Thanksgiving in Grass Valley

I've had Thanksgiving with the same group of friends now more than 20 years - yes, 20 freakn' years! We called ourselves the Thanksgiving Orphans because we were all, for the most part, some distance from our families. So we decided we would be our own voluntary family. In the twenty years that have passed most of us magically became families of our own.


Getting the meal started; 2 tables, no waiting

Adan, Mark and Diego (who is eating a green bean, not a green worm)
This year we gathered in Grass Valley, and damn me if I didn't forget to take a group shot. So I only have the odd shot. Our feast was a collaborative effort.

Mark : juicy, brine-soaked style Tom Turkey (brined by Mark, baked by G.H.) & loads of great wine, all made or gathered by Mark (the little not-so-old winemaker). Of interest, at one point after the turkey had been in the oven for two hours, it was noticed that the oven wasn't turned on, but that was quickly rectified & the day saved;

Fran: Delish cranberry/orange relish and her world renowned 'Yammies': pineapple ring, topped with mashed yam, cranberries and a mini-marshmallow. How did I miss the opportunity to photograph the yammies???

Rick & Nancy: yummy, buttery mashed potatoes, fresh sauteed green beans with almonds, and Italian style salad made with loads of lettuces (butter lettuce, romaine, etc), mozzarella balls, black olives, tomato and tender hearts of artichoke. *drool*

Adan (son of R & N): It was stunning how rapidly he whipped up tasty veggie fare on the spur of the moment, using what bits and bobs he could nick on the fly; vegetarian apple/mushroom gravy and stuffing (for those mindful of not eating our furry/feathered brethren).

Me: stuffing and mushroom laden gravy, (chock full of our furry/feathered brethren)

So we ate all of the above, and frankly, more pies, in more variety than our waistlines will admit to.

Ellie, Nancy, Fran and G.H., ready to dig in

Dinner was a wonderful, and sort of a medieval feast, not because we threw the bones over our shoulders (naw, but I did think about it) but because we had three happy dogs and one puppy romping around during the meal; Spencer (big-arse Newfoundland type), Tippy (bassenji/sighthound cross, sort of, maybe, who-the-hell-knows), Landau (beautiful blue merle Aussie Shepard) and the puppy Rebel, also an Aussie. the other, less delightful highlight was the toaster oven bursting into flames when MY bagel was toasting - bugger.

Rebel, just rescued after falling into the puddle pond

Rebel's batteries went dead rather abruptly
Everyone, save for Crystal and her hubby, stayed the night. Next day we were sort of pie-laden and slow so the day was spent playing Bananagram (free range Scrabble). So much for our usual window shopping in downtown Grass Valley.


Rick (center) with his boys, Adan (L) and Diego (R)
All in all it was a lovely Thanksgiving. Hope all of my friends/family enjoyed one every bit as cosy as mine.

Must Mention

For years my house has had the nickname of Chez Claire, in the manner of an elegant Bed & Breakfast, as run by 'moi', a less-than-elegant harpy. In that light, when company is feared - I mean, expected -I normally ask for their preference in beverages, snacks,etc. I don't ask because I fear their needs might not be met otherwise. I ask because it makes my life easier; I get to buy one item instead of five because I'm second guessing preferences. Anyway! Last week when Barbara was here at Chez Claire, she referred to my house as 'Chez Claire Asylum'. We thought that was quite the knee slapper.

So, skip to last weekend. Don was here, and as I stated in my last post, my home was not in tip-top condition for company. When I woke Sunday morning, Don was in the dining room reading the Sunday paper, sipping freshly brewed coffee and eating a freshly toasted bagel - none of which had been supplied by 'moi'!

Don had risen early and sallying forth, he fetched his own breakfast & newspaper. So much for the sterling reputation of Chez Claire as an A class establishment.

Mon Dieu! Take-out repast at Le elegant Chez Claire?
Plopping down at my dining room table, I muscled in on my share of Don's breakfast - a pumpernickel bagel - my favorite - and store-bought coffee. I was a bit repentant. I sheepishly commented that Chez Claire failed Don on two visits in a row, and my elegant establishment is in danger of losing that elusive Michelin star we haven't quite gotten hold of yet, an unfortunate oversight, I assure you.... I promised Don, if he ever to visit again, Chez Claire would do better.

Don pushed aside my feeble, bagel fueled apologies. He said, "That's all right, I really needed a break from all the stress of work and home. I'm I'm enjoying myself at your little 'B&B'. I'm having a good time here - at Chez Claire's Home for the Mentally Weary.'

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

Ok, those weren't Don's exact words, but what he said closely echoed those from Barbara last week. So, it's official; need some recooperative R&R? Have a bit too much stress in your life and need some quiet R & R for your brittle nerves? Then put in for your visit to Les Chez Claire Assylum. We come highly recommended.

Mini-retirement Flying By

Blast! How can two weeks fly by that fast, without me getting neck whiplash?

Oh well. Got nothing done this weekend, but it was fun anyway. Birder buddy Don came in late Friday night. I was totally unprepared for company - La Chez Claire at its worse. The unassembled cabinet sprawled across the living room, cardboard everywhere, dishes piled high in the sink and me - unsure how things went to hell so fast without even a hand basket to show for it.

Still, we had fun. Saturday morning we headed east to Ice House Road to look for Mountain Quail and found none. Bugger. Then we headed for Markleeville in search of Pinion Jays, and found even less than none - but had a lovely little lunch at one of the tiny town's cafes. The big birder highlight was finding an American Dipper, bobbing it's bum along a Sierra Mountain stream. The bird was so far away it was like watching a ping-pong ball out for a swim - still, I was tickled that Don had managed to find the bird - only the second Dipper I've ever seen. This is astounding when one considers how often I've searched Sierra Streams without finding any Dippers. In future when visiting Sierra streams will just look for grey ping-pong balls & hope for the best.

Yes, I know, the bird is not much to look at, but
Dippers 'walk' under waterNow how cool is that? photo by Robin
We did hit one hot spot for birds, near a high mountain meadow where Mountain Chickadees, Clark's Nutcrackers (score!), Nuthatches and Brown Creepers & every jay, save for the ones we looked for, shot through fir & pine trees. Lastly, we drove into Nevada state, looking for Black-billed Magpies - suspiciously absent.

The day came to a splendid end when we returned to my house, then darted out again to Davis. We saw Man of La Mancha, the third of the Davis Musical Theater Company's season productions. I think it may have been their best yet. The staging was impressive - the Spanish Inquisition Jail with a humongous staircase that lowered periodically so evil guards could access their terrified prisoners.

In the lobby, before the play began I noticed the lead's photo on the list of cast members. He was Asian, and when a young Asian man is cast as an elderly Spanish man, you know, like Smucker's, he's got to be good! And yes, he was wonderful, his voice was rich. Also great was Quixote's adorable & fat squire Sancho and of course, Dulcinea was bedraggled and sweet. Damn. I wish my description of musicals could match my bird descriptions, but there you go. If the musicals want my full praise, singing is not enough, they had better sprout feathers too.