Much to Give Thanks For

It's been quite a week.

A whirlwind visit Down South gave me a special opportunity to spend several days with younger daughter Nasreen, something that almost never happens. We did a bit of shopping, some fine dining and a lot of relaxed visiting. I totally enjoyed it. Knowing how much her mom enjoys fresh flowers, she had some waiting for me. I couldn't resist taking photos of them.

I also got the chance to reunite with two friends whom I hadn't seen since high school/college years. We found each other on Facebook and decided to catch up with a bit of each other's lives. Betty and Lowell have been married over 40 years (and theirs is the only wedding I have ever been in). I loved seeing them--and well as the booklet prepared at the last San Gabriel High School reunion. I have never been to any of the reunions and--based on the fact that Betty was one of three people I recognized--I won't be going to any future ones either.

Then on Tuesday evening, Farida, Jason and Hunter arrived for their Thanksgiving visit with Nasreen, Grams, O'Bob, O'Dad, Rich, Dylan and Andy in Trabuco Canyon. Since I'd thought we'd be waving to each other as I traveled north and they went south, it was wonderful surprise to get to spend a night and a bit of the next morning with them.

The drive back to the Central Valley featured a lack of major traffice (a blessing since Farida, et. al, spent some time in bumper-to-bumper traffic the night before), so I made good time and had a chance to regroup and get ready for Thanksgiving at ECCO.

I can only speak for myself, but even though Thanksgiving is definitely a day of work for ECCO employees, it's also a wonderful opportunity to see friends who come to spend the holiday with us. We hosted folks who traveled from Bakersfield in the south, Chico in the north and the Bay Area to the west as well.

An Exploritas group of 18 arrived on Monday to begin their Thanksgiving a bit early. Participants from Minnesota, Massachusetts, Nebraska, Colorado and various parts of California enjoyed classes in Yosemite natural history with instructor Shirley Spencer, a field trip to Yosemite Valley (replete with lunch at the grand Ahwahnee Hotel). They followed that the next day with a tour of the Wawona Hotel in the company of musician/historian Tom Bopp.

Although the group was smaller than in years past, I think all would agree that it was a gala celebration.

A select few stayed over for our third Artists' Creative Weekend, and we spent a quiet few days pursuing whatever activity we chose.

It was a terrific week/weekend.

Beautiful Face

The old saying is "you can't go home again." Maybe you can't, but sometimes the Universe offers you a chance to recapture a little bit of magic from times past.

That happened for me yesterday when I got to enjoy a two-hour visit with a friend I hadn't seen or talked to in a long, long time.

Pam tells me we worked together some 23 years ago. You couldn't prove it by me, and it doesn't matter. As we talked and talked, the years drifted away . . . and it was as if we'd seen each other just yesterday. We reminisced about good times and not-so-great, picking up where we'd left off so long ago.

What a blessing to have an opportunity to refresh a long-cherished friendship. I hope it will be the first of many times to come that we'll be able to catch up on each other's lives and families.

I love you, Pam Hundley! I'm so glad you're back in my life.

The House Horse

This post really should belong on Nature's Heart, my photoblog. It would be there, too, if the subject in question would cooperate with me.

Since I moved to Yosemite Lakes Park and began commuting to ECCO "the back way," via Road 415, I've been watching something that brightens my day. I can't help but laugh.

The first time I saw the House Horse, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Traffic on Road 415 travels pretty fast, especially at my commute hours, so I had no opportunity for more than a quick glance.

"Was that a horse at the front door?" I asked myself.

After that first glimpse, I kept my eyes peeled every time I rounded the curve. Sure enough, often the horse would be right at the door.

"Let me in!" it seemed to plead.

At other times, it would be completely out of sight. (Inside the house, perhaps?)

The house in question is actually a small concrete-block structure accompanied by a couple of outbuildings on a tiny plot of land, all enclosed within a chain link fence. I've never seen a residence which was so freely shared with its hooved companions. Rather than having the horse and his doggy pal enclosed in a separate enclave, they have free run of the property within that confined space. It's all quite civilized and friendly, it seems.

Friend Kaye Duncan of Portland, OR, makes a habit out of photographing the ordinary and making it look extraordinary. She produces gorgeous photos of carrots and lettuce, exercise balls, dog frisbees at the Dollar Store and more. Over the months that I've been watching her Flickr pages, I've really tried to hone my photographic skills and attempted refine my ability to pick out those little moments she captures so well. The House Horse fits that category for me, so I've taken to carrying my camera daily, watching for opportunities to catch him in his favorite spot.

So far I've had no luck. When the coast is clear for me to pull over to take a shot, the horse is not to be seen. A couple of times he's been in position, but another car was right on my tail, and I couldn't stop. During inclement weather I've noticed there's more of a chance the horse will seek shelter on the porch, so I try to be especially watchful under those conditions.


That involves keeping an eagle eye out for his whereabouts as I negotiate the curve preceding his house, watching traffic behind me so I don't get rear-ended. If the subject is in position, I have to whip off the road into the miniscule pulloff just beyond the house--and hope the horse's human friends don't see me. I'm afraid they'll think I'm a really sloppy private eye spying on them.


Finally, after a month or two of this active surveillance, the stars aligned, traffic was light and the horse cooperated. Or so I thought. I tried to be as quiet as possible as I tiptoed from the car to the fence, camera in hand. (There's no possibility of a telephoto shot because of the chain link.) All was going well, except that I didn't bargain on how socialized that darn horse is. The dog barked, but the horse ambled toward me--obviously expecting an apple or a sugar cube or a carrot.

Curses. Foiled again. I jumped in the car and sped off, determined to try again another day.

I refuse to give up. The next time I see the horse's humans out and about, I'm going stop and talk to them. I'll  let them in on my plan. Hopefully they'll understand why I'm sneaking around their fence, camera in hand, trying to catch the House Horse unawares. After all, a horse is just a horse unless I can catch him on the porch . . . proving that he's the House Horse.

Hopefully I can update this post in the near future.

Way Outside My Comfort Zone

When I began working at ECCO, it took quite a while for me to get really comfortable even making routine announcements during our Exploritas (Elderhostel) programs. Now it's like water off a duck's back. No problem at all. Give me a microphone, and I'm all over it. A ham was born.

Appearing on Spanish-language television to talk about visitor opportunities in Eastern Madera County is another story entirely.

Jarrod Lyman of the Yosemite Sierra Visitors' Bureau obviously caught me in a moment of weakness. I was trying to recuperate from the cold and cough that has plagued me for the last month and resurfaced with a vengeance last week. I didn't even argue with him when he asked if I'd consider going with him to tape a Univision program about a press release he'd just published.

It's a good thing the appearance took place only a day and half after he'd asked me. If I'd had more time to think about it, I'd definitely have found a way to beg off.

I would have folded for sure if he'd told me it was going to require me to talk for 30 minutes, about a variety of the venues in our area who are offering autumn/winter specials. I'd AS*umed it'd be a five-minute spot, at most, and I could muddle through that, no problem. The last time I had to carry on a 30-minute conversation in Spanish was in 1993 when I helped to extricate a body from a police morgue in Mexico City. But that's another story for another time.

What Jarrod didn't know was that I had a killer cough that would erupt without warning. I'd kept it pretty much under control until we got to the television station. Sandy, the young lady, who'd booked the appearance, led us to the studio where the spot would be taped and offered us the opportunity to watch the episode currently being filmed.

"Just please be as quiet as possible," she cautioned as she opened the door for us.

As soon as we sat down, I knew I was in trouble. I tried to stifle the cough for as long as possible then had to make a mad (but silent) dash out of the room to erupt in a coughing fit. I couldn't stop. Jarrod found me some water, and one of the studio hands rounded me up a cough drop.

It helped. For about five minutes.

In all, I made three quick exits even before it was our turn to tape. I'm sure the show's host was wondering how either of us was going to get through the segment.

To their immense credit, the staff of Univsion, from the host to the camera people to the studio hands couldn't have been nicer. The host was careful to phrase her questions so they were pretty easy to answer--and she bailed me out more than once when the right word just wouldn't come to mind. I'm sure I said the same thing over and over, though. The cameraman fixed me up with two bottles of water, surreptitously hidden from the camera's view. The host assured me it wasn't the end of the world if I had to cough.

"It's a natural thing," she said.

The thirty minutes flew by with amazing speed.

"That must have been about 15 minutes," I told Jarrod. "They must have allowed for commercials."

"No, it was a full 30 minutes," he replied. "And you made it through almost to the end before you had to cough."

The host was so friendly, so accommodating, so interested, that she made the whole interview much less than the ordeal I'd anticipated.

"I'll even do it again if you want," I told Jarrod afterward. "I'll even do it in ENGLISH."

He shook his head. "No, if it'd been in Engllish, *I* would have done it."

Ah, shucks. My budding television career shot down before it even got started!

You owe me, Jarrod, and don't think I'll forget it!

It's a Miracle!

She may not believe it, but Pam has crossed my mind many times over the years.

Pam was one of the employees at the TV repair business Abid and I owned in Costa Mesa. From the moment she started working for us, she and I developed a special bond. We spent a lot of hours laughing and a not a few in tears, as well. We just seemed to hit it off. Through what had to be some of the darkest years of my life, she was there to make things a lot brighter. When she quit, I completely understood her reasons. I missed her terribly, but she'd made the best decision she could under the circumstances, and I accepted that. Over the years we had other employees, but none of them ever came close to being "family," as Pam was.

We've never spoken since that day, but Pam's never been out of my thoughts. At times certain things would trigger a memory--such as seeing a car that looked like the huge boat she drove at the time I knew her.

When I got to a point in life where contacting her would have been a possibility, I had no idea where to start. Didn't know where she was living or what she was doing. Had no idea of her last name or how to begin to search for her. I figured she was gone forever from my reality.

Ten days ago I got this message on Facebook:

      Hi, Judi,

      This is Pam. I used to work for you. How are you and the kids doing?
      You taught me how to use my first computer. I got a little better since then but not much. Let me know if       this finds you well.

To say I was surprised doesn't begin to cut it.


Next week I'm traveling to Orange County to participate in a convention for ECCO. At the same time I'm going to get to spend some quality hours with Nasreen.

I'm also hoping to reconnect in person with both Pam and my high-school friends, Betty and Lowell. They, too, popped up on Facebook earlier this year.

Who says miracles don't happen?

I knew it!

I was living dangerously, and I knew it. How long would it be until I got the "dreaded" message (dreaded only because it was deserved). Where ARRREEEEEEEE YOU? It arrived last week.

Through thick and thin Betty has always been there to make sure I'm okay. If I go too long without blogging, she'll nudge me just a little. When she finally got email a few years back, I told her it was wonderful because I'd be able to be a better correspondent--something I've failed at miserably since she moved to Israel waaayyyyyy too many years ago. I lied. Email didn't improve my communication skills. Then when I started my blogs, she applauded that because at least then she could keep up with me whenever I'd post. Yeah, right.

Anyhow, here I am, after almost a month's absence with no excuses and nothing to show for my disappearance.

Not a single trip to Yosemite.

Not one hike.

Can't even blame work. How can you blame something you do only two days a week? Except that I did actually put in five days in a row in October. That was tough!

Hardly any photos.

Foxy looks depressed.

So does my granddog, Dakota.

Even Hunter looks a little down-in-the-mouth. But that's only because he was waiting (and waiting . . . and waiting . . . and waiting . . .) for his dad to light the candles on his birthday cake, blow 'em out and CUT THE DARN THING. His hangdog look has nothing, nothing whatsoever, to do with his Ani's missing blog posts. (BTW how many of you grandmas out there have a name created especially for you by your one-and-only grandson? We have NO idea where the name "Ani" came from, but Hunter adopted it, and it's stuck. I love it!)

And now Farida will be dejected--because she didn't like the "heart background" I used on the above photo.

Just for her, here's one of the other edits I did. Don't think she especially liked the maroon/purple texture on this one, either.

That should tell y'all that a lot of time since the last post has been spent experimenting with Photoshop and trying to learn all the program has to offer. I've got a long, long way to go yet, but every day I master some new tidbit.

We were lucky enough to have two (2) visits from Nasreen during October. She couldn't resist the opportunity to spend Halloween with her favorite nephew and help celebrate Jason's birthday. It was a quiet weekend, but filled with lots of great family time.

Unfortunately another family gift has been making the rounds over the last month and a half--a cold that keeps recurring like clockwork. We figure Hunter's going to school might have a bit to do with the fact that we've passed it around and around. I've had one version or another consistently since September 22. (The date sticks in my mind because I originally got sick on my way back from a photo shoot in Yosemite that date.) The cough has been brutal and a lack of energy means that I mope around a lot more than I'd like. Farida, Jason and Hunter have all "enjoyed" repeated episodes, as well.

Speaking of Farida, she's been doing some photo shoots lately and has recently put up the initial version of her website, wilksphotography.com . She's been working hard on designing a bigger, better site, but you can see some of her awesome photographs at this one for now, until she's ready to publish the final version. Both she and Jason are very talented artists, and I'm excited to see them exploring their abilities and their creativity.


This afternoon I'm going out to shoot a few photos around Yosemite Lakes Park. We've got some great fall colors cooking, and my camera hasn't been out of its bag for over a week.

That's it. That's all the excitement around here.