The Bay Area after rain

It was such a glorious afternoon that I went out and took some pictures. While large sections of our country has been experiencing terrible blizzards and heavy snow, we lucky Californians have days like this to be grateful for.

Believe me, we are.

[Click on the pictures to enlarge them]

San Francisco's skyline can be seen in the distance, with the airport
in the middle.

Hillside homes on the Peninsula

The Bay

Lawn got a pretty good soaking last night from the welcome rain. Weather forecast however promises no more rain for the first part of the week, just some cloudy skies.

A busy weekend. Attended a meeting and enjoyed the dinner that followed it. Friends came over to the house later to chat.

Next weekend we will be going down to Southern California to visit our granddaughter in college. We'll spend a few days there, and she'll show us around. It promises to be fun.

How Much Red Can You Handle?

There it was, sitting on the road outside the taqueria, just waiting to have its picture taken. And I couldn't resist.

On Not Being Watchful Enough

Each morning I make myself a bowl of oatmeal in the microwave oven. A few tablespoonfuls of oatmeal, three-quarters of a cup of water, and a dash of salt (optional, says the instruction on the box).

Following the directions for timing and power level usually does not get the oatmeal to the desired consistency. On cold days like this, about another minute at full power may be needed. The extra sixty seconds are critical ones, for they demand your total and undivided attention. You may at a critical point have to jerk open the oven door to prevent the oatmeal from boiling over.

Well, I was not attentive this morning. When the buzzer went off, I found that the oatmeal had made a mess inside the oven. It also made a mess of the bowl, leaving a hot, mucilaginous encrustation all around it. Cleaning up required many squares of paper towels to dispose of the hot oatmeal, half of which lay outside the bowl. It had been like a miniature volcanic eruption in there, and it took a while for the magma-oatmeal to cool down enough to be touched.

Oatmeal is good for you, they say. Gives you your daily fiber requirements. Keeps you regular too. Only you have to pay close attention when you cook it the way I do. By failing to be watchful enough, I was saddled with many minutes of unpleasant extra work.

What is most annoying, though, is that this has happened before. And probably will again.

Departures and Arrivals

Over the past two days we attended separate memorial services — one for a departed friend, and another for the departed mother of a friend. Maybe it's the very cold weather we have been experiencing and the way people dress because of it, but somehow funeral services seem to take on a more somber aspect in February. Even without the rain.

We're into the second month of the year, and in a couple of weeks it will be the first day of the Lunar New Year, which is an important date for much of the population on this planet, especially those of Chinese ancestry. There will be many festive gatherings, and we were invited to an early one last night. Many friends. Much laughter. Great fun.

And so it goes. Sad farewells in the forenoon, and happy affairs in the evening. Would that there were fewer of the former.

* * * * *

I've just begun to read Vikram Chandra's massive "Sacred Games" review here, a real page-turner of a crime story plus social and cultural study about the largest city on the Indian subcontinent.

Just finished "Empires of the Word" by Nicholas Ostler review here, a delightful history for anyone interested in languages and how they spread, adapt, and in some cases, become extinct. The author is a gifted linguist with a flair for telling a great story.

The Violinist

By seven-thirty, the hubbub of the arriving concertgoers fills the great auditorium. People are directed by the mostly silver-haired ushers to their assigned seats. They settle in to read their programs, but must occasionally rise to make room for latecomers to reach their seats. An air of expectation animates the concertgoers, as this is the first time in several years that the renowned violinist has come here to the Bay Area.

The audience in the Zellerbach Hall on the Berkeley campus of the University of California falls silent as the house lights dim. At five minutes past the hour, applause begins, and increases in volume and enthusiasm. Itzhak Perlman shuffles onto the stage, followed by his accompanist, pianist Rohan de Silva, and a young woman who will be the page-turner for de Silva.

As the applause rises, Perlman bows in acknowledgment, and then de Silva does the same. This brings on louder applause. Perlman grins and shuffles over to his chair.

The violinist eases himself onto the chair, drops his crutches neatly to either side, and de Silva passes him the Stradivarius and then the bow. Perlman takes his white handkerchief from the pocket of his tuxedo, and places it on the chin-rest of the violin. De Silva sounds a note on the piano, and Perlman plucks a string on his violin. They exchange looks, smile, and launch into Schubert's Rondeau Brillant for Violin and Piano in B minor, Op.70.

Then comes Franck's Sonata for Violin and Piano in A major — a CD of which I happen to own — which is possibly one of the best-known of Franck's works after his Symphony in D minor.

After the intermission, the pair performed a contemporary work by Lukas Foss, Three American Pieces for Violin and Piano, which we had not heard before, but which we found to be quite listenable with its subtle rhythms and hints of Broadway.

When the applause had died down, Perlman and de Silva returned for several encores, either transcribed, composed, or informed by Fritz Kreisler. Perlman, with his customary understated humor, offered commentaries before each encore that further delighted his fans.

We last enjoyed a performance by Itzhak Perlman twenty-two years ago at the old Paramount Theatre in Oakland (since beautifully refurbished) and, like a fine cognac, the guy has only improved with age.

Sprinkles Only

Sunny Northern California had a few showers the past couple of days – enough to dampen the lawns and cause a few traffic snarls, but not enough to make a noticeable contribution to our state’s water needs.

We are way short of our annual rainfall totals for this time of year. Where, oh where, are the storms of yesteryear?

Recycle

Recently we were away from home for five days. A friend came and picked up our mail for us, placing everything in a paper carton in our garage. I had forgotten to stop the newspaper delivery, and he was kind enough to pick up the paper as well.

So on our return, there was this carton filled with mail and newspapers. Amazing how much mail arrives at our house in less than a week. Most of it is junk mail, of course, advertisements and the like.

You go on a cruise, let's say, and soon afterwards, thick glossy brochures show up in the mail not only from the company whose services you recently used, but also from their affiliate companies, and even from their competitors. It seems as if, all of a sudden, every cruise line in the world has discovered you as a potential candidate for their future itineraries. Some with special offers and discounts, even. Amazon River cruises, Round-the-Horn twenty-one-day junkets. It's enough to make any ordinary taxpayer feel like a bigshot politician being seduced by special interest lobbyists.

Then there are the beautifully illustrated booklets from department stores and mail-order houses. Sales and discounts are offered on everything from designer outfits to garage doors. Limited time offers. Act now. Toll-free number. Have your credit card ready. It's bad enough we are bombarded with all that stuff in television commercials — their purveyors also seek to remind us with a profusion of paper.

And then there are the solicitations from charitable organizations. Two from the same organization in one day, one addressed to me and one to my wife. How do they manage to keep track? Are the funds they receive being used for the purposes advertised in their own literature? Or simply to print more solicitations?

Is it any wonder that the recycling industry has now become a multi-billion-dollar enterprise?

A Little Bit of Suburbia

Pastel dwellings in Daly City

Into The City

This, even on a Saturday afternoon

California Street
(If you click to enlarge the picture, you can spot the flock of pigeons in the air.)

Sneezing at the sun

This is a phenomenon from which I have suffered (?) all my life, and I only now learned that one out of every four people in the world is similarly afflicted. Here's what a doctor has to say about it:

Achoo Syndrome

Vancouver

Just returned to a milder Bay Area after having spent almost a week in below-freezing weather in Vancouver, B.C. We were there to celebrate my brother-in-law's birthday, and his grandson's christening. Vancouver's a nice city to visit, especially when you have relatives and friends there, but the middle of winter is not the time to go. At our time of life, the danger of slipping on icy sidewalks is something to be reckoned with, and driving on unfamiliar roads at night (never a pleasant experience in any event) becomes markedly less pleasant when road conditions are perverse. Powdery snowdrifts turn to slush and then to brittle ice, and your shoes tend to track all that stuff back indoors.

The security staff at Vancouver International airport, I regret to say, was notable for lacking professionalism in the performance of their duties, being extremely slow-moving while expending most of their limited energy chitchatting and bantering among themselves, and displaying not a whit of courtesy towards the passengers. I have been through many lousy U.S. airport security checkpoints (the one at Chicago O'Hare ranks close to the bottom in my estimation) but Vancouver was one of the worst I had experienced.

Well, so much for my gripes. It's great to be back home.

Travel blogs

An early start this morning. Enjoying a pleasant digression - reading other people's travel blogs. With pictures even. At the link below.
RealTravel

Wanchai, Hong Kong

Daly City, California

An Unfortunate Sneeze

A relative of mine ended up in the emergency room a couple of days ago after a very bad sneeze.

The violent sneeze threw his back out, and the resulting spasm of severe pain rendered him unconscious, and he collapsed on the floor. When he finally came to, it was all he could do to crawl to the phone and call the hospital, who advised him to dial 911 for an ambulance.

We visited him today at the rehab center where he is undergoing physical therapy. He doesn't know just what might trigger another incident, as even actions taken very gingerly might cause one.

Epiphany

Today marks the end of the Christmas season, or at least it does according to the traditions with which we grew up. It's the Feast of the Epiphany, or of The Three Wise Men, the Magi.

Here in Northern California, the skies are blue, the air is dry, and it's the perfect time to take down all the Christmas decorations. My first task is to get the boxes from the garage, so my wife can remove all the precious items handmade for the Christmas tree by her late mother, followed by each of the many shiny glass balls, and tasselled tinsel, and small, colorful wooden toys which have graced our tree every Yuletide season.

It never ceases to surprise me how much of the stuff we have managed to accumulate over the decades, and yet every December they appear to be as fresh as ever. We say we do it for the kids, but really we do it as much for ourselves.

As for the outdoor lights, my wife keeps adding to the collection year after year. They are draped or wrapped around the bushes in our front yard, there to offer a welcoming brilliance to the front of the house. These lights have all to be taken down carefully, so as not to damage the tiny bulbs, and to avoid getting the wires tangled or mangled.

Only after all these preliminary chores are accomplished can our artificial fir tree with its segmented trunk and built-in lights and folding branches be restored to its place of hibernation for the next eleven months.

Whew!

Remodeling

The overcast sky and the film of mist hugging the Bay as I drove over the San Mateo-Hayward Bridge made a fine subject for an arty photograph. Alas, there was no stopping on the freeway to give in to crazy creative impulses, thus no picture for today's posting.

The bathroom remodel in the condo is proceeding well. The new tub is in, and in short order the walls and floor will be ready for new tiles and mirrors. There's still a couple of weeks' work before we can put 'finis' to that project. And then more shopping around for the right furniture and flooring.

Party

Rang in the New Year at a dinner dance at a hotel near San Francisco International airport. We shared our table with some old friends and some new ones. The chemistry was right from the beginning, the dinner was good, and the conversation animated. We danced, chatted, and had fun. Two people at our table won door prizes. At midnight we made a lot of noise, sang "Auld Lang Syne" and then went around greeting everyone on the dance floor, some of them more than once. Fair to say that a pleasurable evening was enjoyed by the crowd of fourscore and seven, at this dress-up affair that at first we had some small misgivings about.

The family came over tonight to have dinner at our house. I had made a digital movie showing the granddaughters as they were thirteen years ago, when they were just five and three. Laughter and comments reassured me that the hours invested in the production were well spent.

Today the weather was fine and brisk, and tomorrow promises to be no different. The New Year is off to a promising start.

Hong Kong at Night

Best wishes to all my readers for a healthy, peaceful and prosperous 2007.

This picture was taken with a 3-year-old Nikon Coolpix 4500.

T'inking it t'rough

Overheard:

"You t'ink you are somebody; I t'ink I am somebody; ever'body t'ink they are somebody!"

Arguments

Before you get into an argument that might get out of hand, check out this article for some counsel. Here's the link:

Arguments

There's a bit of confusion in the text over the words 'defuse' and 'diffuse", and the spelling may be a bit haphazard, but the advice is generally sound.

This Morning's Composition

Service Station

Took my car in for the regular 3000 mile service today.

My car isn't the one on the left, nor is it the one on the right. It's inside the building, behind the door with the red panels, so you can't see it.

It was very windy today, though the main storm has already gone through and is probably in the Sierras by now, dumping the longed-for snow up there for the skiers.

We had several brief power outages today because of the wind, which must have caused some damage to the power lines. Having to reset all those digital clocks (bedside tables, desk, ovens, etc.) can be a pain depending on their age. For the older ones, if you do it too swiftly and happen to zip past the correct time, you have to cycle through another twenty-four hours. The newer ones have up-down or left-right buttons to make life easier.

Christmas

Last night we all went to Midnight Mass together — my wife, our son, and our two granddaughters.

While I admit to not being a regular churchgoer for most of the year, I have not missed a Midnight Mass for as long as I can remember. It is the one time in the year when I am especially moved by those who have strong religious convictions.

It's like when I watch a documentary about Lourdes, or Medjugorje, or Fatima on the travel channel. The candles, the voices raised in solemn song, the look on the faces of the faithful: some may regard these as overused or superficial signposts of religious faith, but they can have a certain effect upon one's Weltanschauung, despite the secular humanism that someone like me espouses.

Christmas is a time for family, and as I write this, I am awaiting the arrival at our house of some family members and friends. My wife is preparing a prime rib roast, and I have made a stew of bacalhau, or salt cod. There will be Christmas cake and Christmas pudding, baked sweet potatoes with marshmallows, a salad, and a variety of cakes and sweets.

I am grateful for what we have, especially for our health and wellbeing and the love of family and friends.

Peace on earth — we hope and pray for that.

The Blue of the Sky

The old bromide of a picture being worth a thousand words is correct. I plan in the future to post more pictures in the intervals when words won't easily come.

* * * * *

It's been quite cold around these parts, but the sky is so blue it takes one's breath away. From my front door I can see clear across the bay a good ten leagues east to the hills on the other side.

Windows of The City

Warm Greetings and City Views

Warmest greetings for the holidays, and to my friends and relatives my special thanks for the kind words they offered about recent postings to this blog.

In San Francisco yesterday it was lovely, a far cry from the foggy grisaille of December 14. click here My wife had a meeting to attend, and I was free to rediscover a part the city on foot.

A hike up Telegraph Hill gave me more than my daily quota of physical exercise. Some of the photos I took are reproduced below. (Click on the images to enlarge.)

Later we went with friends for dinner at a busy Chinese restaurant on Balboa Street, where the noise level certainly deserved the three bells in our local restaurant guide's rating system. But the food in our judgment would easily have earned three crysanthemums in the guide Michelin (were the editors of that much-respected European guide ever to sample the fare).

Do sleeping dogs lie?

Trolley cables

Family gathering in a park

Tiburon seen from Pacific Heights

More Images of Summer 2006

Dalmatian Coast

Alleyway in Dubrovnik

Olympia 1

Olympia 2

Olympia 3

2006 Summer Vacation

Corfu Windows

Dubrovnik Windows

Tiber & Dome

Valletta - Summer 2006

Santorini - Summer 2006

Ephesus - Summer 2006

Fog City

A New Clock

Here's a link to a different kind of clock.

http://home.tiscali.nl/annejan/swf/timeline.swf

Persimmons

If I were to be asked what my favorite fruit is, I'd probably have to say, the persimmon. For me there has always been something vaguely mysterious about the persimmon.

There are of course the different varieties of the fruit. The two main kinds we find in our markets are known by their Japanese names: fuyu (the firm-fleshed non-astringent variety, see photo), and hachiya (the kind with the soft meat that you eat with a spoon, like custard). I happen to like both kinds.

The shelf life of the fuyu may be longer than that of the hachiya. With the hachiya, it can be difficult to tell when it is exactly ready for eating. And herein lies the mystery. A hachiya persimmon may look from its color and feel as though it is already ripe, but when you cut it open, sink a spoon into it, and transfer the soft flesh to your mouth, you could be in for a surprise, and not a pleasant one at that.

If the hachiya isn't perfectly ripe to a jelly-like softness, it will make the inside of your mouth feel as though all your taste buds had been suddenly cauterized. It is a most unsettling sensation. But when it is fully ripe, the flesh of the hachiya can be heavenly.

The fuyu, on the other hand, can be eaten even when it has an apple-like firmness, though it is usually more delicious when you let it ripen and soften a bit.

Our Asian markets around this time of year have an abundance of persimmons, usually of the fuyu variety. The hachiya is not as common, and is more expensive, costing as much per piece as a whole pound of the fuyu.

Persimmons are good also in baked goods.

Ants

Never underestimate the intelligence of ants.

In the summer, when there is abundant food to be found in the wild, ants may be disinclined to invade our homes. Picnics are another matter. I mean, if we are going to spread food out in the open within marching distance of a nest of ants, we have only ourselves to blame.

It is a source of amazement to me that, in the wintertime, ants from the outside are able to make a bee-line (please excuse the metaphor) for sweet things inside the house.

Like today, for instance.

I took down from the top shelf of the kitchen cupboard a tin can (actually a former cookie container) in which I keep a stash of chocolates. Mostly the chocolates are in the form of bars, acquired at various times, but there are also the individual foil-wrapped chocolates, including some that the cabin steward on our last cruise had neatly placed on our pillows each night.

It has been said by those who study such things that a chocolate a day, especially a dark chocolate, is good for you. (Or maybe, sometimes, two.) I subscribe enthusiastically to that view. My daily chocolate is something I look forward to with keen anticipation.

Well, today, the ants invaded my tin can. They were not yet there in force, thank heaven. The ones that made it in were probably the scouts, the outriders whose job it is in the tightly-organized bureaucracy of anthood to find new sources of food, especially the high-energy sugary stuff. They had found my stash. How did they know it was there? And how did they get past all the obstacles to reach the inside of the can, which, though it was not airtight, had scant space even for an ant to penetrate?

The triangular cardboard box of the bar of Toblerone had been opened (probably by myself) and the foil had been carelessly, and hastily, folded back. There they were. A score or more of the little creatures, madly scurrying around upon being discovered. Some even ran up my arm.

These scout ants move faster than the worker ants who will follow later. Had I not chanced upon the invasion, I am convinced that the entire stash of chocolates would have been covered by a teeming horde of worker ants by the afternoon, each one of them carting off a tiny piece of chocolate to take back to the old queen in the hive.

My chocolate stash is now kept in ziploc plastic bags inside a plastic jar with a screw-on lid. I think the chocolates will be safe there. I have a feeling that the ants, intelligent though they are, have not yet been able to figure out a way to penetrate plastic. At least, I hope they have not. But, with evolution, who knows what the future holds.

The Unbidden Tune

'Sfunny how some days I wake up in the morning with a tune running through my head, a tune from a popular song of 'our time', the Fifties (Doris Day? Patti Page?), a catchy tune repeated over and over without surcease. If I try consciously to get the tune to stop, it may do so for a spell. And then suddenly it returns unbidden, sticking in my consciousness like a nettle. (Speaking of which reminds me now of how the guy invented the loop-and-hook configuration of the Velcro fastener from wondering how nettles would stick to his trouser leg.)

So here's today's tune. It happens to be The Birthday Song. It happens to be "Happy Birthday" sung in Portuguese. I recall that a large group of us were on a visit to Portugal in 1997 (after the first major surgery of my life), and we were all having fun in a restaurant in the town of Mealhada, which is famed for its roast suckling pig. We were singing all kinds of songs, from national anthems to Auld Lang Syne, and then we discovered it was someone's birthday, and so we sang:

Parabéns a você
Nesta data querida
Muitas felicidades
Muitos anos de vida!

Tenha tudo do bom
Do que a vida contém
Tenha muita saúde
E amigos também

Hoje é dia de festa
Cantam as nossas almas
Para o menino(a) "aniversariante"
Uma salva de palmas!