Drove over to the library to return a book. Their email said I would have to purchase the book if I didn’t return it soon. I’d forgotten I had it. That motivated me. But their bark is stronger than their bite. They just wanted to get my attention, and it worked. Pick up their monthly calendar for Weekly Activities and Book Club Selections. There are only four days in September where there isn’t at least one program or offering.
Exiting the building was my friend, Joe, aka Honey Badger. “Hey Sarah, are you going to the salsa contest?” He said. “I didn’t know about it.” “Go inside, there’s still 15 minutes left. Don’t postpone joy!” He admonished.
I’ve always loved salsa, even took lessons at one point and pretty well mastered the hip rotation moves. Peeking into the Dona Benicia Room, I didn’t see the dancers, only long tables with people eating. “Where are the salsa dancers?” I asked a guy in a Costco tee shirt. Then it dawned on me that this wasn’t about dancing. It was the Library’s “Salsa Cook-Off.” “Is your salsa the best? Prove it and sign up to be a contestant,” the flyer read. Tortilla chips and a judge were provided by Chico’s Taqueria in Solano Square.
The categories were “Hottest,” “Best Overall,” and “Sweetest.” Kids rushed for one last taste. Moderator Geoff Jacobs announced the winners by number — all anonymous. The maker of the “Hottest Sauce” was the top choice. Wish that I could name the winners, but it was a secret ballot. Congratulations whoever you are!
Was sorry to leave town and miss the Camel Barn Sale. My sister and I had donated a lot of good stuff, some from Paris flea markets, so were excited to see what else they had, despite our continuing intentions to downsize.
Am celebrating a big birthday all year by visiting old friends in their native habitats. This week it was friends in Aptos, Carmel, and Monterey.
Arlene and Chuck, former Sacramento colleagues, met me in the bar at Clint’s place — the Carmel Mission Ranch Inn for drinks and dinner. I had been told years ago that the piano bar is where all of the over 70-year-olds go to pick each other up, which I thought was sweet and funny at the time. Now it doesn’t seem as funny. Professional singers, retired from show biz belted out show tunes — Phantom of the Opera, Cabaret, Memories. I loved it for about an hour and a half and then Chuck said, “I can’t take it anymore. I can’t hear myself think,” and we moved to the outside deck. Ahhh, we could hear the waves crashing off Pt. Lobos, and I thought I heard an owl.
Some big changes in Carmel Village. My go-to galleries next to the Carmel Art Association are gone and instead is a huge hole in the ground. Called “The Pit” — it’s been that way for six years. Two of my favorite plein air painters have closed their galleries. Trotter Gallery, Karges, and Carmel Fine Arts continue to show the best of Early California Impressionists, one of the few categories that hasn’t dropped in value since 2008.
“You must see our Gallery and Museum in Pacific Grove,” Paula Trotter said. I drove over.
This place is a revelation! If you like the early Carmel/Monterey area painters and writers, you will be overwhelmed by the collections. Each artist and writer has their own display area with their original art, books, clippings, personal letters, photos, journals, catalogs, palettes, and more. They have artist Jo Mora’s saddle and cowboy boots and John Steinbeck’s typewriter with one of his letters in it. You could spend hours there, which I did. TerryTrotter is welcoming and passionate about his creation and gives tours. trottergalleries.com
My friend Steve and I became good buddies way back in the day when we thought we could get rich by becoming court reporters. The trade school on the old Sacramento Fairgrounds was funky and strange. The cafeteria was staffed by former prisoners learning food service. We were afraid to ask for seconds. They also had an upholstery training facility. What a deal. I had my couch and all of my other furniture upholstered for free.
Toward the end of our two-year course, we were assigned to cover a deposition. Nervous about the gig, we lost it when the witness turned out to have a major speech impediment. What was he saying? We threw up our hands, asked for a break, and rushed outside, simultaneously and repeatedly shouting a four letter word. Afterwards, when we read our notes, we knew we were in trouble. Steve’s notes said the guy was guilty and mine said he wasn’t. Our futures looked bleak. We both dropped out, shortly thereafter.
My friends have turned an older home located in a rhododendron and fern filled canyon into a showplace. The kitchen is a knockout. Eschewing the common subway tiles, they have installed bright turquoise glass tile splashes and black soapstone counters. “When my mother was getting ready to remodel her kitchen and she was in her eighties, we were considering backsplashes,” Steve said. Mom, have you considered subway tile?” He asked.
“I don’t want any tile in my kitchen that’s been urinated on, ” she snapped.
Despite their art, collections, family antiques, and other objets d’art, it is an acquisition in the bathroom which Rick prizes the most. Had just used the facilities and felt like I was flying first class. Warm comfortable seat, flashing lights, self flush.
“I love my Toto toilet.” Rick said. “When I go on vacation I miss it. I love it more than my dog. If the house is on fire it would be the Toto I would take.” He was recently gifted with a portable version for travel.
Judy, a dear friend from the 1970s lives in a gorgeous house in Aptos with a view of a huge old growth oak tree, organic strawberry fields, and the Monterey Bay. We drove up to Seacliff Inn and walked down the steep, leafy road to the beach. Spectacular! Low clouds hung over the gray sea as we walked over white sand, and broken shells. I let the tide catch me as I lifted my skirt and felt the cold white foam rush over my feet. Back at the house, a power outage was a welcome surprise as we lit candles and a fire and watched the fog roll in.
Letters From Benicia 