Matchbook Memories

Do restaurants and hotels still give out matchbooks?  I rarely see them these days now that indoor smoking is taboo.  And, I’ll tell you, I miss the matchbooks. I do. They dredge up memories of good times AND look fabulous displayed in a glass bowl.

Take for example the Russian Tea Room matchbook…love the color and the graphics, but here’s the backstory.  My husband and I flew to New York state for my dear friend Lauri’s wedding.  I was a bridesmaid and thrilled to be so.  My husband and I were staying in Nyack and after the wedding we took a bus down to Manhattan for a day of fun.  All I remember of that day was a visit to the Museum of Modern Art and a late lunch at the Russian Tea Room, but both were fabulous. Every time I see this matchbook this wonderful, carefree day floats into my mind.

The  Sparky’s Diner matches are also from the time frame (mid-late ‘80s).  Sparky’s was less than two blocks from our apartment on Dolores Street in San Francisco. It was a fun place to eat and I did so often with my husband and girlfriends.

One time my girlfriend Patty and I met up there.  We ordered our food and our fav new drink, Dubonnet with a twist of lemon.  Our waitress admitted that they were a bit short on Dubonnet, though when our drinks arrived, they had more Dubonnet then we usually got!  (No complaints here!)

Later in the meal our waitress appeared with a full bottle of Dubonnet (someone had run out for a bottle) and filled our tumblers with apologies.

Well…lovely.

Okay, I’ll admit that we drained our glasses and got tipsy or perhaps snockered is the more apt word. (Well, Dubonnet is a fortified wine and we’re small women.) But we weren’t worried.  I just needed to walk two blocks home and Patty was destined for an N Judah street car to the Sunset district.

When I see these matches, I remember a very silly, very fun meal.

And then there are the matches from Rocky Point Restaurant.  My parents were visiting from New York state and my husband and I had taken them down to Carmel.  At a men’s store my Dad asked the salesclerk if he knew of a good restaurant for steaks.  He did and even made the reservations for us.

The restaurant is south of Carmel along highway 1 and is lovely in a dark, romantic way with views of the lighted cliffs and ocean just outside the windows.  These matches bring back one of my fondest memories of my parents’ visits.

So you see, we NEED matchbooks.  These little memory ticklers. We really do. Or at least I do!

How about you…any matchbook memories?

Dreaming of Hot Water

Sunday, on the way home from the airport after a long, long, tiring day of plane travel, I was thrilled to think I could wash off the sweat and grime under a cascade of hot, hot water. I was anticipating this with relish. To be clean again! Refreshed!

It was not to be.

Ick!

Two days prior to my return home the utility company had turned off our gas to replace our gas meter.  They could not turn the gas back on until someone was home.  So the next day when my husband was home, they came back to turn it on appliance by appliance. When they got to our water heater, the guy was HORRIFIED.  “I can’t turn this back on. It’s not safe!”

Well…now we did know that we needed to replace the water heater.  We’ve been talking about it for a few years, but there always seemed to be other things to deal with and it kept dropping down on the list…and the heater was still working after all. (The heater was new when we bought the house 22 years ago.  Apparently it should have lasted only 5-10 years! So I say, “Well done little heater.”)

So my husband compiled a list of plumbers who had great Yelp reviews, but as he was leaving the next day for a week-long business trip to New York City, it was up to me to handle getting the heater replaced.  I didn’t really mind as I’m used to dealing with the house stuff (roofers, painters, landscapers, etc.).  What I did mind was not being able to take a hot shower.  I minded that a lot, but my husband joked before he left that the cold showers would be good for me.

They weren’t!!  Not at all.  I tried to take one and tensed up so much from the cold water that I gave myself a throbbing headache and had to lie down for 30 minutes.

It’s now day four with no hot water.  Just a minor inconvenience. Really. And the plumber just arrived to install our new water heater and I will do a happy dance before I jump in the shower this afternoon.

But it’s funny how such a small thing can get you thinking…because it has.

Though I currently feel like a “manky old boot” (Harry Potter “Goblet of Fire”) and am dreaming of a hot shower, it’s also made me realize how much I take for granted. I’m looking around realizing how much I have to be thankful for.  To be sure I’m thankful for all the things I own that bring me comfort and pleasure, but more importantly, I’m thankful for all the people who have enriched my life beyond measure.  I am feeling really blessed.

Hmmm…perhaps a little deprivation is good now and then.

Time for a Fix

So much of life (at least my life) seems to be filled with the ordinary and the mundane and most of the time I am okay with that. I take pleasure in small things: reading good books, talking walks at night, tending flowers in the yard, lunching with girlfriends, enjoying hot showers, sometimes even cleaning! It doesn’t take much.

But every so often, I need more. Sometimes I feel if I do one more load of laundry, make one more meal, run one more errand, deal with one more domestic problem, I’ll scream. And that’s when I know it’s time to doing something out of the ordinary. Something BIG. That’s when I know I need…a travel fix.

So two months ago, at the zenith of my “needing more,” I planned a spring break vacation for my 16-year-old daughter and I. After considering various European countries and cities, we chose Prague. It turned out to be a good choice. The city is beautiful (even with all the graffiti and tourists like us!), has fascinating history and plenty of tours, good restaurants and things to see. (I highly recommend the WWII tour.)

But some of our most memorable parts include the unplanned bits…like talking with Mila in a cafe. Mila, a retired miner who had moved to Australia in 1968, was back home to visit family. He told us many tales about life in the outback of Australia that included surviving being bitten by a death adder. (Alas, he doesn’t seem long for this world. A life-long smoker he broke into several coughing spasms during our conversation that were so arresting other patrons looked alarmed.) We also won’t forget the street musicians in the Old Town Square who were surprisingly good or the hawks that lived on the rooftops and regularly swooped in front of our 6th floor hotel room window. And we won’t forgot the dive bar down the street from our hotel that regularly spewed out drunks who peed in the street or passed out on the sidewalk. (So sad.) And for me, I won’t forget all the good talks my daughter and I had and all the time spent together.  (In another year she’ll be off to college and I know I’m going to miss her like crazy!)

All in all, it was a good trip and by the time we headed back to the airport seven days later, we were satiated with experiences and ready to come home. And after a long, EXHAUSTING day of travel yesterday, my husband picked us up at the San Francisco airport with the news that our hot water heater had conked out the other day and we have no hot water!

So it’s back to real life.  Back to dealing with domestic problems. Back to laundry. Back to work. Back to all the ordinary stuff. But I’m okay with that. I’ve had my fix and a bit of adventure…though I’ll confess, I’m already dreaming about the next country we may visit!

What’s your big fix?

Not the Birthday I Planned…

Photography by Steven dePolo.

In the wee hours of the morning…1:53 to be exact…I was wide awake reliving experiences from this week.  I didn’t want to be reliving these experiences. Every day this week has brought something upsetting.  Something that ratcheted up my emotions and stress. Every day.

That’s unusual for me.  Most of my days go along rather placidly.  (Don’t yours?)  Most weeks for me do not involve death, theft, vitriolic people and huge worries.

It started on Monday when I had to have my beloved, sick cat euthanized. (So hard and so sad.) On Tuesday, my oldest daughter (who is traveling aboard) had her wallet stolen which necessitated several anxious phone calls at my end and wiring her replacement money. On Wednesday…well, let’s just say some people need to learn how to treat others with respect. (No one likes a bully.) Then on Thursday I found out that our youngest daughter has fallen way, way behind on her school assignments (which is of course a huge worry).

Other than the death of my cat, I realize these are all small things.  Mostly fixable things. Just ordinary life things.  Nothing big.  But there seemed to be too many of them this week and the cumulative effect has left me sad and exhausted.

So today it’s Friday and my birthday and I told my husband I didn’t want to go out tonight as we had planned.  I’m just not in the mood to go out and celebrate.

What I really want to do (besides help my daughter get back on track with school!) are a lot of homey things. Maybe plant some herbs, bake some cookies to share with our new neighbors, take a nap, curl up and read (Psalms are always a favorite when I feel like this), clean out a cupboard, take a long, hot shower. Weird, huh?! Not what I had planned for today.  No getting dolled up to go out. No big hoopla. Just small healing things that will hopefully restore a bit of calm and peace…which is perhaps the best way to start my 54th year!

Off to take that long, hot shower.

Would love to hear what you do when life gets too stressful…

In Celebration of Easter…

“Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees
Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.”
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“Christ the Lord is risen to-day,
Sons of men and angels say.
Raise your joys and triumphs high;
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply.”
- Charles Wesley

Enough said.  Hope you enjoy these photos I took today of blossoms and blooms in our garden.

A Tale of Two Documentaries…

Home???

When my husband suggesting watching the documentary “Queen of Versailles” on Netflix two nights ago, I was dubious.  Did I want to watch a show about the conspicuous, ridiculous consumption of a family who were building a 90,000 square feet house based on the palace of Versailles?!!!!

Not really, but I was curious.  So I grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch to watch.

Here’s the deal: the Siegel’s current main abode is 34,000 square feet for a family of ten, plus assorted nannies and servants, and was apparently “bursting at the seams.” They wanted a bigger house, no, needed a bigger house … well a lot bigger.  I couldn’t even wrap my head around the fact that their current house is 20x the size of my house. Forget about the size of the house they are building.

But I watched.  The show was riveting in the weird way you are drawn to a traffic accident, a fire or reality TV.

Almost from the beginning of the show though, I felt sad. There was just TOO MUCH. Too much stuff and waste. And pointlessness. And vanity. And greed. And wrangling for power.

Then the 2008 recession hit, and coupled with some less-than-stellar business choices, it meant that the family had to say goodbye to few things…a private jet, private schools for the kids, the wife’s $1,000,000 annual clothing budget.  They reluctantly put up their still-under-construction Versailles house (actually just a shell of a house) for sale.  For $75 million.

They trimmed a few things, but I found myself hoping that this downturn in their finances would lead them to an epiphany.  That they would realize all their gross excesses were a vain attempt at happiness and would seek something better. Something more philanthropic.  Something spiritual. That they would choose to lead a simpler, more down-to-earth life. (Mind you both the husband and wife had grown up in very modest surroundings. It was possible.)

But it didn’t happen. (Of course it didn’t)

For all their money and stuff and connections and publicity and opportunities, I wouldn’t want to be them, and neither would my daughter.  At one point in the show she said, “I like our house better. I like the way you fix it up Mom.” (That’s our little 1750 square foot house she’s talking about.) Later she said, “For having all that money, they don’t seem very happy.

No, they don’t seem happy. Not at all.

Quite coincidentally, the next night we watched the documentary “Happy.”  It was sweet and inspiring and showed people from all walks of life who were happy.

Honestly, some of these folks shouldn’t be happy.  Some led hard lives with little to show for it.  Some had suffered great losses: death of loved ones, divorce, health, beauty. But here’s the thing…they were happy.  Despite it.

Here’s the difference: They had surrounded themselves with loving families and supportive extended communities. They cultivated friendships.  They were passionate. They didn’t see stuff and money as the ultimate goals in life. They gave back to others without thought of repayment.  They had faith.  They found joy in simple things. They believed in doing the right thing.

Watching “Happy” was like a breath of fresh air.

Watching these two documentaries on consecutive nights was illuminating. I highly recommend it.

Unexpected New Life

Every week I spend at least a few hours doing yard work. Pruning. Weeding. Planting. Watering. Fertilizing. Most of the time I don’t mind the work. In fact, I like it. I like tending plants and it gets me outside in the sun, away from computer, and left to my own thoughts.  Usually good thoughts. Prayerful thoughts.

What??!!

I get a bit grubby and that’s good too…the sweat and the dirt under the fingernails and a bit of blood from time to time where a rosebush thorn snags me.  And I figure, “It’s all good.” (My only regret is that I wish I had more land, not a small, city plot. Alas, alas.)

Now, a few days ago one of my weekly chores included finally emptying the dirt from some big patio pots whose plants had long-since died. Much to my surprise, one of the pots showed signs of life!

What??!! I can’t even imagine how this happened. This plant was dead!  DEAD.  And it would have received little rain this winter under the eaves where I had stored the pot.  How had it secretly managed to live??

But here it is, growing in beautiful abundance (now 2 inches tall).  So I’ve started watering it and have been trying to remember what was in this pot and I think it’s a fuchsia that succumbed to frost last fall. In a few months time it should have lovely pink blossoms that will drive the hummingbirds wild.

And this little plant, which shouldn’t even be alive, got me thinking…what a great metaphor for believing in miracles, continuing to have hope when things seem hopeless, rejoicing in resurrection.

Too fanciful??