Travels with The Rayman

In the age of the pandemic, it might be true that times, they are a boring.  At this point in it all, the days have a sameness about them like they did when we worked for a living…except different with the masks and all.  Get up.  Have coffee.  Read the news.

Ah, ha.  I must interrupt myself…read the news.  It is more like spend an hour spitting out phrases like, “I can’t believe it.  Can he just do that?” or the old stand-by, “This guy is a moron!”.  And while I am at it I would be remiss if I didn’t also repeat a favorite, “Where are the GOP Senators and why aren’t they stopping this insanity?”.   

After arousing my dander, I then have to calm myself down and go about my business of doing…toilet cleaning.  Or dusting, or marinating the meat, or any of the mundane but necessary rituals of life.  

Rayman, for his part, is fast becoming the fastest, bestest solitaire player on the planet.  This hobby of his has me marveling that his neck has heretofore hasn’t atrophied into a permanent state of “hang down”.  He can still rotate and lift his noggin so there is that but this ain’t over yet, is it?

He excels in honey-dos and is fast becoming good friends with the woman behind the cash register at our local market as I cook and realize I don’t have enough honey for the fig-anise ice cream I’m making or the lack of powdered ginger…”how can I not have powdered ginger?”   It can be said that even with lists, things go awry.   Or as Rayman would put it, “You need what?

More reading ensues with my digital magazines (The Atlantic to name just one) and my book whatever it is at the time.   I review the news, the latest outrage and then it is fixing meals.  I have discovered a newfound admiration for my grandma.  She put on the table three square meals a day.  Rare was the day when we ever went out to eat.  My going out to eat as a kid was eating in the school cafeteria until I was in high school and then I broadened my culinary experience by ordering hamburgers from the Fosters Freeze or Wilson’s which were smartly located across the street from the school.  

But I digress.

Cooking has been a hobby of mine for years and even it has lost its luster in this time of cholera.  I love cooking but every day?  It becomes a drag as I try to find recipes, gather the goods, plan my timing and attack the kitchen with vim and vigor only to find myself half way through wanting to take a seat and be waited on.   Sometime I skip the infernal stirring the recipe requires.  Or sometimes I make mistakes.  Often times parsley is chopped and then left on the chopping block because it is required as an adornment to the finished main star of the meal and I completely forget the last step.  That the parsley is missing sometimes isn’t noticed until clean up and there it is found, sitting in a clump on the tiny chopping block from Ikea.

But where was I?  

Oh, yes.  Boring.  Things get boring.  

Yesterday was a respite from boredom.  Rayman and I drove to the Ace Hardware to buy sand for our new umbrella stand.  We need a second umbrella because our neighbor behind us owed three threes that were growing inches from each other … Last summer we offered to have a tree removed…a split leaf maple that was listing toward our house.  Our neighbor accepted our offer.  The tree was chopped down.  When we returned to the SHIP, the middle tree of the trilogy of trees, a sad skinny affair that seemed out of place but happy to be there, had been abused of many of its lower branches.  The Douglas fir has been trimmed of lower branches.    Damn.  We picked our SHIP based on the trees, privacy and the shade.  What to do?  Buy a second umbrella which completes the circle.  Sand will hold down the umbrella in a way that our other existing umbrella stand will not.  If we tilt the umbrella and a gust of wind comes blowing through, the umbrella tips over.  So…we bought another kind of stand that is too big but it will be heavy, the newest umbrella won’t tip and it has wheels so we can move it easily.  

And we need the shade and the privacy that we no longer have.  If we can manage to eek out a few more years, our Japanese maple will provide a certain amount of privacy as it grows higher.  

Then:

While making my chicken piccata I caused a flame of fire in my cast iron pan that almost reached the vent above the stove.  Oddly, that did not set off an alarm except for me.  It burnt its self out as I screamed and waved my spatula around.  After dinner, we drove over to my cousin’s house to pick up the frozen croissants she picked up for us at a patisserie.  They come frozen in a box of 8.  Great to have on hand because they thaw overnight, triple in size, and this allows the cook to bake them and serve and eat them hot out of the oven.  Yum.  

We stayed for a glass of wine and while doing so this conversation ensued:

Sue:  When are you going to try the new Italian restaurant I just found?

Me:  The next time you order from them we will too.

Sue:  How about next Tuesday.  I take Leyla (granddaugher) to Aikido.  The restaurant is right next door to the building where the Aikido is taught.

Rayman:  Akido is the name of an Italian restaurant?  

Sue:  No.  Aikido is the martial arts that Leyla is learning.

Rayman:  Then why are you getting food from there?

It went on from there until Rayman was finally out of the fog.  It could have been  a routine to replace Who is On First.  

Then this ensued:

Dianna:  Guess we should go so I’ll take the croissants now.

Sue:  Okay, I’ll get them and your change.  (an aside, Rayman had given her $20 for the croissants because he lacked the proper change the day before).

Rayman:  What change?

Sue:  You gave me money to buy the croissants and I owe you your change.

Rayman:  I did?  

At this point, I was almost snorting.  

So, as you can see…yesterday was not as dull as some other days.  It really does help to visit with others so I can discover  how far Rayman’s memory has slipped!!  I think it is slipping our of boredom.  Not paying attention to details.  Person, man, woman, TV,…

So…the tree disappeared.  

And Rayman learned about martial arts that doesn’t involve protesters in downtown Portland (PDX) and Aikido is not a restaurant. 

We now have croissants in the freezer.  We ate two for breakfast this morning.  They took on the look of a Pillsbury doughboy because I left them out too long and they just keep rising!!  But they were yummy and the SHIP smells great.  

And Rayman has change in is pocket!!

We made it to Portland (PDX) in good shape although very tired.  Sitting in the car for hours on end is tiring.  Worrying about COVID is tiring.  Let me give you a description of what traveling is like in the age of COVID.

Do yourself a favor and buy a Tinkle Belle type peeing device.  Hope this doesn’t gross you out but I must share my experience.  It was fabulous.  I practiced once in the shower and a myriad of times at home before we hit the road.  All you do is pull down your pants, place the device in the proper place, we all know where that is, and release the pee!!  The urine goes down and hits whatever you happen to be aiming at.  The first day, we had to go so we stopped at a gas station.  Gas stations have closed their restrooms.  Many businesses have.  So we pulled off the freeway just south of Gilroy, opened the door and I stood and peed on the ground.  It was hard to relax because of the worry that someone will drive by and surmise you are doing what you are doing and that is not a relaxing thought.  

The next spot to do our deed was another off ramp that looked okay.  It lead to a private, very private church.  This was above The City.  It was called St. Vincents, I think.  Big signs adorned the road.  PRIVATE PROPERTY.   Sounded perfect for a private outdoor pee adventure.  Turned out okay.  We did the deed in a parking lot below the steeple.  Ha ha. Anyway, what was all that privacy about?  Was it a seminary?  No.  Rayman just looked it up for me on the Google machine.  It was a private school for boys.  Made me suspicious.  The words boys and catholic in the same sentence makes the sentence one of foreboding.  If I was writing a score for the movie about the subject, it would have lots of slow, ominous chords with meaningful punctuation on the drums.  Perhaps I would use violins or harpsicords.  

But I digress.

We arrived in Ukiah which is not where we had intended to go.  Our original plan was to drive to Williams, on Interstate 5.  However, when I called for a reservation, the man told me, yes, they had air conditioners.  He also mentioned mosquitos as it is rice time in the area and mosquitoes hand out because of the water rice requires.  So, I checked with my brother and he suggested we bring a 12-guage for the mosquitos.  After that advice, we changed our plans and decided on hanging closer to the ocean.  Highway 101 was selected.  We stayed at the Comfort Inn, where we had stayed one other trip.  It was a bust this time.  The place was worn, under renovation.  They said there was coffee and rolls in the a.m. only they did not provide anything.  The non-smoking room smelled like smoke.  There was a red stain on the carpet in many places???  Just not a good experience.  I blame COVID.  The guy that checked me in looked like Adam Driver.  I told him so.  I’m not sure he even knew Adam Driver.  Perhaps without the mask…But he was built just like him and did look like him above the nose.

The next day we took off and found a bakery, got a muffin and coffee and headed out.  I had purchased some new “keep hot” thermoses and the coffee was so hot, we couldn’t drink the coffee.  For hours, it was hot.  So we opened the top and the coffee stayed hot for hours more.  Boy does our new keep hot thermoses work.  So to ward off boredom, we listened to the first five chapters of A Confederacy of Dunces.  I bought it for the trip because it seemed so apropos.  Just sayin.  If you haven’t read or listened to this book, I highly encourage you to do it.  Now.  It is a scream.  Ignacious P. Riley is the lead character.  I’ll leave it at that.  

At some point the urge to go asserted itself upon our beings.  We came upon a rest stop that was actually open.  Most weren’t which is another pet peeve of mine.  There I used the contraption to pee into the toilet.  I was still self conscious because in order to use it, you must address the throne like a man.  Your shoes are pointing away from the door.  What will the women in the adjacent stalls suppose, do you suppose?  I worried.  But I triumphed.  

The good news with the hot coffee is it keeps you from drinking too quickly so you don’t have to go as much!!

Following our noses, we flitted through the redwoods, we meandered along the ocean.  It was a fine drive interrupted by snorts of laughter because of the book.  We did turn the book off for a good argument once.  And then we left it off as we came to our senses, declared our undying love and talked about a permanent move to PDX in the future.  It is always fun to talk with Rayman in the car.  We discussed old telephone company stories, most of them horror stories.  That kept us busy until we arrived at Port Orford where we stopped to spend our second night.  The motel was “rustic”, sat right on the highway, had one fan, no air conditioner and it was warm as they placed  us in an upstairs room.  Our main activity was getting dinner at a fish shack down on the port Embarcadero, I guess you could say.  It was a disppointment.  We split a cioppino which was made up of lots of tomatoes and four scallops.  We didn’t see another thing from the sea in it.  Plus we ordered an extra piece of garlic toast which they did not provide.  We ate in our room looking out at the water, the port, and some rocks of great beauty.  We slurped our wine and turned on the TV.  No reception.  JJ, the guy that runs the place, was tipped by the Rayman for helping us with our bags.  The only change he had a $10.  Well, JJ came up to our room and stayed a good 45 minutes resetting every setting there was to reset.  And he got the darn thing working.  Great service.  Good tipping paid off!!  Watched the Dems Convention.  Michelle stole the night.  Really enjoyed hearing positive things from so many of the participants.  Gave us hope.

The next morning, we left the room and headed north.  “Where are my sunglasses?”, Rayman queried.  “I don’t know.  Where did you have them last?”  That was the opening salvo into a daylong head scratching drive to PDX.  Every time we stopped, we searched the car.  And we went back to the motel before we left town to see if they were there.  Nada.  We stopped in Bandon and had delicious biscuits from a Bakery and Brew business.. Oh, my.  Quite a treat.  And we asked for cream in our coffee, at least I did.  So, I could actually drink it a bit faster.  Hard as I tried not to spill anything, I spilled the honey down the front of my tee shirt.  This we discovered as we pulled over at an Elk Observation area at Reedsport.  We walked the dog, continued looking for the sunglasses, and I got my first ever opportunity to pee in a urinal.  Ladies, It is so cool.  No sit pedting.  No squatting, no touching (except for the flush).   Rinsed the tinkle belle with water, and slipped the device back into to it’s little “purse”.  It can go anywhere.  God, I wish I had had it in Turkey and Tanzania.  

From there, we toodled east to the Interstate 5 and came back to the SHIP.

Oh, the SHIP.  A sight for sore eyes.  So glad we worked so hard to fully furnish it.  I would hate to think doing more in this pandemic.  Dodged a bullet by working so hard at it last year.

So, the clothes are hanging on my disappearing clothes line, the rug is back on the front porch, the umbrella is up in the backyard.  And we are happy as clams.  Now we must have to go grocery shopping and such.  Hate to move the car.  Our entire neighborhood feels like it is under construction.  They are redoing corner curbs, redoing some underground utilities, there is a new house under construction across the street (thank goodness.  It was a camp Poodie where the inhabitants played music early and loud.  Glad to see that change.(  Anyway, parking is a nightmare and with no garage, and all the construction people, we are afraid to move the car.  But move it we will.  

In closing, hope you have a sense of what travel is like in the age of pandemic.  Not easy, but doable, not convenient, but nothing insurmountable.  Just buy your tinkle belle and hit the road!!

There have been rumors that I am a good cook.  If I am, it is not something that comes easy to me these days.  Let me relay my example.

Currently two of my friends are under the weather and cannot eat solid food.  My idea was to make them something they might be able to get down.  After much pondering, I decided a flan would do.  You can make it ahead.  It travels well.  My friends like it (more on that later).  So a flan it would be.  

When I inspected my cupboards, cajeta was discovered lurking in the bowels of the pantry.  Two bottles of it.  So I looked for a flan recipe that called for cajeta.  Eureka.  I found it and for the last two days I have been collecting needed food stuffs from the grocery stores.  

This a.m. I dove right in the cooking the cajeta flan.  First things first.  Upon opening the bottle of cajeta, I observed white “dots” all over the surface of the cajeta.  Oh, I’m sorry.  Cajeta is a goat milk product.  It’s like condensed milk but made using goat milk.  Unsure if it was good, I called the company and spoke with a nice person, Theresa, I think…and she said that it probably had spoiled…and what was the expiration date?  Upon inspecting the bottle, I saw the date of December, 2016.  At this point, Theresa, became adamant that I should not, should not use it.  

So the search was on.  Went to our local Mexican food store that had two shelves of food stuffs and there was zero cajeta so I asked the man behind the cash register if he knew of another place that might carry it.  He said, “Santa Maria’.  Good grief.  So I sauntered back to the car and googled Mexican markets near me.  There was one in Los Osos.  I called them.  Nada.  Guess he was right.  

Santa Maria was out of the question.  Okay.  Needed to find a new recipe.   So I drove home and searched for flan on my machine.  I found an old blog entitled, “The Flan from Hell”.  So I pulled it up and recalled the effort in all its glory but the recipe was not written out.  Bummer.  So I searched far and wide.  No luck.  Then I retreated to the garage and brought about 10 different cookbooks into the house and went thru them.  Not one flan recipe of any kind in any until I looked at Rick Bayless’s book.  Voila.  A chocolate and Kahlua recipe.  Okay.  That would work because I had all the ingredients.  So off I went.

Preheating the oven, steeping chocolate and cinnamon in the half and half.  Bingo.  As soon as the milk mixture began simmering, Rick Bayless  told me to cover the pan and let the mixture steep.  I did.  Only I didn’t turn off the heat under the pan and in no time, the stove was covered with hot chocolate milk.  Eeekkk.  

After staring into the pan yelling expletives, I threw the mixture out.  Luckily I over bought and could recreate it.  

So….that is where the new rule became a thing.  From this day forward I hope to remember (big ask) to turn off the heat AND move the pan to another spot.  I do this out of a love of chocolate as well as the hate of cleaning and I hope I am successful at this new rule.  

While the flans were cooking in the oven, I decided to go back and read my blog entitled “The Flan from Hell” to reminisce.  I refer it to you here because it was pretty funny.  And the reason it is now so funny is that I am making the flan for the two women that I made the flan for in The Flan from Hell blog.  Now ain’t that something?  

The Flan from Hell

P.S.   In re-reading “The Flan from Hell”, I discovered the recipe called for using annatto seeds.  So I did a goggle search for flan recipe with annatto seeds.  And you know what showed up?  My blog!!!!!  

P.P. S.S.   Never found the original recipe.  Too bad.  It was quite good!!

The pandemic seems to be growing old on us and everyone we know.  This I know because since the talk of opening up has started, I followed through with medical shots and physical therapy for my ring finger of my decidedly important right hand.  That’s how desperate I was to get out of the house.  And so there you have it.  Elective medical procedures ace out stay-at-home practices.  

Just how desperate are you?  A face lift perhaps?  Tats for your brows?  Electrologist appointment for that annoying chin hair?  How about bunions?  Need a bunion eliminated…that is a real test of how dissatisfied life has become in the age of cholera.  

 

But I digress.

People from the valley are flocking to the coast.  This is not good for us at the coast.  These people from the valley leave their masks at home, hope in their big trucks and invade the beaches while ignoring social distancing.  They may hail from other parts (ramparts?), but we have had a huge uptick in visitors on the weekends.  The weekend is the time we are definitely hunkered down.  Staying at home seems much safer and the physical therapist doesn’t work on the weekend in any event.  

Today we drove down to Grover Beach and Arroyo Grande to go to Ron’s Nursery to get a new indoor plant as the one we have is fighting for its own survival.  Mary Kay plans to do an intervention rescue and come pick it up and when she does, I will repot the plant which only requires water about twice a year and likes darker environs…it might be related to a vampire or bats.  Ron’s Nursery is a great store with plants beautifully displayed and priced accordingly.  Ron is a very large man that is highly social and kind.  He must feel cursed in a way.  His first nursery was written up in Sunset Magazine and other publications because is was so beautiful and pleasing to the eye.  After years, he decided to expand just as the roaring economy of the late 90’s was in full swing and no sooner had it opened, the economy took a nose dive and he had to walk away.  CDOs and collateralized mortgage obligations took him to the cleaners.  It was very bad timing and only one person ever went to jail for the harm that Wall Street and the bond rating organizations caused.  Capitalism at its worse.  

But I digress.

So, Ron was there at Ron’s and we had a great chat.  Seems that he hunkered down just like the rest of us…only his new shop which is much smaller and just as pretty was closed for the virus.  After a while, he became depressed and when they said nurseries could reopen, he was back at in a hot minute.   Which is probably where everyone is about now…raring to go.  He did not, however, have his Gregorian chants playing which I sorely missed.   

After Ron’s we drove to the pot store and bought some more edibles and some CBD ointment for my hand which is still bruised and tender.  Thought I’d try it out to see if it worked….for what I paid, my hand should be in nirvana.  Just sayin.  

Moseyed over to check out an organic farm to buy strawberries and apples.  It was our virgin voyage.  Quite an operation located  right at the site of the farm.  We entered into a dirt parking lot.  There were lines on the ground for social distancing.  Masks were required.  Only one or two (family folks) were allowed to walk thru the veggie stand at one time.  Once I made my selection, I had to pay either with cash or check.  Not having the right change, I went to the car to find a $5 bill and returned to drop the money into a white mailbox.  No cashier.  No change available.  Trust was everywhere along with the dust as the wind had picked up.  It was a throwback to the old days.  An honor system.  Loved it.   There is good in the world despite Trump.

We stopped in at Whole Foods for buttermilk and Mexican crema, and there was a line to get in.  Whole Food is doing a great job during this upheaval.  Only so many are allowed in the store at a time.  If you are sans mask, they provide one.  Otherwise, no entry.  

We returned home to the most excited dog you have ever seen.  It’s been so long since we have left him alone for more than a few minutes, he was out of his mind…such a good boy, half jumping (he knew that wasn’t a good idea), twirling, running from place to place.  Nothing like aBeau to put a smile on our faces.   There is good in the world despite Trump.

My finger requires heat, therapeutic exercises, massage by moi, and then ice.  So that was done while Rayman went out to pick up a hamburger which we split for lunch.  Yummy!!!   Washed it down with red wine.  Yummy!!!  And then we ate it!!

We sadly finished a series we have been watching…Seachange.  It was so sweet, an Australian production.  It’s on Acorn and YouTube.  The characters are so lovable.  And they tease you with hard-to-get romances.  Rayman liked it and it’s a series which he usually poo-poos.  It’s like finishing a good book…you fondle it lovingly and wish it would go on and on.  Unlike the virus.  

I’m unsure if I could make this anymore boring…it somewhat reflects what is happening…not much.  Making “not much happening” is a skill probably best left to poets.  Poets can wax on about a ray of light stanza after stanza in beautiful, haunting observations with lots of simile and metaphor thrown in for good measure.  Half the time I understand it.  The other half I ponder the meaning not sure of the poet’s intent.  Guess more practice is needed.   Or more imagination.  It’s akin to looking at art.  Sometimes, I just don’t get it.  Often times I never get it especially the modern art stuff.  Too obscure and sometime downright strange for this kid.  Since when is an ashtray art?  Or a box in the middle of a huge gallery?  Avant garde is often just too avant garde.  

Hope this finds my dear readers in good health both mentally and physically.  Keep in touch.  Tata.

Meeting one of the most ill informed people on the planet was my most interesting encounter today.

Let me start by saying that we had just left the best marijuana dispensary in the county, we drove to the best Mexican joints in the county.  My hand was with bandage because my right hand tendon had been injected with a solution of stuff and I looked a bit silly.

Be that is it may, we went to the Mexican joint and had to order from a window for food to go.  While there, a man struck up a conversation with me…or us.  He was a retired policeman from Ceres, CA.  He wanted me to know everything about him so this is what I learned.  He was living in his RV in Pismo.  He was looking for Magnum P.I. shirts…he had 89 and needed a couple of more hard-to-find shirts.  He had put 25,000 on his RV.  His daughter had come over to protect him and his wife from the virus.  She locked them in the RV.  He had had it.  So on Friday, he drove to Avila to walk on the beach without his mask, hoping to be cited by the police.  

It was at this point that I expressed my surprise.  Why would a retired police officer do that?  

He explained that he supports the Constitution and loves his liberty and part of his liberty is being able to not wear a mask.  “What?,” I said.  This made no sense.

Then he explained that the virus was a hoax and he wasn’t worried about his safety.  Okay, then.

He went on the tell me about how he and wife had researched everything very thoroughly, and he was certain that by standing in the sun for 90 seconds, he would be safe from contacting the virus.  

So, what to say?  What to think?

I very swiftly concluded that I was talking with a nut-fuck.  He was way, way out there.  How could I handle the conversation?  So, I asked him with all the research he had done, why did he think that his evaluation was better than, say, Dr. Fauci.  He replied that Dr. Fauci had been involved with the Chinese.  

OMG.  At this point I figured that he not only was a Fox listener, he was probably an Alex Jones guy.  OMG.  

He asked me if I knew how many in the county had died.  I said one or two.  Wrong.  He said zero had died.  One had died but she or he had a pre-existing condition and it was an example of how deaths have been exaggerated and, really, this was no worse than the seasonal flu.  

At this point, I had a total wack job in front of me and I told him he was misinformed and being lead down the primrose path by whomever he was listening to and we should just part company and I left him muttering on the sidewalk as I walked to my car.

Really, folks, there are people like this out there.  I was shocked that he was totally unembarrassed by his thinking.  And happy to share it.  

So, when we came home, I ate the best Mexican food and flushed in down with some Guiness  beer (we were out of Corona, ha ha).  And then I further inoculated myself with Rayman’s margarita and life was good.  

Just thought you would like the story of the retired cop going out to break the law because he valued his liberty, he loved the Constitution, and…well, he was just crazy.

Well, now.  It’s Tuesday.

There.  I said it.  Now I’ll check my calendar to see if it is really true.  I truly believe it is.

The bottom of my feet have been bleached.  I just crawled out of the shower after cleaning it.  At least I think I cleaned the shower.  Having had a housecleaner for years, I’m not sure I’m doing it right.  Maybe there is a YouTube on it.  I’m open to your ideas, dear reader, on how to clean a shower.   We can all use new ideas on this mundane chore.  What I enjoyed about it, though, was playing in the water.  Since I’m not swimming or doing aqua aerobics I’ve missed playing in water.  So there was that.  Feel free to inform me of you tricks of the trade.  Or are we all in the same boat?  

Let’s see.  What else is new?

Today was my first time of making blue cheese salad dressing from scratch.  Yesterday when I took my life in my hands by going grocery shopping, I espied a cut of French bleu fromage..  So that went into the dressing along with sour cream, buttermilk, mayo, garlic, olive oil.  I have now a lifetime supply of dressing and it is really good.  With no preservatives or additives.  I’m stoked.

I’ll be modeling the extra body fat later this week via a photo.  Ha ha.  

As mentioned in my blog today, we went shopping yesterday.  We are now grocery shopping at Whole Foods early, early, early in the morning.  Before breakfast.  So, it is worth mentioning that shopping while hungry is dangerous.  Everything looks delicious.  I need one of everything.  Or two, or three.  I had a list.  More things were in the cart at check out than on my list.  Cauliflower was an unlisted item.  It is beautiful.  I just couldn’t get by her.  A fennel bulb got plucked out of the pile.  Yum with lots of those sexy fronds.  That wasn’t on the list either.  The bottle of port, as mentioned in the blog, was hidden under the carrot tops.  Not on the list and a complete surprise to moi.  The fun of shopping is what is unexpected, I suppose.  Do you find this to be an adequate axiom…don’t go shopping while hungry?  

The trip to the winery was so much fun.  Just driving was fun.  The roads were unbusy.  We took Beau with us and drove to Paso to Sculpterra winery which is located on the old family ranch.  A beautiful spot.  50% off a case of wine was the come-on and the Rayman fell, hook, line, and sinker.  The great thing was 1.  The beautiful day. 2.  Didn’t need to leave the car…they delivered the case to our car with mask on.  3.  An opportunity to drive thru the ranch and up to High Ridge Drive to check out our property.  To get there, we had to drive thru the Huero Huero creek bed.  Dust flew everywhere.  Now our car needs a bath.  So worth it.  Stopped long enough to take a picture of the house my grandparents and mom and uncle lived in starting about 1923.  It still stands.  It is no longer in the family.  Our family gave the ranch hand the parcel on which the house now sits.  Mr. Thimm.  He’s gone now.  Everyone is gone now.  The memories are there though and I love sharing them with you all.

Moving right along, I would lastly like to comment about the Silence of the Rams.  Every Sunday, we have a regular Zoom meeting with our wine tasting group, Sideways.  It is a blast.  The funny thing is that the men are mostly quiet.  Rayman and I discussed this phenom during our drive.  Hence the Silence of the Rams.  They guys are there.  They just don’t talk much.  Why is that?  (Rams is the acronym for Retired Active Men Society, I think).  So. The active part is missing.  That’s what I’m saying.  We drink or sip as we Zoom.  And the women talk.  Hope the men will join in.  

Well, got to throw the clothes in the dryer.  Hey, it’s something to do!!