Golden Wedding Anniversaries

Several relatives and former Scottish neighbours have celebrated Golden Wedding Anniversaries this year.

I remember attending some of the weddings when I was wee.

I like to send a card of congratulations to mark the special day, but Golden Wedding cards are hard to find in this area.

I usually buy them from Papyrus in North Berkeley, but their selection is small.

I visited 2 other stationery stores, but their selection only went as far as 25^th wedding anniversaries. I suppose I could have bought 2 25^th anniversary cards and sent them!

Are long-lived marriages so rare these days that stationery stores think it’s not profitable to stock anniversary cards to send to couples who have been married 50 years?

Photo 1 is of my late Grandparents, John and Annie Cowie, who celebrated their Golden Wedding anniversary in 1965.

Photo 2 is of myself (on the left,) with cousin Edna, Granny, Granda, Mam and a family friend. This was in 1957 and the bride and groom recently celebrated their Golden Wedding Anniversary. I sent them a card.

Our Thanksgiving Walk

Before we dined on the Thanksgiving haggis, we walked, as we usually do on Holidays, at the Berkeley Marina.

This was the first time we had been there since 58,000 gallons of oil spilled into the Bay when a container ship ran into the Bay Bridge.

In many ways, it seemed a typical day at the Marina. The kite-flyers were there, joggers, people with their dogs and the wonderful mix of accents from people from all over the world, who were enjoying the clear, crisp day.

Someone had brought a Thanksgiving treat of peanuts in shells for the local ground squirrels, who were merrily nibbling and casting shells all over the rocks. They were squealing with delight.

The waters of the Bay sparkled and the pointy buildings of San Francisco were ‘over there.’

But there were remnants of the yellow ‘Off Limits’ tape and signs forbidding us and our animals to climb on the rocks or to get near to the water.

Aquatic birds were bobbing over an oil slick that was moving with the tide. We didn’t  see any dead birds, but the beach and rocks had already been cleared.

There will be no local Dungeness crabs this season.  A lost livelihood for the crab fishermen and others affected on our coast.

Thanksgiving and Other Celebrations

I try very hard to not get caught up in the Holiday whirlwind.

I could mark each celebration individually: Thanksgiving, St. Andrew’s Day (November 30th), Christmas, Hogmanay (New Year in Scotland,) and Robert Burns’ Birthday (January 25th).  That’s just too exhausting, so this year, I’m doubling up the celebrations and combining Thanksgiving with St. Andrew’s Day. We’re going to dine on haggis and neeps and tatties (mashed rutabagas and potatoes). That’s typical Scottish fare served at a St Andrew’s Day dinner, and also on Burns’ Birthday. I’ll have to get another haggis in January.

We order the haggis from the Scottish Meat Pie Company in Dixon, a farming community, which is very close to Sacramento and drive up there to collect it.

The Thanksgiving haggis is a sturdy wee thing and survived last year’s kitchen renovation. I had to play bagpipe music (on a cd) at it, to entice it to come out from the depths of the freezer.

For dessert we have a rhubarb pie from Walker’s Pie Shop, an Albany institution.

This will all be paired with our favourite champagne, Marie Stuart.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone, Happy St Andrews Day! Slainthe Bha! Good Health!

Say Hello!

I can track the number of hits my blog gets, but I don’t know who visits. Say ‘Hello!’ 

Life in Berkeley

On Saturday, November 17, I went to Blow Salon for my regular cut and highlights.

For years I vowed I’d never have my hair coloured, but once I met Jil, the owner of Blow Salon, she persuaded to try it and do it for fun. Now I’ve no idea how grey my hair is below all the shades of red.

Jil has recently moved into a new apartment and had decided to get rid of possessions she no longer had use or room for. So, on Saturday, she held a garage sale in a room at the back of the salon, tended by friends.

I was in the cutting chair, laughing and talking with Jil and I looked in the mirror, not at myself, but at the rest of the salon, behind me.

I saw a familiar person  approach the reception desk and ask where the garage sale was. It was Professor Zadeh!           

We came to Berkeley because of Professor Zadeh. He was Richard’s mentor and professor when Richard was a post doc at UC Berkeley.

We knew that Professor Zadeh hadn’t come for a haircut cos he has little to cut, but we know his hobby and passion are garage sales.

He doesn’t need the stuff, but he loves the barter and exchange.

This is the week of Thanksgiving. Professor Zadeh and his wife, Fay, invited us to share the celebration when were newly arrived.

What a happy, cosmic, Berkeley, experience to see Professor Zadeh walk into our hairdresser’s to ask directions to a garage sale.

I’m going into the Tardis now….. Whee Wheee Wheeee

Sidewalks: What are they for?

I live in a town with narrow sidewalks.
The sidewalks are uneven. Tree roots and earthquakes have made them dangerous to navigate.
But this space is shared with pedestrians, skateboarders and cyclists.
Yesterday I heard a girl call behind me. “ON YOUR RIGHT!”
I had no idea what that meant, but when I looked round, her mother was shouting, “ON YOUR LEFT!”
I called out to them to explain what these instructions meant. Apparently this is sidewalk cycling etiquette. That’s cool, but how does that shouting work for someone who has a hearing impairment. I don’t have a hearing impairment, but I’m mindful of those who do.
Today, I walked to and from the store.
A pre-teen lass trundled towards me on her skateboard. She wore a helmet and other protection.
She was skillful and stable, but I chose to step aside and let her pass.
But this young lass was aggressive and flipped her skateboard at me, back and front.
The expression on her face was aggressive, but it wasn’t a crime.
A few years ago, a dear friend was knocked over by a reckless skateboarder on the sidewalk and she suffered a shattered hip.
I must be getting old and shoogly.

Dining aprons

If you see me in a restaurant wearing an apron, please don’t ask me to bring you the menu. I’m not part of the staff.
I’m wearing an apron to protect my clothes from the spills and splashes from soup, wine and general food bits.
The napkins the restaurants provide are inadequate protection and the paper napkins shred in seconds.
I wish I were not a clumsy diner, but I am, so I decided to bring an apron when I eat out. Richard wears a matching apron.
We wore them, earlier this year, when we had lunch with friends from New York. They eat heartily. They complained about the inevitable food splashes and decided that they would also wear “dining aprons!”
We order them from chefwear.com.
We usually order the classic bib aprons in black, but stripes are cool too.
But even after all that protection, how did I get that stain on my shirt?

Andy Ross and the Shetland Accordion and Fiddle Festival

I visited the Shetland Isles with my parents when I was six years old, but these days, thanks to Andy Ross, the host of Andy’s Internet Ceilidh, I’m there practically everyday.
Andy has a friend, or perhaps nemesis, who lives in the Shetlands. She and I have become pen pals and I’ve even joined her gang.
I can’t identify her, because I did not ask permission to do so, but Andy Ross’s listeners will know she is. Quite a few of Andy’s listeners are in the gang too!
Andy broadcasts once a month from the studios in Dingwall. His latest broadcast, on November 4, was about his experience at the Shetland Accordion and Fiddle Festival and the great hospitality he received from she-who-will-remain nameless!

Poppy Day

I bought several poppies when Richard and I were in UK, many years ago.
We wear them every November 11.
My granda, Carrit, served in the First World War. At the beginning of the war, he and other local men were conscripted into the Gordon Highlanders.
But they were all fishermen and marched with a seaman’s rolling gait. So they were transferred to the Navy, where Granda served as a gunner. He survived the war, but the guns had left him completely deaf. There was no protective gear in those days.
But he loved to dance and I remember seeing him dance with great enthusiasm at wedding dances. He couldn’t hear the music, but he took his shoes off and danced to the vibrations on the wooden dance floor.

Here, we buy blue cornflowers from the local ex-servicemen, but November 11 will always be Poppy Day.

We wear them in honour and rememberance of those who didn’t come home from the war that was supposed to end all wars.

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-191
Canadian Army

Keep off the Grass Update: We Owe the Raccoons an Apology!

We need a new sign for the lawn. Last week we saw the culprit who has been digging up the grass – a squirrel!
He’s turning the lawn into his winter larder. He’s been burying apples, which have fallen from a neighbour’s tree.
Of course, the raccoons could be helping him, but I have another plan to make them go away.
If I can’t beat them, I’ll join them!
Last week, Richard attended a conference in San Antonio, Texas.
He took time to visit The Alamo and brought me back a Davy Crockett hat.
It’s faux, of course, but it has a tail and it could be that the squirrel and his raccoon chums might let me in their gang if I wear it in the garden.
Then we could all dig up someone else’s grass!