Rose garden refurbishment, December 2021.
Spring has sprung!
Unpacking.
People who take four vacations over a three-month period can’t complain about having to unpack after it’s over. But for us it was more than putting the unused underwear back in the bureau and the dirty underwear in the laundry (gosh, I hope I got that right!) — we also had to unpack a jillion (give or take) cardboard boxes full of kitchen accoutrement which were strewn all over our living room. (The boxes were stacked neatly at one point, but then we needed a spatula and it became a search for the Holy Grail.)
We promised you photos, and photos you shall have. Notes: we replaced the sink and faucet, installed a new quartz countertop and blue glass subway tiles as a backsplash. We kept the existing footprint and all the cabinet boxes, but all the doors were replaced (soft close – yay!) and new drawer boxes were inserted with soft-close drawers (yay again!) We kept our old appliances (which are reasonably new) and the lighting was not changed.
Our friend and next-door neighbor Gordon did all the work (with his sub-contractors) and this is the fifth (and final) major job he has done for us. He is a hardworking and meticulous workman and his only fault, if he has one, is that he is too damn busy! Our job, which was to be finished the day we arrived home from vacation #4, continued on for another 8 days. But it’s finally finished, and we’re happy.
We have no idea how much it will cost. Gordon’s other fault is that he takes forever to submit his invoices — good for us, but not for him I shouldn’t think.
We look forward to your comments…
We missed the boat.
It’s nice to be missed – I see several of our friends have been checking this site for the past few days and…finding nada. Sorry, but we wondered if perhaps we hadn’t passed your boredom threshold – probably several days ago when I resorted to posting a food photo! Sorry. What can I say? We’re boring! Happy, in love, and incredibly spoiled, but boring – and we admit it.
I hope you will be charitable and, for those of you who have known us for many years, that you will recall blogs of old, filled with fascinating, fun-filled European adventures. We miss those times, we surely do, but…well…(assuming Grandpa voice) “we ain’t youngins’ anymore…” We eat, we sleep (boy, do we sleep) we read, and we binge-watch TV. Hardly stuff to write a blog about. And yet…so many of you have stuck with us and for that we are extremely grateful.
So this pretty much brings to an end our delightful, if boring, Summer of the Four Vacations. We may do one more post– after we return home on Monday. Several of you have asked for “after” photos of our new kitchen (which is being re-done even as I type) and it will be fun to share those with you. After that, we will resume Brad’s CaringBridge blog – probably on Tuesday or Wednesday, following his next chemotherapy.
Meanwhile, here’s the latest and final update to this particular vacation, minus any food photos, I promise!
Brad is out walking right now. It is a cloudy, icky, depressing day in San Clemente. Oh, how I wish I could walk with him – but I’m such a wuss, I can’t stand the pain. I know so little about bursitis (and so does everybody else, it seems) but most sources say it should be treated with “rest.” Normally I’d say they came to the right person with that advice, but it’s funny how when you can’t do something you really want to! Just as my own grandfather did, I find myself wondering if this cool, damp weather somehow aggravates the pain. Who knows. Each day I take my pain pill, use the electric massager and I roll on CBD oil – but it’s still hard to walk more than 50 yards. (Me: “Hey Speedo, want to go for a walk? Let’s go to the living room!”)
Enough whining. Surely you’re wondering about today’s headline. Here’s the story:
Today we were meant to drive to Dana Point (a few miles down the road) and take a ferry (+/- 2 hours) to Catalina island. I know you’re dying for an ear worm, so listen to The Four Preps here: (but come right back, please): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CM6oOtIGu4
When we arrived, we were to be picked up at the Pier and up the hill to the former home of author Zane Grey, which has been converted to a 16-room hotel. We reserved a very nice room for one night, but for some odd reason, the check-in and check-out times didn’t relate in any way to the ferry schedule, which meant we would need to spend four or five hours wandering the streets when we first got off the ferry before our room would be ready and another four or five hours after check-out before we could take the ferry back. Well! That meant somebody wasn’t going to get his afternoon nap (for which I graciously accompany him on most days…) which, as we all know, makes for a very crabby Braddy. I tried to talk him into taking a nap in the gutter, or on a park bench, but he wasn’t having it. So, we decided it might be better to postpone to a date when the hotel could accommodate us for more than one night. Subsequently we also discovered that one can stay at the Wrigley Mansion (think Chicago Cubs. Now think of the Chicago Cubs while chewing a stick of gum. Yes, that Wrigley.)
I will confess that I initially resisted the idea of cancelling (once it appears on my calendar, it is written in stone) but the more I thought about it, the less I wanted to go. I knew Brad would be miserable and that would make me miserable. Meanwhile, we also discovered that the ferry would need to negotiate the enormous oil spill off the coastline and that didn’t sound like fun, so…that’s how we “missed the boat.” (Actually we cancelled everything and have already gotten our money back.)
Now, aren’t you glad you asked?
Groovin’ on a Sunday afternoon
In 1967 (I was a year out of high school) a pop group from New Jersey released an album which included the song “Groovin'” which soon shot up to Number 1 on the pop music charts. Here are some of the lyrics:
I can’t imagine anything that’s better
The world is ours whenever we’re together
There ain’t a place I’d like to be instead of…
[Chorus] Groovin’ on a Sunday afternoon
Really couldn’t get away too soon
No, no, no, no
There’s always lots of things that we can see
We can be anyone we like to be
And all those happy people we could meet just
[Chorus]
We’ll keep on spending sunny days this way
We’re gonna talk and laugh our time away
I feel it coming closer day by day
Life would be ecstasy, you and me endlessly
[Chorus]
Okay, maybe the lyrics are insipid — but that last stanza really hits home for us — and perfectly describes this day, which began with a bicycle ride (what else) followed by brunch at Mimosa with mimosas, followed by a nap.
Oh, and I did a grocery run at 6 am. No waiting in line!
Oh, and we’re working on a real estate deal for a favorite client who lives in the Bay area and wants to buy a place in the desert. We’re coming out of our self-imposed sabbatical to help her — remotely. (Not the first time, btw. We once finalized a real estate deal for our friends Jan and Bill while on a cruise ship halfway between Australia and New Zealand! What can I say — we’re international real estate moguls.)
We’ll use photos to tell the rest…
Swallow!
Another day, another bike ride. Yesterday’s was 16 miles, as opposed to 15 the day before. To the moon, Alice! To the moon! (If you don’t understand that reference, ask somebody over 60 to explain it to you, or look up Gleason, Jackie in Wikipedia. Or, for a 15-second clip, watch this.) Remember, Brad’s total cycling mileage since he started keeping track is more than half way to the moon, Alice.
Yesterday’s bike ride took the Bradster to San Juan Capistrano, the “jewel of the California missions.” Brad and I have a favorite restaurant in the middle of this quaint little town which we plan to go to on Monday. But the town is primarily known for its swallows — the little birds who fly each year like New Yorkers flocking to Palm Beach. They build nests in the eaves of the Mission (the swallows, not the New Yorkers) and they fly in and out each year. As you might expect, this is a boon for tourism. (No, the birds do not shop in the bountiful t-shirt shops, but the tourists do.) Each year for the past 63 years the City of San Juan Capistrano holds a “Swallow’s Day Parade,” which is well-attended and quite festive. I’m pretty sure the birds themselves don’t participate, however — too bad they don’t fly in formation, like geese or the Blue Angels, nor do they walk in line like ducks. They just build their little nests and enjoy the view. Sort of like Brad and me.
Last night we ate at Nick’s again. What can I say? This is one of our all-time favorite restaurants. Once again I had the Kale and Quinoa Salad — with salmon. If you’re really interested, you can check out their entire menu here.
Road trip.
This morning we drove up the coast about forty-five minutes to Corona Del Mar to meet our friend Mary Ellen and her niece Elise for lunch at the extremely popular Farmhouse Restaurant at Roger’s Gardens.
Roger’s Gardens has been a well-known presence in Southern California since 1965 and has a long list of luminaries as past and current clients. It is one of the largest nurseries I’ve ever seen, and certainly the most beautiful. With over 100 employees, you can imagine that it does quite a business.
We had a lovely lunch followed by shopping in the Gardens before driving home and taking — you guessed it, our afternoon nap. A nice day.
Day drinkers.
It’s a funny thing about birthdays: when they’re done, they’re done. But for me, it’s like the day after Christmas -sad. It’s fun to be the center of attention for a few hours. That, of course, is the direct opposite of our Brad who loathes that sort of thing, so naturally it was all I could do not to arrange for last night’s servers to make him stand up on his chair while they sang happy birthday to him. Just kidding; even I wouldn’t do such a thing. I wanted him to have the nice, quiet little celebration he requested and that’s exactly what we did. I’d even forgotten that I’d checked “special occasion – birthday” on the reservation form when I made it so I think we were both surprised when the waiter showed up with a complementary dessert for the “birthday boy” (!) at the end of our meal. You can imagine the shock on my face when Brad asked him (facetiously, I can assure you) why he wasn’t singing happy birthday to him!
Dinner was fine, but the weather outdoors was somewhat foggy, so the view wasn’t as crisp as we’ve had in the past. Still, we had a lovely table and it was relatively quiet. All in all, it was a pleasant evening.
After Tuesday’s activities, which played like a Felini movie, it would take a lot to do anything memorable by comparison. It began with a quarter-mile walk to a little French cafe called “Mimosa,” where, to my astonishment, Brad ordered an omelette — and a Bloody Mary! At eight o’clock in the morning! “Hey, it’s your birthday,” I said, and promptly ordered a mimosa myself. So there we sat, two old guys, sitting on a lovely outdoor patio drinking alcohol at eight o’clock in the morning. Yes, that’s what it’s come to! Afterwards we staggered back home to sleep it off, but we did manage to wake up in time for our afternoon nap.
But first, the birthday boy had to take a birthday ride on his bicycle. He rode all the way to our evening restaurant destination, eight miles away. Total ride, by the time he got back: 16 miles! Not bad for an 81 year-old, eh?
Eat your marbles.
Have you ever wondered to yourself if you’re actually losing your mind? Of course you have and you probably are. Me, too. But that doesn’t mean Brad gets to hurry it along. Let me explain.
Today started with a 6 am jaunt to the grocery store where I got to find my way through aisles strewn with groceries as though an earthquake had just hit and knocked everything off the shelves. 6 a.m. as it turns out is when they stock the shelves — every shelf, every aisle — to coincide with the opening of the store simultaneously. That way, the customers can test their agility as they try to find their way through a maze of boxes, cans, and surly employees trying to block their way. At least I am now trained to negotiate a corn maze should one ever pop up in the desert.
When we got home it was time to prepare breakfast in a totally unfamiliar kitchen. Fun! For example, we have a gas stove at home, but this one is electric. The only difference between the two is that ours actually gets hot and cooks stuff. This one is apparently just for decoration.
It’s always nice to find some decent fruit in the store to eat with breakfast, and this morning I did find some nice, plump blueberries. I divided them between two bowls and placed one at each place setting. Ten minutes later, when I delivered the eggs, bacon and muffin, I noticed Brad’s berries were missing.
“Where are your blueberries?”
“What blueberries?”
Me, quizzical look on my face, “You’re kidding, right? The bowl of blueberries I put on this placemat ten minutes ago! Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
Me, beside myself: “What are you talking about! Of course you know! There are only two of us in this condo, so one of us had to have moved the blueberries and I certainly didn’t.. Honey, it’s fine if you did… (this was said soothingly, as if talking to a dimwitted child)…but I need to know where you put them…”
“I didn’t put them anywhere.”
Me, wondering if my blood pressure could handle this conversation, sputtered…”Well, one of us is obviously losing their mind…” at which point I began what will always be known as “The Great Blueberry Hunt” which is very similar to the White House Easter Egg roll, except with two senile old men instead of hundreds of over-dressed six year-olds running around in circles. I looked everywhere in the kitchen: the refrigerator, down the disposal, all of the cupboards. I then moved into the living room — under the sofa, in the fireplace, out on the patio. No blueberries. Finally I marched over to my own bowl which was sitting six inches from where his had been and said, “If you want blueberries, you’ll have to find your bowl.”
“Oh….” he said, as if noticing what my bowl looked like for the first time, gets up and walks to the bookcase. “You mean this bowl? I’m sorry…I thought it was a bowl of marbles…”
Me: “I…I…I……words fail me.”
And that concludes your breakfast story time. I can’t wait for lunch!
—– Four hours later ——
After I typed that story you just read — which is 100% true by the way — I noticed a headline in today’s Washington Post: “MacArthur Genus Grants announced…”
I’m assuming our names weren’t on the list.
——–
Brad had a Zoom meeting this morning — he’s on our HOA finance committee — and while he worked, I played: reading a great book I’ve just discovered and thinking of the one I’m supposed to be writing myself.
———
Oh…I forgot to tell you that our Server last night at Nick’s asked where we’re from (it must be our strange accents.) When we told him, it eventually came out that he and his girlfriend visit his grandmother all the time — a few blocks from we live!. As one of my favorite comedians used to say (and I quote often,) “It’s a small world…but I wouldn’t want to paint it.”
——–
After our nap this afternoon, we walked down the hill to the beach. This in itself was a major accomplishment, with my bursitis and all, but I did it. After we got to the bottom, we sat down on a brick wall overlooking the ocean (and yes, the surfers) and simply enjoyed a few moments of silence together.
Then, in a heartbeat, everything changed. Some young guy (20’s, maybe 30’s) came roaring by us on a bicycle — which was pretty wobbly. I recalled thinking to myself, “If he stole that bike, he should have asked someone how to ride it beforehand…”
At that point I turned away from him but I saw out of the corner of my eye that at about 10 yards farther, he fell onto the pavement. We watched for a moment and he didn’t move, so I pulled out my phone and called 911. I think in different circumstances we might have rushed to help him, but there was something “off” about how the whole thing transpired and we both wondered if we were being set up for some sort of scam. We were assured a Sheriff’s Deputy would be dispatched immediately, so we sat back down to wait. My back was turned to the guy, but Brad could keep an eye on him when…seemingly out of the blue, a random car came slowly rolling down the hill aimed right at the guy on the pavement! At the same time, a Lifeguard (who had apparently received a radio call from 911) was pulling up on his golf cart.
The car didn’t stop and proceed to run over the guy — or would have, if Brad hadn’t jumped to his feet and waved him off. The driver stopped, looking puzzled, as we shouted, “What are you doing! You almost ran over this guy!” The driver said, “What guy?!” as he got out of his car. When he got out of his car he saw — apparently for the first time — that there was a human body halfway under his car who would have been flattened if he had gone forward another six inches!
We weren’t surprised to hear that the victim was well-known on the beach (he may have had a tad too much to drink…) but by the time the fire truck, ambulance, two police cars, and a motorcycle cop all arrived on the scene, the victim was back to his old belligerent self. One fireman and one policeman explained that “this time” he was going to the hospital which, shall we say, wasn’t welcome news to the victim.
High drama at the end of Linda Lane!
Next, we had to walk back up to the top of the street which left me asking, “Where did that ambulance go…?”
————
Tomorrow: BIG DAY! The Bradster turns EIGHTY-ONE! 81! Can you believe it?! He may not be playing with a full deck of blueberries, but for the most part he’s in GREAT shape for an 80 year-old with a serious illness. I couldn’t be more proud — or thankful for him.
I know he will love hearing from a few of his fans tomorrow: bjsnyder@indra.com
Village By The Sea
What a day! It started, as far too many do, at about 3:30 a.m. when we both hopped out of bed like bunnies. Big, old bunnies, but still. We were awake! Time to finish packing up our kitchen and our six pieces of luggage, four grocery bags and a bicycle.
Why did we pack our kitchen, you ask? Simply because we’re having it “updated” while we’re out of town: new cabinet doors and hardware, new sink and faucet, new quartz countertop and new backsplash.
And get this — it was all Brad’s idea!
True, this is the sort of scheme I’m known for — and history has recorded that most major trips we’ve taken over the years have involved some sort of construction project in our absence. But, times being what they are — our health issues, a national pandemic, etc., it never occurred to me to suggest re-doing our kitchen. But as I’ve already said, Brad felt differently, so here we are. I’ll be eager to share the “after” photos with you after we return home in two weeks.
So, after packing up this morning and running out for a quick breakfast since conveniently forgotten which box I’d packed the toaster in, we came home to find a construction crew already on the job. We got out of there as fast as we could.
Two and a half-hours later we arrived in San Clemente, California which is located midway between Los Angeles and San Diego. It was built in 1925 by the former Mayor of Seattle: “Ole Hanson,” so almost a hundred years later ‘ole Rex and ‘ole Brad can enjoy its ocean views from the comfort of a VRBO rental about two blocks from the beach.
San Clemente is known as the “Spanish Village by the Sea,” and its architecture is notably Spanish in style. An enormous Pier is located a few blocks away — a great place to people watch or smell stinky fish. (Unless it’s the people who stink.)
Many folks of, um, a “certain age” will remember San Clemente as the location of the Western White House when Richard Nixon was President. We could probably walk to Nixon’s old residence from here, but why would we want to? I’d rather take a walk off the pier.
One thing San Clemente is known for is how sunny it is. It has an average number of 281 sunny days per year. Today was not one of them.
As we drove toward the coast, surrounded by blue sky and sunshine, we noticed an ominous bank of clouds ahead of us. As we got closer we went from a bright happy day to a day in which I wanted to curl up in a ball and listen to country western music. Glum.
We’ve stayed in San Clemente a few times but never in this particular rental. Let’s just say it wasn’t an entirely pleasant surprise. We don’t hate it, but neither one of us would give it more than a 5 on a one to ten scale.
First, the driveway. Brad says he is going to photograph it tomorrow, so you have that to look forward to. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like driving off a cliff — only steeper. Best of all, it has a turn in the middle of it so while you’re hurtling toward the steel gate at the bottom you must frantically turn the steering wheel or risk running into the brick wall on either side of you.
The apartment itself is “okay,” but nothing to write home about (and yet, here I am…) Perhaps it’s just the overall day — cloudy and did I mention glum — but when we first walked in, I thought we were in a cave. The roll-down black-out shades were all down, so it was actually dark! I told Brad that we should play a game of “Marco Polo” to see if we could locate each other by Braille. When we turned the lights on it wasn’t too bad. I’m sure you’ll be hearing more about the place as we explore its dark corners in the weeks ahead.
After schlepping all out bags into the apartment and taking our mandatory two-hour nap we got ready for dinner at one of our all-time favorite restaurants: “Nick’s.” Brad had Baby Back Ribs (“the whole side of a pig!?!”) and I had an fantastic Kale and Quinoa Salad. YUM. Then Brad had a dessert made out of butter (and that’s all) while I looked on, wondering how slippery his lips were going to be.
You can wake up now.
So today we come to the end of Vacation #3 as we re-pack the car and prepare to return to our little desert hideaway.
It’s been quiet fun (with the emphasis on quiet) but I know Brad is ready to be home. I am too, I guess, although I can easily see myself wiling away a few more days out on our patio overlooking the bay as we await the next festival.
You didn’t get a post yesterday because, well, nothing happened the day before. Nothing happened yesterday either. In other words, we are b-o-r-i-n-g and we admit it.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming: CaringBridge — where you will receive an occasional post about Bradley’s “journey” through cholangeocarcinoma. Personally, I think we should just sit here on the patio.
The Caring Bridge link, in case you’ve lost it. Chemo resumes on Tuesday. https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/bradleysnyder
P.S. If you’re bored (from reading this blog) and want something fun and funny to watch on TV (Netflix), we recommend this:
BREX•2021 