Tomasina Gets a Name Change - 4/6/2009

The writing group met at Tomasina's house again this week. Isn't this a lovely little table?

From now on, she'll be known as Antipasta. I think it's more appropriate, really. I think it may have been an original moniker a looong time ago on this blog.


This hangs on the outside wall of the house overlooking the deck.

I love this!

Afternoon in the Arroyo Seco - Wednesday 3/25/2009

We'll get there. But first, have a look at these bronze baby shoes that Braveheart gave Tomasina this afternoon.

Braveheart's getting rid of a lot of the lovely things that have been a part of her home, because she's planning to move with The Doc to New York City in a few months. We're having a special writing group meeting tonight complete with a walk, hamburgers, fries, and mango mousse cakes from Porto's in celebration of Braveheart finishing up her coursework on the path to becoming a therapist.

She's going to be great at it.

But we're going to miss her terribly.

I think she should seriously weigh the psychic damage she's going to do to Tomasina and I against the helping a load of stressed out New Yorkers.


We started our walk at a different place from the last time I came here with Tomasina. Isn't this a cool table? It has a chess board inlayed on the top.

There was a fierce woman nearby practicing archery. I would have taken her picture but, as I say...she was fierce.

Big trail, little dog.

Once again, Bisquit sets a example. She's losing her sight, but she trots right along.




Braveheart and Tomasina wait for me while I snap some photos of this Ireland-worthy wall. There are no better friends than those who will say, as Tomasina did tonight, "Don't forget your camera!" when you're headed out for a hike.

Except maybe those who say, "Don't forget your notebook."


This is the portion of the Arroyo Seco where Tory the rescued chocolate lab was frolicking a few minutes ago. He doesn't like cameras, though, so he skedaddled out of the shot.


Tomasina points out the place where she saw the aftermath of a successful suicide a few weeks ago. She speculates that they can get around the barriers by climbing around the lamp post. Very sobering.



On the way back, Bisquit at lasts condescends to allow Braveheart to carry her for a while.

Just to make Braveheart feel useful, mind you.


If you invite me to your house enough times, I will eventually feel comfortable enough to start taking pictures. I love the things people treasure or find interesting.

The champagne top is from the bottle I just opened on the deck, because I'd left it in the fridge and there was some concern about a possible explosion. I must tell you, that I eased the cork out with utmost calm. All that spilled over the lip was a faint trail of champagne-scented mist.

If there's one thing Sundry is good at, it's opening champagne.

But that's another story.

Prelude to a Bliss - Monday 12/22/2008

I went to Tomasina's house before our writing group's Christmas celebration and walked with her and her dogs in Arroyo Seco near her house. She tells me that California plein-air artists have been painting here for years.

And they still are! Check out the work of Paul Chamberlain and others here.


This is Biscuit the wire-haired Dachshund. She toddles along behind while Tory the rescued chocolate lab surges forward. But when tomasina offers to pick her up, the fifteen-year-old scampers along like a pup.

"Uh-uh. You're not carrying me. I can do it!"


The hillside is insanely green after the recent rains.



Tory would like to be immortalized in a plein air painting, but all I have with me is this Nikon D80.


Biscuit finally allows Tomasina the pleasure of escorting her along part of the trail. I got to carry her a little, too. She's a sweet dog, even if she is a little opinionated.

We met up with Braveheart at Tomasina's nearby home, and then went to Burke-Williams where Tomasina treated us to relaxation massages! We enjoyed the steam room and whirlpool prior to the massages. I was barely able to walk after my rub down. It really gets me out of my head.

We picked up Thai food from the fabulous Saladang on the way home. Chili beef, yellow curry chicken, green curry eggplant, pad Thai and Thai BBQ chicken. Yum. We know how to order a mean meal.

Back at T's place, we enjoyed the meal, exchanged gifts, I read a little of something I'm working on, and we made commitments for 2009.

Lucky us!

How to Read in Bed - Monday 8/4/2008

I had a rough day at work on Monday. Eleven hours straight--except for walking to El Torito to pick up a salad--with clients questioning all kinds of things and me having to explain to them how and why I do my job the way I do. Aaagh.

Tomasina had kindly offered to pick up Thai food and a banana meringue pie for Braveheart's writing group birthday dinner, so when I got there, I just enjoyed myself. We dished up curry and egglpant and beef and pad thai and checked in. We wrote a little from a prompt. I read them some of my current project. We had pie. Braveheart opened presents.

Where was my camera in all of this? Mostly in my back pack.

After calling Hydra from Braveheart's lovely front patio, I was happy to roll into bed with a book that's destined to be a favorite (So Brave, Young and Handsome by Leif Enger.)

Do you like my book light?

If you get one like this, you can play War of the Worlds with your sweetie.

Writing Group - Monday 7/7/2008

Writing group meeting last night was as perfect as this vase of flowers on Braveheart's dining room table. It was so good to be in Tomasina and Braveheart's company again after a three-week hiatus.

We each read for about 20 minutes. We like each other's work, and we agree that we all have good taste. Their respect helps me take myself more seriously.

I'm so lucky!

I stepped barefoot onto the wide steps leading from the dining room to the patio. Cool air moved across the the yard to me, but the stone beneath my feet retained the sun's heat. It was the perfect Mediterranean moment.



Jimmy agreed, wriggling seductively in front of me till I stooped and scratched his belly. Braveheart only suspects the depths of our affection for one another...

Swimming After Sunset - Friday 9/14/2007

Tomasina's great-niece's hand and foot. This is the kind of skin the fancy potion makers would like me to believe they can deliver.



Tomasina, from my writing group, invited me to attend the memorial for her father. I couldn't be more grateful for being able to participate. I took off work early and drove down to Salt Creek Beach in Dana Point. It was an amazing afternoon.


I was privileged to meet Ed a few years ago, along with the rest of my writing group. In spite of his Alzheimer's he was a sweet man who interacted with his daughter with great tenderness. Yesterday afternoon, there were wonderful stories of Ed's life as a dive instructor, boater, party-host, thinker, writer and friend.

Then Ed's ashes, mixed with the ashes of his wife Virginia, were sent up into the sky in a helium balloon! It was an amazing and satisfying send off. We watched the balloon rise into the sky until it disappeared.


On it's way.


Sunset at Salt Creek Beach.



After sunset, Tomasina, her nephew, a family friend and I went in for the first annual Ed T. memorial swim. It was soooo cold! We all dove into a few waves.

I tried to body surf one, and was reminded about the ocean. It doesn't care if you're in it's way. I stayed on top for a bit, then was tumbled and pummeled and felt like just keeping my chin off the floor was a pretty good accomplishment. Sand in the ears, nose and mouth.

It was one of the most invigorating things I've experienced in a long time. We showered off the salt and I took off for the long drive home (oh my god, 2 1/2 hours for about 100 miles).

My little lone adventure came when I missed the turnoff to Crown Valley Parkway and ended up taking the Pacific Coast Highway right through the town of Laguna Beach. Remembered vaguely from a couple of years ago that the 133 should take me in the correct direction, but then zipped past the turn onto El Toro Road.

It took me about 5 miles to find a place to turn around. All I had on was my wet bathing suit and a long shirt. I ran around to the trunk of the car to get my pants and pull them on--I was going to have to stop and get gasoline before getting home--in this dark and creepy spot between the north and south going lanes. Thinking that the last two phone calls on my cell were to my mother and husband, wondering what they'd remember of my last words. Really, it was all too horror-movie stupid.

But I got back on track, and listened to various NPR stations play amazing music and regained some of the sense that I had upon walking up the green slope away from the water and toward my car. That I love my life, and my friends, and the wide vibrant world we've been given to explore.

I am grateful.