Sardine City

Stefan had to stay home and study, so it was just family going to Monterey. And it made sense for us to stay overnight as it was a 3+ hour drive each way. Monique and Jon were still tired from their flight from Newark. Michael had just returned from Charlotte and his trip was even longer thanks to a connection in Chicago. (What, the reality of the commute doesn’t seem like so much fun after all?)

The drive down was long but lovely. As in the redwoods, I really got the sense of California as a vast and complex place. Truly inspiring – I’m so glad we chose this state to start Red House. It’s differently beautiful everywhere I have been. This trip, we saw farmlands showcasing the agricultural richness that makes this state’s economy more like a country’s. There’s Gilroy and its garlic. Watsonville produces most of America’s strawberries. And Salinas, the birthplace of John Steinbeck, is known as the Salad Bowl of America. Everywhere you look there’s spinach, cabbage, carrots, broccoli and artichokes. I just wanted to run out into the fields with a fork! They even grow watermelons here. Another treat was the incredibly fragrant eucalyptus trees lining the highway. They are so dramatic looking, with the wind whistling through their branches and papery bark. Also, apparently they can be a real fire hazard. When they burn they burn long and hard. Even so, I’ve got to have a small one for the yard.

I had been excited about seeing Steinbeck’s Cannery Row in downtown Monterey, but it was barely remembered, glimpsed behind endless tourist-y candy and souvenir shops. Still, seeing the wobbly shacks gave me a sense of what the life of a cannery worker must have been like here in Steinbeck’s day. A variety of the world’s people, lived like sardines and worked really awful hours canning actual sardines in cold, wet and stinky conditions. Makes my worst design jobs seem absolutely luxurious.

But here’s why we came - The Monterey Bay Aquarium. It has to be the best of its kind anywhere. (See www.mbayaq.org) We loved every exhibit - from the history of the fished-out Bay and how the canneries worked, to the dappled sunlight shining down on the towering Pacific kelp forest. It’s like the redwoods, only underwater! And, the aquarium provides little cards to keep in your wallet that tell you what fish you can eat without feeling guilty or filling up on mercury. Got to like that.

And speaking of food, only severe hunger made it possible to drag Andrew, Delia and Natalie from the aquarium. All of the adults were pretty worn out after a few hours dodging strollers and crowds. We had the family birthday feast at the Sardine Factory restaurant (www.sardinefactory.com.) Apparently, there are a few sardines left – or did we eat the last?! They were smoked and quite good. We loved the abalone chowder too, a favorite of President Reagan. And yes, it’s on the sustainable seafood list. Natalie had chosen the restaurant and there was a special cake for the birthday girl. Happy 20th, Natalie! You know what made us all happy? During dinner, Nat talked excitedly about the aquarium and nothing else. I wonder if there’s a spark of career interest… Could my niece be a future marine biologist?! I am going to encourage her!

We’re at the Hyatt, which has a nice lobby but felt dated everywhere else. I’ve seen this before – be wary of nice lobbies as the shag carpeting lurks just around the corner! Good night!

The sisters’ sit-down.

Of course there is no shortage of exciting and scenic things to do in the Bay Area, but Natalie surprised me by suggesting we all go to the Monterey Bay Aquarium for her birthday weekend. Andrew and Delia squealed in delight at the prospect. We had talked about going, but it’s a long trip down there – and back. Nat also wanted to see Santa Cruz, which has a beach with volleyball-playing hippies, a boardwalk and pier with tourists, surfers of all ages and an old wooden roller coaster, among other amusements. We’ll need to stay overnight Saturday, and Michael will balk as he’ll just be back from Charlotte but we’ll have fun.

Meanwhile, Monique and Jon are here. I’m swamped at work, and making sure the kids get baths, food, and to and from school - especially with Michael gone. Today though, I took my sister to one of my favorite restaurants in Sonoma, The Girl and The Fig. (www.thegirlandthefig.com - just look at the menu and see if it doesn’t ALL look delectable!) This is like nothing she has back in Saddlebrook, NJ so I knew she’d be impressed. We talked a lot about Natalie and what might be ahead for her. We both hope her great adventures will be mainly in the areas of employment and education. Nat does like it out here, and is having fun with Stefan - we know that much, but there’s not a lot of goal setting. Having lunch with Monique reminded me that she was the same way, and actually still is. Not that there’s anything wrong with planning life around charity auctions, tennis and spa appointments – nice work if you can get it, right? But it’s a bit…passive, and Natalie needs a female role model who is balancing more of life’s roles. That is, after all, why she was sent out to me. Not that I’ve had the influence I was hoping for, like encouraging her to develop interest in business. Her Red House internship was a disaster. Maybe it’ll take more time for Nat to develop the maturity to figure out how to go about getting what she wants.

This was just lunch - we couldn’t resolve all of Nat’s issues. (Or ours either!) We did agree to communicate more about what’s going on. (Until now, I hadn’t told Monique about the arrest, the “NaSte” tattoo - and even now couldn’t bring myself to mention the dynamite as the other info caused her to squirm quite a bit. So much for me thinking she’s blasé!) I was glad we were able to talk. Monique agreed to participate more in her daughter’s life. She needs to have an opinion, and I could do with fewer (!), but we both want the best for our Natalie.

I wrote up a list of fabulous wineries for Monique and Jon to visit. Plus, they’ll be doing a bit of used car shopping with their daughter. And I went back to the office to resolve issues that Kerin then called clients about. She is really taking control of every project I throw at her, I’m so glad that she’s here!

The Natalie Plan.

There’s always another shoe to drop, isn’t there? On my way to the meeting, Michael calls me with information that probably spiked my blood pressure enough to blow the sunroof right off of my car. At the same time my sister and her husband will be flying west, my husband will be flying east for another round of interviews in Charlotte, banking capital of the New South. He tells me to relax (I hate that), that it’s just the next two days and he’ll be back for the party and related Bay Area excursions. Not much I can do so I allow the anger to boil even though I know I shouldn’t. I rant loudly about the logo problem, the messy house, the gum, the early-arriving guests and the EIGHT STICKS OF DYNAMITE IN THE GARAGE! I just hate how low-key he can be about something Homeland Security would be all over, but he said to get the facts from Natalie before I react. He’s right (and that is what I’m doing) but I’m mad so I don’t care.

Yet, just as the suffocating weight of all I have to do and resolve threatens my already tenuous mood, one answer comes that takes some of the pressure. Natalie responded to my terse text message, in which I used as many exclamation points as I did letters: “Not a terrorist. Trust me.” Ok…. But what then? I can’t respond with questions while driving. It would have to wait.

The realtors were not as unreasonable as expected. Each thought a heart should be incorporated, but one wanted a pair of work gloves with a heart, another wanted a watering can sprinkling hearts, and another liked the original heart surrounding the house, only wanted the house replaced by the National Association of Realtors logo. These were all good and feasible-to-create images – I hadn’t expected that degree of clarity in their thinking. (I guess that in their line of work they have to be as good with details as I am.) I told them I would do some thumbnails of these three new potential logos and the project would be on hold until they had voted on their favorite.

I tried texting Nat again right after the meeting and no response, but she was at the house when I got there. Did my eyes deceive me? She was vacuuming! I hated to stop her but it was time for a long talk. She was really sorry about the dynamite – and had almost forgotten about it. (How could you forget about explosives under your bed?!) Her reason for having it was not as sinister as I had feared, though it wasn’t very smart. She and Stefan were going to try to blast a wine cave out of a hill at his parents’ winery as a gift for their 25th wedding anniversary! Thoughtful, but ill conceived. Now, I’m no engineer, but I don’t think it’s that easy to create a cave. For one thing, there are geological concerns, possibly utility lines - not to mention the likelihood of collateral damage, death and dismemberment. Natalie knew it was probably illegal to possess dynamite as they had tried a hardware store and even a gun shop (!) first with no success. (This isn’t Deadwood, S.D. – or 1857!) She and Stefan eventually bought their cache from some bikers who had bought it from someone on an Indian reservation. I told her she had to get the box out of the garage, though I lacked advice for what she should do with it after that. (Soak the sticks in a bucket of water?) Sigh. Nat was pretty contrite about what amounted to encouraging Andrew to shed his clothes in kindergarten too. And I learned her summer interest in concert promotion had been thwarted by the fact that Lynyrd Skynyrd was not interested in playing any vineyards – they were booked solid in venues of more reliable attendance (i.e. former Confederate states). I let her get back to cleaning. Later, the five of us sat down to a happy dinner to plan the weekend fun. I think we all need a little of that!

Under Siege

I COULD NOT believe what I was seeing- there had to be some explanation. “Dynamite” and “keep dry” were handwritten on the rather ordinary-looking cardboard box. I carefully pulled it out from under the bed and opened it - it wasn’t even taped. Sure enough, eight sticks in bubble wrap. Why would Natalie have these?! She works in a winery, not a mine! I had to find out what she was up to. Should I call the police? F.B.I.? The Bureau of Land Management? I decided not to get the government involved just yet, but I did move the box to the garage, placed it in the corner farthest from the house and put a bag of potting soil on top. (As if that would absorb the explosion!)

Just as I was about to text Natalie (which, I have learned, is the quickest way to get her to respond) her mother (my sister) called. The Tata Nano car they wanted to get for Natalie isn’t available yet so they are going to get her something here in California. And, since they now are not driving west they wanted to come to the birthday celebration five days early – tomorrow (!) and was that ok…? AAHH! What could I say? I had no real party plans in place yet, and a box of explosives in the garage, but sure, Monique! I gritted my teeth and told her it would be great to see her and Jon TOMORROW. (Hopefully, I said it without a shred of sarcasm.) Now what?!

I rushed to meet with the group of realtors who were suddenly not in agreement about the house encircled by a heart as the logo for their red polo shirts. Apparently, the do-gooding agents are not all with the same firm and petty disagreements had already arisen concerning the colors of flowers chosen to brighten up yards, and even which brand of window cleaner they should be using. (Sale price won out over green formula.) Ordinarily, this sort of issue would not be a problem for me: I’d hear all opinions and carefully consider and offer my own - except for the fact that the order was in and embroidery was already scheduled. I had to jump on this now if the logo was not to end up being a house broken in pieces. (Interesting that that image came to mind just after I stashed dynamite in my garage!)

The Trouble with 20.

I could coast a long time on the good feelings associated with generating new business. It’s no coincidence of course, but my enthusiasm is carrying over into a new love for football. I am actually watching the playoffs on TV. This also helps distract me from thinking about Michael’s potential job in Charlotte. I have another distraction: Natalie’s impending birthday. She’s about to turn 20, and as she lives with us (some of the time anyway) I feel that we should have a party for her. This task is way more difficult than the cupcakes and party favors of a Delia or Andrew party. I don’t know most of Nat’s friends, wouldn’t want to, and doubt she wants to mix them with family anyway. I compromised by inviting my sister and her husband out for a weekend visit. They haven’t seen their errant teen since last Christmas and now she’s about to be an ex-teen. I too, have been less than involved with Natalie lately as she’s been working at Stefan’s parents’ winery and living with their son in a tree house anyway, and well, we’ve had some drama of our own at this house... I realize that I never asked Nat what became of the idea for the “Skynyrd in the Vineyard” concert. Nor had I had that talk with her yet about her having told my son “clothing is optional”. She at least needs to know her philosophy does not extend to kindergarten circle time… I had really hoped that her time here (almost a year so far!) would lead to something other than various legal and professional mishaps, tattoos and a high school boyfriend. But Red House’s first and ex-intern has other plans, I just hope she knows what they might be.

My sister and her husband will be coming out and staying in our Natalie-occupied guest room, so I’ll need to move Nat into Delia’s tiny room, and plan the birthday dinner and one or two outings for the seven of us – eight if Stefan’s interested. I learned that Nat’s parents are surprising her with a car for her milestone birthday, an Indian Tata Nano that they are driving out from New Jersey themselves. (Why didn’t they just start from India? That would be fun!) They chose white –check it out at tatanano.com – looks like a golf ball, but what’s not to like about a $2,500 car?! And, as the insurance will be carried by someone other than myself I think this is a great idea!

I had asked Natalie several times to come help clean up the house for her parents’ arrival, but as she and her boyfriend have weatherproofed their tree house platform she’s over here pretty much only when Stefan has to study. I know I shouldn’t let her slide, but it is her birthday so I decided to just get the work done myself - starting with her room. I learned early on to insist that she keep the door closed but I was unprepared for the wasteland before me. Even with rubber gloves the task was daunting: dirty clothes covering every inch of floor, and underneath? Lots of science fair-worthy surprises - apple cores that had to date back to her arrival last winter, half-eaten containers of yogurt, and bottles of nail polish, with one missing its top! I got flat on the floor next to the bed and slowly lifted the dust ruffle - fearing vermin. And what did I see? A long line of used gum affixed to the bedrail! The globs were equidistant, suggesting purpose. How appalling! And what I saw next made me gasp - the most science fair-worthy surprise of all – a box labeled DYNAMITE!

Bow Down to the Silver and Black! Part III

Back in the “loge of luxury”, I tried to watch the game, but because of the curve of the stadium I could see that the suite next to ours was actually a command center for Oakland P.D. and various affiliated crime fighters. Now that was interesting! They had computers and miles of cables to stay in touch with areas of potential trouble and presumably, their munitions warehouse. I found it irresistible to watch guys in commando gear and aviator glasses with walkie-talkies and binoculars trained on the stands below. What were they pointing at? I had to find out! Knocking on their door probably wasn’t a good idea. An opportunity presented itself when one of the agents stepped out in the hallway to make a personal call, where I was doing the same thing. I waited until she was done and said hello. We got to talking, and she said there’s more trouble with fans when Oakland is winning, but that doesn’t happen all that much. (Ouch!) I told her about my job at Red House, and would you believe I found my business opportunity outside the box, literally – in the hallway?! This officer is part of a speaking group that has been looking into shirts for a group of officers culled from all over the Bay Area who speak in schools. Something less intimidating than their uniforms, but also not undercutting their authority as law enforcement officers. Definitely a button-down! The embroidered logo will be tricky, as it has to be general enough to please several different agencies. I said Red House could get what they needed with the budget they had. We scheduled a meeting for next week. I couldn’t wait to tell Michael that while he was watching guys falling on the grass I was expanding Red House’s client base! Touchdown!

Oh, while talking in the hallway, I saw that Natalie had responded to the photo I sent her – which turned out to be rapper/actor/sometimes-inmate SNOOP DOGG! I showed the officer the picture and she laughed and said he’s almost always at the games and no, has never gotten in trouble here. (Not that she knows of!)

Back in the box and back to work – would you believe I was not done yet?! I mentioned my potential deal with the police (during a timeout of course) and one of the guests mentioned that he’s part of a group of realtors who spruce up foreclosed homes, and that they too need a tasteful shirt that promotes their efforts. What a great idea! (The sprucing and the shirts!) The realtors perform a great service and self-promote at the same time. (And the fact is, they have some extra spare time at the present.) They aren’t wielding nail guns and replacing windows, but they clean them - and do yard work and plant flowers at unoccupied homes, preserving the property values of their neighbors. And who will the neighbors call when they want to buy or sell? Now that’s great P.R.! He will check his schedule and call me next week. Wow! Is football a great game or what?!

Bow Down to the Silver and Black! Part II

Once inside the stadium, Michael had to pull me through the sardine-can crowd to the suite elevators. A small but thuggy-looking guy in a coat many times larger than he was waiting in front of the doors. He was flanked by two massive men who were half-swatting away a pack of cell phone photographers. The guy was known! But who was he? I bet Natalie would know – I took a photo and sent it. The elevator was small so one of the bodyguards had to ride alone, which struck me as funny. I wished I could identify the celeb, oh well. He couldn’t be a football player, that’s for sure.

I saw a service cart go by, laden with champagne bottles –yes! Could the caviar and blini be far behind? Maybe not, but I soon learned none of it was destined for our suite. Instead, our host opted for a “different” catering package: light beer and margaritas made with what appeared to be a fluorescent green food coloring - like the stuff in The Incredible Hulk movie. Yuck. And nachos. After introductions it was time to turn around and brave the crowds again to go down to the field, where we would get to see the players warming up. This was a big honor, I was told, though I’d rather be gauging fellow guests’ business interest in Red House.

On the field, the players stretched and jogged. Most entertaining were the ultra-devoted fans assembled in the end zone. They never missed a home game. They believed. Their motto: “Real Men Wear Black” is not taken figuratively. The designer in me appreciated the efforts of so many to create such outrageously elaborate costumes. If the goal is to strike fear in the hearts of their competitors then they could not fail. The skull and crossbones are a motif. Bones of all kinds were strung as necklaces, bracelet and anklets. There were skulls on staffs to pound down during a touchdown, or impale opponents. There were silver wigs of massive proportions. I saw witch doctors, pirates, demons - all variations on the theme with faces painted in black and silver. I’m not sure who wore the most makeup, the fans or the Raiderettes. The field experience was surreal!

After the players were introduced they ran into their locker room, and as they did, they were touched by a phalanx of fans, who roared, chanted, screamed and otherwise blessed them with good juju and a little paint transfer – whatever it takes to win!

It was our turn to exit the field and get back to our tepid nachos. We too received the fans’ mojo as we left. I braced myself for the rain of hands and it wasn’t so bad. Dusting off some glitter from my charcoal gray pashmina (RH29) I could feel the instincts of a fan. I was a part of something big, and it was exciting! GO RAIDERS!

Bow down to the Silver and Black! Part 1

I’m not a football fan. I am though, always interested in anything my clients feel passionate about. In this case, the wild and wonderful Oakland Raiders. Last month, a client invited Michael and I to join him for a home game that he assured me would be quite memorable. The client had booked a luxury suite for the event and he is a restaurant owner so I knew the food would be good. How could we say no? Michael was thrilled to be going. Not only does he actually love football, but the game would allow him to avoid another episode of the dreaded Madeleine Inquisition with regards to his Charlotte job interview. Fortunately for our client, the Raiders were not playing the Carolina Panthers, as Michael’s loyalties are currently questionable at best.

My client said attending a Raiders home game is one of those things to do before you die, like climbing Mt. Everest. I had already decided against any bucket list items that might actually bring on death, but a sporting event sounded harmless enough.

Game day was awesome, sun shining in down on the valley – and then we got down to Oakland, where the skies looked more like… primer. We arrived three hours early to take advantage of the pregame festivities and yes, a little business too. I fully expected to be able to introduce the Red House brand to someone in the suite by first down and have their business by the end of the game.

We sure didn’t expect that parking was going to be a challenge this early, but we had arrived at the world’s largest parking lot. Fans had been situated so long it appeared they had set up camp. Turns out they actually had - the tailgate party is an Oakland institution. I saw the most elaborate barbecue set-ups, with tables and chairs sheltered by black and silver striped awnings, and even a smattering of actual recliners. And beer. Lots and lots of beer. The recycle bins were overflowing and it was 10:00 a.m.! There were trailers festooned in silver and black fringe, hawkers with Raider merchandise of all kinds – including shot glasses. Fans wouldn’t want to be short of those! (I bought a small, tasteful pin for my pashmina.) Many fans utilized the stereos in their cars to maximum effect, and he who has the biggest speakers wins! The vibration of the cacophony wars threatened to loosen a few of my fillings.

As we walked the mile or four (!) to the stadium, the volume increased. There was some friendly trash talking between the tailgate crowd and the few who dared file past them wearing the colors of the opposing team. But no one threw a rib or beer can. There were few children around – probably for good reason. A man staggered past me, placed one steadying hand on the side of the Porta-Potty while the other unzipped his fly and he relieved himself against the side of the structure. Oh. My. God. “Michael!” But again, my husband missed seeing what for some reason I always do. He was ten paces ahead admiring a classic Dodge Charger painted half silver and half black with a life-size (real?!) skull mounted on the hood. It too was memorable, but I wished he had seen the guy who couldn’t be bothered to STEP INTO the Porta-Potty!

Business and Grits.

My worst fears are realized: Michael loves Charlotte! But does Charlotte love him? Apparently, she, it - the world of megabanking does. He’s back for a second set of interviews and had meetings from early morning throughout the day, a regular whirlwind of fun. He was gushing with enthusiasm when he called after a dinner meeting follow-up with some of the execs he met with earlier. He said they were impressed with his education and career path, especially his role as co-owner of Red House. They like his brand of entrepreneurial spirit there, and his initial vibe was that he feels he’s what they are looking for. (OH NO!)

The city has it all, he says. Most of all, big plans for the future. Yeah, and big plates of grits and pork parts! I did a little research of my own – the city will soon have a NASCAR Hall of Fame, which means lots of Hooter’s restaurants sprouting up all around. Eeew. Michael said that what I consider “real” culture is coming too, museums of a nonautomotive nature, restaurants with chefs who know what escarole is and how to use it, and who don’t have packs of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeves of their grease-stained T-shirts. But it’s the South! Michael corrected me – the New South. Oh. He said that bankers wouldn’t be flocking to Charlotte if the city lacked the cultural amenities they’ve come to enjoy, like ten-page wine lists. I peppered him with more queries. No, he had not seen a single Confederate flag flying. Yes, there were grits at breakfast but only one VP in the conference room ate them. Michael himself had a blueberry scone. Where did they eat tonight? Savannah Red, a local denizen of southern food with fresh inspiration, oh, and a wine bar too. What about barbecue shacks? He did see one of these enroute from the airport. It featured a giant plastic pig on the roof with X’s where its eyes should have been. Uh-huh, exactly!

Much to my dismay, Michael did not mention his part-time and commuting requirements at any time during today’s interviews, and that his wife would leave Napa only if California fell into the sea. That discussion would happen later – once they offered him the job. (If, Michael!) He reminded me of one of his favorite aphorisms, “Always negotiate from a position of strength.” (I hope he feels faint the day he has to negotiate.)

He has a brief meeting in the morning with Human Resources to discuss the basic benefits, and he assured me he’d be home for “supper”. I think he was being facetious, but I’ll see if Dean & DeLuca has any pickled pig’s feet I can surprise him with.

Good night, ya’all!