Wednesday, October 22, 2014
The old green pippin is giving more apples every year. This year I've made good apple sauce, especially fine to cook with, and incredible apple juice.
The recipe is all the pippins that fall off the tree without too many blemishes and before the squirrels get them, plus an equal amount of Fujis from the farmer's market guy who sells me all I can carry home in my bike pack for $5.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
The Apartment in Chicago
It was a quick trip, and worth going. Being with Mummy P. works in 20 minute spurts these days. She doesn't sleep much at night, so the day becomes her night, when she has to pick up all those missing hours. Saturday she slept in the car coming home from Burbank airport, slept most of the day away, had dinner, fell asleep on the sofa and then went to bed. Today was better, she was alert in the morning. Nefnik and Lilli came over and were there with her when Ducknik and Plot took a cab to the airport.
So you don't get a lot but you do treasure those little spurts. In one, this morning, she remembered how things were when she was newly married into a large family in Chicago. Those days are mysterious to Plotnik, he loves to hear about them, since he was only three months old when the family uprooted themselves and moved to L.A. It was nice to talk about Aunt Ann, a gracious woman who Plot never saw much but always cared for. All those Chicago relatives, and all the New York relatives, and Plottie and Schmeckl never really knew any of them. L.A. was a long way to come in the '40s and '50s.
So that was a nice little memory segment. The rest of the time was asking us over and over whether or not we'd eaten breakfast.
The thing is, nobody ever said getting old is gracious. But you can be gracious about it, and that's what Mummy P. does. Plot sits out on the patio and holds her arm and she says she knows she's not much fun anymore, but smiles and asks "what can I do about it?" She can't remember names or words, but she can remember driving around Chicago in 1936 with Aunt Ann. She can remember where her apartment was. She remembers her mother-in-law's mother, also named Rose. She can remember old Abe who carried a long horn that you had to shout into. She remembers the nice things people did and the nasty things they said, and her mother in law who helped her own two daughters but never her daughter in law, and her father selling candy on Maxwell Street, and then her face goes blank and she is silent and when Plotnik thinks she has fallen asleep she says "I was just thinking about that apartment."
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Kind of a Sad Afternoon
The thing is, I want to live as long as I can, I want to scratch for every last second on this Earth. Yet I don't want my kids to have to see me the way I see my mom. So I guess I just want to live forever, in perfect health, able to see, and hear, and remember, and perform all my bodily functions discretely, and maybe that will be enough, but it's not really all that much, is it?
Monday, October 13, 2014
Great Weekend of Theater
It was a great theater weekend, the kind Plotnik loves best. Friday night we took Mush's advice and saw "Old Hats" at A.C.T. Laughed, laughed, laughed. Saturday night we went to Mountain View to see a new "Sweeney Todd." Brilliant, flawed, brilliant, like all Sondheim. Last night we saw "Bad Jews" at the Magic and that one was the jewel. You don't have to be Jewish to love this show but if you are it will make you cringe in your kishkes. Here's the link:
SF Theater Blog review of "Bad Jews"
Thursday, October 09, 2014
Wednesday, October 08, 2014
OK, so the worst that can happen happens: the Cardinals and Giants win and will play each other for the championship. The Plotzers underachieve again and are through for the year.
Plot hates the Cardinals. The Giants -- well he hates them much more, it's visceral, it's primal, he's hated them since he was thirteen. He's only hated the Cardinals since 2012.
Worse, only one of those teams can lose. The best that could happen would be for whoever loses to be miserable, and then whoever advances to the World Series to become suicidal when thumped in four by the Kansas City Oriole Baltimore Royals.
But that's not enough. Not nearly enough.
If Plotnik were to count up the hours he spent watching Plotzer games on MLB-TV this season, he would come to two conclusions:
1) He really enjoyed watching those games.
2) He needs to get a life.
1) You can't beat the Giants enough. You can whup them during the year but if you don't get a chance to whup them in the playoffs it doesn't mean anything.
2) This mixed marriage thing sucks. A Giant fan. Jeez.
3) If that deplorable orange and black beats the Cards and gets to the World Series, Plotnik will be as far from here as an airplane can take him, preferably somewhere they use chopsticks and have no newspapers and the government has canceled the internet and no one on the street ever heard of baseyborr.