DIVERTISSEMENT

I would need to look up that word if I came across it out of the blue. It's just a fancy way of saying "diversion". And that's what the visit from Chris, Frances and Owen was, a divertissement of the best kind.


They were here for a few days and then went to San Diego to visit Frances' brother and his wife. Frances has a college roommate who lives in that area, so there was a visit with them and a day at the San Diego Zoo before coming back here. They left to return home this morning after we had breakfast together. I'm not very good at goodbyes. If all goes well, they'll be back to visit at Thanksgiving.

Frances used her organizational skills to help me put some things in proper places. I'm in awe of her abilities and regretful that I lack
that talent. My room has a high ceiling and tall walls, but still, I suspect we have too many framed pictures. I made myself part with three items. The theory is that keeping a photograph makes parting with the item easier. I'm not so sure about that. I get a pang when I look at the pictures. When Tim discovered that I had taken this picture to the donation room, he scurried down and rescued it for himself.

 Chris pounded nails and got some things up on the walls. Miles to go, though. Hopefully Tim and I can get everything in order by Thanksgiving.

Tim's car is a jeep and difficult for me to climb into in the best of times, so it was Chris who took me on my first outing. 

First stop was the post office where our credit union has a branch.
I had three checks to cash, one made out to Mr. Bob. The tellers

were fond of Mr. B. and glad to see me out and about.

I can't recall if I told you about asking a charge nurse a month ago, when I might have a margarita. She thought a minute, no doubt mentally going down my list of medications and said,
"I don't see any reason why you couldn't have one now." To which I responded, "I don't know how to get to a Mexican restaurant". She didn't know, either.

If you're a parent or a grandparent, always take a book with you. For that matter, it makes sense even if you're going solo.

Tim finds it sad to drive past our old house, but he wasn't with us. I'd give my eye teeth to know what the new owner found worth
saving in the back garden. I'm not brave enough to go look.

Last stop was at Diane & Roger's. They called to see if I was open to a visit from them at the Manor and I suggested that we save them gas money.......we were right there. Due to the 100 degree weather we didn't talk for long, but it was a fitting end to our outing.

My brother had a saying as a tot when he wanted a repeat performance of a mechanical toy, "Make it again go". That's how I felt the other day.

MAGIC WOK

LONG AGO, when Mr. Bob and I used to go to our within-walking-distance Chinese restaurant, the lone waiter, once he knew we were business owners, used to greet us with

"Once upon a time.......", followed by "There was a Queen", then

"and a King". It was such a ritual that I used to add "and an Emporer", just so Patrick wouldn't feel left out. And so it went, visit after visit, our knowing exactly how the words would unfold, wishing we could somehow break the mold.

Fast forward a few years to when the neighbors we'd lived side by side with for 45 years all decided to go to dinner together once a month. We'd carpooled and watched over the neighborhood kids all that while without having time to socialize really and retirement was affording us that freedom. We began by going to various restaurants, but nearly all of them refused to give us separate checks at the end of a delightful evening and we found ourselves in the position of doing mathematical story problems in figuring out who owed what.

Patrick to the rescue! At The Magic Wok, he was perfectly willing to separate the cost of the meal and it didn't take us long to decide to return and give that restaurant our business each month.

Gunars, in the Hawaiian shirt, is no longer with us. He was a sheriff's deputy and he left us too soon, but his widow, Susie (in chartreuse) still joins us. She retired last month, the last of us to keep working.

Dave, wearing an island shirt here, was a camp director in the High Sierra. He's the one with the yard full of artfully arranged mining equipment, up on the corner. He pans for gold in his front yard, you may remember. His wife, Shirley designs greeting cards and holds workshops for rubber stamping.

Clockwise, Rita and Bill, Zip (so camera shy in the beginning, refer to the first group picture), his wife must have been absent that evening, Susie, Dave, the miner, us and Shirley, Dave's wife. All have interesting stories to tell and the laughter is long and loud on the evenings we meet. Patrick assures us that it's permissible to be boisterous.

His conversational skills have broadened way beyond "Once upon a time........." and he comes to our table and joins our chatter, bringing in the subjects of the stock market and whatever else is on his mind.


Tonight's the night we get together (the third Thursday of each month) and anticipation runs high........eating Chinese food with 9 or 10 dishes to share is a treat, providing much variety. Dave, the miner, is the only one who brings his own chopsticks and handles them comfortably, so we let him take home most of the leftovers.


I just sent Owen a red money envelope this morning for Chinese New Year

Meanwhile, Happy Chinese New Year. Would that you could join us tonight. What dish would you order?

OWEN TAKES TEA

ON THEIR RECENT VISIT, I made reservations for us to have lunch at a nearby tearoom, a new experience for Owen. Frances thought that he recognized the special treatment.......the waitress pushed his chair closer to the table and tucked a napkin under his chin. His manners were impeccable (thank you, Father) and he was served ahead of the rest of us, finishing his egg salad sandwich before the rest of us began to eat. Out of a choice of lemonade, cocoa or tea, he selected hot chocolate. (At the Manor when offered ice cream for dessert, he had asked what flavors and when the waitress got to coffee after vanilla and chocolate, Owen said, "Oh, I don't drink coffee")

The owner of the T-Room practiced her craft in Russia before moving to the U.S. and no detail has been overlooked in making this place a highly attractive room.

After we finished our sandwiches, salads and scones, I asked Owen if he agreed that we were in a fancy place. Showing his maleness, Owen nodded and replied, "Too fancy". But I'm proud that the men in our family can weather a tea room lunch once in a while. Not all men would be that flexible.

Why our proclivity to exhibit silliness, I wonder? Chris couldn't resist the raised pinky long enough for a photo shot.

I digress, but on an earlier day, Chris had driven me to my chemotherapy treatment, after which we went to breakfast and the resulting photos showed an odd likeness in the handling of a coffee cup. Neither of us is using the handle which seems rather unusual and what are the chances of both of us exhibiting unusual behavior?

"Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room with a tea cozy, doesn't try it on."  
                                                 ~Billy Connolly

AARP TALK

I'M SO NON-INCLINED toward things medical that I never even watched "Dr. Kildare", a TV series back in the 60's. I'm not tempted by any of the current doctor series, although I've been known to sneak a peek at "Doc Watson". I totally understand his fear of the sight of blood.

 Even as a 3 year old, I had no aspirations to be a nurse when I grew up. I came close to convincing my last family doctor that I was a Christian Scientist, and he pretty well gave me my head about what tests I wanted to have (zero. nada, no way)

Now I'm paying for it.

That's our hospital. Yesterday I went to the medical building in front (can't be seen in this photo which was taken from the medical building in back)

I'd decided not to go into the details of yesterday's appointment and then I read the latest comments on yesterday's blog. Joanne's uttered appreciation for the medical reports came close to changing my mind and then I read that even worldly-wise Ted in Minnesota had his fingers crossed and I couldn't just leave him that way......it might interfere with his taking the daily picture of Lake George, so here I be with an update.

When I say my prayers, what I ask for is courage. And I came through the hour yesterday with the equivalent of a stiff upper lip. The growth is large......nearly the size of a tennis ball......the next step is to see if it's metastasized (I couldn't manage that one without the dictionary). I need to go to a hospital in Pasadena to have an MRI of the breast (excuse me, gentlemen, but modesty is at a minimum here). "Will I have to go into a tube?" I asked, for I think claustrophobia may be present in my latter years. "No, you'll lie on your stomach wearing something much like what Madonna wore", was the answer. I can hardly wait.

And a chest x-ray. And blood work. And surgery. And then a recommendation of how to go forward......radiation, chemotherapy or a combination of the two. And then the drum roll as I make my decision.

One thing he stressed was not to ignore it and then three months down the road changing my mind when the condition starts to get ugly.

When I had my clothes back on and buttoned, Tim was called in and it was all explained again. Even the second time around, it was more than the mind could absorb.

Once out of the medical building, we eased ourselves into the van and Tim drove us to a restaurant where we gorged ourselves on BLT pasta and key lime pie.

Should this medical saga be continued?

"My mother didn't really cook.  But she did 

make key lime pie, until the day the top of 

the evaporated milk container accidentally 

ended up in the pie and she decided cooking 

took too much concentration."  William Norwich
                                              

P.S.

Yes, those were large servings of Mexican food I showed you yesterday. So I thought I'd address that and show you a couple of other photos.

El Sol is not a fancy restaurant by any stretch of the imagination. You can see that by this shot of Ana working in the kitchen:

And there's no reason in the world to share the next one with you. It's of poor quality, no doubt I had the wrong setting on the camera, but there's something about it that I like.

On flickr, I think I titled it "Cowboys' Christmas". 

And in regard to portion control, the reason why I now order what is listed as "Carnitas Only" on the menu (hold the rice, please, Manuel):

is because over the past months I've done way too much of this:

We have a mandate that we don't photograph people while they are eating. Someone broke the rule. I wonder who? 

¡HOLA!

We are lucky to live in Southern California where Mexican food is plentiful. In the past, when we traveled, that's what I missed most of all while we were gone. In our area, there are lots of restaurants that serve Mexican food......Joselito's, El Charro, Acapulco, Mijares, El Cholo to name only a few. Our favorite of all, El Sol, is owned by Manuel and his wife, Ana. We became acquainted with Manuel during the 20 years he waited tables at Joselito's. At least 10 years ago he and Ana bought their own restaurant  and have built it into one of the busiest eating places in town. Ana cooks, Manuel not only helps in the kitchen, but is one of the finest hosts we've chanced to know.  

He befriends all of his customers who are greeted with a warm handshake (years ago, I had to teach him how to shake without crushing the bones of older, fragile women. He learned well).

Once, as we left El Sol after a sumptuous meal, Manuel, who always sees us to the door and sometimes all the way out to the car, where he opened the door for me, saying, "See you tomorrow, Juanita". And I replied, "Oh, Manuel, I doubt it. I can't eat Mexican food ALL the time." And his retort was, "I do".       

Not every Tuesday, but once or twice a month we have Taco Tuesdays at the Manor. It's not quite the real thing, but it's very good, especially if I remember to take down our bottle of Tapatio hot sauce. Mr. Bob doesn't require it except for a silly picture.

Do you have a good Mexican restaurant in your neck of the woods?                             

THE ITCH

Every other Sunday, Tim appears at our door for what is listed on his calendar as "Parents Day" which is a nice way of putting it. He arrives hungry, so we go down and enjoy dinner in the dining room before we get to business. Sometimes we need to get supplies from the supermarket, occasionally we need to tackle a trip to Costco; yesterday I suggested visiting Chinatown for the sole purpose of finding a bamboo backscratcher. I can't find the one I'm sure we brought from home and Mr. Bob tires of my asking him to scratch a spot I can't reach.

It doesn't take long to get there from here, but it's beyond my comfort zone to drive to Los Angeles.  Just like his father, Tim likes to drive. Mr. Bob came along, a happy surprise, for he usually prefers the peace and quiet assured by staying at home. He doesn't require the stimulation of what I call "outside". I crave it.

I'm just like a kid in a candy store........"ooooh, look at that!" "Oh, my, did you see her?" "Can you go around the block so I can get a better look?" And Tim complied, talking all the while about some Slippery Shrimp he'd eaten in Chinatown which surpassed the Honey Walnut Shrimp of which we're so fond.

"Look, Tim, Are those strings of firecrackers?"

"Surely not. Fireworks are illegal here."

"Well, I'll bet they are.....for Chinese New Year celebrations."

We'll never know, for the area was so packed with people and vehicles that there was no place to park to get out to inquire.

Merchandise spilled out of shop doorways, with no effort at displaying it attractively, but that was part of what made it intriguing, no pretension whatsoever. 'Round and 'round we went. One man was playing an instrument I'd not seen before and the music, discordant to our Western ears, hovered over the crowded sidewalks and could be heard from a block away.

Finally, Tim pulled into an alley and managed to park the car close to a wall before hurrying into one of the stores that seemed to feature a lot of red and gold decorations, presumably for the coming Year of the Rabbit which begins this year on Feb. 3. He returned with something large to hang in our library display, but no backscratcher. So we gave up and relinquished the idea of slippery shrimp and decided to eat at Philippe's where the lines were long, but the wait was worth it. French dip sandwiches and cole slaw and that pungent mustard and the best people watching in town. Our own tradition dictates that the meal concludes with a York peppermint patty. Slippery Shrimp couldn't possibly surpass that.

Meanwhile, Mr. Bob, a little more to the left, please..........up....... over......there, that's it! You've got it and thank you very much.