TOURIST IN YOUR OWN TOWN.

I feel fortunate that I have a friend who not only brings me brownies, but will, at the merest suggestion, drive me downtown Murphys where we pretend to be tourists. That is Jan Stewart. Always ready to seize the day.

I hadn’t been to Hovey’s tasting room in ages, nor had I seen this clever sign.

Inside I was pleased and surprised by the variety of craft beers they support. The public likes wine but they also like good beer.

Another sign drew us into Frog’s Tooth, a wine I’d never sampled.

At 10:00 a.m. neither of us were in the mood for wine tasting, but they had a barrel full of good reds to be had for $12 a bottle.

Of course, because of Mark Twain, frogs are a prominent feature in Calaveras County, but what I liked here is the warmth and friendliness of the staff. A very inviting atmosphere.

This customer is wearing a shirt from a tasting room in  an old school-house, I believe she said in Grass Valley. It reflects the grammar school punishment of writing on the black board over and over again, I Promise Not To Hit Tommy, or some such. Cute.

Town was loaded with motorcycles, all coming for the “Jumps”, as they relate to the Calaveras Fair and Frog Jumping Jubilee. Nationally famous after its small beginnings. I remember a picture of Little Flower, Governor LaGuardia who attended the Jumps as fascination with jumping a frog spread far and wide.

Both bikers, the guy on the left hugged Jan and said,”I know you!”  He is her chimney sweep. His buddy said, “If anybody had told me I’d be a biker with multiple tattoos on my body, I’d have said yer crazy.” I had to laugh to find they are locals from Murphys. Tourists just like us.

I liked this gal’s leathers and took a picture and she said, “No, no. You caught me with a phone and I’m constantly pushing people I know to put their damned phone away and look up.”  So, she posed for me on her bike.

Creative. Guess we can call her Spider Woman, and, by the way, she is from Murphys.

She looked askance at the big hogs lining the street and said, “If one of these guys tips his bike over, he will not be able to pick it up by himself.”  We concluded they are for show and pride of ownership as well as performance.

There were some out-of-towners.

I wanted a picture of this guy’s curled mustache because it reminded me of Joe Cardoza, a former neighbor and local character who grew his curled and waxed mustache about seven inches long for the local Whiskerino Contest. He had too much to drink and went for a haircut. Jack, the barber was a known prankster and cut half of his mustache off, I expect with Joe’s consent. I thought it was cruel, even so.

There were street musicians.

The Murphys Hotel hired a band. The courtyard was packed with people eating, enjoying the music and even getting up to dance in the tight space around the musicians.

A couple local vets told us they placed 400 flags on veteran graves with Memorial Day coming up. They do it every year.

Among  those who served I knew Norm Tanner and a couple others. Norm was a good friend to my husband. I’ll be sure to remember those close to me who were vets; I may not get to a grave, but there will be a knot in my heart has I put out the flag on my deck.

GOOD NEWS AND BEER.

I’m headed once more to the Northern California Spine Institute and will be off-blog for awhile. But, before I go, I’ve always known that good news is invigorating and puts one in a happier frame of mind. So, double good news I read, is that beer is good for me. It actually strengthens bones. The barley and hops are a good source of the mineral silicon. (Never heard of it.) The type of silicon in beer is orthosilicic acid, which is an easy way for bones to absorb it. Yay!  Drink more beer. Well, not too much. For a woman, anyway, maybe one a day if I could actually get that much down. Maybe I’ll turn into a fatty.

I saw this funny bit of doggerel on-line and couldn’t resist putting out for laughs.

The Dr. Seuss mimic is humorous, but I find his gold plated seat belts in his private plane pretty off-putting. Surely there are better uses for wealth than that.

In FDR’s day, the president was limited to transportation that cost no more than $750. I wonder how a new president would deal with a limit on his transportation funds?

Ciao.

GIRLS AND BEER.

I am very ambivalent about birthdays. I don’t celebrate my own, nor others, normally. Other people remember mine. I often don’t. But, Margo on the right, was also not celebrating her birthday, but here we are having a birthday get together for Margo. Basically just an excuse to have a girls night out. Amanda, on the left, is new in town and works at Quyle pottery. A new Brewery in town, we decided to try their beers. But, check out the glasses, Amanda’s glass is tall, Margo has a mug.

Pam and I each have a heavy “brandy” style glass?  Beats me. We ordered a taster and my favorite beer is Black Butte Porter. This brewing company doesn’t make a porter, but their stout was excellent and the rest of their beers were too. Glad we went, but, just a pass on the food. So, go for the beer.

Pam Quyle runs a pottery in Murphys that started with her parents 61 years ago. We’ve been long time friends and Pam decided we will have dinner at my house in February. She is the organizer so, now I know what kind of beer everyone likes. February it is. Maybe we’ll  not celebrate another birthday if we can find a friend born in February? I gave Margo the best card. We’re all single. On the front it reads, “I was trying to find a man for you.” On the inside it read, “But, why get something so useless.”

I know, its bad. I was the fourth recipient of that card. I scratched my name out and put in Margo’s. It’s a girl thing. It went well with the beer.

GRAPE STOMP AND BIRTHDAY DINNER.

I thought it was very nice that Grape Stomp was put on for my birthday. It is always a fun time. I approached from the East end of Murphys, the first stop at Hovey’s tasting room. The old Victorian sits on a huge quarter acre lawn, and people, me too, were attracted by the music. This group was dressed for Halloween.

The musician, Gail Warren. I’ve heard her play before and she has amazing licks and phrases that make her music distinctive and complex. I asked if she had a CD. No!

I love listening to her and her repertoire is varied from hard rock, soul, gospel, jazz, pop, you name it, she does it.

Because she is all over the map when she pauses and lifts, her drummer, Eddie Castro, interprets her every nuance and intuitively hesitates when she does.

Some listen and some like to get up and dance, grass didn’t stop them.

I’ve gone on and on about Gail, but I expect to see her name in national recognition some day.

From there, I hit the street to look into the booths to see if someone was selling something I couldn’t live without. This, from a person trying to down size. This guy was called the money man. He was selling rusting metal sculptures. I resisted.

I’m always impressed with someone’s ability to creatively change an unwanted object into something people will pay for, like these former golf clubs.The street fair has over 100 booths, so there is a lot to choose from.

This little girl was delighted with her newly acquired purple gecko. Her brother had a fuzzy dog bouncing on a leash. Her dad said it was okay to take her picture.

And here was Jimmy Heryford selling beer in front of the Native Sons Hall for the benefit of the hall. And, every so often, someone would bank this huge gong. Never did figure out why? I was sorry I’d eaten lunch before I went. I usually find great street food and a beer.

People seemed to be avoiding this booth because the dog was taller than the table. Kind of intimidating to some.

This woman had her own wine on ice on the back of her bike. I asked her if she was selling. “No”, she said, “If you have a glass I’ll pour you some.”  Neat lady. People are such a trip. Town was loaded, heavier crowds than I’ve ever seen before.

I walked to the park and it was mobbed. Everyone was standing in line or eating and drinking what they stood in line for.

But the main event is the grape stomp.The teams come from all over to compete. The initial competition has 10 barrels, and each team stomps 25 lbs. of grapes. The winner of each heat, one every half hour, goes to the finals.

The crowds cheer on their teams.

It is a messy and juicy affair. I stood quite a distance and still got a small splatter on my shoes.

The stomper stays relatively clean compared to the juicer. I don’t know if this couple won the heat, but they worked hard, laughed a lot and if they get to the finals, they have to stomp 50 pounds of grapes. Fun.

I went home and got ready for dinner. Ken and Laurie took us to Alchemy. They were busy, busy, busy with so many people in town.

Everything you eat here is good. Jim ordered a half boneless chicken…

Laurie and I had the seafood pad thai. Delicious.

Ken likes ribs. They have good beers, too, though I can’t recall the name of the beer we drank. And, they brought us a decadent dessert to share because it was my birthday.

I’ve wanted to blog the beautiful coffee table Laurie painted for me. She is soooo talented. Everyone helped me move the furniture around so the table is really a display piece. I’m going to get a glass top for it. It matches all my other Egyptian stuff and I’m just thrilled with it. I picked up the table at a yard sale years ago with the idea to paint it with an Egyptian theme but she has a talent that I don’t have. I love it!

 

 

BLACKBERRIES TRUMP RAIN.

Windows you cannot see out of greeted our morning, but Jim wanted to go to Mt. Vernon and find blades for his razor and pick up some drug store type items while I stayed and did some computer projects with a sloooow signal.

The rain lightened up and since I don’t melt, I decided to pick some blackberries we had scouted out the night before. I came back drenched but triumphant. And, I caught Jim  by cell and requested he bring home vanilla ice cream. Made a great lunch. My container filled six berry baskets.

I had mail to pick up at Anacortes Post Office, so we stopped at the Eagles for a beer before the Farmers Market opened. New friend, Johnny, claimed he stopped the rain just for us. Anacortes Erie is one of the friendliest clubs. Johnny told me he is a full-blooded Quinault Indian and he had great stories to tell.

The market opened at 4 o’clock and the first thing I saw was round eggplants…

…white eggplants…

…and varigated eggplants. I love buying them just because they look beautiful in my fruit bowl. And, I like eating eggplant, though Jim doesn’t touch the stuff. I bought the odd ones I’d never seen before.

Everything is so fresh and beautiful. I bought carrots, lettuce, tomatoes and peaches. I love farmer’s markets.

Another thing I like about the markets is the food. There were ten different dinner plates you could buy, different types of Mexican, Greek and salads. Another booth featured grilled sausages and hamburgers. At this stand a woman sold nothing but corn on the cob. If you like, she dresses it with whipped cream and cheddar cheese,  or chili. We were planning on a veggie burger at the Eagles and neither of us were hungry at that point.

A young musician serenaded the shoppers next to a “cafe” area of tables and chairs for people to sit and enjoy the food and music. Only one person was eating. It was only about 4:30.

The pecan tart looked tempting.

Home baked, the woman told me she makes her blackberry tart with a strong egg yolk crust and a crumble top. The desserts go before the entree  food offerings. I wonder why that is?

Flowers, at $5 a bloom can be like this one,  the size of your head.

The colors and size just knock you out.

My friend Pam gave me a foldable vase for the Motor Home, but space is limited and we only used it once. If the weather was nice, I could put a bloom on our outdoor table when we stay in one place for a week.

We went back to the Eagles and it turned out they were having a big barbeque this weekend, grilled silver salmon,chicken or ribs with home-made pies. They canceled their regular dinners to prepare the big feast. They suggested the Island Cafe close by. We passed this picture of Rudy Malland, Banjo King, father of Bev Malland, a good friend of Jim’s. He loves Anacortes and claims if he had to park and live permanently some place, this would be his choice.

When we returned to the motor home, the tide had just come in next to our camping spot.

A could see a light blanket of fog coming in too, and within ten minutes the whole area, including the camp grounds, was swallowed in mist.

 

 

 

 

MY FIRST DUTY HOME

I love being on the road. And, I had to come home, but my first duty home was to stop by my local grocery and grab a six-pack of Black Butte Porter. I was only out for a short stay but a girl’s gotta have access to a decent dark, chewy, hoppy beer once in awhile.  (Jim calls it motor oil.) Even the stores where we shopped didn’t have a decent craft beer I could buy.

Another thing they didn’t have was an olive bar. Those little French picholines, dark green, spiced Scicilians, Greek, kalamatas,  Spanish sevillanos, luccas, manzanillos,  yummmy.

My trip home was smooth. My cameras was deep in my carry on and I didn’t take pictures from the plane, but the rice fields and canals and flooded fields from the air, gave the impression there is no water shortage in California. All the lakes and reservoirs had yellow soil lines showing how low the levels are. We had never heard of a 500 year drought record until this year. Now we know what it is like. Summer in winter. Not good. So little snow. Time to deepen my well.  Get ready to pay higher food prices as the drought continues.

A group of Churches and faith healers are up on a nearby  peak as I write to send up prayers for rain today. I’m not a believer in such things, but I don’t oppose the effort. Jim’s son is quite willing to send some snow our way, but, as we know that doesn’t work either. Time to move to Alaska, but they don’t have olive bars or BBP there. Whatsa girl to do?