Snow Days

I'm trying hard to recall the sweaty days of summer. Remember, waking up to the drone of the air conditioner? Remember, avoiding the Easy Bake attic at all costs? Remember, silently blessing the neighbors for their swimming pool and their open-door policy? I banked up all of those memories to get me through the winter and up until now they've been pretty effective. Until Tuesday, when the snow from the barn roof slid off in one slushy sheet, missing my head by a few inches.

Everyone's telling us this is a very mild winter, for which I am grateful. Still, it's cold. Californians are very familiar with snow of course; it snows a lot in the Sierras. Tahoe and Big Bear have some of the greatest skiing in the country. But the vast majority of us don't live with it; we just visit it. Big difference.

The snow didn't last very long. A nice long rainshower melted it into chains of street puddles and a quagmire in the backyard. If we're going to put up with snow at least let's get a serious storm that puts a few inches down. Give us a Snow Day, which for some reason my daughters are obsessed with. Let us walk outside with our snow clothes and our plastic saucers, so we can sled down the slopes at the cemetery across the street.

Then it can be spring.

Only Cat in the Doghouse

For almost a year our two Siamese cats have only seen New Jersey from inside the walls of our colonial house. There was the time Kristi squeezed out the second-floor bathroom screen and clung for dear life on the porch overhang...but it was brief. A few weeks ago it was Belle's turn to view life on the outside. She developed a weird smell on her fur that transferred itself to the freshly washed sheets of Elizabeth and Caroline. So I decided it was finally time for a visit to the friendly vet. My neighbor Hank told me to go to Hopewell Veterinary Group. I bundled her in her pet carrier and away we went. She was terrified from the first; the terror mounted on first sniff at the vet's. They always smell like dog and of course they are always filled with dogs. I sat down with a petrified, growling cat and saw that I was surrounded by a bull mastiff, Cavalier King Charles spaniel, a mutt and a little rugrat whose breed I couldn't identify. Every few minutes the bull mastiff would snuffle the carrier until finally, Belle snapped. I couldn't see what she was doing inside but the whole carrier jumped off the seat and settled back on its side. Everyone looked at me and the mastiff's owner pulled him back and explained that "the kitty doesn't want to play." I felt like a party pooper and was relieved to hear my name called.
We never figured out the cause of that smell, the vet and I. All he had to do was collect my $20 and tell me to give her a bath. Easy for him to say. Have you ever bathed a cat? That's a whole other story.

Toll Manners

The other day I was given a ride to an event taking place in Kennett Square, PA. (Incidentally, I can only say 'Pee-Ayyy' now for that state, after my cousin Georgia heard someone say it and the pronunciation struck our fancy.)

Anyway, well before we approached the first toll gate I heard a great rustling in the back seat. I was so busy talking I wasn't paying any attention to the fact that we would soon need to come up with some money and the big unspoken issue was...who would pay?

A few dollar bills were thrust up to Elizabeth (the driver) between the seats. She protested and the ladies in back insisted. Reluctantly she took it. I began rooting around in my own wallet for the next opportunity to treat the toll.

I guess it's like the polite fights that ensue over who will get the lunch tab. I wonder if men fight as much as women for the privilege to pay? Also, is there an unwritten code of conduct for paying tolls? I assume that here in New Jersey, it's simply considered a nice way to say thank you if someone else is doing the driving. Especially when gas is well over $3.00 a gallon.

If there's more to it than that I'd appreciate someone filling me in.

Perspective from California

We've been in New Jersey for six months, and then some. I don't know how much longer I can claim being "new to NJ." But really, so many novel situations, food items, expressions and cultural peculiarities keep coming up I feel sure I'll have plenty to write about for months to come.

We flew back to California for the Christmas holidays on Wednesday. The weather had been icy for more than a week, but the morning of our departure we got a break. It was probably in the low 40s. Scary to leave your house in the winter for a couple of weeks. I keep imagining our pipes are going to burst or someone will crash into our house (more on that later). Our wonderful neighbors promised to feed the cats and our newly acquired dwarf goats, Happy, Matisse and Eloise. The Christmas lights are timed and the candles burn non-stop in the windows. I console myself that it's better we were NOT there if someone ends up plowing their car through our living room.

It's nice to have toilet seat cover dispensers in the public bathrooms again. It's nice to wake up all perky at 6 am and feel like you've slept in. It's nice to see beloved family again after so many months. I want to drive all over the place and recapture images of the places I love best--the Sonoma back roads, the Mendocino coastline, the Napa Valley, Marin. The days will fly, no doubt.

A very merry Christmas to all of you out there. East or west, home is best.

Gratitude, Attitude on Thanksgiving

First, for those of you dangling on my cliffhanger of NJ 15th District election results many weeks back, here's relief, in brief:
1. Overall, the message seemed to be "quit spending money!" Stem cell research and all the bond issues were rejected. So my bike path won't be constructed any time soon.
2. I think Shirley Turner won re-election for the State Legislature. I'm still trying to figure out who else won. It's not easy to go back and figure out local election results. Doesn't exactly make the NY Times. Don't worry; I'm sure we're in good hands. And if we're not there are a million self-made political commentators with blogs who will flush out the bad guys, or at least embarrass the hell out of them.
3. The offensive language about idiots and insane persons has been omitted from the New Jersey constitution. Phew.

So now I wanted to share some insights I've gleaned over this Thanksgiving weekend. It feels strange to wear sweaters because you have to, and not because you're trying to look the part of a Ralph Lauren-esque family (or as my cousin Georgia puts it, "You're Ralph Lauren, but messy."

I really haven't missed my close proximity to California wines. Seriously, New Jersey devotes a lot of shelf space to great wines and has some good wines of its own. On Wednesday afternoon I walked into Phillips Fine Wines...and kept walking. Room after room of wines from every region in the world. I was on a quest for Zin; Bon Appetit recommended it as a good pairing with turkey. The young guy who helped me seemed very knowledgeable and though they didn't have the few vintages I had circled, he was able to offer some alternative suggestions. We had "The Monster" from Norman Vineyards in Paso Robles. Ahh, home in a bottle.

Rutabagas are REALLY hard to cut.

Getting five people to smile and keep their eyes open and on the camera at the same time is nearly impossible. And gets more impossible every year. Hope everyone will like our annual family photo and not be too critical.

We all stated what we were grateful for at the table; most of the responses involved "family, friends, food" -- the three F words that are not offensive in the least.