And now gather round, as the (W)righteous Crew once again strap on their luggage and journey towards the fleeing sun.
Sock Francisco Chronicles, Book Two, episode one: The Yuleing
Hohoho merry weather. San Francisco's neighboring kingdom of Sugar-in-the-Bowl did not fully cooperate with out wintry merriment machinations. Fortunately, San Fran itself has delivered a delicious little weather forecast for our time here. Warmish and dazzlingly sunny. We'll call it a Christmas miracle that I found my long lost sunglasses stored away in my luggage despite all odds! Kismet.
Yesterday was the final Yuletide surge as we stormed the beaches of SFO (they have beaches by the airport right?) Straight from the airport to a family friend's home to graze greedily on hummus, nuts & crackers over a seasonal discussion of leftist anti-communist groups in the 1960's and their anti-cookies-for-that-red-suited-Stalinist campaign that nearly lost Santa fifty pounds in one decade. But those on board did get plenty of coal to fuel their capitalist empires. Also, I think Lee Harvey Oswald was actually a very large elf doing Santa's dirty work. I could have some of that wrong. I was surpassingly wiped after the fairly easy ride down south, so I didn't follow every last word. But there was definitely a reindeer on the grassy knoll...
From one party to the next, we kids were shuttled to the Wright family Xmas Xtravaganza, while my MIL and HMSO (husband's mom's significant other) had a quiet dinner alone. These are always several magnitudes of garlands more then my family events. As my prior posts suggest, I haven't had anything approximating an extended family get together in several years. Usually the full-room volume involves one parent, me and maybe our plus ones. We usually eat one meal around the table with a recipe for maybe one or two dishes and plenty of downtime hanging out. Often they last for about two to three hours and involve a walk or something physical between concocting and consuming food.
The Wright gathering kicks it old school in the most concerted fashion. When we arrived at about four, presents were being exchanged. There were several aunts and uncles and a good showing if cousins to exchange what speared to be mostly towers of books.
That stopped for a spell as the table filled with right twenty pounds of appetizers and punch and chocolates. People mulched and sipped on these hap-hazardly while various conversations broke out. Books, for instance got a good run in between engineering bursts. Munching persisted until seven, when fourteen people squeezed around a table made for six. It was intimate. There was turkey, creamed veggies, veggies gratin, stuffing, dressing, rolls, cranberry sauce with can indentations, wine, cider, green beans, and yams. There may have been additional meat products that I was warned against. We sat at the table until about right fifteen, when my MIL and HMSO returned and then presents gushed forth. I am pretty overwhelmed by the warmth and generosity. I think my qualify has been cleared out with additional goodies added, including s recipe book for future Adella style family coming experiments. And my BIL, Zach even, got me a box of awesome sox. Needless to say there will be several effusive thank you cards.
We got back to the dessert table around nine-fifteen, where I believe guests had the choice of some gluten free cake, fruit pies or pumpkin. I think we managed to leave with some resistance around ten.
Today, Zach is around in the morning before heading out, so by golly we will check out a Hockney exhibit.
Happy boxing day!
Sock Francisco Chronicles, Book Two, episode two: Hock-knees in the Peacock's Laboratory
Christmas may have had its last hurrah, but we are only just setting out upon our San Franscisco excursion. In conference yesterday, we outlined several detailed scenarios for how the remaining four days of our trip shall be squeezed into a fine ethereal zest on the cucumber salad of our final 2013 hours. Plans range from baby gorillas to tiger sharks in both scale and scenery. And perhaps a peacock or two, since we do intend to frequent the zoo.
Yesterday, Zach - awesome BIL number two - was headed back to his mapcap life of neurosurgical rogue photography and motorcycling across the plains of Carolina... or perhaps the bayous... I don't get down South much. Since his plane didn't leave until the afternoon and our caravan to Tahoe didn't leave until never, we took advantage of the extra time in the morning to make my first actual trek to the De Young. This is actually a short walk from Lisa's house, and I've spent a great deal of time outside the De Young, but there are certainly advantages to going inside it as well.
In this instance, they had a smashing (not literally, to my knowledge) Hockney exhibit. Mostly from about 2007 to present. He experimented in several media, always focused on perspective and the passage of time. Some of my favorite pieces are enormous paintings compiled of four to six smaller canvases. Many are forest scenes or other lush landscapes, but each component canvas - while fitting into the full picture seamlessly - has some attribute unique to it. There's always a sense of change from within the picture. A massive work around a similar them involved a room of massive video displays. The displays were built of twelve screens to each wall, that depicted a forward journey through some small neck of woods. Each wall was dated. The forest was the same, but the scenery varied dramatically by season. The progress through each season of wood was roughly on par, so one could stand in the center and watch time merge with time over time.
Although he definitely has interesting ideas throughout, I somewhat gravitate towards less abstract and more traditional media. His vivid portraits, charcoal sketches, and his paintings have such a richness to them. They incorporate elements from expressionism and Fauvism to a unique purpose. There are wafts of Gaugin and great bursts of Van Gogh.
But, to give it another perspective: "As for his discordant range of colour, I fell to wondering if he is the Monet of our day, his vision so dimmed by cataracts that he must paint in vile greens and viler purples if he is to see anything take shape on his innumerable canvases. And the brushwork is crude because that is what so easily happens when a painter works beyond his, or the subject's, natural scale, or does not care if, when a landscape requires the jigsawing of 50 canvases, the junctions are jerkily approximate." Found that on the UK Standard critic's review. He seems less enamored of the all out there sensory explosion. And I can understand that. There is something almost childlike about the bombasity of the works. Some of his less literal brush strokes would be ideal for children's novels. But I hardly say that in a disparaging tone. It certainly is a style that washes me with whimsy as much as reverent awe.
Zach, being a power art-observer, wended his way through in a microseconds and returned home to tackle the gordian knot of packing up his own possessions, included (sniff sniff) his unused ski gear. I'm guessing all the motorcycle equipment that he got the night before was shipped, which is a shame: I think he had kind of a super-hero thing going one with the boots and gloves. Would have been perfectly assuring to all the other plane passengers. It appears he finally managed to get his things in some semblance of order and book it to the airport.
Andrew took that opportunity for a run and I took that opportunity to walk to the nearest yippie store and stock this lactose intolerant-household chock full of the insidious dairy product. Actually, they already had cheese and butter, but I felt the holy quartet bade me buy milk and yogurt for my ongoing attempts at not being unhealthily willowy (willows are great, but me, I'm an OAK, baby!).
Zach gone, we mourned our losses by acquiring Tom (HMSO) and venturing to the Exploratorium. Which is pretty much my inner-child's new happy place. It's like the Pacific Science Museum in triplicate, now on a lovely area on the water. I suspect we would have been well served to wait until the after-hours opening when no children are allowed and drinks are in full bounty, but it was also fun watching all the children discovering. Shockingly, none of us (1) got lost for very long, (2) suffered a seizure, (3) accidentally stole an adorable child or a really cool display (the displays were bolted down for the most part).
As the sun set on our explorations, we ventured onwards to a Turkish dinner with some of Lisa's good friends. They had peradventure one of the more rockingest sampler appetizer plates. I have high standards for sampler appetizer plates, insofar as I prefer a decent amount of variety and discount meat or friend things. But, given my predilections for a single bite of everything and a full tummy of nothing, it was more or less a gustatory wet dream come true (Turkish tapas!). I also ordered a greek salad. Greek in a Turkish restaurant! Are we camped out on the green line in Cyprus?
Today is baby gorilla day, perhaps. And possibly Andrew-installs-some-light-fixtures day. He seems pretty confident that it should be an easy task.
I am somewhat agog at the idea that these are the final days of 2013. I realize that the shifting of a number signifies nothing more than what ever I choose to attach to it, but by custom, we attach some rather heavy significance to the passing of a year. Time for pondering and whatnot... but not quite yet. I do have a plane ride home for that sort of nonsense!
Sock Francisco Chronicles, Book Two, episode three: Going Gaga for Gamine Grrrrrrrillas
Some people's "unambitious days" embody the truth pith of inertia: a couch, a six pack of something syrupy, and a combination remote control/computer mouse set up for a good subscription to netflix and a very undemanding series. For others, it means actually strapping on the parachute before leaping out of the plane. Our "unambitious" day was somewhere in between. It was zoo day!
We headed out just as it opened, in some misguided hope to beat the crowds... as if children had the internal circadian rhythms of normal people and had not been raring to go at least five hours before the ten o'clock opening. On our way, there was a brief detour to Andrew's tertiary school, to play a bit of a game of memory. Lisa, an architect, had done work on it recently and she wanted to see if he could tell what was different. He didn't go with the cliche "it seems so much smaller" but mostly contended with some generic "something is different." Apparently a large portion of the most prominent building was quite new. I wonder if I would notice many changes to my old haunts. I guess I frequently do when I go to Assumption (yep, I was a catholic school girl for a while - you may say it explains so much, but you'd be grasping at straws for parallels and leaping left and right to dodge more facile accountings from future educational edifices).
But upon some recognition of change, we made it to the zoo and into the surge. Penguin feedings! Hippopotomi! Sleeping felines! And a baby gorilla. We almost missed the baby gorilla. It was out with the other gorillas when we first tried to see. We benightedly speculated that a zoo would be a good place for lunch, and imagined we'd spin some time with comestibles before a second gorilla stake-out. As it turns out, "Don't Feed The Animals" is not merely precatory language for visitors, but a zoo philosophy. Food food everywhere, but not a crumb to eat! The line at the Lemur Cafe was coiled and writhing like a clogged intestine and the only alternative specialized exclusively in fried meat. Nonetheless, our whirlwind tour of the eating unfacilities in the zoo allowed enough time for one final peak and a good eyeful of adorable gorilla child with his grandmother.
Sated on science, but shy of food, we ventured forth for sandwiches at a deli some of Lisa's friends had recently bought. Having feasted our bodies to meet our minds, we journeyed home for a light break in which Andrew redid some electric wiring and installed some fixtures somewhere. I know little of the actual details other than the wires were friable for their vintage status and the theoretically simple swap required a very in depth consultation with a local Ace Hardware representative.
I don't believe the subsequent excursion over the Golden Bride and into the lands of San Rafael were related to the lighting fixture so much as a fresh quest for comestibles. It turned out to be quite the quest, given some evening traffic. I for my part entertained myself by inadvertently pressing the seat controls with my purse every few minutes, and then jumping in confusion as I found myself suddenly akimbo. But on we soldiered.
Tom HMSO dwells in these lands and had some sort of grill for food-stuffs on a porch adjacent to his home. Barbeque in winter? Where are we, the southern hemisphere? No, though the air was redolent of summer, it carried the distinctive nip of our shortened days. While the view was admirable, it was not enough to lure us outside for the consuming portion.
The return voyage was far more serene and only occasionally punctuated by a bucking bronco of a seat. While I retreated for a warm shower and a cozy read, Andrew finished whatever voodoo rituals he'd been performing to get the lighting fixture attached and non-lethal. I'm not sure exactly what it entailed, but I'm pretty sure he still had a few chicken feathers stuck in his hair when he came down later.
So that was "unambitious". Today is moderately ambitious. Andrew and Tom will be heading off to the mountains, while Lisa and I cover the waterfront. They'll have bikes. We'll have kayaks. I haven't been in a kayak in a minor eternity, so I am curious about how well I'll survive. Will I remember how to stay in one without spilling into the sound? Only time will tell.
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