Fleet Week and the Ten Million Dollar Lot

Posted in Alcatraz, barbecue, Bay Area, Blue Angels, Facebook, Fleet Week, fog, friends, hiking, Marin County, memoir, military, relationships, San Francisco, SausalitoLeave a comment

(re-run) When I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, no one explained what Fleet Week was. But after many years, I finally figured it out — big ships, military stuff, the Blue Angels. The Blue Angels are six military jets that fly in formation by some amazing pilots. They fly over the city of… Continue reading Fleet Week and the Ten Million Dollar Lot

Behind Closed Doors

Posted in abuse, attitude, basement, brother, Catholic, childhood, Facebook, gender roles, high school, Iowa, junior high school, memoir, physical abuse, relationships, worstLeave a comment

(re-run) I read a memoir about a woman’s tough childhood, with violence, danger, and an abusive older brother. I recommended it to Facebook friends online. A friend said she didn’t like it because she didn’t think the book rang true. “The Mormon part or the survivalist part?” I asked her. “Neither.” She didn’t think anyone… Continue reading Behind Closed Doors

Wrapping Up the Weekend

Posted in bartender, dogs, gardening, humor, letter carrier, lunch, memoir, October, party, planner, racetrack worker, rats, relationships, retirement, sewingLeave a comment

(re-run from 2019) It’s Sunday evening, the dogs are snoring, and I reflect on my awesome weekend. Nothing monumental happened.  It was your run of the mill event, with a return trip from Monterey, a potluck party to attend, a visit to Sis, lunch with my son, a couple of dog walks, and an afternoon… Continue reading Wrapping Up the Weekend

The Scars of our Lives

Posted in accident, aging, broken bones, dentist, dog bite, health, make-up, melanoma, memoir, scars, stitches, sunburn, tetanus shot, tooth, Venezuela2 Comments

(re-run) When you get to be my age, you’re bound to have a few scars. I haven’t had any big surgeries, but I have scars from burns, bumps, and scrapes along the way.  Right now it’s my thumb that is most noticeable. I broke it by pulling down a three-piece sectional garage door an sticking… Continue reading The Scars of our Lives

A Different Kind of Fall

Posted in air quality, California, climate change, fires, fountain, Jack Russell terrier, memoir, rain, relationships, restaurant, small town, wind, worst1 Comment

(re-run from 2018) In my 33 years in California (one and a half down south, the rest up north), I can’t remember a fall where we have not had a drop of rain by mid-November. I also can’t remember ever having three big fires in less than two years that have burned down whole communities… Continue reading A Different Kind of Fall

The Holidays in October and Angry Stalker Dude

Posted in Atticus Finch, car pool, chorus, Christmas, Costco, dogs, empathy, Facebook, Jesus, live music, memoir, police officer, politics, Santana, taking a knee, Thanksgiving, white privilegeLeave a comment

(re-run) I heard Christmas music today at Costco while I watched people putting pumpkins into their shopping carts.  Ah, it must be fall. In California, the leaves don’t change into beautiful reds and oranges until November. It doesn’t get cold enough until then. We have Halloween first, then fall color, sometimes coinciding with Thanksgiving, but… Continue reading The Holidays in October and Angry Stalker Dude

Don’t Judge a Book

Posted in beer, best, California, dancing, garden, German, humor, language, music, Octoberfest, outdoors, pick-up lines, relationships, restaurant, singingLeave a comment

(re-run) Of all the pick-up lines I’ve ever heard, the best one came yesterday at the Walnut Creek Octoberfest. “Now those are some sensible shoes.” Yes, I had on one-inch-heel black booties because I was dressed as a German beer garden maid, and they were the best shoes with white knee socks. “They’re good for… Continue reading Don’t Judge a Book

The Racist, the Ficus Tree, and my Garage Sale

Posted in California, entitled attitude, Ficus, garage sales, hairdresser, humor, Iowa, memoir, Millennials, mom, neighbors, racist, relationships, worst2 Comments

(re-run) When I was six, the one black boy in my elementary school was in my class. His name was Teddy. This was white-white-white Iowa in the 60s.  My first grade teacher, Mrs. Van Cura, got angry at the class one day for misbehaving and said, “Whoever doesn’t behave will have to play with Teddy… Continue reading The Racist, the Ficus Tree, and my Garage Sale