A Delicate Plant in the Frozen North

 

I am recently returned from a trip back East.  It was so much colder than I expected!  April in California is deep Spring, practically Summer.  In other parts of the country, not so much.

My trip began in Virginia at my parents' house.  They rarely leave the house anymore, but I try to walk a few miles a day in the "use it or lose it" school of thought.  So every day I would put on my coat and hat and scarf and walk around their neighborhood.  It was very cold and windy (objectively, not just to delicate plants from California).  But it was interesting to see the early Spring plants that had bloomed in California in February just blooming in Virginia.  Double Spring!

My Dad was very interested in watching the Oscars, so I fetched pork ribs from Glory Days Grill and we hunkered down in the basement.  My dad had only watched one of the contenders (The Power of the Dog) but he still stuck with it for the whole show, so we saw the slap.  Very controversial!  My Dad asked me if I realized that The Power of the Dog was a "queer" movie.  I replied that yes, I thought that was pretty obvious.  He shared that it was not obvious to him, and it was not until he read a review after watching that he realized what had been going on.  Half my genes!

Also he never turns the lights off, even when he sleeps.  I'm not talking about a small bedside lamp, I mean he hasn't turned off the bright overhead lights in his room in YEARS.  I pointed out that prisoners are tortured in that manner, and he just shrugged.

My mom and I had a nice time doing puzzles and going to Talbots.  We got take-out every night, so that was cool.  My mom's new hobby is keeping track of the goings-on in the cul-de-sac with the Pankoo Telescope she ordered from Amazon.

After my Virginia visit, I set off for St. Paul, Minnesota to do some research into fur-trading families of early Wisconsin.  "Katherine," you might say, "are you doing research for a class?"  Not exactly, I just have a tendresse for the fur-trading pioneers.  Since fur-trading took place along navigable waterways, the cities along the Mississippi from New Orleans to St. Paul are full of stories from the fur-trading era.  

My first stop was Fort Snelling.  Perhaps you've heard of it?  I'm pretty sure you haven't, unless you're from the Twin Cities, and even then you probably only know it because it has good fishing and a bike trail.  Fort Snelling was located at the northernmost navigable point of the Mississippi, and the United States maintained a fort there for many years.  Primarily to put down uprisings from displaced Native Americans.  (Yikes). It was also the center of St. Paul society (such as it was).

It was also closed for the season.  I walked down to the river landing (through the mud and the snow, if you're from the Midwest you know what I'm talking about).  Then I walked around the perimeter walls of the fort and discovered a back gate that had been propped open.  "Hmm," I thought, "Do I dare?".  And then I thought, "When am I going to be back here?" so I took myself on an illicit tour of the fort, keeping an eye on the open back gate.  I saw the park ranger's car and sprinted for the exit.  I made it out about a minute before he closed and locked the gate.  That would have been a fun telephone call.  "Uh, excuse me, I seem to be locked inside Fort Snelling?"

My hotel in St. Paul was the Celeste St. Paul, a former convent.  I was pretty excited to fulfill my eighth-grade dream of being in a convent.  (I was an extremely awkward adolescent, and a convent seemed a convenient sanctuary from the cruel world at the time). The Celeste has leaned into the convent theme and has religious art on the walls, and pews for benches, and has turned the chapel into the wedding suite.

The next day I went for my pre-arranged appointment at the Minnesota Historical Library, where I spent a blissful day sorting through boxes of old letters and manuscripts.  Then I walked through the mansion neighborhood of Summit Avenue and fetched up at a brewery (like you do).  The brewery was a popular spot and the inside looked like a super-spreader event, so I sat outside on the patio in the 40 degree weather (balmy for St. Paul).  I got to chatting with a young couple who, on learning that I was going on to Duluth, told me about the Vikre Distillery.  An extremely useful tip!! Thank you, young couple.

After checking out of the Celeste, I attended mass at St. Louis King of France Church, the oldest French church in St. Paul.  It is a little jewel-box of a church and has this excellent window showing the Native Americans being "saved" by the French Jesuits. (Ha)

Then I ate a hamburger and drove to Duluth.  Why Duluth?  I dunno, I just wanted to go there and see Lake Superior and tour Glensheen Mansion.  It's only a two hour drive north, but the amount of snow on the ground increased dramatically as I got closer, and the lakes got more frozen.  I checked into my darling AirBNB above a wood artist's shop and drove out to Canal Park, the tourist area near the Aerial Lift Bridge.  

Imagine my excitement when after parking and heading to the canal, I realized the Lift Bridge was in the process of being lifted for an enormous ship!! I took lots of pictures but I will only share a few.

Extremely Cool.  I then walked over to Vikre Distillery, which is also Extremely Cool.  It's the sort of place that has purple velvet couches and interesting light fixtures and fireplaces and Bee's Knees.

I bought myself a decently warm toque in the gift shop and headed out into the night to discover that it was actively Snowing.  In April.  A month I associate with picnics and tulips.

In the morning I set out for Glensheen Mansion.  Perhaps you've heard of it?  If you're from Minnesota, you have.  It is the lovely home custom-built from 1905-1907 on the shore of Lake Superior for iron-ore magnate Chester Congdon, no expense spared.  It was lived in continuously by family members until 1977, at which point Chester's daughter Elizabeth was the only Congdon still residing in the mansion.  Elizabeth and her night nurse were murdered by her son-in-law (for the inheritance money).  The family then donated the house to the University of Minnesota Duluth, who maintain it as a historic house museum.

Having read the book Will to Murder before visiting, I knew that the house docents will not mention the murders, but will show you where they happened if you ask.  Aside from the creepy murder, it is a beautiful home and it has all the original furnishings.  Because I visited on a snowy week-day, it was just me and the bored University student docents.  It was great.  I stayed for hours.

I headed back to Canal Park where I was honestly stunned to find that the canal had filled with ice since the day before.

I am not meant for the Great White North, I thought to myself as I headed into the Maritime Museum.  The displays were interesting, but what I enjoyed most was chatting with the gift-shop lady, who was sort of starved for conversation, it being the off-season and all.  She helped me select an excellent Lift Bridge souvenir t-shirt.

Then it was back to Vikre for some crafty cocktails and a charcuterie board.  I bid my new distillery friends goodbye and headed outside where I found that a dense fog had descended and visibility was about 10 feet.  "What fresh hell is this," I thought, as I drove 5 mph to my next stop, the Zenith Bookstore.

I love to find the independent bookstores in the towns I visit.  It always feels like I've found my tribe when I enter.  It's like stepping into a warm bath (if I ever took baths, which I don't, but stepping into a warm shower just doesn't have the same ring).

The next morning I hit the road for Madison, Wisconsin, a five-hour drive.  I was a little concerned because the gift-shop lady warned me about all the deer I would encounter, but as it happened I only saw one, and it was very dead and in the process of being eaten by a bald eagle.

In Madison I stayed in a 1910 mansion that has been converted into a B&B.  My suite was the whole right side of the downstairs, the dining room and the old kitchen and a sun room.  Very Cool. On my first night I got to cook Amy a meal in my funky old kitchen.  

While Amy was in class the next day, I visited the Mystery to Me bookstore and then went to the Madison Central Library to do some research.  I wandered into the Local History Room where there was one other researcher, an older man who was playing Grateful Dead tunes on a portable speaker and whizzing through microfilm.  As I browsed the books, he looked up and said "That's one of mine."

"Oh, wow!" I said, as I examined The Illustrated Sesquicentennial History of Madison, by Stuart Levitan, "It's a dream of mine to be published by the Wisconsin Historical Society Press".  We had a lovely confab about Wisconsin history, punctuated by his reading aloud the titles of porno films he encountered as he skimmed through microfilm copies of Madison newspapers from the 1970s.  "So much porno!" he kept exclaiming.

Amy and I had a lovely dinner at Sardines.  

On Thursday I performed the motherly duty of taking Amy's Subaru to the dealership for some repairs.  While the car was being serviced I walked over to Half-Price Books in the snow, where I found an absolute treasure-trove of Wisconsin history books, including Stuart-from-the-library's book!  As I was paying, I excitedly pointed to Stuart's book and said "I met this guy!".  The clerk looked a little nonplussed and I realized that I had my finger on a picture of long-dead Madison founder James Duane Doty.  "Oh, not the dead guy," I clarified, "the author!"  "Either way, I'm sure it was interesting," the über-cool clerk replied.  

On Friday I walked through the snow to the Historical Society Museum, which has several informative displays about the fur-trading era.  Then I met Amy and their friend Gage and Gage's mom downtown and we hung out for hours.  It was a really fun evening.  

On Saturday it finally stopped snowing, so of course I had to leave for California.  I really enjoyed my time in the Great White North, but I'm glad to wear something other than the one sweater I packed that I wore every day, and it sure is nice to sit outside in the sun under trees that already have all their leaves.

Went to the Desert, Took the Dog

Mr. TenMinutesLate and I had not left our house in any meaningful way since Christmas, so last week we put our geriatric dog and a few bottles of bourbon in the car and headed for the desert.

We do not excel at early starts, so I booked us a dog-friendly hotel room in Ventura for our first night, anticipating correctly that  Ventura was as far as we could reasonably get in one day of driving.  I chose the Pierpont Inn, which has been in business since 1910, according to their website.  In 1910 the Inn rejoiced in a green lawn stretching down to the beach.  Nowadays that lovely beach descent is bifurcated by Highway 101, which has grown from the quaint wooden causeway of 1912 to the 24-hour truck laden six-lane behemoth of today.  Oh well, I guess I shouldn't complain, since I enjoy the convenience of all the goods those trucks ferry up and down the coast.

I inadvertently booked an enormous suite at the Pierpont.  It was an odd suite in that although the square footage was vast, the furniture was that of a typical hotel room.  There were little islands of furniture on a sea of sensible low-pile carpet.  Breakfast was included, and Larry and I took turns so that the fussy dog would not be left alone to howl in the suite.  When it was my turn to breakfast, my fellow diners were two women in their seventies.  The first was a very chic woman in a shawl, pressed slacks, and kitten heel pumps with a well-coiffed silver bob.  The other was a wild-haired woman in a stretched-out sweatsuit and tennis shoes.  As I ate my strangely granulated eggs, I mused: "One of these women is my future." And then I looked down at my bra-less pajama-clad self and thought: "Who am I kidding, one of these women is my present."

As I wandered back to the suite, I noticed some boys playing on a lawn with sports equipment that had been provided by the hotel.  I looked more closely and realized that their game consisted of trying to hurl all the sports equipment onto the roof of the hotel. Boys.

Larry and I checked out of the Pierpont Inn and went downtown to Mission San Buenaventura.  The mission church was in use for a Spanish/English bilingual Mass, and I was quite pleased to discover that I understood almost all of the Spanish!  Those eight semesters of intermediate Spanish have finally paid off.  I bought a few religious objects for my family room shrine in the gift shop.

There are lots of thrift shops in Ventura and I was excited to explore them while Larry and the dog did whatever in downtown.  However, I quickly realized that the thrift shops near me have MUCH better merch, because Ventura is a thrift destination, and all the stuff is picked over.  So the three of us found a nice patio and had tacos and margaritas.  Then we drove to the desert.

This mountain was definitely the highlight of the drive.  Larry told me what it's called but I've forgotten. We had booked a condo through AirBNB in La Quinta that turned out to be quite nice and centrally located to the pleasant Old Town La Quinta retail shops.  As we sat on an outdoor patio, enjoying our cocktails and introducing our geriatric dog to the geriatric residents of La Quinta, I checked the schedule for the El Dorado Polo Club one last time to make sure I had the correct start time for the Sunday match the next day. (Equestrian Polo, the kind with hot Argentinians in tight white pants and beautiful horses)

"FUCK," I said.  "El Dorado just cancelled general admission for the polo match tomorrow!"  Polo was pretty much our whole plan for La Quinta.  As we considered, though, we realized that sneaking onto the grounds and pretending to be El Dorado Club members would probably be simple.  We decided to so some reconnoitering under the cover of darkness in preparation for our club infiltration the next day.  Amy played polo in high school and we had been to her polo matches at El Dorado a few times, so we were familiar enough with the fields to find the correct one.  Sure enough, we discovered numerous ways to avoid the official entrance.

The next morning we put some beers in the Yeti and set out.  I told a few lies, entered through the exit gate, and parked in a field for club employees.  We grabbed the dog and scooted out of the car behind some palm trees.  We made an end run around the hitting cage and a pond and emerged at the field as if we were just another couple of club members with our dog in tow ready for the polo.  Taggart helped a lot with our subterfuge.  Everyone in polo has a dog, so people didn't really look past that.  We enjoyed watching the polo matches and drinking our beers in the sun.  It was a lovely afternoon.

After the polo we made our way to Shields Date Garden.  This is an institution that must be visited if you are in the area.  It has been around since 1924.  They sell dates, of course, but there is also a biblical walk of 23 statues depicting the life of Christ and a film about the sex life of dates.

The next day we decided to drive to the Salton Sea.  What, you ask, is the Salton Sea?  It is a vast mistake.  In 1905, during attempts to route some of it for irrigation, the Colorado River was inadvertently diverted to the lowest point in the desert, where it continued to flow for two years until the bank of the river was repaired, thus creating the Salton Sea.

Until about the 1950s the Salton Sea was touted as a family beach and fishing mecca.  The Sea was stocked with fish.  There were motels and boat ramps and restaurants and bait shops.  The problem is that no fresh water enters the Salton Sea.  The only water that enters is runoff from the Imperial Valley farms, water that contains fertilizers and pesticides.  As the Salton Sea  has evaporated over the decades, the exposed soil has creating blowing dust full of toxins.  The salinity is so high that all the fish introduced for sport fishing have died.  Occasionally a burp of gases from the Salton Sea releases rotting fish stench that can be smelled in Los Angeles.

So of course we had to go.  We decided to visit the former sport-fishing town of Bombay Beach along the east side of the Sea.  Every spring for the last few years artists have descended on Bombay Beach to create art projects that are left to weather in the blowing dust.  There is one bar in town, the Ski Inn, that has been in business since the town's heyday.  There are a few hundred residents there living off the grid.  It was a very interesting place to spend a few hours.  I would not want to spend much more time there, myself.  We drove around and admired the art installations, had beer and corn dogs at the Ski Inn, and then were ready to get back to civilization.

We made our way to the Sideways Inn in Buellton.  This is the former Windmill Inn featured in the 2004 film Sideways.  It has been completely refurbished and is now a lovely place to stay.  There is a great bar/restaurant with a patio and fireplace which Larry and Taggart and I very much enjoyed.

The next morning we set out to explore the Danish town of Solvang.  We had some Danish pancakes and then stopped by the old Lutheran Church.  I wasn't sure if it was open for visitors but I figured it was worth a try.  Sure enough, there was a woman of a certain age in a flowered shirt and sun hat and sensible shoes loitering around the entrance.  I approached and asked if I might see the interior of the church.  At first she was wary, but then she looked me over, and, as Larry said, game recognized game.  

The two of us in our flowered shirts and sun hats and sensible shoes had a nice time in the church where she told me about the architecture and the art work.  I made my way back to the car where Larry and Tag were waiting and it was honestly a little hard to shake her off, which was kind of funny considering her initial wariness.

We visited the Jul Hus (Christmas all year!) store, the book store, a bakery, and a beer garden.  It was great.  Here is a nice picture for you of Larry posing with the a statue of Hans Christian Andersen near the public restrooms.

And then we drove back to Los Altos, stopping in Gilroy for some barbecue.  I can't wait to get back on the road again!

Goodwill Hunting

 

Tonight's blog post is brought to you by the bottle of Peppermint Bark RumChata that I found on the 75% off holiday shelf at Cost Plus World Market.

We had a lovely time back East over the holidays visiting my family and Larry's family.  And none of us got Covid!  We had two more weeks of family togetherness when we got back to California, because everyone under 30 in San Francisco had Covid, so all the kids stayed here, except for those two days that Ellen and her boyfriend spent at the nudist camp, but that's her story.  

It was great to hang out with the kids eating casseroles and watching Hallmark Christmas movies, but eventually Susan and Ellen went back to San Francisco and Amy went back to Wisconsin.  I have enjoyed the quiet house and have just had an excellent two days meandering around the Peninsula.

Art classes are back in session, so on Friday I drove through McDonalds for a bacon biscuit and a hazelnut latte and spent several lovely hours on the patio at the Art Center working on a Virgin Mary collage.  

The wind picked up and I was hungry again, so I decamped to a Panda Express and ate some orange chicken and did the Friday Sudoku, the best Sudoku of the week.  The Annens had invited us to dinner and I was bringing appetizers, so I headed over to Cost Plus World Market to investigate their offerings.

Cost Plus World Market is an excellent place to spend a few hours of self-reflection, wondering things such as "Am I the sort of person who makes imported porcini polenta for dinner, and if I made it, would it be the main dish or sort of a side dish, and if it was a side dish, what would be the main dish?"

I always find myself in the baskets at Cost Plus, and I really do not need any more baskets, so I cannot explain the compulsion to inspect the baskets, except that I guess I've always found weaving to be really cool.

As I was browsing the kitchenware I decided to put together a tray and some dishes to serve the appetizers I'd picked up.  I tried many combinations of trays and dishes, but eventually decided on this set, which I like very much.

The weird looking black things in the upper left are dolmas that you can get in a can at World Plus.  They taste better than they look.  The little pink things are tiny German cocktail wieners. The dinner party was lovely.

Today I gathered up all my Goodwill donations and drove them down to the Sunnyvale store.  There were many interesting things in the Goodwill today and I had a blast examining the shelves of random stuff.  Of course I had to buy a few things, such as:

This giraffe tray, which I have decided is for jewelry.

These orange baskets which I filled with artificial daisies.

This tiny ironing board, which I think is used for sleeves?

This brass L on a marble stand with a hook.

This big pink plastic basket and these placemats.  After my bonanza afternoon at Goodwill I headed to Joann's Fabrics because I decided to make a table runner to match my new old placemats.  I love to look at fabrics, I could do it for hours, and I often do.  When my kids were young they would cry at the very mention of the fabric store, and continue carrying on the whole time we were in there, but they weren't with me today, so I looked at all the fabrics in the store before I chose the green polka dot above.

Okay, it's pretty late and I just polished off the last cocktail wiener, so I guess it's time to finish my RumChata and head to bed.  Next time you see me ask me how much progress I've made on the table runner.

Time You Enjoy Wasting...Not Wasted Time??

 

I feel very inadequate for not posting blog entries in a timely fashion.  Especially since I am unemployed outside the home and my children have all moved out.  What, you may ask, is keeping me so busy?  Huh.  An excellent question.  Some possibilities:

Puzzles.  Ever since the pandemic began, the San Jose Mercury News has been publishing three pages of puzzles EVERY DAY.  Plus a five-page insert on Sundays.  I love puzzles, and I am very bad at them, so this consumes a fair amount of my time.

Exercise.  I am not a fan of organized exercise classes, so I take healthful walks in my neighborhood instead.  However, my knees aren't great, and I don't like to get my bra sweaty, so it takes me hours to complete a five-mile walk.

 Dinner.  My fellow dinner providers all agree that the aggravation of providing dinner for the household is not the actual cooking, it is deciding what to serve.  I am a novelty seeker, so almost every day I prepare something for dinner that I have never made before.  This involves a careful reading of the recipe, which I consistently fail at, a trip to Safeway for obscure ingredients, and often a back-up dinner of cheese toast.  And a lot of dish-washing.

Spanish.  I have always wanted to be able to speak another language.  In high school I studied Latin, which was great for the SATs (a near-perfect verbal score), but you can't speak it.  In engineering school I was forbidden from taking a spoken language class because of all my computer language class requirements (COBOL, FORTRAN, Ada, Pascal, LISP, etc) So I yearn.  Much to the amusement (annoyance?) of my family, I am currently enrolled in my eighth intermediate Spanish class.  I have taken all the Intermediate Spanish classes at Foothill College and Cañada College and am working my way through the classes at West Valley College.  I love my Spanish classes, but I am very bad at them, so they consume a fair amount of time.  I just received an Incomplete from my lovely Spanish teacher at West Valley, so I will be taking 2A again in the Spring. ¡Adelante!

Crafts.  Not gonna lie, my favorite part of a craft project is the planning and the shopping.  I start many projects but then lose interest ten percent in and stuff them in a cabinet.  Some of my unfinished projects include, but are not limited to: 25 or so masks that I cut out but never sewed, a Santa hooked rug, those pants I started to alter, those old pillowcases I was going to tie-dye, that shirt I started five years ago, a knitted sweater I started twenty years ago, the crocheted string bag, the cross-stitched angel, the flapper costume, the lino print of St. Sebastian, the macrame plant holder, etc. etc.

However, I have actually finished a few things lately.  The suffragette costume that I started five years ago I finished for Halloween this year!  (I also made Larry's groovy costume years ago)

At a Christmas boutique this year I bought myself a cross-body handbag made out of an old blanket and a belt and decided that I needed some shoulder straps for it.  Having recently taken a weaving class at Montalvo, and presented a slide show on weaving for Spanish class, I decided that I could weave my own straps.  I dragged out the child's loom that's been under my bed for many years, ¡y tejí mis correas!.  

I made a Christmas present for my dad.  I went to JoAnn's Fabrics and bought a quarter yard each of some fabrics that reminded me of him and made a weird patchwork pillow.

I also made a Christmas present for my mom.  She loves loose, flowing housedresses with pockets so I made her one.  I knew I had it right because Susan said I looked like my mom.

Research.  I have embarked on a multi-year love affair with Wisconsin history and have read a lot of books and articles.  This activity involves spending a lot of time in libraries, which I adore.  I have taken reams of notes but have yet to write a paragraph.  It's a super-fun way to spend time.

In fact, I am in Chicago right now on a research trip.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  No, really, I have spent the last two days in the Newberry Library and the Chicago Public Library.  

The Newberry Library is a privately funded, publicly accessible history library.  You have to jump through a lot of hoops to get in, so there were only about four of us doing research.  It's so awesome to have a librarian bring you an old map or letter or manuscript on a velvet pillow.  I got to hold an original letter handwritten by that old French-Canadian drunk Joseph Rolette in 1826!  I think there will be a lot of research in my future.

I also went to the main branch of the Chicago Public Library, the Harold Washington Library Center.  It has nine floors of fantastic spaces and tons of books.  There's a whole indoor garden on the top floor!  I found some very interesting old books about the fur trade.  Also, I found a lot of homeless people.  They come in out of the cold, pick any old book off a shelf, and nap quietly at the tables.  It's what I would do, too, but I'm very thankful I'm not homeless.  

My friend Liz gave me a gift certificate to her friend's bookstore, Madison Street Books, and I spend a great couple of hours selecting books.  Thanks, Liz!

I also spent some time browsing in a gift shop run by a fussy old woman and an even fussier young gay man.  I felt like I was in a sitcom listening to them fret about the sock display.

I'm staying at the Aloft Chicago River North, where I have enjoyed staying before.  I love the desks that look out on Clark Street.  I have really enjoyed sitting here watching the rich tapestry of life on the street below.  Tomorrow I'm meeting Amy at the airport and going to see my parents.  Happy Holidays to you and yours!

Mouthy and Dismissed

 

For years I got out of jury duty by checking the "nursing mother" box.  But my youngest child is now twenty years old, which is an age even the staunchest La Leche League advocate would probably say is too old for breast-feeding.  So this time when I got the jury duty postcard, I resigned myself to my civic duty.  I hadn't had to do anything of consequence for so long that I barely slept the night before I had to show up at the Santa Clara County Hall of Justice at 8:30 a.m.

As a side note, I have been enjoying sleeping much more since purchasing my Miracle Bamboo Pillows.  Pillows are always too soft or too hard for me.  The first pillow in years that I found to be OK was one that was left at Susan's apartment by her departed apartment-mate Tyler.

Tyler's abandoned pillow is an IKEA memory foam pillow.  It smelled so strongly of young man (Axe?) that I had to launder it several times in one of those large machines at the laundromat, but after that I found it to be pretty good.  And then I stayed at an AirBNB in Richmond and the pillows were PERFECT!  

The perfect pillows didn't have an identifying tag but they were embossed with the word "Bamboo".  I figured that the young men who furnished the AirBNB would have purchased the cheapest pillows possible, so I ordered a "Miracle Bamboo Pillow" from Walmart.  It was - just OK.  About as good as Tyler's old pillow.  And then I was cruising through Kohl's this week and found a different "Miracle Bamboo Pillow", and after sleeping on it,  I think this is in fact the elusive perfect pillow!!  I am very excited about this.

So, after not much sleep, despite my pretty perfect miracle bamboo pillow, I showed up at the Hall of Justice.  When I put my purse through the x-ray scanner, the guard said, in a wondering tone, "Is there food in there?"  I said "Just a peanut-butter sandwich."  He started to say something, trailed off, and just handed me my bag with a defeated look.

There is a lot of waiting in jury duty.  Before we were called to the courtroom, I had time to read 63% of the Caroline B. Cooney novel "Before She Was Helen" on my Kindle.  We all trooped to a courtroom and the judge spoke to us for a while about law things.  Then we all had to fill out questionnaires and got to leave.

Since I was already in San Jose, I decided visit G-Tex Fabrics of San Jose, which always shows up when I search for fabric stores. I let Google Maps lead me to their current address.  Imagine my surprise at finding myself at a run-down warehouse full of small wholesaler operations right next to a huge purple cannabis dispensary.

The harried-looking Sikh in charge of G-Tex Fabrics told me that they are "between retail locations" and had stored all their stock in the dark warren of shelves behind him.  It was actually pretty cool - I told him what I wanted, and he went back and found it and cut the yardage for me with a dagger.  The prices were so much better than Jo-Ann's that I bought quite a bit of fabric.  

If you see me, please do ask me how my sewing projects are progressing.  (hollow laughter). Feel free to also ask me how many of the used books I bought at the last library sale I've currently read, and whether I've prepared any of the recipes that I cut out of the newspaper this year.

This morning we had to report back to the courtroom so that the defense and prosecuting attorneys could ask us questions to determine whether we could be fair and impartial.  While we were all waiting outside the courtroom, I finished the other 37% of my book and deleted 400 emails.

We were put in three groups of 24, and I was put in the second group, so I thought I probably wouldn't have to serve, which meant I could keep my hair appointment next week.  I know I should want to do my civic duty, but I've had this appointment for months!

After extensive questioning of the first group of potential jurors, fifteen were dismissed, so the second group was, in fact, called to the front.  We had to pass around a wireless microphone to answer questions.  I found that I simply could not stop answering questions.

First the defense attorney and then the prosecuting attorney had some questions about interpreting evidence, credibility of witnesses, burden of proof, etc etc and as it turns out, I have a lot of thoughts about these things!

I kept gesturing for the microphone and sharing my opinions until I guess I had said enough concerning things that BOTH attorneys decided to dismiss me for cause.  So thanks to my mouthiness and inability to shut up, I get to keep my hair appointment!  And I didn't even have to wear a Princess Leia costume.

Not Me!!!

Okay, I'm Back

Hello, hello, hello to anyone who is still following this blog even though I haven’t
written in it since July. At first I didn’t write because I was busy DOING THINGS,
and then I didn’t write because it had been so long since I had written, but now I am
determined to write again.

In late July, I took a trip to the East Coast to visit family. While making my travel
plans, I discovered that the cheapest combination of flights and rental car was to
fly to Charlotte, NC and return from Newark, NJ. On discovering this, my first thought
was “I can finally go to Biltmore!!!!”. The whole four years that Susan was at Duke I
tried to finagle a trip to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC but it never worked out.
My chance at last! I booked a room at the Glo Best Western in Asheville and a tour
ticket at Biltmore including lunch reservations in the former stable that is now a
barbecue restaurant.

When I arrived in Charlotte I picked up my rental car and put the Glo in my
Google Maps with the Route Option of Avoid Highways. I usually do this on a road
trip since interstate highways are pretty boring. This was a mistake in western North
Carolina. The roads that are not the interstate are narrow, not maintained, winding,
and take you right past the porches of people who give you squinty-eyed suspicious
looks. At one point I drove on a gravel road through a creek. Lesson learned.

 

On Sunday nights at 9 pm in Asheville, dining options are severely limited, but
luckily for me, Chili’s was still open. I love Chili’s. I sat at the bar and had a terrific
margarita and who cares what else. I set my alarm and went to bed, happily
dreaming about velvet drapes and oil portraits. I woke up in the middle of the night
because my left big toe was on fire.



I guess my shoes had been too tight on the plane, and if you’ve ever had an
ingrown toenail, you know the pain. I took some Advil and went back to sleep.
In the morning, I found a Walgreens, bought some Epsom salts, and soaked my
toe in the ice bucket. And that’s why you should always use the plastic bag liner
that comes with the ice bucket.



The Biltmore estate was even better than I had anticipated. The road from the
gate to the estate twists and turns through the manicured grounds and is something
like two miles long. I parked and found myself in the midst of two touring groups
headed up to the house: a group of rowdy black women in “Oh Sip It’s a Girl’s Trip!”
t-shirts and a big group of family members who looked like they were thoroughly sick
of each other in blue polyester “Reynolds Family Trip 2021” t-shirts. I don’t think
anyone had consulted with the Reynolds family members under the age of 16 about
whether they might enjoy an estate tour.



It was an extremely hot and humid day, and you had to stand in line in full sun
to be admitted to the house, but upon reaching the foyer, you could stay in the
blessedly air-conditioned house as long as you liked. I lurked about inside for
two and a half hours, taking pointless photos of furnishings, right up until my late
lunch reservation in the former stable.

 

After a delicious pulled-pork sandwich with Carolina vinegar sauce, the only
correct barbecue sauce, and several beers, I wandered around the beautiful
and spacious grounds, looking for shade, and getting increasingly lost. I was
completely on my own for half an hour until I stumbled upon a groundskeeper
who directed me back to the house.

As I made my way back to the house, the sky clouded over and the weather
cooled, which was good, but thunder and lightning began, which was bad.
I booked it back to my car and got there just as it began to pour.

Later that evening in downtown Asheville I found a restaurant that reminded

me strongly of the restaurant at Deep South Glass in the movie Sweet Home

Alabama.   It served old southern favorites such as fried chicken and bourbon

Old-Fashioneds, but with fancy descriptions and fancy prices.

 

The next day I drove to Richmond, Virginia (after removing the Avoid Highways

route option on Google maps).  It was a pleasant drive, and I was listening to a

great audiobook: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir.  As I approached downtown

Richmond on the highway, I noticed a low, dark cloud directly ahead, and then

suddenly it was raining ridiculously hard.  I couldn’t see a thing, so I pulled over

on the side of the road and put my hazards on, as did many other drivers, which

made me feel less like an overreacting Californian who can’t drive in the rain,

which, to be fair, I am.

 

Eventually the rain let up a little bit, so I slowly drove to the next exit, at which

point it began to pour again.  I pulled into the first parking lot, which luckily for

me belonged to the Captain Don Julio Seafood Buffet restaurant.  As soon as it

let up a little, I got out and scooted over to the restaurant. 

 

Captain Don’s was decorated in a nautical motif, with big captain’s chairs
and tables around which families were busily chowing down on plates piled
high with crab legs. The seafood buffet was too intimidating for me, so I
ordered a fish taco platter and very much enjoyed not driving in the storm.









Richmond is a great city for just hacking around, which is what I set out to do on my first morning there. But it was just too hot and humid for my unacclimatized self to be walking outdoors. I was beginning to feel dangerously overheated when I spotted the Institute for Contemporary Art at Virginia Commonwealth University, which is a big name for a very small museum. It was small, but the Institute had the three things that really matter to me in a museum – air-conditioning, toilets, and a water fountain.



There were a whole gaggle of arty-looking youths hanging out at the front desk.
I was the only patron. One of the youths peeled away from the others and
literally followed a step behind me as I looked through the galleries. He never
spoke, just hovered and poked at his iPad. It was very disconcerting. I mean,
I have been to a LOT of art museums of all sizes, and I have never before had
my own personal security guard. It seems unlikely that I looked like a threat to
the artworks, so I guess he was just super-bored? Maybe working on his thesis
project about how sweaty older women interact with multimedia collage?



Annoyed by my guard, but not ready to face the heat again, I hid in the ladies’
room and played Solitaire on my phone for a while. I walked back to my Airbnb,
got my rental car, and drove to the much bigger art museum, the Virginia Museum
of Fine Arts, where I spent the rest of the day in the air-conditioned comfort being
ignored by the guards, as is usual.

As I drove around Richmond, I noticed that the monuments to
Confederate Generals on Monument Avenue were mostly gone.
Only the plinths remained. As a white woman who has never endured
racism, it was surprising to me how liberated I felt seeing those
empty plinths, so I can only imagine how good it feels for victims of
systemic racism.

Susan joined me and we had a really sweaty walk along the James. We saw
some very interesting murals and some Passages youth campers whose van
had the superb motto “We Make Kids Tired!”. As I reached my heat threshold,
we found a craft brewery. I often joke with my brother that you could throw a rock
anywhere in Richmond and hit a craft brewery, but it isn’t really a joke. Before we
entered the taproom, we both guessed how many men would have facial hair.
We both wildly underestimated.

Ellen joined us, and we went with my sister-in-law Shelby and my niece Stella to the 

Poe Museum.  My expectations were low, and I was pleasantly surprised.  It's a very

cool museum that I would recommend to anyone.

We spent the afternoon at Hollywood Cemetery with two of my online friends from 

cemetery class. Backstory: I’ve always loved cemeteries, so imagine my excitement 

when I discovered that Atlas Obscura offered a four-part seminar taught by a Harvard 

religious studies professor who has also worked as a cemetery director. My zoom 

classmates were from all over the country and we mostly just shared anecdotes about 

our favorite cemeteries.


Two of my classmates, Rebecca and Kim, live in Richmond and since I knew I was 

headed to Richmond in late summer, I asked if they would give me a tour of their 

favorite cemetery, and they graciously agreed. I showed up with Shelby, Stella, Susan 

and Ellen and the seven of us wandered all over Hollywood cemetery. Even the rain 

did not deter us. Rebecca and Kim are self-described goths and they shared some great 

Richmond stories with us. It was a really fun afternoon.

Rebecca said many people believe this tomb contains a vampire.

Doug and Shelby also took us to a Flying Squirrels baseball game (a feeder team for 

the San Francisco Giants!), to an enormous farmer’s market, to the five-star Jefferson 

Hotel, and to a French café and vintage shops in Carytown. It was a great week, Doug 

and Shelby and Stella are great hosts, and it all just made me want to spend more time there.