We Silly Women and Our Vanities

I did a bit of artsie mingling this afternoon with my artist friend. We joined the throngs at the artists' reception. The gallery is in a small, victorian house in Watsonville, California. This House We Call a Home is all installations. Every inch of the house (hallways, bathrooms, closets) is the setting for an artist's vision. The shoes are called Fatal Attraction. They sent shivers down my spine.

Proud to be an American

I stand proud and tall today, along with people all over the globe. Sounds so grand, and indeed it is. Welcome, Mr. President, into my heart and into our world.

Glad to Have a Job

It is time to go back to work. Back to school. Back to being a teacher. Three weeks flew by. Parties. Lunches. Dinners. Beach walks. Playing house. Reading. Sleeping.

Holiday highlights:
--Hosting Christmas dinner for the Johnstons, some of our oldest and dearest friends

--Hosting New Year's Eve party for the Golden Girls

--Walking along the beach with Suzzie the dog on cool, crisp, sunny afternoons

--New carpet and new paint in the office

--Visiting the San Jose Tech Museum with Tina

--Shopping

An extra note about shopping. Can you believe the super low prices on clothes and stuff at regular old department stores? I paid $9.99 for a dress originally marked $98.00. I left the store feeling positively euphoric. Cheap thrills.

Theatre Teachers Have More Fun

Self portrait, shadow in the sand. The briny Pacific lies beyond the white sands and piny forests of Asilomar in Pacific Grove on the Monterey Peninsula.

The California Educational Theatre Association (CETA) is my favorite "do gooder" organization. At the 2009 CETA Board retreat at Asilomar an observer might have guessed that we 20 grownups and assorted kids were a family reunion group yukking it up. In the evenings, after the meetings, we assembled before a roaring fire in lodge designed in the 1930s by Julia Morgan. Nice wines and music completed the ambiance. We played board games, card games, and dicey games. Send me to a meeting like this ANY TIME!

Happy New Year 2009

Tradition! Sing it, like in the musical Fiddler on the Roof. Tradition!

Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge is a New Year's Day tradition for Elene. Beginning in 2009 I am now privileged to be among those with whom she performs this ritual. Ditto for Mary Jo. We sing! We soar! It was a glorious day. But very cold.

Getting Started Was the Hardest Part

I call it playing house. Home improvement projects, house cleaning, or even cooking is playing house. Today I played in a major way. I took the plunge. I dove in. Fresh, yellow-goldish paint is now slowly drying in my upstairs hallway.

The hardest part was getting started. First the photos and art had to come off the walls. Next, the switch plates with their tiny screws. Then the masking tape business. Spackle, sanding, dust. Hours later I finally began. I opened a can of paint.

The Pink Poodle

My sister recently asked me about the pink plastic poodle. Because it's Christmas.

The poodle is one of my most valuable possessions. It was a prize from the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk long ago. As in 30 years ago. It demands a prominent spot on the Christmas tree each year. I don't remember if it was awarded to Sacha or to me. Maybe Ed Roberts (Old Ed) actually won it. I can't recall exactly which of the silly carnival games it came from. Maybe the one where you throw a ping pong ball into little jars full of water and gold fish. It looks like it would be so easy to toss the ball into the jar, but of course it isn't. Nevertheless, you get a totally terrific pink poodle when you fail. The poodle is ten times better than wining a gold fish. You never have to feed it. It will never float pathetically on the top of the water.

For me, the poodle represents my young motherhood, Sacha's childhood, and our happy summer days at the beach. Ah, shucks! I'm getting misty just thinking about it.