CALLING BOB VILLA

It didn’t take a close examination to figure out that we shouldn’t try to make it through another winter (well, what passes for winter in SoCal) with our 25 year-old paint peeling to bare wood all over the house, windows falling apart, and the sotto voce mutterings of the neighbors.  So, our grand RV trip to the Pacific NW was postponed for the second time, the bank account pillaged, contracts signed, and we’re off on the grand adventure.  Remodeling.  Of course, paint leads to grander considerations in the distaff mind, and the house is getting a porch ceiling, new entry stairs, enlarged porch floor area, new front walks, new side walk, new window in the cave-den, and closing in all of the eave overhangs.  Yikes.

Up went the scaffolding (that’s Mom supervising from the porch):

Out came the shrubs:

And on went the first coat of “Restful Green:”

The color’s a little hard to make out, but it looks great in the flesh.  Pulling off the old siding to the right of the porch revealed decades-long-covered vents, one in front and one around the edge towards the garage door. 

Up went the rafters for the porch ceiling:

And then the tongue-in-groove planks:

Meanwhile, now that we have all this “time on our hands, wouldn’t it be great to redo the interior as well?  Hmmmmm?  Let’s start with the dining room.”  Start?

Let’s see.  Strip the wallpaper.  Sand the walls down.  Wash the walls.  Wash the ceiling.  Prime the ceiling and all the walls.  Ain’t this fun?  Not.

Well, one of us is having a good time.

The colors were a little shocking at first for Loni.  I loved them, but she took a while to warm up.  That wall on the left doesn’t really look that pink in real life; it’s more of a salmon.  The lines where they meet the ceiling will be covered with crown molding. 

The new window in the den has eliminated the cave.  As a bonus, it looks straight across the 12 feet to the window in the house next door, right down their hallway to their bedroom door.  Well, alrighty!

The new front path has been staked and scraped.  We might see cement this week.  We will of course have to deface it with names and date for posterity.  Or until the next owner bulldozes the place and builds a manse.

More to come!

NEW LOOK!

Panic not. It's the same old drivel in a new format. I got tired of the narrow column for the text, and chose this wider format. Of course, when it applied to all the old posts, the spacing with the pics got messed up, but what the heck. It's still pearls before swine, eh? :)

AT LAST :) :) :)

It’s only been nine years in the making, but they finally did it! Mike and Alia tied the knot in San Francisco on Saturday, August 29.

We drove up Thursday with Chuck and Alice and Mom and checked into the Park Galleria Hotel, the less-$ of the two hotels that Mike had made arrangements with. It was perfect for us – quiet (we asked for a “courtyard” (read, airshaft)) room away from the elevators and they set us up perfectly. It was dead quiet every night we were there. Mom’s streetside room was much noisier from traffic, sirens, etc., but she can just pop out her hearing aids. Walking distance of the BART/MUNI, even for Mom, so we garaged the van (at $35/night!) and took the trains and cabs all over. San Francisco is a great place for public transportation as long as you keep a nice supply of small bills and quarters on you. The BART is a cinch to buy tickets for, but the the MUNI trains are another kettle of fish altogether. No change machines and eight quarters required! That makes for a heavy purse/pocket. There was a nice place on the corner next to the hotel for breakfast serving steel-cut oatmeal (slow cooked) with all the fixins for $3! Yes! Given the cost of the rehearsal dinner, I took every bargain I could find.

Thursday night we got together with Mike, Alia, John, Meghan, Alia’s parents Lynn and Bill, and maid-of-honor Lissy, all the way from Spain for the wedding. Took the BART to the Mission district and had dinner at a nice Italian place on Mission Street, La Traviata. Lots of dark wood, guest photos on the walls, and very good food. I had calamari pasta with ink sauce. Excellent. I nearly fell out of my seat when the bill went directly to the other end of the table and John picked up the tab. Wow! That’s my boy! We sang along and applauded birthdays at two other tables and had a great time. Back to the BART for the ride to the hotel. S.F. was experiencing a record-setting heat wave. We’ve never ever been in S.F. and had it so balmy all evening long. This was a bit less desirable during the day – we sweated like pigs.

Friday the ladies all got together for nails (toes and fingers) and other “girly stuff” (their characterization you feminists, not mine). I went off with Chuck to visit with two of our fraternity brothers, Don and Paul at Don’s place in North Beach. Nice digs. From the roof there’s a view of the bay with Alcatraz, and from the other side Coit Tower and downtown. Not too shabby. We promptly reverted to our frat personas and had a rowdy lunch. Kinda scary how easy it is to regress. :P

Friday evening was the rehearsal at the church --- Most Holy Redeemer --- which introduced us to the frustrations of buying tickets for the MUNI train. Go prepared with plenty of change. Once we got to our stop we had to haul out the map and ask a passerby for directions to the church. S.F. is ground zero for confusing intersections. Not only do multiple angled streets meet up, but often they change names from one side to the other. Local knowledge is key. We were the first to arrive and proceeded to the basement meeting room and promptly stumbled in to the local AA meeting, all 150 of them. Back to the street to greet other members of the wedding party and then into the church for the run-through with all the bridesmaids (yup, seven of them!) and

the groomsmen. The church was beautiful, with the

alter placed in the middle. Very light and colorful.

Afterwards, everyone either took the MUNI or hailed cabs to head for the rehearsal dinner at the decidedly upscale Absinth restaurant, home of the $35 corkage fee. Yikes. Do ya think they want to sell their own wines? Weeks ago, I had poured over their 40+page wine list (2/3 French) and selected a couple of whites (a nice minerally Muscadet for me) and several reds after doing an internet vetting of those I was interested in. And I’ll be darned if they didn’t all turn out just fine. I tried two, and no one was complaining about the others. For thirty people, we drained enough bottles to make Julia giggle through a month’s worth of shows. I should have gone with Mike’s favorite dish, a pork confit which truly was superb (lucky Loni chose that), but as I had planned on drinking white I had the fish (they changed the risotto on us at the last minute, from wild mushroom –yum – to carrot [?!] and only one person ordered it). Unfortunately, the fish was overcooked. Oh, well, more wine, please. The chocolate pot-de-creme was luscious for dessert. The private room was very nice and the service was faultless, and everyone had a great time. The Bank of Dad is seeking a federal bailout.

Bill, Lynn, and Alia

Saturday was the big day. The “girls” again were getting together at the Omni with the distaff bridal party for makeup, hairdos, and general gab. The grooms and guys got together and essentially trashed Mike & Alia’s apartment watching sports before going out for burgers and

Clockwise from left: John, Me, Mike, Noah, Jason, Tony, John, Adam, Andrew, and Moe.

malts.

After stuffing our faces we went back to Mike’s and started getting into the penguin suits. A mess on top of a mess, but it all got sorted out and we took off walking to the church, looking for all the world as if we had escaped from a Ratpack movie.

At the church, the fun began when it turned out Mike had forgotten his check book to pay the musicians, who wouldn’t play without pay. Best Man John took off like a man possessed, commandeered a cab and shot back up the hill to fetch it. I caught the only shot of the bride arriving as the official photographer was MIA. The usual wedding glitch nonsense ensued (missed cues, late priest, etc.), but nobody really noticed. We only knew because I was standing in the wings next to the wedding planner who was hissing into her wireless from time to time. The music was well worth whatever they charged. Absolutely gorgeous. The processions went off without a hitch, and I didn’t trip Loni as I escorted her to her seat in her floor-length gown. My shots of the actual ceremony are pretty punk as I couldn’t use a flash or hold the camera visibly up (didn’t want to upset the official photog), but you get the idea.

Here, everyone is staring up at the balcony while the singing is going on . . . and on . . . and on. Much as I was enjoying it, it turns out they were singing multiple choruses when they were supposed to sing only the first. I’m glad they did, but Mike was getting fidgety. When it came time to sign the certificate, the bridal couple and their two witnesses, Stanford grads all (sigh), managed to sign in the wrong places so it has to be done over again before they can file it. Ah, well, it’s all good. Off in the trolley bus to the Green Room at the War Memorial Building for the reception. Here’s both of the Moms after exiting the rig.

We had the obligatory wedding party pics outside

and then went inside to pose for pics with the City Hall

(ain’t she cute!)

John and Meghan. Hmmmmmmm.

The tables were beautiful

as was the happy couple

and everyone had a super time. I’ve uploaded about 70-odd photos for those of you who just can’t get enough (or want to see your own mugs) at the following two “albums” on Picasa:

http://picasaweb.google.com/Calhounjon/Friday82809#

http://picasaweb.google.com/Calhounjon/Saturday82909#

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SIERRA CAMP 2009

If it’s July, it must be time for camp again.  This year, Mom came out with her best friends from Indy, Jack and Rose.

Here they all are at the Huntington Museum gardens in Pasadena.  We beetled out there to see the cactus gardens and other grounds, all of which were incredibly beautiful, plus “Blue Boy” and “Pinky” in the portrait gallery.  We wore everyone out with the walking around in 80+ degree heat.  This should be a must-see on everyone’s list for out-of-town visitors.  We were there only a couple of months ago with other friends, and we still found plenty of new stuff to see this time.

After my usual superb job of packing every nook and cranny in the van (loaned by our friends, Chuck & Alice – thanks, guys!), we got underway Friday morning and headed up the 405 to SR14, and then NE to hook up with 395.  This is pretty ugly territory between our house and the hookup, but once you get on 395 the Sierras start to form on your left and it ultimately is a fantastic drive.  We actually caught a small tailwind all the way up the Owens Valley, so driving was smooth and easy.  After a Subway stop, we pulled into Bishop around 4:00 and went to the Chalfont House B&B.  We’ve stayed here before and it was just as good as we remembered.  A block off the highway, it’s dead quiet at night, but within walking distance of the restaurants, theatre, and the not-to-be-missed Mountain Light Gallery showcasing the incredible photography of the late Galen Rowell.  We stop here every time we get to Bishop and never tire of these images.  I think he’s the Ansel Adams of color photography.  We got three rooms, all on the upper floor, although ours was a sort of split level affair.  After climbing to the second floor, we had to descend a flight of stairs to our room. Strange, but it was very comfortable and, with a full house of guests, we heard absolutely no one once our door was closed.  Breakfast was outstanding, prepared by the proprietess, and served in a beautiful, sunny room at elegant tables.  Truly, there’s no reason to waste money on a motel when you can get something like this.  We had a nice talk with a young (sigh) couple, he from Germany and she from Spain, who were just starting a tour of the West.  Watched an old (‘40s) movie on the VCR in the parlor that had Mom laughing out loud, and all was good.

Off the next morning for the rest of the trip up 395 to the cutoff at SR89.  This is the most beautiful portion of the drive, both on 395 and 89.  This is the view looking south

from the top of one of the grades on 89 just after leaving 395.  After ignoring grotesque turn mis-instructions from Gertrude (we turned her off) we made our way to Walker where we stopped at what turned out to be a fabulous barbeque joint right on the highway with the cooker out by the road.  Mom couldn’t resist, or handle, the sausage sandwich, but ate every last bit of it.  The tri-tip was great.

Fortified, we pressed on through and over the mountains and made it to camp right around 4:00, leaving plenty of time to unpack and get ready for the first of 20 gargantuan meals, most of which we ate out on the deck.

With the exception of one afternoon, we had balmy-hot weather the whole week and dined al fresco the whole time.  The opening Saturday night dinner was the usual “let loose the wolves” roast beef dinner and I know I certainly got my share!  Overall, the food was very good, and the pastry chef outdid himself each morning with cinnamon rolls, croissants, danishes, etc.  This must be a fruit bonanza year as we had buckets of large blueberries, blackberries, and other fruit.  Best new beer I tried, at the recommendation of the obviously underaged staffer manning the fountain:  Rogue Brewery’s “Dead Guy Ale.”

Everybody but me went on one of the 5:00 wine & cheese cruises on the “boatster.”  Classical music, smooth lake, and beautiful scenery.  They were all tanked upon return.

I opted for the 6:30 AM(!) photography cruise.  This year’s photographer was Wyatt, who hailed from Sidney, which demanded close attention as he accented his way through his presentations.  A font of knowledge with a knack for easy explaining and I picked up a number of tips.  Early morning on the lake offers great light for the scenery.

Because of the lower-than-average snowpack and early melt, the wildflowers were only average this year.  Loni and I went on the Naturalist hike to Lake Winnemucca, a place we’ve visited many times before.  You start at the Carson Pass at about 8,700 ft, and the hike is sublime.

That’s Loni in the distance, with Round Top mountain ahead.  Mom last made this hike when she was 81, but is a little too frail to do it again, or so she says.  I loved it.

Loni and the naturalist forayed off into the flowers.

Which were beautiful in closeup as well.

The stream area was quite nice, although not the chest-high abundance of the best years.

All in all, a very nice hike.  Our souls were recharged.

My other favorite activity at camp is sculling each morning (except for the photo cruise) at 6:30. The sun is just coming up over the ridge, the lake is absolutely still and quiet, and it is incredibly peaceful.

Loni’s favorite activity is arts and crafts, and she shines each year.  It’s weird that she really only does this stuff when she’s up at camp, although she vows to start doing more on our travels.  This year she did a nifty collage and a watercolor, both of which are at the top in this photo,

as well as a dreamcatcher and a rabbit sculpture made by poking and tweaking a glob of cotton into shape.  Looks cuter than it sounds. 

Camp is for trying out new things, so I had to give the paddle boarding a go.  Yes, my suit, and the rest of me, is wet.  I did manage to get back on the thing out in the deep, so not too bad for the first try.  Venice, anyone?