Pretty good, so far

Sunday morning driving to the stables, blue sky and country music on a practically naked ribbon of freeway. Smugly disdainful of those who choose to stay under their covers and miss this, arriving to a mounting block shining with a frosty sparkle, and horses turning flanks to sunlight, I'm undeniably alive.
A good hour in the saddle; striving, practicing, learning, achieving. No one's cold anymore. We four women appreciate the moment; lit from above, below and within. Ladies glow, horses sweat and steam rises from us all. A collective of satisfaction.
Back home to a well earned lunch, muscles tingling, still smiling introspectively and reliving moments of horse-generated pleasure that are hard won currency in my personal-spirit savings bank.
A nap, without guilt, an obligation to be fresh this evening for a party. I already tried on my outfit, to find a shoe solution. My toes no longer like all of my shoes and I have not yet done a serious triage to remove the ones I will never wear again. I find a green open toe slip on with a minimal heel, just enough that I won't drag my trouser legs around on the floor. I find a peachy nail polish that could be mistaken for seasonal gold and doesn't show my paint-outside-the-lines technique as badly as a darker red would. I like my top, a simple T-shirt style, black and sequined. I get it over my head and unhook the scales that have become entangled with one another, without tearing loose a strand.
Our host and hostess are charming people, although they'll be busy mingling with the guests, who will sparkle and shine throughout the beautifully decorated spaces of the house. Lovely Daughter and her husband have RSVP'd "Yes" to the party this year as well. I'm thrilled, I'll have a chance to chat with them and can escape early, leaving them to bring Husband home, if I start to turn back into a pumpkin before the end.

You never forget the smell of family

Reunited for the first time since being adopted a year ago. Boomer and Darcy, my "Formula One" foster dogs. A combined birthday and reunion party was held at Boomer's house on the coast. There were leis.

There was some time for play

A nice walk in the hills and the humans had a champagne lunch, spending a lot of the 3 hour meal exchanging dog stories.

I was presented with a tiara, from the dogs, which I wore with my pointy party hat. I shall treasure it always and may wear it to work tomorrow. You can barely see it in the picture above, darn it, so look below for a close-up.

I think this qualifies as a "Happy Ending" story.

Multipurpose

Take a dining room that serves as a water-color studio and a breakfast room that usually serves as the dining room but is too small, unless everyone knows one another and doesn't mind squeezing together. Take a friend who has a birthday and deserves to celebrate without doing the work at her house, so you invite a crowd of her friends who you don't really know. The solution, with the help of a couple of folding tables, is to turn the living room into the dining room. Voila!

Cream of watercress soup with French bread, garlic, anchovy butter croutons.

2 Legs of Lamb with Chanterelles mushrooms and rosemary

Belgian Endive Gratin

Quenelle/fingerling potatoes with persillade (chopped garlic and parsley)

Cheese Plate

Chocolate birthday cake (not home made)

A 1989 Epernay vintage champagne brought by a guest and quite a few other nice bottles as well.

Lethal fruit in secret sauce (that jar that gets topped up with all kinds of alcohol and fruit all year long)

There is not a plate or glass in the house that didn't get a work out last night. That was fun! 

Party?

When you go to a New Year's Eve Dinner Party warned in advance that it must start by 6pm, as the other guests don't like to eat late, you are somewhat prepared to lower your expectations for an extended evening of hilarity and celebration.
The combination of designating myself the alcohol-free driver for the evening and the culmination of our swinging good time by 10 pm, (at home and in bed by eleven), meant that I had no trouble getting up this morning; although I was totally wrung out and exhausted by the social efforts of keeping a conversation going at our table of seven souls and containing the almost overwhelming urge to smack the boorish husband of the pale personalitied lady, who was so iron willed about our dinner schedule.
Mr. Retired International Pilot wanted to talk about all his name dropping destinations, which was a good start. Unfortunately, he didn't know anything about anywhere outside of the airports and the names of the hotels he stayed in so we couldn't compare notes on people and places in any depth.
He and our host are avid hockey fans. This I know because an enormous TV screen with endless puck chasing and much whacking of sticks was a part of the ambience. I was able to pull a few factoids I have heard on the news recently about players transferring back to their homelands to be part of the next Winter Olympic go-around. That kept us going for a good three or four minutes and scored me a few points, I would hope.
His wife, a retired nurse, mentioned an interest in bird-watching. I tried to draw her out with questions about her hobby. I reminisced about The Camargue in southern France, where we could watch flocks of swans and flamingoes fly in to feed in the early dawn light. Mr. Pilot wanted to know how many miles that was from Barcelona? Understandable, I suppose, for one from such a large and important World Power. Maybe they didn't point out in pilot school that we Europeans do like to differentiate still between one Country and another.
Our Hostess was busy undercooking our potatoes and wondering if she had marinated the ribs for long enough. As the engine of the Porsche was still ticking down in cooling mode as we walked up the driveway and she had mentioned that they just got back from the grocery store immediately preceding our arrival, one can assume that the question was rhetorical in nature.
Dowager Hostess (her mother) was visiting and in amazingly good form. She's in her mid eighties. In the past twelve months she has overcome a stroke, a broken hip, intestinal surgery and the loss of her son to cancer. Currently working through a fractured clavicle and a lap-burn from spilling hot tea, she didn't chat much but it was a pleasure to see her dig into her food with gusto and burp occasionally by my side.
We lost the company of Host and Pilot Twerp after the meat and potato course. The draw of the sports was too powerful. They did let the two rampaging dogs in for slobber company; just in case we were lonely, or undecided about having our outfits dry cleaned after the Holidays. The dogs were quite amusing without anyone having to say a word but, after several elaborate humping exercises as a sort of floor show, they inspired our hostess to launch into a very detailed poop-scooping anecdote.
My Hubby can be quite entertaining sometimes. There are reasons I keep him around. Not so last night. He remained politely silent as paint-remover grade California red wine was poured into his glass and he ate his meat despite his doubts about a slightly sweet sauce on a savory dish. He did raise one good hockey question but it turned out they weren't playing with two pucks; that was a dead fly stuck on the TV screen.

Coyotes are Party Animals

It seems appropriate to discuss evolution as we celebrate Darwin's birthday. Although far from The Islands of the Galapagos, Silicon Valley may have animals that are at the forefront of their species.

Coyotes are depicted as reticent, shadowy creatures we usually see briefly in failing light. Cartoon animals, unattractive and sneaky.

Our local Coyotes have transformed this image. They throw parties and play games at night on the golf course below our bedroom window. I can't see them but the yipping and chattering and ebullient school-yard noise transmits such naughty humor that I wake up smiling.

Their voices are neither wolf nor dog; tipsy transvestites jostling and laughing is the best description I can come up with.

I am seriously considering some kind of night-vision camera so that I can see as well as hear the fun.