Down Memory Lane

Last week I had occasion to visit the neighborhood where I grew up in Santa Venetia, also derogatorily known as Scabo. I’m not sure what that stands for but since it’s an ugly word, I’m guessing it wasn’t known as the most desirable place to live. But I beg to differ.

Santa Venetia

Kids don’t know they don’t live in a mansion. I certainly didn’t. We had 4 bedrooms that weren’t much bigger than some large walk-in closets and closets not much wider than a refrigerator. Now don’t get me wrong; I didn’t care one bit. I had what I needed and that was enough.

our house

Our little house

To me, our Doughboy Pool was the bomb (better known as groovy back then). Other neighborhood dads helped my dad install it. That’s how it was; neighbors helping neighbors. On summer afternoons, being in that pool or playing ping pong on the patio were my favorite places to be.

me in pool

Even as a teen, still in the pool

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The Baby Shower

Last weekend Sharon gave a baby shower for her 8-month pregnant daughter, Caitlin.

I’ve known Caitlin from the moment she was born, as I witnessed her arrival as well as the birth of my godson Martin. To them I’m Auntie Janet. I’d say it’s the nicest name I’ve ever been called.

Martin at Caitlin’s wedding

Anyway, Sharon asked me to make a watermelon baby carriage for the shower. A WHAT?! I’ve never even seen one let alone carved one. That’s like asking a budding sculpturist to create Michelangelo’s David. Yikes, the pressure!

After a couple attempts of begging Sharon to ask someone else to do it, someone who actually had a clue, I gave up when she emailed me photos of watermelon carriages.

Hint taken, thank you very much
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A Glass Half Full (Or All’s Well That Ends Well)

I’m one who tends to believe in omens, signs of what’s to come. Granted, many omens tend to be perceived as hints of bad stuff awaiting, at least for those who see the glass half empty. For the glass half full kind of people, their interpretation may come from a more positive perspective.

I’m generally a glass half full kind of gal. If something bad happens, I don’t automatically jump to the conclusion my day or the entire week is shot to hell. But when New Year’s Day began, it had me questioning the fullness of my glass.

That morning I rushed around before meeting friends for Pam’s birthday hike, followed by lunch. Then little things started happening. Now don’t get me wrong; I have a nice life with little to complain about. But since I’ll jump at any opportunity to have blog material, today you’re reading about my questionable start to the new year.

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A Christmas Tradition

I guess you could say my Christmas spirit was missing in action this year. Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not like me to forgo decorating with enough holiday decor that borders on being embarrassing. However, I was swamped with work so finding time (and the gumption) to drag everything from the shed was rather daunting. So I skipped it, other than placing a wreath on the front door, giving the illusion I’m festive.bah-humbugNormally I invite my 10 besties over for a tree decorating party in early December. We eat, drink and are consequently quite merry. Karen hangs the lights because she does it best. The gals hang most of the ornaments, yelling at me to “Come help us!” That’s because I’m usually busy gabbing. Dinner is just a ruse to lure them over. I’m like Tom Sawyer, only instead of painting my fence, they decorate my tree. But this year I gave them a reprieve. Continue reading

Witchy Women

A couple weeks ago I found myself shopping for witch hats. One can’t attend a witches Halloween party without a proper witchy hat, can one? And what better day to blog about witches than on Halloween?

One witchy hat

Now that Sharon and Jim are back in California (after a way-too-long stint in Texas and Australia), she decided to throw a First Annual Witches and Wine Party. And if anyone knows how to throw a party it’s Sharon. She’s a mix between Martha Stewart and Joanna Gaines…an excellent cook and a talented decorator.

The hostess and me

Friday night, 19 of us gathered at Sharon’s Santa Rosa home to be bewitched, so to speak. Some of us met in high school, so have been friends for 46 years. We still have a strong connection, which I think is a rare thing. How lucky are we?

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