Travels with The Rayman

As we are in Chico, I am writing from Chico.  Arrived a bit ago after a drive from Roseburg to here.  Yesterday we traveled from PDX to Roseburg, Oregon.  It was a rainy trip for most of the time.  It has been reported that June is the wettest in recorded history…quite possibly dating back to Jesus Christ.

Yesterday’s trip was perfect.  We did not hurry, and everything went like clockwork.  For instance, we arrived in Roseburg at check in time and I tootled into the lobby and announced our arrival. 

“Name please”?

“Dianna Jackson.”

As he grabbed an envelop, he said, “Barbara Jackson”.

 “Nope.  Dianna”.

“We don’t have you on our list, he explained..”

“Oh, I have the reservation confirmation.  QR842b67Y5062VX233.

“That is not our confirmation number.  Ours all start with G,,,,,There is another Riverview Hotel right next door.  You might try them.”

Not to belabor the point, but I reserved in THAT place next door, the Riverview Hotel.  Leaving with my tail between my legs, I almost tripped.  Good thing I didn’t.  The hotel next door was our venue for the night.  It had paint trucks in the parking lot, painters painting here and there, and it was raining lightly.  

As luck would usually not have it, we got the best room in the place.  On the end, ground floor, with a balcony as there was a basement ground floor beneath us.  Ah, serendipity.  Sweet serendipity.  The place had seen it’s better days but we oddly liked it because the bathroom had a window.  And the most fabulous part of this unit, was the bottle opener that sat below the lock on the bathroom door (inside) so that if someone was entertaining, it would not go missing.  Nailed to the door, and repainted close to over 50 times.  Oh, and the stand up shower instead of bathtub with shower combo which is an overused application, IMHO.   It probably would be not hard to break a hand by hitting the wall while shampooing.  I’ve seen smaller in Europe, but this a close rival.  And it was cheaper since it probably fell into the 2 star range.  

Checking on Trip Advisor I located a dinner house.  Since it was 58 degrees and sprinkling from a variegated cloud formation, we took Beau so he could be in the car while we ate.  We arrived as they opened, at 4:30 p.m. after stalking the place by driving around the block regarding the “historic district” that had many store fronts shuttered.  The Republicans must be big in these parts.  And they must have big bucks for that prime location. Check out this picture.

 

And because we were the early birds, our drinks and food came expediciously.  The playlist was great so we did some chair dancing until others arrived and invaded our space in the main dining room.  The food was great, the martini we split was super cold, the olives extra big.  We split pork, polenta, roasted Brussels and crispy onions slices on top,  drowning  in a cream sauce that included pickled jalapeño.   Bonding with the server was easy.  We think she liked us.  

After dinner, we went back to the hotel to watch TV.  Problem is… the TV didn’t have our channel.  Then the phone rang.  My phone announced a call from Costco.  Costco?  With fear and trepidation, fearing it was a ruse, I answered the phone.  It was an employee from Costco who knew the maitre’d of the restaurant we had just left.. Brad was his name.  He called her because he found my purse draped across the back of my chair like a coat on a coat rack.  In my purse, he found my Costco card.   He called someone he knew that worked at Costco and she looked up my account and called me.  How fabulous was that? 

Poor Rayman went back to the restaurant which was very close by, to pick up my purse  (because my driver’s license was in the purse ) while I tried to figure out how to stream the news on my MacBook Pro.  When I kept hitting walls, it occurred to me that perhaps Rayman’s iPad could do it.  And it did!!  Rayman walked in just as I got the program on his iPad and we watched the news!!  Now that is great timing.  The news was so upsetting that Rayman didn’t even mention the lost purse episode.  And neither did I!  Overall, it was a very positive experience and we count ourselves lucky that my purse fell into good hands.  Rayman gave the nice guy a tip for his honesty.  It does the heart good to know there are some trustworthy people in our midst.   Not to mention the fact that I could have lost the purse for good, returned home and then discovered that my purse was missing., become insane and deranged at approximentaly the same time, etc.  Oh, the possibilities.   

Today Mr. Yang showed up.  Since Mr. Ying was so kind to us, Yang was a clear disappointment.  There was nothing open in a way of a bakery in Roseburg so we drove to Grants Pass an hour south.  Then the cutoff to 99 E was closed for construction so we had to double back a few miles to get back to I-5 so we could get another road over to 99.  We also had to stop for ice and I thought Rayman was going to blow a gasket.

We parked in the Safeway parking lot in Redding.  Forgot our masks so I sent him back to the car in a sincere attempt to save him from catching Covid, while I went in and bought the ice.  The plan was for Rayman to get the car and pick me up in front of the store.  Well, it was painted red, the sidewalk, I’m talking about.  Rayman wanted to move the car from the DO NOT PARK zone.  My idea was just to get the cooler out of back quickly, and pour the ice in and vamanos.  It became so contentious that Rayman said he worried we would get shot for being so stupid.  I said, “Oh, for Pete’s sake.  It’s fine”.  That is when the 6 shooter appeared, Rayman got pistol whipped, and I drove out of parking lot.  

Just kidding.

Nothing happened.  Other than raising Rayman’s blood pressure to a very unhealthy level.  

Now I would be remiss if I said the whole ice follies event occurred because Ryan gave Rayman an assortment of beer for early Father’s Day gift.  We needed to ice it down.  It is with us so we can drink it after a hot day on the road and today, the clouds disappeared and the sun shone bright enough to warm the the temp to 80.  If we haven’t have done that, I would be drinking warm beer right now.   So even though Ryan is in WA, I could make a case all this was his fault.  And if I did, divorce would be inevitable!!

Tomorrow we head home.  From Chico to Morro Bay.  It will be a long slog but perhaps it will be perfect!!

To finish this on a high note, I present to you some pictures I took in the bakery in Grants Pass.  Enjoy.  I would have tried to edit these but the beer has kicked in.  It’s called Diversionary Pinot Porter.  Very good.

 

It’s Saturday.  Overcast.  Warmish.  And I feel like blogging.

With fear and trepidation in his heart, Rayman agreed to take mass transit into downtown Portland to see the Dragon Boat Races today.  We have never done that before.  Our virgin voyage.  We were meeting our friends, Al and Charlie, for a morning on the Willamette River and we were told traffic and parking would be difficult.  

The City of Portland transit system is a marvel.  A combo of buses, light rail, and streetcars work together to shuffle people here and there using the latest software programs to help passengers.  It is much more progressive than Bart which I rode when I lived in the Bay Area.

They have an app called HOP.  You establish an account.  Figure out how you want to pay. and you’re ready to go.  The app even allows you to put in your current destination and where you want to go and then gives you three options on how to get there.  Nifty.  

Of course, we had trouble but not enough to prevent us from arriving at the river only slightly late.  

Here we are on the bus, on the way.  

 

The bus ride took us to a transit center where we boarded the light rail system.  When we crossed the river, the train stopped and said there was an issue and that the train was waiting for resolution.  That’s when the police cars showed up.  So, we jumped off and started walking to the meet up location.  Visions of gun violence danced in our heads.  After a good walk, we met up with Al and Charlie thanks to texting with Al.  As Al said, “you’re not lost if you have a phone”.  

We then watched some races.  It was entertaining and colorful.  Think Portlandia.  Here is a picture of the boats post-race.  

 

 

 

Here is one of the many observers of the races.  He came fully prepared.  We didn’t even bring a chair so there was no sitting down for our sorry asses.

 

The lawn along the river was muddy.  The port-a-potties had run out of TP necessitating tearing the back page off the free program booklet.  So, not ideal but what the heck.

There are ships on the river right now.  Coast Guard ships.  There is even a submarine in the river today.  An actual submarine.  It was lying low if you’ll pardon the pun.  

After a time we grew hungry and left the festivities to go get a pizza at a place called Life of Pie Pizza.  Sat outside because forecasted rain had not yet materialized and gulped down pizza and beer or wine for a fine lunch.  

It was time to leave.  Al figured out how we should get home and it was via bus 24 or 30 or something like that and the bus stop was not too far from where we ate.  He also showed us how to use the app library on my phone.  Very instructive day.  

 

Our bus arrived, we bid fond adieu and off we went.  When the bus stopped, the driver told us we had to disembark because, we had to ..so we did.  Now what?  Rayman knew where we were.  We were at the Providence Arena, a sports venue and there was a light rail stop a half a block away.  So, we jumped on the next train and basically retraced our steps from there.  

 

 

Now this is not that lively a story but if you stop to consider that we vaguely knew a little bit about the system but went ahead and used it anyway…an old couple of Honored Citizens as the TriMet refers to “older clientele” and took the plunge, we managed.  We were successful.  

That and the fact that we were never lost at any one time for very long, it was even more impressive.

Key learnings:  if you leave the driving to them, there are no arguments, you get to watch the scenery go by, and you don’t have to pay to park, look for a place to park and all that entails.  

It really was marvelous.  

 

 

 

Hello from the Pacific Northwest, and specifically Portland, OR.  We arrived here on a beautiful May Day and are now starting to get our bearings.  

Dicey is the word that you might find in Wordle and definitely the word you would use for the weather here.  The old adage, don’t like the weather, wait 15 minutes is totally apropos for this city.  And that iw the type of day it is today.  Winter and spring alternating about every 15 minutes.

We had a date today.  Freda and Diego were featured in a wonderful exhibition at the Portland (PDX) Art Museum.  They did not disappoint.  A very colorful show that rings true today as they were very much political animals and supported laborers, craftspersons, and the dispossessed. 

 

 

 

Here are a few original paintings of the two.  And lots of people in attendance so that we remained masked.  It was about a 60-40 split, mask v bare-faced.

 

A few notes.  Loved the monkey picture.  They had monkeys in their home in Mexico City.  That home is now a Museum.  I want to go there.  Secondly, the anti is so interesting.  Male and female?  inquiring minds want to know.  Her self portrait with a picture of Diego between her eyes is weird but beautifully painted.  She shunned the idea that she was a surrealist.

 

But on to the rest of the story.

After the exhibit, we looked for a place to eat and decided on a food truck restaurant that Kirsten, Sue’s youngest, recommended.  As we were leaving the city proper, we espied Powells Books and Rayman wanted to stop in for a new book.  Parking was a mess, it was cold and sprinkling off and on.  So, in all my brilliance, I pulled over by the front door, suggested he get out and look for a book while I looked for a parking place.  As I pulled away, the car started beeping.  Why?, I wondered.  Then the phone rang.  Rayman had the key.  So, I circled round and he gave me the key.  They I was off again in search of a parking spot.  

PDX is a city under construction.  Collapsing lanes, no left turn signs, one way streets, streetcars to dodge.  All this added up to me getting lost.  This then afforded me to experiment with the voice button that I pressed, spitted “Powell”s Books into the microphone, wherever it was, and waited for directions.  While it is not hard, it isn’t easy and add that to the fact that I am completely unfamiliar with downtown, I was a sight to behold.  The phone rang.  It was Rayman wondering where I was.  He had purchased a book on Greek Mythology and was standing out where I left him.

Okay, but I was still lost, explained myself and told him I’d be right there reasoning that PDX is a small city.  Then I resumed practicing talking to the GPS which got me to the opposite side of Powell’s which was the wrong corner.  The bookstore is a city block, I think.  I called Rayman.  By this time, the sun had gone behind the looming, dark clouds, and it was starting to hail.  He was dressed for light rain, not hail and he told me that he was freezing and would I please come.  I may have turned left and then left again and there he was, my drowned rat.  No parking so I drove up the street as he broke into full run, for an old guy, quite surprising really.  He jumped in the car, flipped on the heated seat and I asked him what book he bought.  “OMG, I don’t have it.” 

Literally that was true.  It was not on his person as he had tossed it on the dash directly in front of himself.  With that then discovered, we caught the freeway and proceeded to lunch.  

PDX restaurants are open but most do take-out only.  So, I remembered that Kristen told me about a food court, PDX style…by which I mean food trucks in a courtyard configuration.  And that is where we headed.  Seating was in the middle.  The hail and the rain had stopped, Rayman’s derrière was mostly warm, the tables were covered by a roof, and there were heating devices hanging from the roof.  And that is where we had a wonderful lunch at a place called, oh, I don’t remember.  I took a picture though.  It was a fancy egg sandwich, perfectly perfect.

 

So, that was our date.  Now we’re are back home in our sweats, watching the weather from inside.  It is still changing every 15 minutes.  And Beau is thrilled we returned.

The only other time I remember being invited to sit at the Captain’s Table was on a cruise down the Soane when my Uncle was traveling with us.  He refused to accept the invite because, well, he could.  He may have said he wasn’t feeling well, because he wasn’t feeling well.  So, out of family support that evening, we declined the invitation.

Last night we were assigned to table one at a winery dinner.  And at that table were the owners of Dresser Winery which is located up the road, aptly named Dresser Ranch Place.  At the turn off at Dresser Ranch Place sits a just painted old house that my Grandparents, Birdie and Rollo Dresser, lived in for a bit of time.  It was “the ranch house.”  It is a house with a rich local history and it appears the new owners as of the beginning of this month, are sprucing the place up which is a huge relief to all that might strive to preserve history.  

 

But I digress.

Bottomline, the owners of the winery are entranced with the history of the Dresser Ranch for which I am personally thrilled and very much a Dresser descendant.  Because I am writing a book about the history of the place and my family, our stars collided when my friend, Tim Bryan, surprised me with a bottle of Dresser wine to introduce me to the new label.  

Life takes twists and turns like a mountain road, often when you least expect it  And in this case, my reaction to the turn of events replete with twists, was nothing short of swift.  Immediately, I joined the Dresser Winery wine club and as luck would have it, a party was planned for March 17.  So, along with buying a case of wine, I bought two tickets to the party.  And it was at that party, that we were assigned to table one.   

When we arrived, we were pointed to the pool area…a huge affair that called my name.  And this is where we met some ladies from Washington, D.C.  They had flown in for the event.  The smallest woman of the three was a retired Air Force officer, and she was a base commander in Ohio.  OMG.  Now, she works as a civilian at the Pentagon.  Oh, so many questions we had.  These three flew in for the weekend and ended up at the party that was limited to 40 diners.  It blows the mind.  We met a couple from San Diego.  They were bicyclists so we had much to discuss since we are bicycle groupies….we know and love dozens of bicyclists.  They are, after all, very brave.  

The kicker was the  husband and wife owners of the winery were like ying and yang as she was eleqant and he was a hoot, donned in a pair of green pants with an interesting print.  You know, you never want to look too long at prints on a pair of pants for fear of being considered too brazen, too improper.  But the pants were a scream.  Loved them.

Finally, the wine was delicious.  A different varietal was paired with the courses of the food and the entire affair struck the right note on the full mooned night.  That came as an instant relief to me because up until that moment, I had never had a glass of Dresser Wine.  A fine introduction all around.  A neophyte struck gold, is my description of the experience.  

A shout out to the others at the table.  A couple from Los Gatos, a couple from Atascadero.  The Atascadero folks were quite fabulous.  And as luck would have it, they are leaving for France at the end of this month…he is a winemaker at another winery, and she is a retired nurse who is too young to retire and so has developed another opportunity for herself which includes travel..  With youth on their side, the world is their oyster.  Of course, I had to refer them to my  blog and she impressively looked it up right there.  He was so moderate and kind.  Special people to our right.  

The other couple were from the Bay Area and he may have missed his calling.  He would give Larry King a run for his money.  Their story of how they met and married certainly caught our imagination.  They have been doing it right now for 45 years!  Because they were further away from me, it was very difficult for me to hear them.  Admittedly, I am deaf as a doornail, so missed out on most of the conversation, so I spent my time looking at them and I am here to report, their outfits were perfect.  Very well dressed and coifed.  

The wait staff was generous, efficient, and quite fun by the time I had gulped down about 3 bottles of wine.  Just sayin.  

They billed the party as dinner from 7 to 9.  We didn’t get home until 11:45.  So jazzed were we, that we talked all the way home, excited to be alive, to be healthy, to be wine menbers of the Dresser Winery.  

As a completely unexpected gesture, I invited the owners to dinner at our house for a TBD date.  .  The invitation included my offer to share many pictures with them.  They loved a few of the pictures I emailed them so, who knows?  He is a self described history buff and they are brilliant to have snapped up the Dresser name for their label.  So, one never knows.  

What I do know, without a doubt, is that you all need to go to the Dresser Winery east of Paso Robles.  It will definitely worth your time if you love red wine.  It’s so fine.

And I need to finish my book.

Yesterday a.m. I pulled myself out of bed, grabbed some coffee, and decided to work on my book.  It was just this last Thursday that my writing class critiqued my first 20 pages, double spaced of my budding masterpiece of a book about my family history.  This gave me a push to work on the book as many of the people thought kindly of my efforts.

When I finally took a break it was 1:20 and we decided that was enough writing for the day.  We needed to take a ride.  And  because I had my mind on history, I suggested we blaze over to Paso Robles so that I could take a few pictures of the house my Grandparents lived in at one time. 

The house itself, was built in 1914 out at our family ranch.  It had no foundation, no insulation, no sewer then.  But I had a few pictures of my Grandparents there, so I wanted an up to date photo to verify that it was the house I was mentioning in my book.

 

 

Anyway, we drove out so I could snap my photos and as I was walking on the main road in front of the house, I espied a man on a tractor coming down the hill toward the house.  In my befriending him (as I was trespassing), I was delighted to meet Mr. Bernie Tyner.  His wife, Joan, lived in that house from 1958 until she left for college.  Many years.  

In visiting, to my dismay, he told me that they had just sold their house which sits above this house.  It is all one parcel.  Our family essentially gave the property to Mr. and Mrs. Thimm, his wife’s parents, as a retirement gift for all the years the Thimms lived there and for his service as foreman.   Several of Joan’s stories will be in my book.  

I could not have arranged a better meeting if I tried.  We had a great visit and spent some time reminiscing as Rayman and Beau waited in the car.  He also confirmed to me that the barn is the original as is the bunk house.  

The property was just sold and will close escrow shortly.  Oh, this is sad news for history.  Because of the history, I contacted the Pioneer Museum and the Paso Robles Area Historical Society to alert them in case there was any interest in preserving anything.  Because Bernie took me inside for a look around, I saw some fun wallpaper, a sink or two, a toilet, a bathtub, and other small things.  Perhaps something can be saved.  The bunk house which sits to

 

 

the right of the house  had many uses over the years including holding tools, saddles, and seasonal workers that my Grandmother cooked for during the 30s.

 

At any rate, serendipity is alive and well and helped me immensely in my quest for family history.

 

Good day, dear reader.  

On the mend from the booster and raring to go.  So, instead of waiting for the big Bird Day, I thought I’d spill the beans on my plans because when I googled Thanksgiving parties no much appeared.  I may have a corner on the market with this blog

THE MORE THE MERRIER

Parties are more fun than being alone, at least for extroverts,  and with that idea in mind, let me share my Bird Day Party plans.

Eight fun people are coming over for the party.  They include bicyclists, painters, writers, adventurers, former executives and us.  We are bring up the rear!!

It’s starts with the invitations.  Emails are sent in lieu of mailed invitations.  This is largely because I am lazy and partly because Louis DeJoy is still at the helm at the U.S. Postal Service and, as a result, I’m not in the mood to trust the mail.

 

THE MENU

People respond and I come up with the menu.  This year the menu hails from The Splendid Table website.  For of those hiding in a cave and don’t know about the Splendid Table, it is an NPR program on cooking.  They feature some of their favorite bird day recipes this time of the year. 

Turkey and gravy (is always a must).   This year the bird is Glazed with cranberries and molasses glaze

Classic sage dressing

Cranberry sauce/relish

Grandma’s Hill’s Yams

Brussel sprouts with apple and bacon

Pecan and pumpkin tartlets (so you can hold it to eat it)

But that is just the end of the day.  The beginning of our party will launch about 9:30 a.m. for some and later for others.  A wide berth is given to those kind enough to accept the invitation.  Just because.  Aren’t we all thankful when we don’t have to show up at a given time?  It is pure joy to know you can’t really be late.  Slippers are encouraged.  Causal is in.

LET IT BEGIN

Fresh-squeezed orange juice will be poured and topped off with champagne.  Yum.  This sets the tone, lubricates the senses, don’t you think?  And then someone invariably brings munchies so that at the time of the dinner sit-down we will all be able to lift a fork, cut a pice of turkey.  

Then the chopping begins.  And the sautéing, the rinsing, the drying, the mincing, perhaps the can opening, the cork popping, the drinking of water, the relaying of funny stories, the telling of jokes, the boiling, the simmering, alas, the barbecuing.  

Barbecuing is our favorite way to cook the bird.  It will be brined, somehow, wet or dry, I don’t know yet.  The turkey could be splayed, cut up into pieces, placed upside down on the grill, skewered with a rod, then twirled over the coals.  Some people deep fry it.  Some cook it in a bag.  The methods are aplenty.  The results are varied.  Who cares?  It is just fun to have a big turkey to play with.

The stuffing with be baked after we have all done our part to throw it together.  Or not.  The dressing assignment this year is Colette’s.  She may bring it ready for the oven.  Or she may elect to have us help her assemble it.  Up to her.  Because this year, I announced that I will buy the groceries…or not.  If they buy the groceries, I have asked for receipts because, after all, it is my party!  So, as you can see, all is loosey goosey.  As planned.  

SO THERE YOU HAVE IT

Organized chaos would drive some to drink.  My cousin, Sue, comes to mind.  This would be the party from hell for her.  And perhaps you as well.  I sure hope it won’t be that way for our guests.  Many are returning again from years past as I’ve been doing a Happy Bird Day party for years.  They know the drill.  And they return!

This year there are ten of us.  Only one leaf in the table.  Perhaps the good wine glasses.  Perhaps not for the sake of the Rayman, dishwasher and wine opener, supreme.  

Whatever you have planned for Bird Day, have a great time, take time to share what you are thankful for, and be careful on the drive home!!