Category: Travel

A little road trip and new art

Unlike many retirees, Dale and I don’t like to travel all that much, but I’m pleased to report our overnighter to Sonoma was great. It’s an easy drive – just under two hours – and the weather was spectacular. You hardly have to pack anything for such a short trip, and there’s no stress. The toughest part was leaving the kitty, but Riley is good by himself for one night (although I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think so).

While we’ve been in and out of Sonoma before, this was our first time staying overnight. We stopped on the way at the Gundlach Bundschu winery for a tasting. I never liked the idea of wine tasting as a hobby until I realized it’s a great way to buy wine. No surprises. We try to keep a hearty stash in the wine rack and seldom buy wine from the market. I do love California!

The wine was quite good, but we only liked two of the six we tried. We bought two bottles of Sauvignon Blanc and two bottles of a Cabernet Sauvignon-Malbec blend. The venue is quite lovely, and although we didn’t eat, we saw some tempting charcuterie plates.

The good news is there are more than 400 wineries in Sonoma County, so I don’t think we’ll run out of options.

We stayed at the El Dorado Hotel on the square in downtown Sonoma. We got there a little early and just walked all around town. There are some nice stores, and it was fun to wander about. We checked in around 4 p.m. and sat out on our balcony people-watching.

There are tons of restaurants, but I wanted to try The Girl and The Fig, which is highly regarded – and directly across the street from the hotel. The only reservation available was 5:30 p.m., which Dale views as the early bird special, but the place was packed.

Dale had steak tartare as an appetizer and duck confit for his entrée. I was lucky enough to get a bite of his steak tartare, which was fabulous. The duck confit was good, but he said he wouldn’t get it again. I tasted it and agreed.

I chose the Bistro Plats du Jour. That would include three courses with wine pairings. The appetizer was crispy chicken livers with an arugula salad. The chicken livers were a bit overcooked, but they were good. The star of the show was my entrée … trout meuniere. The fish was fresh and tender, the skin was shatteringly crisp and the sauce was sublime. The plate included wilted kale, which was excellent, and fingerling potatoes, which I didn’t care for.

However, that trout may be some of the best fish I have ever eaten.

We shared my dessert, which was a pear-hazelnut cake with yummy vanilla anglaise and a cherry reduction. Pretty damned good.

That’s the first time we’ve been out since June, and before that, who knows? We’re almost always disappointed when we dine out, but this time, we were mostly thrilled. A few small things could be improved upon. All in all, we’d go back but skip the duck confit.

And we’d definitely go back to Sonoma. There was sort of a laid back vibe we liked a lot. We’ve been looking for a place that would be sort of our go-to escape when we feel the need, and Sonoma is definitely a contender. There’s a lot to do in the area, and downtown would be a nice homebase.

I guess this shouldn’t be a surprise since I’ve often described us as reluctant travelers, but our habit on the day of departure – even a one-nighter – is to get up and go. We were headed home by 7:30 a.m. with just a cup of coffee to get us out the door.

No lollygagging for us. I said in my outside voice that maybe we should try to change, you know, be better tourists, hang around, see more, do more. However, we quickly agreed that was crazy talk. Let’s just accept who we are and do what we want. Wow, there’s a novel concept.

For some reason, I didn’t work on my art much this summer. Maybe because it’s hot out in the garage? My sister is a quilter, and she said she doesn’t seem to get much done in the summer, either. But I’m back in the saddle and present for your viewing pleasure, Number 39.

This one is kind of weird. I’m continuing to push myself in trying to capture realistic images, as opposed to doodles. I’m not shamed to admit I sometimes trace and transfer images! On this piece, I was inspired by science fiction and monster movies. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I love the monster on the left.

It’s quite the imperfect piece. I keep telling myself, so what? It was just scrap wood. It seems to me that for most of us life is a study in imperfection, but isn’t it interesting how we keep wrestling with it? If anything, creating art has helped me tame my perfectionist nature.

Nothing and everything

Death Valley is a taboo subject at our house, but a couple of you asked what happened to that trip, so here goes.

As you may recall, Dale had been wanting to go in the dead of summer, while I wanted to go in the winter, when normal people visit. I finally caved and said, fine, we’ll go in the summer. We were scheduled to go smack dab in the middle of July. Plenty hot, one would assume.

But I had second thoughts. I mean, we’re not as heat resistant as we used to be. I had a million other reasons for not going, but Dale was excited. I’m not sure he ever understood death was not just a name but an option.

To help me plead my case, I found a video of a couple touring Death Valley in the summer with their two children. It was about 20 minutes long, and not the finest cinema out there, but it told a story.

Basically, they drove from one site to the next, got out of the car and then got back in before they died from exposure, never actually seeing the sites as they were meant to be experienced.

I made Dale watch the video, and he said it was 20 minutes of his life he’ll never get back. However, he also said it didn’t sound like fun to drive around all day after driving eight hours just to get there, especially when it was more of a whim than anything else.  

A whim was it? We agreed to cancel.

On the day we would have arrived in Death Valley, the temperature was 129 degrees Fahrenheit. I let out a big sigh of relief and said something to the effect of thank the Great Planner we didn’t go. I figured Dale would nod in agreement. Instead, he looked at me with disgust and said, “We could have been there.”

And that is why we don’t speak of Death Valley anymore. There will come a day when we will try again, but it is not this day.   

In other travel news, we’re doing an overnighter to Sonoma this week. I don’t expect any drama, but I’ve been wrong before. Oh, and my 50th high school reunion was this weekend, but I did not go. Certainly, there were people I would have enjoyed seeing, but I’m not good in large social settings. At other events, I have been known to find one person and cling pathologically to them for the duration, ruining their opportunities for what I’m told is happy mingling.

Staying home was the humane thing to do.   

You know I love reading a crime series. Up until now, I’ve concentrated on one series at a time. I was well into the Easy Rawlins series by Walter Mosley, when I saw a new Lincoln Lawyer book by Michael Connelly was going to be published in November. I decided to read those, too .

That went so well, I added two more to the mix. The Walt Longmire series by Craig Johnson and the Inspector Gamache series by Louise Penny. I’m surprised to find I like having a variety on hand, and it helps with library choices in case the next one in my queue is checked out.  Yes, I only read them in order and have a spreadsheet to help me keep track.

A word about Inspector Gamache. These are popular books, especially after the TV show Three Pines came out. I’ve checked out the first book, Still Life, at least four times but never read it. I finally said, this is it. Read this book or hide your head in shame forever!

I didn’t like it at first, because I tend to favor mysteries featuring the hard-boiled private investigator. But once I accepted it’s a different subgenre, I calmed down and began to enjoy the book immensely. The writing is so intelligent with spot-on literary and cultural references … but never pretentious. The setting is almost like a cozy mystery, but then there’s plenty of murder and dark despair to go around.

Maybe it was reading about the idylic village of Three Pines, but it seems there’s a hint of fall in the air, and I just want to cook, cook, cook. I love savory pumpkin dishes and have a decent collection of recipes I want to try.  How about creamy kale and pumpkin soup? That sounds great to me. Dale? Kale? Not so much, but he’ll eventually go along for the ride. Or a pumpkin stew with juicy chunks of beef and maybe some curry seasoning.

Sometimes I have to pinch myself. I still get asked, “What do you do all day?” Ha! Nothing and everything.

Travels with crazy

With apologies to John Steinbeck, I’m calling this post Travels with Crazy. I’d like to say I’m not the crazy one, but yeah, it’s me.

Narrow mountain roads terrify me. Well, all mountain roads terrify me. Maybe all roads.

I think it’s a control thing, because I’m way less terrified if I am driving. My husband, Dale, prefers to drive as we scoot about California in our retirement travels. He is not a bad driver, but I’m constantly worried he’s going to do the big dumb thing, and we’re both going to fly off the edge and die.

I don’t like edges.

He does not appreciate my feedback, even the unspoken suggestions such as the air brake – when I, the passenger, mimic squeezing the brake with my right foot because, well, it feels like we’re going too fast.  

Then there’s the passive-aggressive, “Are you OK?” Yes, damn it, he’s fine. Quit asking.

All this as an introduction to one of our upcoming adventures. Dale has a hankering to visit Death Valley in the summer. He thinks that’s when you’re going to see it and feel it as it is meant to be experienced, and I just figure I’ll be that much closer to death.

I booked us for a couple of nights in July at The Inn at Death Valley, which looks stunning. I have no problems hanging out there. Possibly with a cocktail by the pool. Ah, but then there’s the road trip.

Google maps suggests the quickest route from our home is via 395 through the Sierras. And that’s at nearly eight hours. Oh, and 395 has been described as one of the most dangerous highways in California. Beautiful but dangerous, just like some of the women I used to work with.

We have driven part of 395 before, and I was pretty scared, especially when you’re blinded by the sun. Then there’s all the twisty turns, and I just have to close my eyes.

Dale’s like, oh, cool, look over there!

No, no, I cry. Keep your eyes on the road!

Alternatives include I-5 to Bakersfield at about 10 hours or Route 99 through Fresno at just over nine. That’s if you believe Google maps, and there’s no construction, traffic or accidents.

At first I thought we could take 395, and I would pre-medicate. But then if something horrible happens, I would not be able to save us. I think it’s prudent for both parties to be cognizant and ready to drive at all times. Right? Or is that the crazy talking?

Then I thought, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if we broke it up. Maybe spend the night in Mammoth, which I understand can be quite trafficky. That also assumes you add the day at each end of the trip. Dale said maybe on the way there, but he’s ready to make a run for it and get home in one day. Mostly to see the cat, but that’s another issue.

The alternative routes are longer, but they seem safer and less stressful to me. I don’t think the suns shines on the freeway like it does in the mountains. And we could spend a night in Bakersfield. Dale gave me the stink eye on that one, but hey, Merle Haggard, Buck Owens … it was good enough for them.

Then I’m thinking, I don’t know, do cars hold up in the heat? How much extra water would be have to carry in case we get stuck somewhere and wait days or weeks to be rescued? Should we update our wills?

Aside from the logistics, we’d both like to go. We’ve been discussing the trip, and Dale has been quite understanding. The man knows crazy when he sees it. While he’s not riddled with irrational fear, he’s not enthusiastic about a marathon drive, either. So, he has his own doubts.

That’s where we are. Still time to commit, still time to cancel. Call me crazy, but it seems like we’ve been here before.