The Elusive Dot … Dot … Dot

It takes seven artisans to make a glass of wine — from the grape growers to the vintners to the coopers, etc.  Or so the pitch goes at the small winery in Fairfield. And to draw a crowd, they bring in live music on weekend afternoons. Brent met a woman online and invited her there… Continue reading The Elusive Dot … Dot … Dot

Shop Till You Drop

We had already hit two thrift stores and were heading for a third. Then I remembered that Vicky wanted to go to the ones in Carmel. I turned onto Forest Avenue and took the winding highway 68 through the Monterey pines. It would lead to the new roundabout that would send the traffic north to… Continue reading Shop Till You Drop

Her Left Foot

It was Labor Day weekend. We needed to get a handle on the mess in the garage. I asked my oldest to watch my youngest while we parents worked outside. She was nine, in 4th grade already for a week, and the baby was almost two and a half. Then a series of unfortunate events… Continue reading Her Left Foot

Crocodile Rock

Friday evening there was an Elton John tribute band in the plaza. Since Yellow Brick Road is one of my all-time favorite albums, I thought, why not?  My youngest, visiting from Boston, had plans to see her friends in Berkeley. It had finally cooled off a bit, and the smoke from the wildfires wasn’t blowing… Continue reading Crocodile Rock

Plain Jane

My middle name is Jane. I don’t love it. There was a commercial in the 70’s for hair dye, I think. I remember the line,” Don’t be a plain Jane.” After that I disliked both my middle name and my hair color. There was another commercial in that decade that said, “Boys don’t make passes… Continue reading Plain Jane