2006

Greetings!

Christmas is creeping up on us, and I’m no speedier at getting cards done. Hope this isn’t unduly late.

It’s been a fairly tame year, but punctuated with the usual round of plumbing disasters and suddenly-defunct old appliances, plus having a bit of exterior paint work done, hoping extra caulking everywhere will stop the leaks that sprouted last winter.

Took a few trips to Santa Barbara on the Nordstrom’s shopping bus--a cheap and easy way to spend a day down there, for shopping, lunching, museum-going, etc. I also took a one-day down and back train trip there with some women from the school where I used to work. The train route gives one great views, going through the vast undeveloped land of  Vandenberg Air Force Base where the public can’t go--the railroad tracks having been in place before Vandenberg came into existence. Miles of wild shrubs and flowers, and a spectacular ride along the edge of cliffs by the sea (a bit scary- -one enjoys the view while praying the train doesn’t tip over).

On another occasion I actually stayed in Santa Barbara a few days with a friend who lives there. A highlight of that visit was an exciting polo match with the top-rated players (the highest-rated being from Argentina). What a fabulous game! Gorgeous horses galloping at full speed up and down the huge field and maneuvering deftly around while equally gorgeous hunks smack the ball hither and thither.

My March trip to San Francisco and Palo Alto, timed to see my tax preparer, also gave me a chance to lunch with a few pals from my Cardiology Dept. days. On this occasion we were saddened by the passing of Dr. Norman Shumway, famed heart surgeon, a few weeks before. By a coincidence, his memorial service was scheduled for the same day as our lunch date, so I was able to attend. The Stanford church (huge) was packed; people had come from all over the country and even from Europe to attend. A distinguished career, improving and saving many lives, and a good buddy. R.I.P.

July 4th -- I hadn’t bothered to go down to the waterfront to watch fireworks for years. This year a friend was in town and we watched from his vacation house on the street behind mine, on the edge of the State Park. We had aspectacular view of the Bay, and the stunning fireworks display, viewed in comfort from indoors, with no crowds and no shivering in the damp night air!

In August I spent a few days in San Francisco and saw  a few friends as well as a museum exhibit of “Monet in Normandy” (paintings mostly done in his early period before he embarked on what became known as the Impressionist style, though there were a few paintings from that phase also included. Museums continue to batten on trundling Monet around the globe and peddling all kinds of souvenirs with reproductions of his pictures emblazoned on them. What would he think of that?

In October I made another trip to SF to see the opera Tristan und Isolde and attend some related events sponsored by the Wagner Society, including an all-day symposium with distinguished speakers and a reception. They also sponsored an evening tribute to the late singer Birgitt Nilsson. In addition I went to a bookstore “CD signing” which drew an intimate group of opera buffs: Maestro Donald Runnicles (Scottish conductor of SF Opera) and Isolde soprano Christine Brewer each spoke, chatted, answered questions and signed copies of the CD they’d made together with the Atlanta Symphony. (Plug: Wagner, Prelude & Liebestod from Tristan und Isolde, and Richard Strauss, Four Last Songs, and Death and Transfiguration.) An enjoyable session--they were both very friendly and personable.

And of course I enjoyed a visit to the newly-opened Bloomingdale’s store--very large, grant, light and spacious (whole south wall of plate glass windows), with miles and miles of elegant clothes in uncrowded arrangements, and lots of sales personnel being cordial and helpful all over the place. (A rarity nowadays!)

I went to an exhibit of work by an apparently wellknown German artist at the Museum of Modern Art -- Anselm Kiefer--who, having been born at the end of WWII, seemed still to be depicting war-torn-rubble type material in both his paintings and sculptures, all in dank gray, charcoal and black tones. This made for a bleak museum experience. I wonder how many people buy this sort of thing for their homes.

Now for Nature Notes. My cats, Jazz (black and white, longhair) and Butterball/Butterfield/BB/Beebs (orange stripes, short hair), both now aged five, continue to thrive. And why wouldn’t they, being spoiled with spoonfuls of canned salmon for their morning and evening treats? As for their dry food, Jazz, despite his macho posturing and John Wayne gait, caves in every time to BB’s aggressive determination to be Top Cat (coming from a rough and tumble world in his feral kittenhood youth). So Jazz stands aside and waits until BB gets first crack at the dry-food bowl. (I serve their salmon treats on separate plates, and stand guard, however, in an attempt to be an Equal Opportunity Cat Person.)

Sometimes they have play fights that deteriorate into real screaming, biting, clawing matches. I try to intervene, throwing cushions and towels at them and shouting  “STOP! CATS!! STOP THAT!!” They ignore me. At other times, though, they cuddle up together for a cozy, peaceful snooze on the bed.

BB is an ace hunter, catching quite a few gophers (underground rodent, a root-eating pest), which he may deposit at the door or sometimes bring inside. He is fast as lightning and catches a lot of birds, too, to my dismay, sometimes gobbling them up on the spot, sometimes leaving them in the house (oh dear!). I try to have a decent burial for each dead bird I find, with a little bird-prayer.

However, one day I looked out the kitchen door and saw BB heading toward me with a huge dove in his mouth! Horrors! I couldn’t bear it, so I shut the door and went back inside. A little later when I thought the carnage would be over, I looked out the window and saw the dove shoot straight up in the air and fly off in triumph, leaving BB looking embarrassed on the ground. He slunk off into his cave in the saltbush hedge.

Doves 1

Cats 0

Let’s hear it for the dove! I was so relieved. The mourning dove is such a beautiful bird, with his lovely sad song. That day he could rejoice.

Another time I looked out the back door and saw BB having tennis practice with himself, using a freshly killed gopher as the ball. He leapt up, flung the gopher thru the air with one paw, then leapt up a couple of feet away and batted it with the other paw, hitting it back and forth to himself. A fabulous feline athlete!

As for my Frog Saga, I’d seen no frogs last year and worried that the fungus that thrives on global warming and is decimating the world’s frog population had wiped out all my frogs. But this year I’ve seen several--never sure if it’s one or two frogs multiple times, or multiple frogs once. At any rate, there has been one wearing grayish-tan and another in  green, at least. I’m not sure if they change color to match what they’re sitting on, namely my “rain barrels,” (plastic trash bins, one green and one brown, with lids slightly ajar to accommodate the amphibians). I marvel at how the frogs survive and wonder if they hide in the hedge, possibly digging holes. And I hope they continue to avoid being caught by BB as they rek from the hedge to the barrels. I like to think these are descendents of my original Fred.

Another species to report on: Thanksgiving day around noon I went out in the back yard and found a flock of wild turkeys browsing around, scratching for bugs and seeds in the soft earth among some bushes. (A similar flock had moved to the nearby golf course a few years ago.) What a timely surprise. A mother and four almost-grown youngsters. All so graceful and friendly -- they seem to think they are people, (or else that I am a turkey). I enjoyed watching them for a while. Later I came out again and they were lying around resting on the lawn, enjoying their post-prandial snooze. A delightful visit arranged by Mother Nature for Thanksgiving Day (when we eat only domestic turkeys).

On December 3rd the Episcopal Church put on its annual Lessons and Carols service (à la King’s College, Cambridge, in England), and while not so grand a choir or such grand architecture, it was a creditable program for a small town. This normally gets one into the mood for Christmas, but the hot, Santa Ana winds that day were counter-Christmassy.

I hope all is well with you, and I look forward to your news. Best wishes for Christmas and the New Year!