365 Photo Project - Day 126

Taken: May 6, 2010, 1 p.m.
Location: Healdsburg, Ca

Here's the bridge I used to have to cross every time I went into central Healdsburg, It spans the much more modest Dry Creek River north of town and is only narrow enough to let one car pass. I used a shot I took from this bridge earlier in this project but this is the first time I'm using one of it.

When my husband and I sold our house in Santa Monica and decided to move up to Healdsburg, it was me who was sent on the task of checking out the house we wanted to rent, meeting the landlord and such. When I drove out to the place and had to cross this bridge, I knew immediately this was the place for me. I grew up in a relatively small town but have lived 90 percent of my adult life in or near big cities so it came as a bit of surprise how quickly I fell in love with this place.

A lot of it started when I crossed Dry Creek here on a beautiful October afternoon, the expanse of the just-picked vineyards spreading out in every direction. I remember friends would ask me how long it took to get used to living in the country and there really was no adjustment, passed getting used to real darkness at night and a place where the sounds that dominate aren't car wheels on pavement and the buzz of phone lines.

To this day, as readers of this blog know well, I haven't grown tired of the view. It feels as much like home as it did the day I drove over this little bridge.

365 Photo Project - Day 125

Taken: May 5, 2010, approx. 7:30 p.m.
Location: Healdsburg, Ca.

Still trying to get the self-portrait right, obviously.  I think my vanity is showing in my choice of shots -- a friend told me today that for a self-portrait, this says "I'm hiding," and he's totally right. I've said this before, but I just hate photos of myself. I do, however, kinda like photos of specific parts of me, mere suggestions of the whole if you will.

I mean it makes sense in a way. What do we see of ourselves in the day to day except bits and pieces? Without the help of a mirror, the pictures we paint are based on an image we put together in our mind's eye. The "truth" is mixed up with all sorts of our own specific baggage and how close it is to reality differs with everyone. I have a pretty decent self-image, actually. Some might even accuse me of having an overly positive one.  It's always a shock when I see my reflection. Never quite lives up to the image I have in my head. Which is probably why I don't like photos of myself.

I blame my folks. They allowed me to be confident in me, to be myself even when being myself was pretty damn weird.  I would say there's good and bad in this kind of self-belief. Disappointments are many but you never stop trying, you never give up and you always think victory is just around that next S curve.  That pretty much sums me up. I am the last true believer. Or a sucker, depending on how you look at it.

I'm not joking -- the two aren't so different. You gotta be a bit of a chump to make it as any kind of artist I think. Just putting your creative self out in the world requires a belief in something, whether it's yourself or that somehow, some way what comes out of the deep recesses of your private soul will resonate with complete strangers. It's a big leap of faith and it doesn't get any easier. Trust me.

And every day is a new journey to a place you couldn't name or describe if your life depended on it. The only saving grace is you'll know when you get there. You'll know.

365 Photo Project - Day 124

Taken: May 4, 2010,  7:30 p.m.
Location: Healdsburg, Ca

I'm behind a day again and still haven't decided on today's (tomorrow's) image so I'm going to keep this short. I took a drive out Alexander Valley road around sunset looking I admit for something interesting to shoot. The light was so pretty on this hazy spring day and you could see forever over the tops of the freshly blooming vines, to the mountains on the far horizon.

I actually stopped to take photos of something else along this road but when I uploaded the images, this was the only one that caught my eye. I did a bit of editing in Photoshop to bring out the road more and added some color saturation trying to get close to the way it looked and felt when I stood by the side of the road. It was a perfect evening -- the air was sweet and cool and when I pulled over, I was listening to the radio through my iPhone.

I'm an iPhone addict as readers to this blog know -- (and yes, I've more or less kept up the ban on night-time iPhone use). One of my favorite apps is the one that Major League Baseball sells where you can follow games on video and radio during the season. For less than $20 you can have access to every radio broadcast of every game (a good deal more can get you video for all but blacked out games. Pardon me while I rant for a minute but I hate the MLB black-out restrictions and think it's total bullshit that you have to buy a subscription to MLB's At Bat video feeds even if you already get the DirecTV MLB sports package. Without boring you with the details, it's just another in a long list of things Major League Baseball does that is totally fan unfriendly and in my humble opinion, do great harm to baseball especially in comparison to the more fan-friendly NFL. Baseball ought to get its act together and make it easier for fans to follow their teams from other markets. Okay, end of rant.)

Having access to games of my hometown Mets is what makes new technology such a wonderful thing. It's like a trip back into my childhood. When I can't (or don't have time to watch) games on TV, I'll play the radio as background in my office while I'm writing. There's nothing quite like listening to a baseball game on the radio -- or timeless. With few exceptions, it's gotta be the one constant in the lives of every baseball fan no matter your generation. I just can't think of a sport translates so well through words without pictures.

I know the old timers love their voices and it's true that the art of broadcasting is all but lost in some places. The great Ernie Harwell died this week represents all but the end of an era. Every baseball fan of a certain age well remembers that Southern drawl as a big part of their summer soundtrack. His death leaves us with precious few of the very great legends. Vin Scully still works all the Dodgers home games and Ralph Kiner makes an occasional visit to the booth for the Mets. But they're both grandfathers by now and we're lucky to still be able to hear them.

I like some of the "new" guard too (been a big fan of Jon Miller's since I first heard him doing Orioles games back in the 80's and Mets broadcaster Howie Rose has some nice chops too) but even the so-so guys will make a mark in the lives of young fans everywhere who secretly listen at night after lights out. I had a transistor radio under my pillow and one of those one-ear do-dads that only worked well if I covered the other ear with my hand (or my pillow). Kids today can listen through their iPhones, but close your eyes (and turn off the lights) and the experience is exactly the same. Every time I tune into WFAN, I am once again transported back to the summer evenings of my youth listening to the voices through the static and seeing it all unfold in the baseball field of my imagination.

Doesn't get any better than that.

365 Photo Project - Day 123

Taken: Mary 3, 2010, 1:30 p.m.
Location: Healdsburg, Ca

I grew up loving cars. Got it from my Dad who turns 84 next week. I was one of those kids who knew all the car types, brands, even some years. My two favorite places to think are in the shower and behind the wheel of my car driving and listening to the radio or my iPod. I'm not sure there's a seat that's more comfortable for me (and my sometimes cranky back) than the one in my car. It just seems to fit me perfectly.

As much as I love the natural beauty of things, I can also fully appreciate a good man-made road, especially one that winds and bends through a flavorful countryside. To my husband's constant chagrin, I've never owned a car that didn't have a manual transmission. I don't know if my next one will an automatic but the day I buy one is going to feel like the end of an era.

I get this from my Dad, all of it.  He used to tell me that women needed certain skills -- how to do simple household fixes, use basic tools, change your oil, drive a stick. Skills you never know you'll need until you need them. Trust me on that.

He always had cars around - mostly in threes. Typically, though, only one of them would be running. Sometimes two. We used to joke the others were for parts. They were also exotic, at least for me. Names like Fiat, Saab, MG, Alfa, Citroen -- a lot of names most people know now but when I was a kid, Saab was just trying to get a foothold in the car market (funny but it looks now like we may have seen the last of them).

The coolest cars were the Citroens. Truth be told I couldn't appreciate them when I was a kid 'cause I thought they were ugly (teenage prerogative)  but now whenever I see one on the road, I think about my Dad. Which is a very cool thing if you think about it. It's one of the many things I love about my Pop. He had a immense and deep interest in the world around him, a curiosity about the way things work that led him to tinker with all of it. I'm sure a lot of daughters think of their Dad as being the smartest guy they know, but my mine is seriously gifted. A total right brain/left brain kind of guy -- he made beautiful sculptures when he was a young man, an art he picked up again in his retirement and he taught me a lot of what I know about photography. As long as I remember, he had a workshop where he made things out of wood -- useful stuff from cutting boards to grandfather clocks. And whenever we needed something around the house fix -- vacuum cleaners, dishwashers, leaky faucets, etc. -- we didn't have to call any old repair man.  

Everything I know about tools and toolboxes and fixing stuff, I learned from watching/helping my Dad. And something else too: I got my curiosity about the innards of stuff from him too. Every few months, I find myself sitting over some gadget I've taken apart, trying to figure out where all the parts fit. Unfortunately, I'm not as smart as my Dad where these things are concerned. In fact, if I've got one regret, it's not paying more attention to my Dad when I was a kid. So many opportunities to get a lesson on cars, woodworking, art, photography and a thousand other things and yet half the time I was just too busy with my shit to take the time to watch and learn. Color me stupid.

And something else about my Dad - he knows how to chill. I'm serious. He worked hard, believe me, he knew how to have a good time. He had a ton of hobbies and he kept most of them all his life. He always had a sailboat, that workshop, got to be a pretty good cook who is known around his digs as The Hors d'oeuvres King and he makes a damn good martini. I guess in a lot of ways my Dad's a renaissance man.

If it's true we keep the flame of our loved ones alive in our memories, my Dad is going to live forever. So much that I do, so many things I see and appreciate are because he had such a deep interest in the world and he made sure to share it with us kids. I know your Dad is supposed to be a good guy, supposed to be there for you, give you advice, counsel, comfort but I know there's lots of Dads who aren't up to the task. Mine was -- and is. In fact, I think I'm going to go call him now and ask him what the hell this car is in this picture. Whatever it is, it made me think about him.

365 Photo Project - Day 122

Taken: May 2, 2010, approx. noon
Healdsburg, Ca

Days like today are why I love living here. The lazy Sunday blue skies, the sun's warmth cut by the loveliness of a stiff breeze (around here they call it "May Winds") -- alone would have made for a fabulous spring-to-summer day. When the temps start climbing into the 90s, the May WInds keep the heat at arm's length and believe me, when it gets hot, you're thankful for them.

Pretty much describes Sunday here. But it also happened to be the 2nd anniversary of Scopa, one of our favorite little restaurants in Healdsburg. It's a fine place for delicious Italian food and even though the San Francisco Chronicle recently named it one of the top 100 restaurants in the Bay Area, we weren't surprised.

Still, what draws me to it is more than food, it's the whole of the place. Like it's part of the community. Stopping in to chat up hilarious and brilliant Chef Ari Rosen is one of the highlights of my day (though I'm not sure it is for him).  Some days my husband and I, in our separate trips around the plaza (usually me to get coffee or to take a walk a think, he to go tot he market or read his paper and have a cold microbrew), will have dropped in at different times to say hello and shoot the breeze.

So much of the way places like these work are integral to small town life and I think Ari and his wife, Dawnelise, really thought about that when they designed this tiny little place.  Goes without saying that the suppliers are local farmers, ranchers, wine makers and even Ari's Dad, Norm, is the pastry chef (and no slouch at it either, as he got a specific mention in the Chronicle's write up).

Those of us who dine ( some of is even help put from time to time) could never put a price on the friendship, camaraderie and welcome of this place, all of which are quite genuine. Like Ari said yesterday at the gathering, it's like a big family.

When I lived in big cities, I always carved a little niche for myself that I considered my community. You have to - especially in a place like L.A. where everything is so spread out. Otherwise, you never get the feeling that you belong anywhere, just one of the millions always moving from here to there and back again. Living in a small town can be scary too -- sometimes you need a break from the familiar -- but if you're lucky and you can find a little community, I find it can have a settling effect on your life.

I'm not trying to route everything I write here back to this project but this one naturally does. Like I've said countless times here, I'm learning to stop and appreciate the here that's out there. It's a lot easier when you don't have to sweat the small stuff because at the end of the day you're part of something you can call home.

365 Photo Project - Day 121

Taken: May 1, 2010, approx. 4 p.m.
Location: Healdsburg, Ca

Where last we left off, I was getting ready to do some relaxing. Been working so hard lately, it's been hard for me to take time off without feeling guilty about the writing I should be doing. Like I've forgotten how to take a breather.  All I needed to do was pay attention to my pugs.

Today we had some friends over for some grilling and chilling and my husband put the grill rack down while he was getting ready to start the fire. My pug Louie decided it needed some cleaning. When I saw him licking the grill, I pointed it out to my husband who just laughed at me. "I'm going to put it on a 600 degree fire," he said. He had a point I guess.

And hell, Louie had a great time saving us from having to use steel wool and elbow grease to get all that char off. The lamb chops and sausages were damn good, too.  And it gave me my photo of the day.

Ya gotta love pugs.

365 Photo Project - Day 120

Taken: April 30, 2010, 11:30 p.m.
Location: Healdsburg, Ca

I worked in my office until after midnight, capping a long couple of weeks trying to solve a particularly vexing writing problem. Thanks to some hard work and the help of a couple of friends who were more than able sounding boards, I think I got it figured out. It's a really good feeling.

I had a few shots from earlier in the day but none of them did anything for me.  I shot this late in the day in my building. I'm it was wishful thinking -- I just wanted to get done and get out of there and go home. And so I stayed until I got it done.

And the result has freed me to take a couple days off from writing. I need the break, clear my head, recharge the batteries.

I need to use the exit.

And so I am. Sunday, for once, is going to be a day of doing nothing but hanging with my friends and drinking wine,  playing some cards perhaps and then watching some baseball on the tube. Chilling. I can't slow down fast enough.