The View I Miss Already

Thanksgiving is over and now the true holiday season begins. I’ve returned from a few short days at home (as in where my family is) with a sense of nostalgia. It’s true that around this time of year I oft ponder those Turkey Days of childhood. At the time they seemed so picturesque: long wooden table, big family gathering, cousins galore.

Of course as I’ve gotten older I can see more clearly the falsity in those images I’ve maintained, like picking only the best photos for the album. But it doesn’t make that loss any less of one. In fact, as I write this I realize that sensation of nostalgia is actually one more akin to disconnection. Where is that family now? When did I last sit down for that Thanksgiving?

Part of being a child of divorcees is learning to take disconnection in stride. You disconnect from a bed, a house, a parent to take on the other. And as you get older home becomes less of a place and more of a concept. But I’m still just muddled with longing for the images that I remember, and yet lately find myself realizing are untrue. People change but then don’t change at all, so it’s easy to find yourself disappointed, but places? Some places never change.

Friday Shirley and I, along with another friend of ours spent one final night at the place of childhood fantasies (or mine at least): the Skyview Drive-In. It was an amazing time just lying in the back of the car, covered in blankets, stuffing ourselves with candy, while the cold, fall air chilled our cheeks. But it was so sad too. The drive-in is no longer, not as a gathering place to catch a flick and or specifically in Santa Cruz, where it soon becomes a hospital.

We knew it would be our last night time there, beneath the stars, amidst that big glowing screen. How many movies I’ve seen there, I can’t begin to count, but I can remember watching them from my car-seat as a child. So yeah, another thing lost.

Later that night I dreampt about someone I loved dearly as a child. Someone who flits through my mind rarely, but always brings a smile to my face. In the dream, this person had to tell me that nothing would ever be the same. I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to let my idea of them go. So I did…in the dream.

And I now I need to try to do the same with the drive-in. The one good thing about being [dreaded word to follow] an adult is that you get to finally make some of your own traditions. And stick to them. Or try your damndest to. Then when I’m eighty I can bore my grandchildren with stories about the drive-in.

“The last time I went was November of 2007. You weren’t even a twinkle yet. Can you believe I was worried things might not turn out okay back then?”

Well, There Goes Another Weekend

So this is the post I talked about last time, where I was going to be all positive and "I love life" and stuff, but then decided I just wasn't a good enough faker. Basically, I removed the trite, happy paragraph that led into it, and put this in instead. Isn't honesty always the best policy anyways? I guess sometimes I'm honest to a fault. It was a good weekend though; sure as hell beat this last one...


The weekend before last, The BF celebrated his 25th birthday in the form of a surprise weekend getaway. When he found out on Thursday night that he wouldn't have to be going to work on Friday and that we were going up to Sea Ranch, he was shocked, to say the very least. (Apparently he doesn't give me enough credit for manipulative capabilities.) Needless to say, when we made it up to Sea Ranch and I informed him that we were actually going to be joined by his closest friends (and some of mine too), he was catatonic with astonishment, which was followed with complete panic.

"But, we don't have enough food. I have to clean. Where are they all sleeping? How are we going to entertain them?"


Both The BF and I happen to be Type A personalities; we have a hard time relinquishing control to fate. However, after I assured him that everything was taken care of and everyone showed up, we had a great time. We ate more than I care to recognize, but it was all fantastic. The men cooked a potluck with a variety of food that could never possible go together anywhere else, like short ribs and red chile beans, steamed salmon, flanks steak with chimchurri, as fresh as you can get abalone ceviche, and fish tacos. It was quite the smorgasboard.




We could not have dreamed of better weather, espcially in November, daylight savings weekend, on the northern coast of California. We played out our fantasies of moving up there for a few months or even a few weeks like we always do. And though a good majority of me wanted to just stay up there forever, and pretend The City was just a place I visited, the sunset on our drive home, reminded me that are defintely some things worth coming home for, even with work, all the projects, and daily life dramas (like my Mac costing $700 to be repaired). I wouldn't have wanted to miss that sunset for the world, even if it meant that I didn't have to deal with rent or my crazy clients anymore. Wait, now that's a bit extreme. It was good, but certainly not that good. I'm pretty sure nothing is that good.

Coastal Cooking for City Palates

I really do love holiday weekend barbeques in NorCal; I’ve never experienced them anywhere else, but still, they seem exceptional. Lot’s of unhealthy variations on salads, meats and fish covered in delicious carcinogens, buckets of alcohol. Group drunken debauchery, multiple embarrassing moments to recount during the week. What’s not to love? But my god, it’s good to get away. Like really away: Cows-farms-500 population town-no internet-access away. I left coworkers playing beer pong on Thursday without batting an eye; I refused a Jello shot and was ridiculed because I was going that far away.

It’s really less than three hours from the city, but it feels like a lifetime away once we’re there, The BF and I. It’s our third consecutive time going on Labor Day, which I’m pretty sure makes it officially a tradition. Sea Ranch is not for those that need to be constantly busy, unless your idea of busy is similar to mine: lounging around the house all day, unshowered, only leaving for walks by the water or pastries and coffee.

Truth be told, a lot of planning goes into these very short but sweet weekends. The BF is diligent when it comes to entertainment and cuisine for me. He rents a bunch of movies, buys me ice cream and gummies, and blesses me with the most amazing meals, all cooked (with my assistance, of course—if I am nothing else, I am a brilliant souz-chef) just as the sun is beginning to set.

In the past we’ve enjoyed red snapper tacos, piquillo pepper crab dip, chorizo and shrimp flat breads, corn chowder, tuna burgers with marinated cucumbers. Nothing has been bad, ever. And this trip was no exception. We still can’t decide what we liked the best. The lamb burgers with hummus and yogurt? The most decadent nachos we might ever enjoy? Roasted shrimp with garlic oil and caramelized lemons? Oh, and we splurged with salads too. A corn, arugula, and bacon chopped salad and a butter bean and chorizo salad with tomatoes and parsley.




In case you’re wondering, I did gain a pound. But, dammit, it was worth it. I also had the best time ever with the best guy ever. And I’m not just saying that.