KISSED BY A STRANGER.

Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine lady upon a white horse. Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes.
I woke up this morning, late, with that  nursery rhyme playing through my head, instead of Brown Eyed Girl, or Big Wheels Keep On Turnin’, the loud, jumpin’  music from last night at Cactus Jacks. There is no accounting for the twists and turns of the brain.
It was my intention to stay home New Years Eve, but a neighbor, Jan,  insisted I go with her to the Murphys Hotel. We arrived at 9 p.m. Planned to stay a couple of hours. Myself, Jan and Cynthia got our picture taken by Cynthia’s boyfriend, Dave.
The Murphys Hotel is about 150 years old and has a reputation for being a cowboy bar. But, the cowboys have changed considerably, I noticed.
Jan, the storyteller, regaled Dave with old stories from the hotel’s checkered history.
There was no band, the dance floor is practically non-existent. We danced twice to canned music. The people made it fun, but we all decided to leave the hotel and walk down to Cactus Jacks. The dance floor there is bigger, the band was better and it was jammin’.
Cactus Jack sells shirts called Plan B.
Translation:  After you leave Cactus Jacks and go to the Murphys Hotel,  you’ll come crawling back to Jacks where all the fun is. It was  fun. They don’t have a liquor license, only wine and beer. The grizzly was good, dark and chewy.
People watching is half the game. It was a dance free for all, everybody dancing with everybody.  Nobody obnoxiously drunk.

Some friends, Lianne Smith and her new boy toy popped in. She and others went from party to party. Over the course of the evening, I met old friends, kids, who are no longer kids, who  went to high school with my no longer kids. Then, I met a guy who graduated from the same High School I did, only twenty years later than me.
Cactus Jack provided paper cups of champagne at midnight. And, I got kissed by a stranger.
Anything can happen. It’s a new year. 2012 is here.

MY TOWN

This is my town, where wine is king with twenty-six tasting rooms on Main St. Murphys. As recently as 1969, ranchers were still running cattle down this same street,  kicking the manure off their feet and guzzling a cool one at the Murphys Hotel. When I first moved here rents were so cheap and business so slow,  two guys paid $25 a month and opened up The Office. They weren’t selling anything, they just invited people in to chat.

Now you can enjoy a champagne reception…

…or buy sophisticated, pricey goods without going all the way to San Francisco. Old timers, now gone,  would be agog at the changes. But the charm is in the mix.

You can just as readily stop by the Spice Tin and chat with Coach Shultz and enjoy a roasted chestnut, or…
sit around the coffee roaster, enjoy the wood fire,  and play checkers with your brew and sweet roll.

My friend Margo Osborn, (right) walked the streets with me for Murphys Annual Open House, always held the first Friday in December.   I like to run into old friends. We stopped to say hello to Cathy Courtright.

We started late and didn’t get to every business, but we did see seven places that had live music.

We stopped to see an Itsy Bitsy Art Show, where you can lounge around and study the pieces.

I liked this matched set of posters with  predominant colors, red and yellow.

As you move from place to place, if you get cold, you can warm your hands or feet at one of several fire rings. A new feature this year.

The breezeway at Newsom Harlow had their own fireplace and live music for folks enjoying a bite to eat with their wine.

Someone at Twisted Oak tasting room set out creative lights.
Local kids practiced their Christmas music. I heard bells, and carolers and music at every turn.

No where else will you see candles like these. The glass jar is hand decorated to hold a special candle. When it burns, you can buy a refill for your beautiful jar. A local invention.

Appealing  rag-dolls for two cute little girls. (And, I only have grand sons.)

The best eats on the street, apple dumplings and cider, chocolate or wine at Tanners.

Peace, the best Christmas gift we can have.

DISCOVERY

We are at Turtle Bay-Fish Camp on the San Joaquin River in Manteca, a short day trip from Murphys. Jim left about 10:00 a.m. yesterday while I stayed to supervise a total revamp on my sprinkling systems. My goal was to finish up early and join him. It turned into one of those frazzling experiences when just as the day was done, I stepped out of the shower to a ringing telephone. A tenant called explaining she had no electricity in her house. Flipping the breakers didn't solve the problem and my usual electrician wasn't answering his phone on a Sunday night, naturally. Eventually, we got the problem resolved and I drove to Turtle Bay in the dark, wondering why I didn't just stay home until morning.

The motor home is an escape for me and I slept like a log, stayed in bed until 7:00 a.m. and in general let the tensions drift away. Then, I discovered, that Jim, who I might have accused of not having a romantic bone in his body, dressed in a blue shirt and blue shorts and reminded me that those clothes were the clothes he wore when he met me. He told me what I wore. Hmmm!
We proceeded to the restaurant where we met a year earlier. I honestly don't remember dates or anniversaries or what in the devil I wore.
I do remember that he drove from Morgan Hill and I drove from Murphys to a Highway Cafe about equal distance from both of us, in Tracy. He repeated what we talked about, how many hours (5) we stayed and talked, well, you get the picture.

When we returned from lunch, a chilled bottle of champagne was waiting for us in the refrigerator. I can never acuse him of being unromantic again, just because he doesn't like poetry.
October 26th, a new partner, a new life style, a new year, ramblin' and bloggin' around the United States.
Salud!

Rummaging Through The Year

The mind has a way of flashing from subject to subject. That agility is envious when one is applying memory to the task. What challenge for memory than rummaging over the previous year searching for kernels of significance and, woe be me, those kernels were scant or sorrow filled as in niece Kim's untimely death and the loss of dear friends from long ago; the economy affecting people we love negatively. Some years are like that, only the mundane moves you from point A to point B. Then, something wonderful happened, Jim Jaillet rambled into my life. Significance? Unknown!
For the time being, such a major distraction takes on a disproportional importance and I must ask forgiveness if I overburden everyone with my current passion. But, you will have to admit he has great power to make me laugh as he squeezes the last drop of New Year's champagne from the bottle. We share date shakes after visiting a date farm. We had a date with dates?

MERRY CHRISTMAS ONE AND ALL

Yuma Indians are the Quechen's. They have a modern casino and a not so modern church. But, we all know the Reason For The Season. We decided to visit the Yuma Indian Church and we found a charming little Creche nearby on their site on a hill above Yuma where you can look down on the Imperial Valley with field upon field of lettuces, kale, spinach cabbages, cauliflower and date palms.
They were Christianized many years ago but they have a large surviving population here in Yuma. The city is heavily Hispanic and Indian. The Mexican people are very friendly and musical and also very Chatholic. The Mexican people like their music with a strong beat and very loud. They love festivals and occasions to party. We picked up fresh home made tamales at the Arts Center in old town Yuma for Christmas plus we bought the ingredients for the Meat Pies and a bottle of champagne. The music of Christmas is magical as is the season. Merry Christmas to all.