Had a lovely celebration here at 1880 just before heading south. Trifle with my “literary discussion group.”

Loaded up next morning and on to the I-5  to Ashland for our first night.  Roxie and I love our favorite room at The Bard’s Inn.

What? Doesn’t everyone take a picture of the faucet?

We had a nice walk around town before heading out.  Ashland is such a sweet town.

Love the PEACE shadow on this porch.

Can you read the sign above the goat?  Says “Estoy Con Ella.”  Yo tambien.

Someone lost her pacifier on a walk past the prize-winning sequioadendron giganteum.

And back on the I-5 to the 80.

As well as I used to know all the ins and outs of my favorite city, upon arrival, I wandered around for a while looking for Mariposa.  Finally, I gave up, called Kate, and she drove over and led me home.  So we arrived at Mariposa where she lives in this beautiful building:

I had my own indoor parking place, bedroom and bath.  Our suite was downstairs, but Roxie did some exploring upstairs.

She and her cousins were very congenial and even allowed the abuse of wearing some Christmas attire.

Kate gave me this amazing mandoline.  We used it to make potatoes Anna.

In years past, Mama Betty made lots of homemade candies.  This year, she sent us a big box of See’s.

We ordered in that first night and just relaxed over some excellent pizza from the neighborhood.

Next day, while Kate went to work, Roxie and I drove down to Burlingame where I walked her along Newhall Road.  I rarely use the word “surreal,” but it was.

Then met up with my darling Amy T. for lunch, picked up the crab at Trag’s for our Christmas Eve dinner, and drove around lots of favorite places before driving back to The City.

That night, we went to an excellent Scandinavian bistro, Pläj, a well- hidden secret. we started with a Nordic wine and the cheese plate.

We sat at a small table but admired the fleecy cushioning that had been added to the seats at the large table across the way.

The delicious Swedish meatballs did us in and all we were able to do about dessert was read the menu while we had our coffee.

Saturday was Christmas Eve.  We started out walking the dogs in some of the public gardens in the neighborhood. Lots of sunshine and quite chilly for SF.  Here I am properly attired for dog- walking in Warrior Land: pajamas, Uggs, fan cap.

Later, we had late lunch at Absinthe Brasserie & Bar  in Hayes Valley.  

It was buzzing with people just out of the earlier performance of  The Nutcracker and those, like us, going on to the later one.  Absinthe is reputed to serve the best cheeseburgers in SF, so, being something of an expert on burgers, I ordered one.  I have to agree.  Excellent pomme frites too.  Again, we had to forgo dessert, but fortified ourselves with coffee.

Loved the “new” Nutcracker production.  They kept the good parts like the Christmas tree that grows and grows and added an amazing snowfall.

Lots of memories of celebrating Kate’s birthdays there.  She got excellent seats for us.  Thank you, Kate.

Snapped a couple of pictures outside before and after:

Back to Mariposa for our traditional Christmas Eve  dungeness crab feed.  They were excellent this year.  

(I did not wear my pajamas to the Opera House.)

For Christmas Day, more dog walking, game watching, cooking and eating. On Christmas Eve, Kate had ordered a fresh turkey and some red potatoes from Whole Foods.  It was magically delivered to her apartment door within the hour.  Amazing! That’s a big city for you. Had the turkey with pommes Anna, sliced very thin with the new mandoline.

Next day, we had tickets to SFMOMA. Many visits are needed to do this place justice.  Here I am next to a favorite Matisse:

The “Woman in a Hat” is Matisse’s wife Amalie.  When asked what color dress she was wearing, Matisse replied, “Black, of course.”  Ah.  Amalie was a Parisienne.  They do favor chic black attire. Moi, je ne suis pas Parisienne mais tres chic en noir. D’accord?

Here Kate caught my reflection in a cracked mirror, standing in the black mica sand of an installation:

From the sculpture terrace, we caught a glimpse of the iconic Bay Bridge in the distance between buildings that just grow taller and taller .

Later she drove me across town so I could see her workplace.  Ironically, that building is  adjacent to the old Children’s Hospital where she was born. Now, that tiny baby is CEO of a large orthopedic practice which, on January 2, is incorporating the merger of another large practice, negotiated by our girl.  She grew up good.

After that, she drove me around the neighborhood.  We saw the house of Diane Feinstein, my personal hero.

Then, it was time to pack up to head home.  Once again, on Tuesday morning, I could never have found my way out of town if Katherine had not led me right to the foot of the bridge where I turned right and she headed on to work.  What a wonderful, merry Christmas!

I leave you with this iconic picture of Katherine in her beautiful home:

And a beautiful shadow of  the tree outside:

And so, home again, home again, jiggity jig.  A wonderful road trip to Christmas.

After receiving an email Christmas letter from a dear cousin, I was simply astounded at how very different, here in our 8th decade, we are.  I googled  “How close are first cousins?”

Lots came up, but this resonated.  “First cousins are as close as you can be and not be siblings. It means that the closest ancestor that two people have in common is a grandparent.” Actually, that would be two grandparents.

How much fun I remember having at my grandparents’ big rock house playing with this cousin.

We were such cute kids.  He is on our left here and I am on the right.  His older sisters are in between.

He looks full of mischief and I look positively angelic.  I believe our roles in that regard have had a reversal.

I do remember this telling incident.  We were playing around a big pile of rocks left from building the house, where we had been told to not play because of snakes.  Suddenly he yelled “Snake!”  I ran like crazy.  I asked him what kind of snake he had seen.  He said, “chicken snake.”  I asked how he knew it was a chicken snake. He told me it had three chicken feathers growing out of his head.  I’m pretty sure the only thing “chicken” there was me!

I saw him for the last time in 1984 at our grandfather’s funeral.

We do have this in common: “This year we have been blessed by God in some wonderful ways. We are still able to move around and do things.”  But that’s about it.

One of the contrasts that struck me the most was how his wife has dedicated herself this past year to “getting rid of” a lot of trees on their property and burning the branches.  The reasons for getting rid of a tree, unless it is huge and rotten and about to fall on your house or a power line, escapes me.  I continue to plant and nurture them.  When I first moved to 1880, the first thing I did was enlist Elizabeth’s help to plant a redwood.  I now live in the midst of a small grove.

This is the first one she planted.  It now towers above my three-story house:

 

Moving on.

In my mid-seventies, I do not need to be reminded about Jesus and I cannot imagine that I would presume to know more about him than others in my age group know or want to be instructed about.  I can’t think of anything more boring than being in a Sunday-school class where everyone is over sixty.  I do enjoy a class at my church of adults of all ages.

Unlike him, I have no interest in genealogy.  I love history, but for ancestry, I only care as far back as my great-grandparents, all of whom I knew.  Well, there is one exception.  An ancestor-buff friend did discover that I am a direct descendant of the last Choctaw chief, Mushulatubbee. I think that makes me an Indian Princess.

Unlike me, my cousins’ tribe continues to increase.  I am a bit jealous of that, but am so happy about the lives my three amazing daughters have chosen to live  A recent family gathering at 1880 included this jolly group:

Finally, I do not send Christmas cards or newsletters anymore.  I blog.

I do love hearing from my cousin.  Or possibly his wife.  I can’t tell for sure who is writing. I feel sure they would not approve of much about me.  As for me, I cherish diversity.