Season Change

As I went on my I-really-should-do-this-everyday walk this morning along a familiar path, I was reminded of how renewing it is that we have a change of seasons in Minnesota. The air was brisk, the sky was blue, the terrain was crunchy, brown and tired of winter:












And I remembered last fall when it looked like this:



































This morning the lake reflected the surrounding beiges and browns:





















Last fall it looked like this:

































My back yard garden this morning - apparently dead as a doornail:
















But in only 2 months it will look like this:






















































My Magnolia tree this morning, an April DOA...















will transform to this in just 1 month:
























Winter certainly has raised havoc with my front yard:
















Come June, this is what happens:
















This bony thing...





















is really a lush Japanese Lilac tree that blossoms in June:


















Oh, and this guy stays the same all year round.












Ain't life grand?

King of the Roost

In November of 2003 we decided to get a dog. It had to be dander-free since both Abby and I have allergies. That narrowed the breed possibilities down quite a bit to a Bichon Frise, Shih Tzu, Poodle, one of those hairless, rat-looking jobs and a few more. As luck would have it, Abby's flute teacher, our neighbor, was moving and she wanted a new home for her family's Shih Tzu. Well, who could say no? He was 5, already trained, had shots, necessary puppy-preventing snipping had been done, and he had this face:

He came with 2 chewed up toys and his favorite blanket. Not enough for our new baby. I immediately went out and bought a new ball, treats, squeeze toy and a comfy bed. The bed was a hit; the toys and treats were ignored. He stuck with what was familiar and has never wavered. The 45 seconds a day he spends playing is always with this green and white toy, one that came with him, or a similar multi-striped near replica.
Now let me explain this shot. He had the typical red eye going on, so I practiced editing photos and this was the result. He's not really able to rotate his eyes in 2 different directions at once like a cartoon character. He may be challenged, but not to the extent depicted here:

We've enjoyed him to no end and although he's not the brightest bulb on the tree, he has the biggest heart. He's going deaf now, and when elevated voices don't work, hand clapping does. When he's doing his business in the snow, however, no clapping is necessary to get him to come in:


Speaking of winter, bring it on:
















So now he's almost 12 and has settled in. Sometimes he forgets that he doesn't have to cry at the bottom of the steps as if an invisible leash is holding him there and that he has full permission to go pretty much where he wants to go in the house, but a simple clap and gesture signaling "come on up" brings him right back to reality. After all, don't we all have memory lapses now and then? Most of my exercise these days seems to come from retracing my steps trying to remember why I wanted to go to a particular spot and what I wanted to accomplish once there. But once Kieko hits the couch, he knows his job is to steadfastly protect us from all the dangerous joggers and dog walkers that pass by our front window, all of which he can still see from his favorite post, because thank goodness, he's not going blind yet.















And after a hard day's work which included probably only 18 hours of sleep, what can be better than a little R & R?

He's aging gracefully. His groomer likes to give him a little Fu Manchu mustache when he gets trimmed, but I think it adds years so I always cut it off. Guess I forgot part of it this time:
















Just look at how irresistible he is in the lap of my wonderful daughter. Aren't they both just stunners?

Spring Break in Indian Wells

My friend Harry and I accepted the generous offer of our friends Debbie and Dan to spend a few days with them at Deb's home in Indian Wells California. Harry took me to school last Friday and kept my packed suitcase, bringing it along when he and his brother picked me up from school that day. School could not pass fast enough...I was so excited. Right from school to the airport. What a deal! We arrived around 7:30 pm CA time and Deb & Dan were at the airport to pick us up at the Palm Springs Airport which, incidentally, sports a lovely, open air area between drop off and pick up, and has a concourse named for Sonny Bono.
We stopped at a famous Italian PS spot called Tony's where it felt more like NY City than CA. Everyone had East Coast accents and looked like extras from the Sopranos set. Guys with dark shirts open at the neck and elderly ladies whose hayday had been sometime in the early 60s but who still had the same hair color and Jackie O sheath dresses only now size 14 instead of 8, chatted and sipped on cocktails. Scores of autographed pics of 50s and 60s celebs surrounded us. What a wonderful welcome to PS. We actually ended up dancing with many sixty-somethings who looked very much like these patrons when we went to The Nest and boogied to the music of Tim, piano bar soloist extraordinaire. It was like discoing at Scottie's in Minneapolis during the 70s.






Dan drove us to Indian Wells (another huge plus of this vacation was being chauffeured everywhere by Dan!) where Deb's home is and for the first time saw the beautiful pool in the backyard and the spectacular view of the Santa Rose Mts.




Her neighborhood is full of stunning landscaping from cascading red bougainvillea bushes to gigantic succulents.
Over the next few days we spent hours by the pool reading, relaxing, laughing, and my version of swimming which includes no leg motion and a flotation device directly under my backside. Whenever we wanted a snack, we could walk over to one of Deb's tangelo, orange or grapefruit trees and pick one. I'd never had fresh citrus fruit before and now I'm spoiled for life.
One day we went to a street fair held in the parking lot of the College of the Desert where we had a fabulous hotdog for breakfast (yes, that's right, and it was surprisingly great.) Debbie and I bought hats for wearing in the sun and Harry bought a very unique visor that sported fake gray fur on top, somewhat resembling hair.
Since we are all children of the 60s, we have a fond appreciation of that beloved B-level show, Hullabaloo, and lucky for us Dan has acquired the DVD set. Several months ago we were watching an episode and developed a keen admiration for one of the dancers named Tommy (we know this because each dancer has his/her name in huge letters displayed on the Hullabaloo shirts they wear.) Tommy's energy and boogaloo spirit are always a notch above the others, and in this particular act Tommy hopped from side to side, arms plastered against his sides, legs tightly together, as if he were performing an accelerated hop-scotch move. Tommy's ability so impressed Harry that he made his own Hullabaloo shirt by taking an old t-shirt and writing Hullabaloo on the front. And you know what was on the back: "Tommy," of course. When Dan started playing the DVDs, Harry dashed to the bedroom and came out in his t-shirt, shades and his new hair-sprouting visor - oh and shorts too. He then joined the Hullabaloo dancers by gyrating next to the television set, keeping in perfect sync with their head-wagging, booty-wiggling moves. The audience was in awe and entertained beyond our wildest dreams.

If you click on the pic below, you'll see a video of Harry performing his splendiferous moves.




We also had some memorable meals, one at Sullivan's, where the steak was to die for. At the Cafe' Italia we were serenaded by wait staff who belted out Broadway hits, and at the Pacifica the generous manager treated us to an appetizer of grilled scallop on wasabi mashed potatoes. Very unique, beautifully presented and delicious. For thirty years I thought I didn't like scallops because the last tiny ones I had were slimy and rubbery, very unlike this fist-sized perfectly done distant cousin. Fabulous.
One night Dan grilled NY Strips, chicken breasts, asparagus, brussel sprouts, red pepper, corn on the cob, and spuds, all done on a regular old-fashioned Weber charcoal grill and all done perfectly. Another memorable meal.
We saw part of a magic show at the McCallum and went to an antique car show as well as a farmers' market in La Quinta.
All in all it was four of the best days I've spent in years. Good food, good surroundings, good entertainment, and best of all, good comradery and friends. Wonderful memories....





Oh by the way, this is what was in store for me when I came home:















Viva Indian Wells!

"Mom, guess what? Just caught a wild boar..."

Now, let's say that you're the mom of a 20-year-old who is studying in Rome for spring semester and is taking weekend trips to Dublin, Amsterdam, Krakow, Greece and a week's trip to Tunisia. Let's further say that this weekend she tells you she is going to a cute farm in a small town two hours outside of Rome where she can have her own room (something she hasn't had in ages) and will be hiking and horseback riding. I investigate online and any concerns I had are put to rest. http://www.italyfarmstay.com/index.html This, from a mom's perspective, is pretty much a slam dunk, worry-free jaunt, except, of course, for the Saturday a.m. phone call which proves to be a momentary snag in the bliss. She was stranded at a train station alone in a small Italian town whose name she didn't know. Apparently her connecting train hadn't shown up. But that's another story. Fast forward to Sunday morning when this text arrives: "Mom, guess what? I just
hiked barefoot through a waterfall and caught a wild boar!" Hmmmmmmm. I text back, "With what, your hands?" and the reply is, "No, the guy did, but we circled it." The first picture that flies through my head is my barefooted daughter going nose to nose with a boar. The next thought is, what guy? After calming down, however, and remembering "the guy" is the bed and breakfast guy, I find myself so excited that she can experience this and have such an unforgettable moment. And I'm so glad she decided to forge forward after getting stranded in the small town, proceeding to get on the wrong train, having to go back to that small town to get the right train, and finally making it to this wonderful bed and breakfast near Sora where she successfully connected with her friend from school. It was worth the newly sprouted gray hairs I now sport because I believe it's true that the challenges and setbacks we conquer bring us wisdom and strength that will serve us well throughout life. On to the next adventure....

(Sources of images:
http://www.italyfarmstay.com/gallery/gallery.html and http://www.swla.co.uk/SWLAmembers/meadh/Mead_wild_boar.JPG)