Happy Holly-days!

Holly, my houseguest for a couple of weeks, smells a bit like Christmas. Like a box of holiday ornaments.

At first, she trembled in her crate and tried to hide from Bill and Elizabeth and my parents. She made a point of grumbling at Jeremy, too, albeit while sitting next to him on the couch.

Sure, she yawns dramatically with her not-so-fresh breath and backpedals when I roll out the treat ball. But she's coming around. Her interests include cuddling and blankets and the occasional udon noodle. She squeaks and chirps when it's time to go out. She's affable, just as Hal said she would be.

Thank you, little Holly, for bringing your holiday spirit. You make the days merry!

Hello, snow!

It snowed for the first time this season, and I wished I could find my black ankle boots. Except Chewy destroyed them a few months ago.

So I still have cause to say "Oh no, Chewy."

Though it was hard to give Chewy back, I hope that whoever adopted her gave her a great name that she grew into, like Snuggles.

This weekend I dogsat for Cocoa, who's obedient and low key — so, not like Chewy (or Pops or Ginger, for that matter).

Cocoa's interests include burrowing in the snow and cuddling. She was a lovely houseguest.

And I bought some ankle boots, so the universe is as it should be. Well, almost. Having my own dog isn't in the cards right now, but I'm always happy to dogsit.

G Phi, G Phi B reunion

Our sorority reunion really started Saturday afternoon, when Ruth and I looked at her old pictures.

Linda, Zoraya, and me

Exactly 22 years earlier, I'd given her a framed photo of us: She rocked a gold sequined dress and I wore a strapless leopard print with rhinestones.

Good times, wearing over-the-top dresses during the day.
 
On our drive to Berkeley, we talked about who had RSVP'ed and how much we admired Marjorie's genuine excitement at seeing everyone.

Marjo did not disappoint, starting with the pre-party in the hotel room she was sharing with Ginger. Every so often there'd be some shrieking when someone new arrived.

Linda and Nancy

Once we got to the reunion, it was hard to keep up with the wine and food because there was always someone to hug. At some point, Marjo announced, "Wasted!" and gave more hugs and kisses and squeezes to everyone.

I loved catching up with old roommates (I know "old" sounds bad, but I hate the formality of "former"): Merideth. Susanne. Liz, who reminded me of our post-college 1490 Sacramento apartment — and yes, I Googled it.

After the reunion, we did fit in some one-on-one time, marveling at who looks even younger than they did in college (Annie and Norene, are there hideous paintings in your attic?). Linda and Yvonne and Liz and Susanne, I'm so glad we got together.

It was great to be able to say, "I regret having lost touch with you" and then be able to pick right back up. After all this time, it's funny what we remember. I can remember who Susanne set me up with. Her, not so much: "Oh. He was nice."

me and Susanne

The reunion was a night of wonderful memories and horrible selfies. (I'd like to practice and get better at them, but who does that?)

Brenda, Zoraya, me, Liz Q., Alma, Kim, Anne, Ruth, and Carmen

I did miss talking to a few people — Brenda, Kim, and Erika, for starters. We will have to catch up another way. And I didn't get a chance to talk to Julie and Deanna, who arranged everything and got us all together. Thank you!

Let's do it all again soon.

Irish Fest 2014 and 2015

I just realized I never blogged about last year's Irish Fest. Strangely, I don't remember much about it, except that Denise and I were there and that Maggie took this selfie.

Maggie is great about scheduling us when we want to work, and the 4 to 8 shift is really the Fest's sweet spot: fun volunteers, easygoing customers, and time to wander around afterward.

This year's Fest had a little of everything, starting with the parking gridlock. It's too bad this is a thing, going to one lot and then getting redirected.

Within moments of walking into the tent, we were ringing up sales. There was virtually no time to chat with other volunteers (Murph, how are you doing?) or even for this selfie. (And yes, I wore the same dress and earrings last year.)  

Fortunately Jenna, who's in high school but has been volunteering for five years with her grandpa, knew just about everything. She was the go-to person about posters, sizes, and prices on the rhinestone tees. At one point I looked at her.

"Ten dollars," she said. (She just knew I was going to ask how much the backpacks were.)

Among this chaos, Margaret stopped to announce that Denise and I had been volunteers for 10 years. Everyone in the tent applauded and we got our 10-year Irish Fest pins. It was a truly awesome moment, because how often in life do you unexpectedly get applause? Thank you, Margaret and Maggie and Jenna and everyone who makes it so much fun to be a part of the Fest.

Tailgates and mini milestones

The tennis gang has a long, colorful history of tailgating that is not rivaled by a love of baseball. (Though, there are some years when Colleen can name multiple players on the team.) While any jamoke can lean on their car and drink Miller Lite, this group knows how to handle the details: preferred parking passes (thanks, Ron!), clearly marked coolers with ice-cold beverages, homemade chocolate chip cookies, two kinds of hand wipes.

We were all happy to toast a half-milestone: Ron's 65th birthday. It's hard to believe that Ron and Jean's collective 120th birthday was already five years ago. I'm really glad they celebrated that one with karaoke rather than skydiving, which was also one of their options.

It was a night for simple pleasures. Like mobility. (Though, truthfully, when Patty and I were on crutches last year, we were still able to enjoy brunch.) Thanks to Dianne for taking so many photos of us trying to show off our injury-free legs, and also for being the organizer of so many brunches.

I did get a little nervous at the Final Destination-like moment when one of the bolts fell out of the tent. But that passed, and it was really a nice, relaxing night. Almost as relaxing as, say, making a mohawk with Coco's golden retriever curls, which I was able to do later. Who knew that the night could keep getting better?

And no, Doug is not almost passed out — merely recovering from his grilling exertions (or trying to avoid being in the photo with all the enviable white-shorts ladies, of which Beth was also one). He did a phenomenal job with the steaks, brats, and hot dogs. When I hear Hebrew National, I think Doug, for sure.

Thanks to everyone who made the night fun. My first-ever Brewers tailgate did not disappoint, and I'll look forward to going back next year!

Cokes and friends

When I was a kid, I could never find any souvenirs with my name on them. Poor Yukie still has trouble with that. I hope she has at least stopped saying her name is "Vicki" when placing to-go orders ("because that's what people hear").

So when Katy's sister forwarded this photo, I just had to post it. Katy doesn't really drink soda and I never drink diet. Nor as children were we allowed unlimited access to sugary soft drinks. But I've always loved Coke — particularly from bottles or tiny cans, with lots of ice and a twist of lime.

Well played, Coke, with your social media campaign. And Erika, please let us know if you ever find a Coke for Yukie. Or Vicki.

Happy 70th birthday, Terry!

Terry hates being the center of attention and did not want a big shindig for his 70th birthday. Yet our tennis group perseveres in celebrating milestone birthdays. The best way to avoid this is to be in another state during your birthday, but even then, we might still try to celebrate (we're talking to you, Becks).

Colleen thought of everything: the invite, the balloons, the cupcakes. Dave and Patty did a trial run, arriving exactly one week early. A bunch of us (including Dave and Patty) arrived by 8:15 on Friday, eager to find out where Terry was going to make his entrance. 

A few things went awry. But the good news is, Doug mentioned the surprise only once, and Jim got help with retrieving the keys he locked in his car.

And a good time was had by all. The party had everything: fruity mojitos, chicken tenders, and Terry sporting a beaded necklace. He was gracious in his receipt of the gnome, which Jim had lovingly cared for for more than a year.

Terry, you look terrific, you are terrific, and we love you very much. Cheers to you!