my step-mother, Sharan’s family; more specifically, her mother, sister, and her sister’s family. 

I suppose every family has its rifts.  There are things that happen that cause people to go separate ways, or to limit contact with one another.  But a complete severance of ties between two sisters who were as close as twins for the first part of their lives is more than I have ever been able to comprehend.  The thought of being cut off from one of my own sisters hurts to think about.  The idea of being cut off from my mother is not something I can even allow myself to consider.

There are reasons why Sharan is not connected with her mother and sister.  As an adult, I can now respect that.  Over the years, I’ve poked and prodded into the stories of Sharan’s life.  I’ve asked endless questions, and Sharan has given me thoughtful, heartfelt answers.  But I’ve always been left with a feeling of unease, emptiness, and deep sadness about this other family that was once Sharan’s family.  I’ve Googled these family members.  I’ve imagined tracking them down in California.  I’ve had long mediation sessions with them in my mind, trying to bridge the gap and reunite these strangers with my step-mom. 

Recently, one of the grown children of Sharan’s sister contacted Sharan and Polly through Facebook.  Earlier this week, Polly and I spent an hour pouring over the photos of the newly “friended” daughter, Amy.  It was like peeking in the window of an enchanting stranger’s home.  We stared intently at each photo—individual shots and family shots, gasping, laughing, pausing, imagining what it would have been like to be a part of these people’s lives. 

Do they wonder about me?  Do they regret that they don’t know me or my brother, Brad, or Polly?  Do they miss Sharan?  Do they wonder about my dad, Sharan’s husband of over twenty-five years?  Do they feel as sad about this as I sometimes do?




Today I was picking up some groceries at Trader Joe’s in San Rafael.  I had heard from Sharan’s youngest sister, my dear friend Katharina, that two of the kids worked there.  In fact, a few months ago, I had stopped there with Katharina and we ran into the son, Anthony.  Katharina had made contact with him a few years ago and introduced me to him.  It was a highly unexpected moment and I was so shocked to meet the young man that I found myself shaking afterward.  I’ve thought about him every time I’ve driven past Trader Joe’s since that day.  And I also thought about his little sister, a recent high school graduate, who works there as well but was not there the day I met Anthony.

This afternoon, I asked the guy at the check out if Maddy was working today.  He said yes, and pointed towards the produce section.  After paying for my groceries, I grabbed my bags and headed the direction he indicated, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of her—if I could somehow recognize her.  The first girl I saw was her.  I knew it had to be.  She was tall, like many in Sharan’s family.  She was beautiful with long brown hair and striking golden-green eyes.  I gathered my courage and walked up to her.  “Hi, I wanted to introduce myself,” I said, without hesitation.  “I’m Emily.  Your mom and my step-mom are sisters.”

“Oh, wow.  Hi,” she said, with a warm smile and recognition of the strangeness of the moment. 

We chatted for a bit.  I would venture to say that we connected, looking into each other’s eyes trying figure out why we hadn’t met before this day. 

“Is your step-mom still back East?” she asked.

“Yeah, she’s still in Virginia.”

“I haven’t met her,” she reminded me.  I don’t know why, but this little reminder made me want to cry.  How is it that this beautiful girl who shares blood with Sharan could not know her?  How could she have missed out on the force of love and generosity that I know as Sharan?  How could that be?  I felt deeply sad for Maddy.  But I also feel sad for Sharan.  Sharan has never met this young lady, although I know she so badly wants to.  She hasn’t seen her stunning eyes.  She doesn’t know what makes her niece tick.  She hasn’t been able to send her gifts and take her out for adventures when she comes to town.  She doesn’t know her.

I guess everyone has their reasons for making certain decisions in life.  I guess there will always be disagreements that make us crazy with one another.  But I wish these decisions could be reconsidered.  I wish people could move on from things that have happened over a quarter of a century ago.  I wish forgiveness were a button I could push.  Life is a short, precious, uncertain journey and I hope one day it is a journey that my family can share with this mysterious family in California. 

When Nappy comes to town

What is it about Nappy, the Great Dane, that I love ever so much?  He's huge and ungainly.  He takes liberties with the food left on the counters.  He takes up the entire couch and cries when you try to push him off.  He runs around like a drunken horse.  Oh, but he is 100% sweet and loving.  His childlike energy is contagious.  And he makes me laugh nonstop with his over-sized antics.  Just looking at his giant head cracks me up.

Nappy comes to stay with us on the Hill every six weeks or so when his people go out of town.  Josie and the other dogs are used to him, but they don't necessarily look forward to his visits, at least at first.  Nappy is like a five-year-old in a linebacker's body, and it takes the girls a day or two to adjust to his oafish ways. 

Here's what happened when Nappy showed up last week.

 

 Josie was doing her evening thing... just chillin'.

Nappy showed up and greeted his BFF, Gideon.

Oh, Josie, look who's here to see you!

Say it ain't so.  Lord help me.

JOSIE!!!!!!!!  It's me, Nappy!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

What did I ever do to deserve this?

Oh, a lot, Josie, a lot.  Pay back's a b****, huh?

Packing Light

I’m one of those folks who need a good solid week or more to pack for any serious venture, particularly a trip overseas, especially to a non-European country.  The earlier I start packing, the more I can weed down what I take.  My mantra, as always, is “Pack light!”  No need to be burdened by needless stuff, right?  How great would it be to effortlessly sling my pack on my back without flipping over backwards and flopping around like an overturned turtle? 

I started packing for Nepal last week by organizing my clothes.  Well, shoot, I thought, I need some more trekking pants.  Oh, and some long underwear.  And I could really use a better down jacket.  And a semi-dressy outfit for going out on the town in Kathmandu.  Which means I'll need shoes other than hiking boots.  And more socks, underwear, long sleeve t-shirts, and blah, blah, blah.  The next day I went out and spent all the money I had earned hosting at Meritage on clothing stuff that I “needed” for the trip.

Then I started considering the non-clothing items I should take, like a good light-weight paperback book, or two, or three, or four.  Eek!  I always struggle with this one.  I need to take a variety of books because I never can be sure what I will feel like reading at any given moment.  I need choice!  I can’t be stuck without a good book!  I can just hear Gideon harrumphing about my reading habit now.  Stop rolling your eyes man.  I gathered a fantasy book (Wicked), another kind of fantasy book (Outlander), a book on philosophy (Sophie’s World), and my favorite spiritual book (The Places that Scare You).  This last book sounds like it might be about climbing Mt. Everest, but it’s not, so I also packed a guide to Nepal, which includes information about trekking.  I also picked up a handy little guide to the customs and etiquette of Nepal.

Okay, now for medicine and toiletry stuff.  Keep it simple, right?  A trip to CVS and seventy-five dollars later, I might be semi-prepared to live at camp three on the side of Everest for a season.  A little icy-hot, ibuprofen, wet wipes, Sudafed, Imodium, SPF 50 sunscreen, Band-Aids and Neosporin, prescriptions, lozenges, Gatorade packets, lip balm, Airborne, and such will be most helpful, I’m sure.

Finally, that brings me to that dangerous, ever-expanding category: "other stuff".  The camera, computer, chargers/adapters, tripod, and other technological gear; hiking poles, hiking boots, water bottles, day packs; hats, gloves, scarves; zip lock bags, stuff sacks; card games; headlamps and batteries; toilet paper and tissues.  Oh, the list could go on and on, and I’m quite certain it will.  Feel free to tell me what essentials I’m forgetting or what I may want to reconsider.

So, back to that “packing light” thing… it was a good thought, but who can really do this when you’re going to Nepal?  Okay, I guess Nima Sherpa, our friend and trekking guide probably knows how to pack light.  But for the rest of us, I’m starting to understand why porters are a given along the trails in Nepal.  I think I’ll be supporting the local Nepalese economy by embracing the custom as well.

Dogs behaving badly... or, dog owners behaving badly

(FYI... I tried to post this blog last night, but the fog was so thick on the Hill that the Internet took the night off.)



Oh the places we will go… if only we would go.  Polly and I have created a Northern California excursion list a mile long, and, well, let me just say we’ve got about .95 miles to go.  This is not because we are lazy or unwilling; it’s because there’s just so much to see and do around here.  Plus, it’s winter, and around here that means RAIN, which is just makes a Hill person want to hole up in the snugly cabin. 

Today we actually got to check an excursion off the list.  Polly and I took the dogs, Shelby, Montana, and Josie, along with the two dogs we are dog-sitting, Nappy, the Great Dane, and Buddy, the Beagle, to “The Reservoir”.  I also took the humongous camera, which might as well count as a medium-sized dog. 

The not-so-patient pack, ready to go on a W-A-L-K

Two sturdy women and five dogs and a giant camera… no problem, right?  It would have been no problem if it weren’t muddy as all get-out; and if we could have gotten away with letting the dogs roam off-lead.  We tried letting the dogs loose for a while.

Things were going well until we realized we were missing Montana and Josie.  We saw them take off ahead of us over the hill.  Montana wouldn’t really alarm anyone with her demure ways; but that Josie is another story. 
Polly and I were sure we would spot them once we crested the hill, but no, they were nowhere in sight.  We turned around and checked out the scene behind us, and somehow, Montana and Josie had looped around and were about a quarter mile behind us harassing a Basset Hound and his owners.  Apparently, Josie had wanted to show off the giant stick she had found. 

There was some waving of arms and some not-so-happy body language being displayed by the Basset Hound’s owners.  We waved back and shouted at our wayward pups.  Eventually they barreled back up the hill to meet us. 

We laughed the harassment off and continued on our merry way.  About fifteen minutes later, we came across another park visitor who proceeded to give us a hard time about our pack of wild, off-leash canines.  She explained that they had barreled down the hill at her.  I didn’t really think that she was talking about our crazy mutts until she specified that one of the dogs almost knocked her over with the giant stick it was carrying.  Damn it Josie!  There ain’t nothing subtle about you, dog!

So, we succumbed to the rules and to the safety concerns of the other park visitors and clamped the leashes on the pack.  The good thing was that at that point, they were all so tuckered out they could only half-heartedly pull us along the remainder of the walk.

  Montana and Shelby coming back to get leashed up... the only good girls in the pack.

It’s a good thing we have so many other places to visit here in Northern California; I’m pretty sure we’ve been blacklisted from the Reservoir for a solid few months.

 

 

 A crane beating a hasty retreat from the wild dogs

Surprise!!!!

One of my favorite couples here in Sonoma are Emily and Oz Rebeldo.  Emily works at Meritage with Polly; she trained me to host last weekend.  She’s the one they call My Little Pony, which is especially helpful when we are both at the restaurant.  Emily is an absolute hoot and I’m really excited to have her as a new friend.

Oz is as cool as his name sounds.  Everyone loves Oz, so it’s no surprise that everyone wanted to celebrate is thirtieth birthday with him.  So, My Little Pony planned a surprise party for him.  It was held at Sam and Kristen’s house—my other favorite couple in Sonoma. 

Here are some shots from the party.  I’m pretty darn sure we got him good.  Happy birthday Oz!

 

 Surprise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  

  For me?

 Yup, for you!

Oz: Wow!

Emily:  Thank god that worked... I need a drink.

The Party Girls getting their party on: Polly, Emily, My Little Pony, Sam, and Kristen

Hostess with the Mostess

That's me, the hostess with the mostess!

On Saturday, Polly and the rest of crew at Meritage threw me in the deep end of the restaurant shouting, "Host, woman!  Host!"  I hosted with everything I had.  Although it was my first time working in a restaurant, I did pretty well under the tutelage of the other Emily (who we call My Little Pony).  I was ordered back to the front lines for Valentine's dinner.  Other than canceling a few reservations accidentally and trying to get a nice man with a service dog kicked out of the restaurant, it went off without a hitch.  I think it may become a semi-regular gig.

I felt pretty bad about the man with the service dog.  The dog was a little white Maltese, not a lab or Sheppard or some other dog like that.  I just thought he was some eccentric trying to treat his dog to a fancy meal (which I can totally understand, but as hostess it threw me for a loop).  I sicced Carlo, owner of the restaurant, on him.  Carlo went over to investigate, recognized the man immediately, and explained that the Maltese was a service dog.  Doh.  I smiled and chatted up the man after that, trying to smooth things over.

Here's the funny thing... the next day I stopped by Whole Foods to grab a quick lunch before starting my Valentine's Day shift.  Guess who was sitting outside soaking in the warm California sun.  Yup, the man and the Maltese.  We both waved like we were old friends, and I hurried inside.  After downing my salad, I was heading out when I heard "Hello there!"  There he was with the dog in a cart.  We ended up shooting the breeze for a good fifteen minutes.  His name is Wayne and the dog is Carmenita (or something cute like that).  He's a relative newcomer to Sonoma, originally from Oakland, CA, and he was totally delightful.  I think we will be good friends, and I think he's a generous man to overlook my hostess-foul on Saturday night.  As for Carmenita, she gave me the stink eye the whole time I was chatting with Wayne; I’m hoping she forgives me soon.
 

P.S. I realize that by not writing yesterday, I blew my goal of writing every day for a month straight.  The truth is, when I got home last night the Internet was down again.  The other truth is that I was so damned worn out after hostessing that I wouldn't have written even if the Internet was working.  There you have it.  But I'm back to it, and I promise, there will be pictures tomorrow. 

Figure this one out...

I'm a big, big fan of Meritage, the restaurant in Sonoma where Polly works.  I stop by often for gourmet goodness and a laugh with friends.  My typical behavior at the restaurant usually ends up looking something like this.  I'm not proud.

 

So, don't you think it's funny that I got a call today asking me to come down and be the Hostess this evening?

I think it's pretty hysterical!  

Off I go!

Doh. Brain freeze.

 

I've feared this moment.  I don't have anything to write about today.  My mind is a pile of uninspired sludge.  I'm tired.  I want a latte.  And I'm at the library again because the Internet is still nonfunctional up on the Hill.  Boo.

So, help me out.  What do you want me to write about?  Any burning questions you've been dying to ask me?  Here's your chance.  It's not like I'm all that interesting, but I can make stuff up if necessary.

I used to play a game with my friends in college.  We would throw a random topic out there and someone would have to immediately launch into a true story related to the suggest topic.  I learned a lot about my friends that way.  Anything goes... I'll get you started.

Tapas
Thanksgiving
French men
Spies
Cathedrals
Antibiotics
Clogging
The circus
Scabs (Polly just told me a whopper of a scab story, and I mean a whopper!)
Fires
Beijing

You get the idea.  And yes, I could tell you true stories about each of the topics listed above.
Now give me some fresh ideas.  I'll tell you some whoppers.
Thank you kindly for dealing with my funk... this too shall pass.

Kicked back to the dark ages

Ugh.  I had a feeling this day would come.  The Internet is broken.  Gideon has been back up the tree twice already trying to fix the connection.  No luck...  so, no Internet for a while.  No Gmail or Facebook, no streaming Netflix, no Internet radio, no Skyping, no nothing.  Back to the days of being disconnected Hill People.


So, I've packed up and headed down the hill to the public library to make use of their free Wifi.


I actually have a lot to work on down here, including applying for jobs, researching small-business start-ups, learning about Nepal, finishing my book for book club this evening, not to mention writing my blog-of-the-day.  I'm not complaining.  I know I've got a cushy existence at the moment and I am reveling in it.  But from time to time, there are things I'm supposed to work on.


You'd think the library would be the perfect place for working.  It's quiet, it has big work tables, it's comfortable.  But, man, for me, it is the most distracting place in the world.  You see, I have a thing for books.  I love to read them, of course, but maybe even more than that, I just love knowing what kind of books I COULD read if I wanted to.  So, as I sit at my big library table and try to get things done, I find my gaze wandering to the book titles surrounding me in this little U-shaped cove.  Pretty much all of these books call to me.  They want me to pick them up, check out their pretty covers, read the synopsis on the back, flip through the pages, and just be with them for a bit.  And I really want to be there for them, rather than checking things off my to do list.


Here is just a small sampling of books, right in this little nook, that I want to take a closer look at right now:


Let's Talk Turkey  (I don't think this is a book about turkeys, although that would be intriguing.  I think it's about language--it's between books called Slang and the NTC Dictionary of American and Colloquial Expressions.)


Earth Science Demystified  (The science teacher in me is longing to take a look.  I bet there are some good photos of rocks and stuff.)


Chasing Spring  (This one made me think of you poor saps on the East Coast buried in snow.  Ha!)


The Joys of Yiddish  (This made me think of my friend Lisa, who played Yente in our high school production of “Fiddler on the Roof”.  I think the two of us could probably sit on our tuches and kvetsh all day long just for fun, even now.)


Weird Nature  (Again, I bet there are some great pictures in that one.)


The Book of U.S. Postal Exams (Just kidding.  I don't really want to read this one at all.  But it is really there, right in front of me.  Who would want to read that anyway?)



The Secret Life of Lobsters  (I really loved The Secret Life of Bees...  Could this be the sequel?)



The Promise of Sleep  (Maybe this book would have some suggestions on how to stop dreaming so vividly every single night that I wake up exhausted.)



The Sonoma Diet  (Who knew Sonoma had its own diet?  Oh yeah, it's probably red wine, white wine, and champagne.  Duh.)



Men are Stupid and They Like Big Boobs  (I saw Joan Rivers at the Air and Space Museum a few years ago and have been wondering about her ever since.  This is her new book and I bet it's pretty darn funny.)


That's just a small taste of the distraction I have to deal with here at the library.  So many wonderful books right here and all free!  Heaven help me!


Okay, enough of this mishegas… back to work for me.  Wish me luck.  Oy vey… I need it.

Gideon is getting old

Yesterday was Gideon’s birthday.  He turned 32 years old—don’t let him tell you otherwise.  He’s been known to try and convince himself and others that he is 28 years old no matter how many birthdays go by. 
I can give him a hard time about this all I want, rubbing it in, saying, “No, Honey, you are no longer in your twenties, you are in your thirties.  And you are now 32.  You are getting old.”  Unfortunately, he will forever have the snappy comeback: “No matter how old I am, you will always be older.”  Grrr.  Polly put it nicely yesterday when she said, “It sounds so much better now that Gideon is 32.  It makes you seem like much less of a cougar.”  What?!  I’m 33 people!  So, I’m a bit older than my husband, but really, when you look at me, do you think “cougar”?  I think not.

No matter.  We had a fun day celebrating Gideon’s agedness, starting off with a fancy breakfast of Croque Madame (kind of a French take on Eggs Benedict).  Gideon loves big, hearty, fatty breakfasts with a passion, so I try hard to make him breakfast this one day a year.  Fortunately, I had Polly around to help me this year so breakfast was served well before noon.

In the evening, we tried out a restaurant in Santa Rosa called Starks, known for its fantastic happy hour.  Yesterday’s post is evidence of the good time had by all.

After filling up on fried goodness at Starks, we came home for cake and ice cream.  Our friends Lisa and Ella came over to celebrate with us.  Ella brought her princess outfit, sparkly shoes, and her tea set.  I think she was trying to impress Gideon.  And I think her plan worked; Gideon was impressed.  He shared many cups of tea with Ella before it was time for cake. 

After singing to the birthday boy, we ate giant slabs of homemade carrot cake.  I didn’t think Ella would be a carrot cake kind of girl.  When I told her what kind of cake I made for Gideon, her response was, “CARROT cake???  Mommy, they’re having CAAAAARROT CAKE”, complete with rolling of eyes and a deep sigh, as in “Mommy, what kind of birthday party did you bring me to?  Geez.”  But when it came time to try it, Ella gave it a shot, probably because she saw Gideon loving it and she wanted to impress him again.  After much noshing, she stopped abruptly and looked up at me with bright eyes and a big smile and proclaimed, “Emily, I like your cake!”  Yes, I think she melted my heart. 

 

  

  

  

No cake for dogs, Shelby.  Especially fat ones.

We topped off the evening with a rousing game of Mexican Train, one of our favorite games around here.  We let Gideon win on his birthday.  I did my part by earning my all-time worst single round score of 131 points, which in this game, is about as much damage as one can do in a single round.  Anything for you, Gideon. 

 

  

My tiles, none of which could be played... NOT a good sign.

A VERY disappointing turn of events (check out my score).  Ugh.

I think I speak for all of us when I say we hope you have a wonderful year, Gideon!  Happy Birthday! 
Now, get back to work.

A bunch of attention-hungry fools

This is what happens when a bunch of show-offs go out to dinner...

We keep it together for a bit.  We smile and act somewhat normal.

 

  

Eventually, someone always makes a grab for the spotlight.

 

It's all about me!!!

 

 No.  It's all about me!!!!!

 No, no, no!  It's all about me!!!!

Someone's got to set these fools straight.

It's all about ME!!!!!!!  

I'm glad we've got that straightened out.

There's a man up in that thar tree

Bless his heart, that hubby of mine is so darn sick of studying for the California Bar that he'll do just about anything to put space between himself and his Bar review materials.  And I mean anything.  He's recently taken to climbing trees.  I'm not talking the apple tree variety, or even a healthy oak tree.  No, he's been making frequent climbs to the very tippy-top of a 125 feet pine tree up here on the Hill.  No joke.

Why does he do it?  Why not just play a game of solitaire, or hunt for some more chanterelles?  Well, the boy has always liked a physical challenge; add to that a love of technology; and to that, a lack of said technological access on the Hill; and you've got a good excuse to escape studying and start hauling all kinds of antenna up the tallest tree around to equip the cabin and Polly & Aaron's house with high speed Internet, and... wait for it... local television!

Yes, Gideon's first forays up the tree were for the purpose of getting us connected to the World Wide Web in a way that would keep us from pulling out all of our hair, as dial-up is known to do.  A few weeks ago is when it all started.  Gideon had built a 30 foot tower out in the field, on which was connected an Internet antenna.  We were connected!  It worked well until the rains set in, which made the signal fail as it tried to fight its way through wet leaves and fog.  It was clear to Gideon that the antenna needed a clear line of sight to the other antenna on Sonoma Mountain, across the valley.  He started mumbling about climbing a tree.  I just tuned out his crazy talk until one day, not too long after, Polly came to the door with a panicky look on her face.
"Emily, I don't want to sound too much like my mother here," she gulped, "but I'm not too comfortable with what Gideon is doing out there."  Yes, Gideon was setting up ladders preparing for his ascent up the pine tree next to the house.  Keep in mind it was raining.
"Polly," I responded, barely looking up from my book, "I just can't be involved in this.  If something happens, well, we've had a good go of it."  I've learned that it is an absolute waste of energy to fret over Gideon's daredevil antics, so I no longer go there.  Poor Polly.  She just kind of shivered and walked back outside.

To make a long story not quite so long, Gideon has made it up and down the tree a number of times to install and adjust the Internet antenna.  We now have a high-functioning, reliable Internet connection and everyone is beside themselves.  During his climbs, Gideon wears his climbing harness and ties in, or so he's told me--I never actually watched him climb until today.

Today he assembled a giant, old school television antenna in the living room of the cabin.  It was so big that it freaked out poor Josie and she had to go outside to calm herself down.
"So, what are you hoping to get from this antenna?" I asked.
"PBS," Gideon replied.
"Hmm.  I was kind of hoping for a bit more than that," I said.
"I'm keeping my expectations low," he explained.  He harnessed up and dragged the antenna out to the base of the tree.

Being that I wasn't exactly busy, I decided to go out and document the craziness for you.  Here's a little glimpse of today's ascent.
 

 

 My man, on a mission...

 

  

I decided to climb onto the roof to get closer to the action.  Nice view up here...

There's our little Home Sweet Home.  It's even cuter from here!

 

My climbing gear... crocs and velor pants from outerspace.

Did I forget to mention that Gideon climbs with a saw in one hand?  It comes in handy for sawing down weak branches.  I think it's just another procrastination technique. 

 

 
 

 Getting ready to pull up the antenna.

  The monster antenna... for PBS viewers like me.

Up it goes... towards its new home in the sky.

 

He's made it to the top.  Seriously... can you see him?  He's waving.

Mission accomplished!  And yes, we now have PBS, and a few other local channels as an added bonus.  Good job Gideon!

 

Now, get back to work.