No Regrets

Wednesday Rotogravure: Housewarming and Harvest Time

We had a housewarming this week—a little late, as we've been here for a bit more than a year, but it's been an eventful year.

Very few pictures of the party, since thoughtful hosts barely have time to duck into the loo, much less take photos, but toward the end of the evening John took a few. Here Answerjack is checking out a raccoon sighting on the deck. He's wearing his favorite Jeremy Fish T-shirt. I like the way the little man looks like he's parachuting into Jack's wine glass.

And here, after checking out the vodka bar (ginger-infused, raspberry-infused and straight-up Ketel One) Jessica is giving her Paternicus a piggyback ride. In addition to being smart, talented and gorgeous, my kid is also strong like bull.

Another view of the ride....

...reminded me of this pillow.

Jessica and her mother are pretending to be savage raccoons. Are there any other kind?

Not so savage.

The tomatoes are coming in nicely...

Very nicely. Here is this morning's harvest, with hundreds to go. We grow them in wine barrels on a second-story deck. If the deer and raccoons ever learn to levitate, it's all over.

 My Great-Grandfather Oscar Tatro in 1937, picking an orange from his grove in Burbank. There's no one left to explain how/why Oscar moved briefly to the LA area back when it was a paradise of citrus groves and clear skies and then returned to the gritty South Side of Chicago for his twilight years.

Great-Aunt Gene and a cross-dressing chum, Chicago, 1919.

Little-known fact: at age 20, Aunt Gene was married for about a nanosecond. This is the only picture of her husband, a supernumerary in her life's long narrative. He's identified on the back of the photo as E. Jennings.

 

Deer of the Week. No skulls or WMD; now that I've won the battle, I can afford to be generous.

And the Sheep o' the Week, a housewarming present from my friend Pamela. He's a netsuke that looks suspiciously like a goat, but close enough.

Wednesday Rotogravure: The Birthday

Had a lovely birthday weekend...

A Champagne cork landed at Minx's paws, and the old girl—18 and counting—barely blinked, much less moved. She's a role model.

 

Answerjack seemed a little distracted, though. That's Jessica in the background, making plum upside down birthday cake.

Natalia is feeding Murphy some of her shrimp escabeche at the dinner table. That's right, we live like muleskinners.

More Champagne the next day, this time on the ferry into the city for dinner at Boulevard. Note the handy wrist straps on cunning little bottles: perfect for celebrating on the go.
 

Answerjack arranged for flowers to be waiting at our table; I love lillies. We are lucky to be living through the second coming of the cocktail. And dinner was fantastic.

The ferry is a very civilized way to travel. I've lived in and around San Francisco for most of my adult life, and  I still get a little frisson every time I see the waterfront. It's true love, all right.

Aging is not what it used to be. This picture was in my mother's things, marked "Aunt Matilda" on the back, but I'm pretty sure she's just some random pioneer woman. We all, each and every one of us, should take a moment to offer a silent hymn of praise for the blessing of sunscreen.

This is more like it. Great-Aunt Gene is in her mid-sixties here. Forget Minx, Gene's a better role model.

Serendipitously, this was on BibliOdyssey just in time for my birthday. It's titled A 30 Ans—A 60 Ans (At 30 years—At 60 years) from a series of 6 prints by Honoré Daumier published in 1838. Hey, I can do that, sort of:

Actually, I think I'm about 32 in the picture on the left. Full disclosure: no Photoshop on either image, but I sure lucked out on the lighting.

After having lately triumphed in the battle with the deer and the raccoons over a small section of turf, I walked out early this morning to find this fellow hanging out on the rear deck. He's pretty tame and extremely adorable; my guess is he's someone's pet (or dinner) gone rogue.

Deer of the Week, taken through the window of the car. They're undeniably cute when they're little, but next year he'll be just another garden-chomping pain in the butt.

Sheep O' The Week: Annabelle, The Queen of the Collection. I think the kids helped her with the printing...

And so to bed: an exceptionally lovely moonrise.

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Wednesday Rotogravure: Fleurs du Mal and a Couple of Cigars

This bird of paradise in the back yard has just bloomed. I'm pretty sure the lack of pigment is not normal; the plant is dripping some sort of sticky goo.

It would go well with one of these lovelies, which I used to have but are hard to keep alive: the bat flower.

I have a big birthday coming up in 5 days. The story on this picture, taken to commemorate my first birthday, is that my mother asked, "Where are the airplanes?" the answer to which I know only too well.

These are my paternal grandparents, Julia and Antony, at the wedding of one of their 5 kids. They're in their fifties in this picture; life was a lot harder in those days.

Two generations later: Answerjack and me at the wedding of one of our kids (Ravi to Megumi). Answer is watching the progress of the sake, which is part of the ceremony.

It seems to be the rule with old-time photographs that the men are having more fun than the women. Here's Antony channeling Maurice Chevalier...

And here is my great-grandfather Oscar, smoking a cigar. Why is it that so many of my male relatives were photographed holding or sucking a cigar?

Let's ask the expert. My, his pants are shiny.

The one woman who seemed to know how to have fun: great- aunt Gene, circa 1930. That horse is a big show-off. See the hoof?

The raccoons (not this one—this is a shot by Corey Arnold) sent an envoy the other night, probably to protest the lack of amenities in the yard since I installed the motion-sensor sprinkler. Sorry guys. Not really.

They messed with my ride.

Deer of the Week, by Georgia O'Keefe...

Sheep o' the Week, from the collection...

And Murphy, mercifully without anything in his mouth.

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