If

If I lived in Laguna Beach, I would weigh 30 pounds less. Partly because I'd use up a fair amount of calories jogging on the beach daily. Partly because I'd have to park a half mile away from my destination (dang tourists) and so I'd be walking on errands. And my daily walks to visit friends would involve hillsides and stairs.

If I lived in Laguna Beach, my wardrobe would be totally different. I'd have unique dresses bought on a whim from the local shops (because I'd also be quite rich if I lived there--even the used-car lots showcase Maseratis). I would elevate window shopping to a new level. The rich fabrics would drape beautifully around my fabulously healthy body. My underwear would involve lace and luscious colors.

If I live in Laguna Beach, my hair would grow ten inches but I'd have it cut tres chic. And donate the excess to Locks of Love.

If I lived in Laguna Beach, part of every day would be devoted to painting and sketching. It would be unavoidable; I'd be so overwhelmed by the beauty around me each day that I couldn't resist the inspiration. I'd be on a first-name basis with every artisan at the Sawdust Festival and would have performed in The Pageant at least once.

If I lived in Laguna Beach, I'd have a tiny cottage overgrown with Heavenly Blue morning glories and Barbara Karst bougainvillea. It would have blue window frames and brick walks and a picket fence that needed painting. Vegetables would grow amidst the flowers. I'd breakfast on the patio with the morning paper and dinner would be accompanied by the distant view of a silver ocean and candlelight.

If I lived in Laguna Beach, my dog would love her doggy friends at the dog park in the canyon. And she'd probably have a little sister adopted from the cutest dog pound in the West.

If I lived in Laguna Beach, my stress levels would plumment and I'd smile more. Yeah, I love Laguna.

Okay, (deep cleansing breath) it feels good to get that out after my recent visit there. We now return you to my regularly scheduled life.

The American Dream

It's Jack London's birthday! I would have never known if it were not for the calendar that our classroom received from Scholastic Books, thank you very much.

One novel that I never tire of reading and re-reading is his The Valley of the Moon, one of those classic stories that chronicle the pursuit of happiness. Because I just love a happy ending. And I have a partiality for authors whose setting is an area that I know well. For most readers, say "Jack London" and they think "Alaska".

But London was a California boy through and through, so this former California girl loves his local settings best--in this case, Sonoma.

And if you've never driven through the lush foggy Sonoma valley, past rounded motherly hills, while grazing Guernsey cows appear and fade like mirages...well, you've missed an experience whose beauty makes my heart sing. And visiting little Glen Ellen where London's ranch is located just makes the experience better. (Oh, and dropping by a winery here and there doesn't hurt either.)

I grew up in northern California and spent Saturday mornings in our Spanish-style library with warm sunlight pouring through narrow windows onto tile floors. A library that, happily, stocked the lesser-known but California-oriented books by some famous authors. Even if an author can make his or her setting come alive in my imagination, it's a bonus when the setting is already part of my experience.

The Valley of the Moon has an autobiographical flavor to it. It's not particularly intense or thought-provoking; just a simple romance--the search for the right partner to live with and the right place to live in. I love Jack's unintentional snapshot of the Bay Area in times past. A tawny California without freeways or dot coms, filled with little farms and ranches. A place that my great-grandparents would have instantly recognized. Hmmm, maybe it's that family connection that makes this story a well-read favorite.

Happy Birthday, Jack. I'm grabbing my book and heading off for a leisurely soak with some well-loved characters.

Happy New Year!

Fresh snow, unused notebooks, empty closets, new school clothes--don't you love new beginnings?!

2009 is bringing change. And change is scary as well as exciting and inspiring.

The economic meltdown has made us refocus on spirit and family rather than consumer goods. A young and energetic First Family gives us all hope that we can accomplish good things together. I admit it, I can hardly wait to see what puppy comes home to the White House (I'm thinking goldendoodle). It's more fun to think about a puppy than how many people will lose their livelihoods soon. The soaring jobless rate is more than dry numbers. My heart aches for the folks who used to deliver Mother's Cookies for decades being out of work. We knew at our company holiday party that there would be many faces we would not be seeing because of heavy cutbacks. Sometimes these changes seem overwhelming and unstoppable. There is a huge human price that is being paid.

2009 is going to be the year that we need to support each other. Finding kindness in unexpected places might be the biggest gift we receive in this new year. Feeling the glow of helping a neighbor in need is better than getting a huge flat screen television on Christmas morning.

Family, friends, altruism, hope, environmental responsibility, renewed pride in our country's ideals, new beginnings. Change. Bring it on.

Always Good Kharma At Last

I'm a dog lover. No surprise to anyone, I guess, given how many times Kharma has appeared here. I've owned six dogs as an adult and each one has taught me valuable lessons that I've built on.

Then too, I've gotten so many ideas about training and possible tricks from websites and blogs and YouTube. Other dog lovers and their best friends have inspired me. There is no limit to what can be achieved between dog and human when the human contributes as much trust and devotion as the dog does. The 'Net has been the key to a magical place filled with possibilities.

Long story short--I think of Kharma as a partner rather than a possession, family rather than pet. She makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world to have her for a best friend. So 2009 is going to be a year when I challenge myself to provide opportunities for Kharma.

And rather than bore anyone with 365 posts about our journey into Dog Agility and Canine Freestyle and daily trips to the pasture to play Frisbee, I created a dog blog for Kharma. It's up and running. You're invited to visit us there (along with the dogmoms who belong to Johann and Gracie and Xsara and Guinness and Bi and Phoebe)if you're interested! The link is at the left under Blog Friends. And I've added some of your wonderful blogs that I should have long since (you know who you are!).

I now return you from Dog to Food. Behold Mount Krumpet!


It's truly amazing how many apples we can get into a pie. Especially when my sweetie cuts them up like matchsticks instead of slicing them. And festooned with mini cutouts of Christmas trees and stars on the crust, sprinkled with turbinado sugar (my secret ingredient) on top...yum, very yum. Even the Grinch would have approved.

Gracias

I don't know which one of you sent the snow my way, but it was lovely to wake up to a fluffy white blanket sparkling in the morning sun. Good work!

It was only one inch deep however. So the rest of you need to get crack-a-lackin' with your white stuff (not THAT kind) and make my Christmas merry.

I'm hoping the snow will help me attain some mellow, friendly, relaxed Christmas Spirit. The head cold has receded far enough that I knew I could walk from the Forester to the store(s) without hacking up my lungs in the process. Shopping was high priority because it wouldn't be a very cheery holiday when my family realized my only gift to them was dinner and a the annual showing of "White Christmas". Unfortunately I left my Christmas Spirit at home and was a tad cranky while driving there, shopping, waiting in line, and driving home. Possibly crankiness is just a symptom like a runny nose, a sore throat and my deep cough. Internet shopping with a wrapped photo of the item to be received has become a real possiblity.

I look forward to not being married to the box of Puffs Plus (just bought another three boxes to be safe), not needed cough medicine every four hours, and having some energy. Not to mention that my skin is about to drop off after being soap-and-watered every fifteen minutes. Hey! At least I'm sleeping through the night now. Although I was thinking up some good posts when I couldn't sleep even if I didn't have the energy to actually sit at the keyboard.

Tomorrow is going to be a good day though. Because a PUPPY (!!!) is on the schedule. I get to puppysit a little eight-week-old Shi Tsu until Santa is ready to drop in unexpectedly while they go for a winter walk. I expect to have pictures of me and the little guy.

I'm not sure how to tell Kharma and Zelda that the puppy is not for them.

Jealous and Pouting

Everyone else around our area has more snow than we do. Portland is figuring out how to put on tire chains. Salt Lake is white (no surprise there). Even Vegas had a real true-life blizzard. What's up with Reno?

We've had snow. It was gorgeous--just enough to enjoy, not enough to hamper Christmas shopping. We were all picturing a white Christmas: dogs cavorting, lights reflecting off the glimmer, trees dressed like Disney princesses, peace and brotherhood.

But the snow melted somehow in the winds preceeding the front--not like it was exactly tropical around here, but apparently 35 degrees accompanied by wind equals a heat wave for snowmen. We had a dusting last night and a few vagrant flakes this evening to replace the evaporated loveliness, but it's way too little.

I want your snow. I promise to take good care of it. I'll curl up with my Puffs Plus while I try to stay one step ahead of this miserable ill-timed cold and watch the stuff fall until it disguises the pond, the trash cans and Zelda's deeply dug holes. I want snow. I need snow. I should have snow. Now.

If you're done with your snow, please send it my way. Please? Otherwise I feel a full-fledged hissy fit coming on complete with stomping of feet and slamming of doors.

Something A Husband Is Good For

He found my missing battery charger. From four hundred miles away. Over the phone.

It was in plain sight, so that explains why I couldn't find it. It also explains why I thought it was a good place to put it. It doesn't explain why I thought I had to take a photo of this year's batch of mint jelly.