ALL GIRLS XMAS PARTY

This past Sunday, December 11, I had my 27^th All Girls Xmas Party.  It started in the mid 1980’s when I invited friends and coworkers to my house on a December afternoon for appetizers and champagne.  It’s an interesting, different dynamic with girls only parties.  I don’t know if it makes us more carefree, a little less worried about things we say and do, but it seems to be a freer, more open atmosphere.  It must be enjoyable because people keep showing up!  The cast of characters has changed over the years.  Some have moved away and new friends were added when I changed companies.  After leaving the office world with the birth of my daughter, the parties became my connecting link with people I otherwise would never see again.  Every year is different and I’m never sure who will be there or not due to unforeseen circumstances.  People get the flu or have trips or obligations that interfere with the chosen date. 

There was one very memorable year which my core–group friends will remember, when a special guest made an unforgettable appearance.  My dad called to tell me he and Mom were coming down for Christmas.  Their arrival date coincided with the day I had planned my party.  Everyone knew and loved my dad.  He was a talented musician and artist and had a wicked sense of humor.  He was the kind of person everyone respected and wanted to be around because he was so much fun.  I told Dad jokingly that he was welcome to come but he would have to dress like a woman since it was an all girls party.  Given his sense of humor, I should have known he would do just that.  He went to Sears and bought the biggest blue party dress he could find and even donned hose and heels.  Mom did his makeup and provided him with a wig and a pearl necklace and earrings.  Dad was not a small person; not a man who could easily transform into a woman.  He was tall and big boned with large hands and feet.  With perfect comedic timing, he waited until the party was in full swing, then made his entrance by descending the staircase, slowly swishing his hips and holding his hand out for balance in a feminine way.  I heard one of my friends whisper behind me, “Who is that ugly old woman?”  and I tried to keep from laughing.  With an affected, high voice, he announced, “Hello, I’m Ima Laflame!”  My friends, always polite, tried to engage ”her” in conversation.  You could see the wheels turning as they tried to puzzle out exactly who “she” was.  Dad was able to keep up the charade for a full hour before someone finally figured him out.  Then there was much laughter and inappropriate grabbing at his fake boobs.  Dad ate it up, laughing with everyone at his own joke and posing for pictures with them.  I don’t think any of us ever laughed so hard as we did that year.  The event has become legendary; something those who witnessed it speak of fondly. 

There have been some years when only a handful of friends showed up, allowing me to give each person more attention,  and years when my home is vibrant and alive with the voices and laughter of my brilliant and wonderful friends.   I am always thrilled, no matter how many show up, to see my friends, and honored that they want to keep coming and keep the tradition alive year after year.  New champagne sister friends have been added through the years and seem to enjoy it too.  If I didn’t have this party every year, most of these dear friends would disappear from my life forever.  It is just too easy to lose touch with people when you no longer see them on a daily basis.  Life and hectic schedules get in the way and ruin the best intentions.  This party is a way of connecting with old and new friends, keeping old memories alive and creating new ones as well.  Thank you, dear friends.  It’s a pleasure and an honor to have you in my home at Christmastime.

BIRTHDAY LUNCH

I love traditions.  They keep us connected to each other in an often chaotic and confusing world.  My very good friend, Sally, and I have known each other since we worked together at the Board of Realtors in 1976.  Not only were we together 8 hours every day, we also shared lunches and happy hours together.  We became best friends for life and a witness to each other to the many life altering changes we each have gone through.  We only worked together a couple years but have maintained our friendship through parties and get togethers that have unfortunately become few and far between, dwindling down to my Christmas party and our once a year birthday lunch.  My birthday is November 12 and Sally’s is December 5, and we have made it our tradition to get together on a day that falls between those dates.  Every year without fail, Sally calls and sings Happy Birthday to me in Bill Murray fashion (from his SNL days).  Then we set a date for our annual Olive Garden lunch where we share a couple hours of one on one time, catching up on all the events of our lives during the past year, the good, the bad and the ugly.  It always goes by way too fast, and when we part, it is bitter sweet because I know I will probably not see her until the following year.  I am so grateful, though, for this tradition and our friendship.

Big Bear Fun

a walk with the dogs

christmas tree in big bear village 

snow!!

come in the waters fine!

BBQ maestro

 Big Bear Fun

It has been our family tradition for many years now to take a little vacation in Big Bear the weekend before Thanksgiving .  The chilly mountain air puts me in the holiday mood more than our normal 80 degree weather here in Escondido.  We rent a pet friendly cabin and load our Suburban with dogs, birds, kids, firewood, ice chest, and bags of food and drink.  No matter how hard I try to pack lightly, there is barely room left over for the kids.  They are squeezed in among grocery bags and bird cages.  The poor dogs have a small space in the back carved out for them amid the suitcases and ice chest.  Invariably, once we start driving the curvy mountain roads, suitcases slide around, crowding the dogs even more.  Our nervous, claustrophobic Golden Retriever requires Dramamine for the ride!

I always travel the back roads because it has less traffic and is more scenic.  This route takes us through Yukaipa, a cute little town in the hills, about an hour before Big Bear.  We always stop there to let the dogs out and stretch our legs.  Leaving Yukaipa, the road climbs along a river with red and gold leafed trees on the hillside.  Once in the mountains, we glimpsed little patches of snow here and there and a heavy fog covering the valleys like a beautiful white blanket. 

We arrived just before dark, quickly unloaded the car (it was cold!) and built a roaring fire in the cabin’s fireplace.  I encouraged my daughters to brave the icy mountain air and take advantage of the Jacuzzi on the back deck.  I waved and smiled at them from the warmth of the fireplace with my glass of wine.

We pretended it was Thanksgiving that weekend and the aroma from the roasting turkey filled the cabin while we made gratitude wreaths.  Each person wrote eight things they were grateful for on strips of colored paper and these were looped and taped together in a decorative wreath for our table.  We built a fire and watched the snow begin to fall outside the window.  It snowed all afternoon and into the night.  We pulled the dining table in front of the fireplace for a cozy dinner.  Later that night, after everyone had fallen asleep, I was treated to the sight of a winter wonderland.  The moon and stars shone from a clear, black sky onto the pristine snow covering the yard.  The tall, majestic pine trees appeared to be covered with fluffy white frosting.  It was so beautiful it took my breath away and I wanted to share it with someone.  So I shook my slumbering son awake and marched him to the open door commanding him to view this splendor.  He looked at me, bleary eyed, mumbled, “yeah, great”, and shuffled back to the sofa.

The next day we went to Snow Summit.  The kids snow boarded and I skied.  This was the second time I had skied in over 30 years so I was very cautious.  I know I looked ridiculous as I snow plowed ever so stiffly and slowly down the bunny hill but at the end of the day I was a lot faster and more confident.  I decided to ride the ski lift with my son to the top of the mountain.  It was a really long ride up and I started to worry what I had gotten myself into.  As soon as I got off the lift, I knew I was in trouble.  The slopes were a lot steeper than my capabilities and my son quickly left me in the dust as he snowboarded skillfully past me.  I was dressed for the cold mountain air but it was a warm, sunny day and I was starting to sweat uncomfortably in my faux fur coat. Beads of moisture collected under my fashionable fur headband, threatening to drip into my eyes.  The view sure was pretty though.  The sun was shining on the freshly fallen snow and you could see the sparkling blue water of Big Bear Lake down below.  I took my time, curling my feet in to snowplow and stopping to rest when my legs started to tire.  I stopped at the top of the last slope which hadn’t seemed so steep from the ski lift but now looked menacing and unmanageable.  A man skied up to me and said, “I would like to politely compliment you on your attire.”  I laughed and said, “And on my skiing ability too, no doubt!”    hahahaha  I watched jealously as he and countless others wound their way down the steep slope before me with skill and ease.  It was truly unfair how easy they made it look while I stood there hopelessly. 

The sun had disappeared behind the hill and now I was getting cold and tired.  Realizing I was out of my league, I gave up.  I took off my skis and did the walk of shame, trudging down the hill, lugging my skis and poles. I heard people snickering from the ski lift.  I told myself not to worry because nobody here knew me and why should  I care anyway.  I fought the urge to yell, “Stop looking at me”!

 Oh well.  At least I was fashionably dressed.

Fallbrook Ride

Photos by Peggy Jones

We took advantage of San Diego’s amazing warm November weather on Sunday and went for a ride in Fallbrook.  The oak and cottonwood trees were dressed in their orange and gold fall foliage even though it felt like summer.  This whole area had been ravaged by the fire four years ago, but now we rode by a babbling brook with only an occasional charred stump as a reminder.  The 80˚ temperature was softened by a canopy of trees shading our trail.  There were numerous water crossings and we were all pleasantly surprised how well Peggy’s horse, Delgado did.  He almost looked like he was enjoying the water!  After riding for a couple of hours, we took the horses’ saddles off and went to our favorite spot which I have now christened Paradise Pond.  This place reminds me of my teenage years when I used to ride my horse bareback and barefoot.  There’s a little sandy beach where you can sit and have a picnic (margaritas anyone?) and the horses can play in the water.  I enjoyed soaking up the sun on a rock in the middle of the pond and Scotch looked like he was having a zen moment – just chilling.

Birthday Celebration

Last week we celebrated my little sister, Laura’s, 50^th birthday.  Yikes!  She thinks she’s old, but I will always be older!  The day was full of pleasant surprises for her.  Her family treated her to breakfast in beautiful Seaport Village, and as they sat relaxing, gazing at the ocean, she was delighted to see her son and his fiancé who came to join them.  Just then a pretty young “waitress” appeared at her side with a tray of water glasses.  When Laura looked up, she was astonished to see her best friend from Reno who had secretly flown in, just for the occasion.  

Later that morning, my son, Kyle, and I met them all in Imperial Beach where we rented horses  and rode on the beach.  There was a strong Santa Ana wind blowing and the sky was gray and smoky to the east with the smell of fire in the air, bringing up unpleasant memories.  In spite of the hot, dry wind, the sky was blue over the beach, and the ocean sparkled like diamonds in the sun.  I had been wishing to share the beach riding experience with my sister and my son for quite some time and was happy it was finally a reality.  I know my sister enjoyed it and hopefully my son did too.  Even Grant’s fiancé, who had never really ridden before and thought she was going to die, relaxed once she saw the sparkling water and allowed the ocean air and the soothing sound of the waves to fill her senses.

We all met for dinner at my house afterwards, where her sons barbequed steaks for us all.  Our dad loved to barbeque T-bones and they were always fabulous.  Laura’s sons are following proudly in his footsteps.  Another surprise was a cake her husband had specially made for her.  Laura loves to quilt and loves horses.  The cake was designed like a rag doll quilt with patterns of horses dancing across the top and sides. It was a true work of art and delicious too.

Happy Birthday, Little Champagne Sister!  Your family loves you very much!

Fire

This past weekend marked the 4 year anniversary of the Witch Creek Fire which devastated many lives, ours included.  This tragic event has changed us in countless ways. 

Before the fire, we lived in a beautiful, sprawling Spanish hacienda with wraparound balconies and picturesque views.  Our two children were thriving at Light & Life Christian School and taking music lessons.  In spite of the warm weather, our Halloween decorations were out and we were making plans to spend Thanksgiving at a cabin in Big Bear.  Little did we know.

On Saturday, October 20, 2007, we went to a dinner party and had a fabulous evening with good friends.  It was the last carefree Saturday evening I would experience for a long time.

On the morning of Sunday, October 21, there was an ominous smell of smoke in the air.  Talking on the phone with my friend, I mentioned casually there must be a fire somewhere and our thoughts moved to the devastating Cedar Fire from four years earlier.  That fire had burned her brother’s house and come dangerously close to her own.

By Sunday evening, the Witch Creek Fire turned into a blazing inferno, moving swiftly down the mountain from Julian to Ramona.  We watched the news nervously and had a hard time sleeping due to the 100 mile per hour winds howling furiously around our house, the scraping of patio furniture across the balcony, and wind chimes clanging wildly.  From our bedroom window, we could see an eerie glow behind the distant mountain.

In the early morning hours of Monday, October 22, I was startled to see the distant glow had turned into giant flames marching down the mountain.  The sight was mesmerizing; frightening and magnificent at the same time.  At 4 AM, we received the reverse 911 call instructing us to evacuate.  We fled to a nearby high school and sat watching as a blood red sun rose to illuminate black clouds moving toward us.  The temperatures soared into the 90’s that day and the smoke filled air burned our eyes and made it hard to breathe.  Fearing for the safety of our kids and pets, we drove toward Temecula to find a hotel.  We got as far as Fallbrook when raging flames and billowing plumes of black smoke reached across the freeway and forced us to turn around and find an alternate route.  The roads were clogged with hundreds of evacuees just like us and what should have been a 40 minute drive turned into a grueling 5 ½ hour ordeal.

Our house burned to the ground on October 23, 2007.  As our roof crashed and burned, so did our way of life, our hopes and dreams.  Sometimes tragedies bring families closer together; other times they tear people apart.

Cuyamacas

Photo by Peggy Jones

Scotch and I in the Cuyamacas

Photo by Peggy Jones

October 15 – Horse Anniversary

This past Saturday, October 15^th, marked the one year anniversary with my paso fino, Scotchelo.  What a difference this partnership has made in my life, and, I’m guessing, his too.  His two previous owners had problems with him and therefore didn’t ride him much.  We went through a bumpy patch in the beginning until we got used to each other, and he has since proven to be Scotch, The Wonder-Horse.  He is friendly and cuddly, lowering his head to let me hug on his neck and shower his velvety nose with kisses.  He has lots of energy and loves to gait, but can also stand calmly and patiently while my friends and I stop for a picnic.  We have progressed from his refusal to set hoof in a tiny stream of water to playing in a belly deep pool and even splashing through the surf on the beach.

October 15, 2010 was a gray and misty day and started off badly.  My car was broken into that morning and my purse with all my identity was stolen.  Then there was The Incident, where my friend and I were traumatized when her horse slipped and fell on some slippery asphalt.  BUT:  Scotch came into my life that day and changed it for the better.  This past 10/15 was sunny and warm in contrast to last year, and Champagne Friend Peggy and I had a wonderful ride through the Ramona Grasslands.  We stopped at Cordiano Winery afterwards to toast the last of the golden late afternoon, the brilliant orange sunset, and my Scotchelo.  Cheers!

A Visit with My Sister

Champagne Sister (and Real Sister) Laura has a wonderful property in Sun City with horses, dogs, cats and a goat.  My Buddy, an Arab mix, lives there and serves as a great excuse for us to get together once a week.  Her house is currently decorated for Halloween with whimsical scarecrows and witches, and big, fat pumpkins and apples from a recent visit to Apple Hill.  We visit in her cozy kitchen over coffee latte´s and pumpkin bread and try to go for a ride before the sun beats too intensely.  The horses plod along lazily in the hot late-morning sun and my legs are sweating in the saddle.  Back at the house, I give Buddy a bath with the garden hose and he looks grateful for the cool water splashing down his neck and back.  Then we let him “mow” the front lawn while we sit under a shady tree with a picnic lunch.  I look forward to our visits and rides, and am thankful I have the time to indulge in my favorite pastime.  

A Ride in the Cuyamacas

Champagne Sisters Peggy, Nicole and I went for a fabulous ride yesterday in the Cuyamacas. It was a picture perfect day; the weather warm and sunny with a little bite in the breeze that suggested summer is gone and autumn is in the air.  We had a bit of a mishap when Peggy’s horse decided to make a break for it through some bushes and trees in his attempt to avoid a water crossing.  Peggy stayed glued to the saddle, but got scraped up in the process, leaving her with a sexy, red rash of a war wound on her chin.  Other than that, our ride was beautiful and uneventful.  We rode trails surrounded by lush green Manzanita, then followed an old dirt road surrounded by evidence of the Witch Creek Fire.  It was weird to be riding in an area which was the source of an event that has changed my life so dramatically.  Blackened, twisted trees cover the hills, painful reminders of the raging flames roaring through here in 2007.  The area is peaceful and quiet now, bathed in the golden light of a Sunday afternoon.  The only sounds are the horses’ hooves on the dirt and a constant symphony of unseen insects.  Four years ago today I had a beautiful home and a completely different life.  But... I didn’t have a horse or my two new friends, and I can’t think of a better thing to do on a lovely afternoon than to go on a horseback ride with my Champagne Sisters.

The Lone Whisker

I don’t know why this popped into my mind today.  Somewhere back in the 60’s, I was hanging around Albuquerque with friends.  Pam was a couple years older than me, a sophisticated, mature 14 year old.  We went downtown together so she could buy tickets to an upcoming Dave Clark Five concert.  I was in awe of her ability to talk to grownups and purchase things without any help from Mommy.  We ate greasy cheeseburgers together  at a little diner and wandered into a five and dime store to look around. 

I can see it to this day.  It was the longest, scariest looking hair I had ever seen on a woman’s face.  Sprouting from an ugly, reddish brown mole on the side of her chin, a thick black hair extended straight out and then down below her face, dangling in the air.  It bobbed up and down as the woman asked if I needed assistance.  I tried to focus on her black framed eyeglasses which magnified her eyeballs about 100 times, but the bobbing hair pulled my gaze back like a magnet.  Embarrassed, I coughed politely into my hand and backed up a few steps, trying not to seem rude.  I mumbled something about having to leave immediately and ran to find Pam. 
Things to be grateful for:  I don’t have a big, hairy mole.  Yet.

Shadow Star

When I was a young girl, I wished for a horse more than anything in the world.  Dad surprised me on my 13^th birthday with a wonderful companion, Pat, my Quarter/Thoroughbred mix.  She was dark brown with white socks and a white star on her forehead.  Her real name was Shadow Star but we all just called her Pat. (A few years later, Dad bought a ranch outside Waco, Texas and called it Star Shadow Ranch in her honor.) She got to live in our backyard corral in Reno, Nevada, and my teenage years revolved around horse activities in 4-H, parades, and fun rides with my friends.  She was a darn good barrel racer and could run like the wind.  In the summertime, I was always barefoot and bareback, riding Pat all over Virginia Foothills.  I taught her a magic word which would make her run as fast as she could go.  I would ride to a long, straight dirt road, whisper “Chiggerbite” into her ear, then hang onto her mane and feel the wind whip through my hair as she bolted and raced down the road.   She was an amazing horse and I never had any problems or issues with her.  Miss you, Pat.