Christmas Memories, Traditions, Presents (in Photos)

Cheers with our Christmas Eve Irish Coffee's

Getting treats out for Santa

Waiting for Santa and his reindeer

Alva was "hot" so decided to play in the rain in her swimsuit Christmas Eve

Christmas morning presents!

The aftermath 

Playdough Pizza Parlor 

Last Christmas?

For the past few years my Granny Fran has been making comments about not being around for much longer. And every time I brush the comment aside since Granny is four years younger than Grandpa Vic who normally doesn’t talk such nonsense and physically, spiritually and mentally speaking they have always been healthier than my 20, 30 and now 40 something self. It wasn’t until recently that Grandpa, at age 99, has started voicing what we all know but don’t want to address. He is getting old, has had an amazing life and he might actually not be around much longer. And yet I have been able to put that thought aside each and every occasion and focus on the fun at hand.

For some reason this Christmas was different. True, we had our normal chaos of opening presents, Grandpa Vic enjoyed his glass of wine (with a watchful eye from Granny) and we still had our crab and ravioli dinner followed by the traditional snowball candle challenge. And yet things were different. Grandpa didn’t say his normal grace for dinner (Granny was adamant he didn’t need to which I am sure was partly because she hears enough of the Lord at home already). Which meant there was no chance for the kids (now adults) to side eye each other and stifle their giggles. And it wasn’t until my crab-shell filled plate was cleared and I looked up to see what was going on (I will admit, when there is crab on the table I tend to get tunnel vision that doesn’t extend past the bowl of legs and pinchers) that I realized Grandpa was the only one still eating, my dad and others having long since thrown in the towel.

True to tradition I made a comment about him being the last one standing/eating and he expressed his disappointment in me giving up so early, noting how it is normally just the two of us at the end of each Christmas dinner never quite getting our fill of the seasonal treat. Ignoring the nagging in my heart and deferring to my extended stomach, I told him I was full but promised to finish with him next year taking for granted there would be a next year.

And with his short comment of “I am not sure there will be a next year” (or something to that effect) the façade of naivety came crushing down. This may in fact be my last Christmas with Grandpa Vic. And I stupidly didn’t finish out the meal with him in solidarity. This will be up there in life’s true regrets (for which I have few).

Granny must have seen my world crumbling in my eyes (or felt the attention shifting) for she took the opportunity to bring me back, as she always does, to reality.  While Grandpa finished his crab and wine, Granny grabbed my hand, looked me in my eyes and told me she was going to be okay, she had all of us to look after her, but I was to take care of the paperwork when the time comes.  It was our little moment, our little secret, just the two of us alone at a table full of 11 people all chatting, eating, enjoying each other’s company while the two of us knew what was really going on.  With this statement, she gave me the gift of focusing on the tactical to prevent me from getting lost in the emotional.

I don’t want this to be a downer of a post, the evening was anything but that. It was absolutely perfect, with both families coming together for a fun evening of good food, good wine and good fun. Alva spent the night scooting around the house on her new scooter. Oskar spent most of the time building Legos and playing with his hot wheels track, my dad kept the fire going nice and hot and my mom was the perfect hostess. It might have been our best Christmas since Martin and I got married and started spending the holiday together.

And even more telling on how amazing the night was, it was the first time in a really long time that Granny and Grandpa left not at the encouragement of Granny stating “come on Vic, it’s time to go” but rather because their prescheduled taxi had arrived. Everyone had had a wonderful night.

And as for Grandpa, I still plan to eat crab with him until the end of Christmas dinner next year.

Merry Christmas From The Breuers

The photo was opportunistic: we didn’t have the time or patience to try and schedule a professional photo shoot with coordinating outfits and perfectly posed pictures.  We were going to let it happen naturally and hope for the best.

So Thanksgiving morning, while out for a walk along the river in Dunsmuir, we asked Brenda to take one for us.  I hadn’t brushed my hair or put on makeup, Martin had his eyes closed in this one so I had to photo shop them in and neither of the kids were looking at the camera. But I would say all things considering we are looking good.

And the photo on the back.  Well that is a gem from up at Timber Cove.

A Christmas Miracle

This is Blue. He has been with Oskar since Oskar came home from the hospital. He has travelled everywhere with us and is Oskar’s favorite friend. Come bedtime, they are inseparable.

That was until Wednesday night the week before Christmas while I was off enjoying my quarantined forced staycation. Blue was missing at bedtime and, after an hour of searching and an hour of tears, Martin and Oskar finally gave up and Oskar went to sleep without his Blue in over 5.5 years.

While most likely still in the house (Martin searched everywhere including the garbage he had taken down earlier that week), Blue appeared to be officially missing. And so life went on without Blue and, coincidentally or not, Oskar joined us in bed most nights thereafter.

That is until Christmas Eve, when all seemed lost, we found Blue! I was grabbing a new pair of pajamas from Oskar’s closet and found him in the bin along with all of his other pajamas.  I haven’t seen Oskar that genuinely happy or full of joy in a really long time.

It was a Christmas miracle!!

As a side note, I realize that at some point Oskar will most likely outgrow Blue and move on, I mean he will go to college eventually, but it was heartbreaking to think it wasn't on Oskar's terms. 

Down the Rabbit Hole

Early in December, we asked the kids what they wanted for Christmas.  Their ideas were relatively simple: Alva wanted a unicorn stuffed animal and pink rain boots and Oskar wanted a Trolley Lego set.  It seemed easy enough, especially since Ernst and Annegret had already purchased pink rain boots for Alva which also happened to have unicorns on them.

But the devil is in the details and not wanting to disappoint, I asked a few follow up questions. The unicorn stuffed animal was in fact Isa’s unicorn stuffed animal (Isa is a friend of Alva’s from school, who happened to bring her stuffed unicorn to school one day).  And the trolley Lego set was not a cable car, train or tram but rather one of the old fashion trolleys that Oskar sees on his was to school each morning.  

Thankfully, I had recently met Isa’s mom and we had connected a few weeks earlier so I was able to reach out to get a picture and the brand of said unicorn.  And while the exact same one was no longer available, after a quick google search, I was able to find one that was almost identical to Isa’s along with a unicorn coloring book. Alva’s present was set.  

I wasn’t so lucky with Oskar.  Turns out Lego doesn’t make a trolley set, although I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.  They did make one that was close to a trolley a few years back which I could have bought off of eBay for $500 but that seemed a bit ridiculous.  They currently make two Lego sets that have trolleys/trains in them.  I bought the one with the train that had batteries and drove on a circular track, but upon further interrogation of Oskar I changed my mind, and opted for the Lego City set that included an S-Bahn like tram along with a city hall, burger shop, helicopter and limousine.

But even that didn’t seem right.  It wasn’t a trolley and it seemed like just a small part in the overall set. And so I went down the rabbit hole of trying to find a Lego set that looked similar to the street cars that run the F-Line in San Francisco.  Countless google searches and most likely the first layer of the dark web later, I settled on purchasing two different Lego instructions from eBay to build my own tram/trolley.  Along with the instructions, and most likely malware embedded in the downloaded files, I was given a list of pieces to buy on the unsanctioned Lego block website BrickLinks which connected me to local dealers for either new or used pieces (it all felt very shady, like buying drugs on the street corner or in a back alley, but turned out to be legit). Too much time and money later, I officially had instructions and pieces for back-up trolley (one that looked like a Lisbon Trolley) that would be a present from us in case the present from Santa wasn’t what Oskar had in mind. 

Turns out all of my fretting was for nothing.  The kids were super stoked with their presents from Santa Christmas morning and it seems like they would have been excited with anything.  Dana ended up getting Alva another unicorn stuffed animal that she loves just as much, if not more, than the one from Santa (which required the back channeling and called-in favors).  For Oskar, turns out the actual present mattered less than who brought it: when talking about the large Lego set from Santa that included not just the tram but all of the other city pieces, I called it a City Lego set for which Oskar remarked “No, it is a trolley Lego set, it has to be… Santa brought it for me and that is what I asked for.”

And as for that other trolley set I bought through the dark web that gave me a virus and a few extra grey hairs.  Oskar and I tried to build it together but he (or me, or both of us) got frustrated after 10 minutes of trying to work together and he went back to his shiny new Legos from Santa.  Unwilling to admit that my search was a waste of time, I spent the next 90 minutes of Christmas morning, sitting next to our Christmas tree, surrounded by opened presents and wrapping paper, in my Christmas jammies, building my own Lego trolley.

My fancy new trolley

Out of An Abundance of Caution

After 20 months of not being in the office or physically sharing a space with the team that I had previously spent most of my waking hours with, we were officially getting back together.  We were having a team offsite!!

The offsite was planned for Tuesday through Thursday and we were going to spare no expense: the team was flying in from all parts of the country and while in San Francisco we were going to enjoy cocktails at Hubert’s Tuesday night, spend a day in the office for “work” on Wednesday, have a fancy dinner at Spruce Wednesday night and then loosen up with a day of wine tasting on Thursday before everyone went their separate ways again on Friday.

With Martin’s family coming in Thursday afternoon, I decided to get a hotel room for Thursday night.  While I might be fun company after a day of wine tasting I am not sure they would find me charming or entertaining after not seeing their son and grandchildren for 2 years and flying 12+ hours to see them.   It seemed like the responsible and polite thing to do.

And then omicron arrived and, though slim, the risk of me bringing home the dreaded virus from my festivities resulting in potentially having Martin and kids in quarantine right when the family landed didn’t seem worth the pain… so out of an abundance of caution, I extended my hotel stay to include Tuesday and Wednesday night to officially separate Martin and the kids from potential exposure.

The week started off great. There was a Controllers All Hands on Tuesday morning in the office followed by a lunch and party with the entire Controllers Org Tuesday afternoon.  Thanks to our plans, a lot of other teams decided to have offsites the same week resulting in one larger gathering of all groups and, in hindsight, the perfect storm for potential exposure.

Cocktails at Hubert’s house were amazing as always and Wednesday started off strong with canid conversations about burnout, energy levels and team accountability.

And then it all came to a screeching halt. Someone who had attended the Controller’s Org lunch and festivities the previous day had tested positive.  And out of an abundance of caution, their manager informed the leadership team before going through the normal channels of communication.  With this information in hand, we had no choice but to do the responsible thing.

By 11am Wednesday morning, our offsite was cancelled.  Dinner was cancelled.  Wine tasting was cancelled. Fun bonding time with the team cancelled.  We all immediately got tested again in the office and those who flew into San Francisco rebooked flights out for later that day. And me? Out of an abundance of caution, I headed back to the hotel where I would quarantine for the next two nights until I could test again 3 days from potential exposure (Friday).

And like all things in life, I made the most out of my “quarantine/staycation”.  With only cute outfits packed for the offsite, I bought a pair of comfy pants online from a store next to the hotel that offered curbside pick-up, I had Martin leave a bag outside our house with my kindle, an at home COVID test and a few other necessities (which I walked to pick up) and then in hunkered down my hotel room with room service, Christmas movies and plenty to read. I even snuck in a SLO girls happy hour on Thursday night.

The team continued to test on Days 3 and 5 and we all came back in the clear thankfully. And I was able to reunite with the family on Friday as planned, refreshed and ready for the Christmas chaos to come.

As a side note, if we hadn’t been informed by the manager, we actually wouldn’t have been notified at all since we weren’t deemed to be in “close contact” with the individual based on contact tracing and the offsite would have continued… but again hindsight.

Overcommitted

It pains me to say this. I think I may have overcommitted myself these last few weeks. Don’t get me wrong. I had a hell of a time, but it is quite possible that I maybe did just a little too much.

• Timber Cove for the day
• Davis to see Livi play soccer
• San Diego for the night
• Mexico for the week
• Bend to see Cody and Brenda
• Reno to spend the night with the Worls
• Denver for my annual Halloween trip with Mckane
• London to represent Salesforce at the Finance for the Future awards dinner.

On top of all that we had Halloween in the mix including a homemade blue whale costume for Oskar.

I am officially home and officially exhausted and officially ready to hunker down for the holidays and winter. In the meantime enjoy some stories from the past five weeks and a few photos below. 

Halloween in Denver

Another year, and another Halloween with McKane and Anna in Denver.  Similar to past years, the weekend was split between fun dinners out with the girls, weekend brunches, shopping and a Saturday night on the couch watching Halloween movies. 

Here are my two favorite pictures from the trip that sum it all up:

My "accidental" Rock costume from Friday Night

Brunch with sparklers on Saturday Afternoon 

A Big Adventure to Oregon

For as long as I could remember I have always wanted to do the all American road trip across the country with just a map and loose plans. The goal would be to not use google maps, not make reservations ahead of time, not do any real research of places to see, things to do, where to eat and just see where the road and local recommendations takes us.

So when we decided to head up to Bend, Oregon to see Cody and Brenda during the kids’ potato break (1 week off of school) we decided to not make formal plans other than two nights’ accommodations in Bend and see what would happen.

The goal: Drive as far as we could on Monday (stopping when we got tired), get to Bend Tuesday for two nights and then make our way home the long way starting Thursday.

The Reality: Things started out good… I made reservations for Bend for Tuesday and Wednesday and “convinced” my Type A self that the rest we would leave up to chance. But once on the road, the googling, mapping and researching began. How much farther until the next big town, if we stopped in City X what would the hotel options be? Were there good restaurants nearby? How much further would the drive be to Bend the next morning? How late would it be if we just drove through to Bend all the way.

Yup, looks like I might need some more discipline if we (meaning I) will actually hold to the dream if and when it happens.

My Type A personality aside the trip was so much fun. And allowed us to experience autumn in the best ways possible. 

We decided to push on through making it to Cody and Brenda’s just in time for dinner and since our rental accommodations weren’t until Tuesday we spent the night at their house. And the fun continued the rest of the week: 

Lunch at Smith Rock

Pumpkin Patch at DD Farms

Don't be fooled by the pictures... Oskar and Alva were too busy playing with trucks to pick out pumpkins

Pumpkin carving, a warm fire and tacos at Cody and Brenda's

An "autumn" walk around Todd Lake

Originally planning to leave on Thursday we opted to stay an additional night to check out some more of Bend and Sun River. Thursday morning I was able to meet up with the sisters Heidi and Tami from Rancho la Puerta.  And we spent the remainder of the day playing chutes and ladders and candy land, making puzzles and sitting by the fire. We also managed to check out the local pump track and walked through downtown Bend before dinner and bed.

Checking out downtown Bend

Consistent with the original plans, we took the scenic route home through Reno and Truckee, staying the night at Ange and Scott’s Friday night and seeing Amber, Todd and Jack on Saturday morning before heading back to San Francisco.

10 years in the making

10 years ago a co-worker told me about her magical trip to Rancho La Puerta and I knew I had to go. Weddings, new jobs, babies, new jobs, more babies and then a pandemic postponed those desires until this past week. And it was everything.

After so much anticipation and build up (it had been 10 years) I was afraid it wasn’t going to happen, even with a reservation secured, even with flights booked, even after getting my passport emergency resolved and even on the bus across the border.  And yet, we, Erin and I, officially made it to the Ranch for a weeklong vacation of rest, relaxation, meditation, exercise, healthy eating and so much more. There are no words to explain the experience other than I am ready to go back every year and have already booked our trip for next year.

Just a quick background: the Ranch is a 4,000+ acre resort with everything one could hope for in a getaway.  Beautiful yet rustic accommodations, lush landscaping, exercise classes, art classes, cooking classes, wellness classes, an amazing spa, everything. 

With so much to do each and every day, as highlighted in the weekly schedule, we wanted to make the most of the experience.  And yet, we also wanted to not stress about anything.  Going against every fiber in our Type A bodies Erin and I attempted to not overschedule ourselves, and through the process we were able to balance it all.

We hiked, played tennis, stretched, practiced yoga, revisited Pilates, and learned salsa.

We tried something new every day including Feldenkrais, Gyrokinesis, aqua board (which I lasted only 10 minutes on before getting motion sick), sound healing (which gave Erin and I both a migraine), walked the Labyrinth, and massaged our feet on the reflexology path. 

We also hiked to their organic farm, learned about birds during a morning bird walk (we also learned what two animals we would not want to come back as in our second life: a female duck and Cochineal, the insect that makes red dye no. 4) and I took part in a writing workshop.

We enjoyed spa treatments galore, running the gamut from the traditional massages, facials, body scrubs and a hand/foot massage to the unusual and crazy such as the scalp treatment (just really aggressive brushing) and a chocolate wrap (where we were scrubbed with honey and sugar, then painted in chocolate and wrapped in a foil blanket, not un-similar to a “bump on a log” banana and chocolate dessert typically enjoyed while camping).

We spent mornings with coffee in our hacienda and afternoons reading books on our private patio. We ate amazing pescatarian meals in spa size portions (not feeling hungry or unsatisfied) and partook in more than a few bottles of wine at the wine bar.

And true to form, our favorite moment was one not included in their formal schedule.  With a bottle of wine, wine glasses and a few snacks we hiked up the mountain to Alex’s Oak on Thursday night, our last night at “camp”, for sunset with our new bffs, the sister duo of Heidi and Tami from Oregon.

It was amazing.  And the best part was meeting all of the amazing, kind people who were there as well: the multiple mother daughter combos, the sisters from Oregon, the solo ladies and groups of 8+ women, our fellow first timers, and those who have been coming there since the 80s and have since shared the experience with everyone they know.

Next year is already booked for anyone who would like to join!

Goodbye Old Friends

I made the mistake of dating and then marrying a man who loves to hike. Which means I am now someone who hikes. To be fair I did enjoy my fair share of hikes growing up (Yosemite Falls, Mt Dana and Lassen to say a few) but while Martin’s heart lies in the mountains mine is definitely on the beaches of Hawaii. 

Eager to dress the part and prove I could be a “hiker” in our early days of dating, I went out and bought a pair of hiking boots, pants, and poles. The hiking poles were used once and then left at the in-laws house never to be seen again. And this past week after 10+ years I had to say goodbye to the boots. They officially gave up on me.

On our first morning at Rancho La Puerta Erin and I woke up early to join the 4.5 mile morning mountain hike. About 1 mile in and half way up the hill my right boot felt a little odd. I looked down to see the tread of my right boot flapping up and down with each step like a ventriloquist’s dummy. The rubber was separating from the boot. With more than 2.5 miles to go (already factoring in the early turn off) I needed a solution.

Unfortunately no one had duct tape (or any sort of supplies) but Erin did have a ponytail holder that I could wrap around the toe, so that would have to work. And it did for a while until it fell off and the flapping started again. Using my MacGyver-like skills I replaced the lost pony tail holder with my cloth face mask making a diaper/chin strap contraption that thankfully lasted the rest of the hike and all the way to the concierge for duct tape.

At breakfast everyone seemed to know about my blowout and, less than 12 hours into my stay, I had made a name for myself.

Like all lifelong partners, the left boot tread gave out two days later resulting in another sacrificed face mask and finally admitting it was time to say goodbye.

We had a good run and made a lot of memories.

Our first hut hike in Switzerland (2009)

Our "Honeymoon" in the Dolomites (2013)

The W Trail in Patagonia (2015)

The Last Hurrah (2021)

Enough

Along with the many other activities and classes offered at Rancho la Puerta, I took the opportunity to attend a writing workshop with poet Myra Cohen. A New Yorker through and through, Myra has established a non-profit organization that brings writers into classrooms and the community to teach poetry.

Thinking back to Martin’s comment about writing being my hobby and anticipating the upcoming release of my book, I thought I should go. I could probably learn a thing or two and it would be interesting to hone my skills.

I definitely learned I am not a poet, but did walk away with a great writing technique that I hope to use in the future. The class opened with Myra giving us a theme, this class it was “What If”. From there we had to write consistently and without stopping for 10 minutes. It didn’t matter if it made sense, if we wrote words, phrases or sentences. The goal was to just write.

From this string of consciousness, we were to then circle words or phrases that jumped out at us and make a poem with it. In 10 minutes.

The process was very cathartic and like all things I didn’t put much thought into it, but I was happy where things landed. Please enjoy my first real poem.

 

Enough

I was warned about the stretch marks and sleepless nights

I was warned about the long days and short years

I was warned about loving your kids so much your heart hurts

 

But nobody warned me about the self-doubt and endless questions

Is that poop normal, should I call the doctor?

Why won’t they sleep?

What can they, what should they, what do they want to do

Am I doing “it”, this whole parenting thing, right

And the constant barrage of what ifs.

 

What if they never learn to swim?

What if they are bullied at school?

What if they are a bully?

What if my kids can’t find joy in the little things?

What if they can’t see how amazing they are?

What if they grow to resent me?

 

What if I mess them up?

What if I am messed up?

What if I made a mess?

What if I made a mess and didn’t clean it up?

 

Can I live with that?

Do I want to live with that?

Should I live with that?

 

I don’t know

I don’t really know anything

Except how to be me

With all of my flaws, failures, tics and fears

And hopefully that is enough

It has to be enough

Because I am enough

And yet… what if I am not.

Not too bad for a ten minute try.

The Mom Profit

I never quite understood why my Dad loved to tell stories about his crazy college days and all of the shenanigans him and his “Animal House” fraternity brothers would get up to. It seemed every time he had a moment of nostalgia, he would start to tell one of his many stories about breaking into a bar, breaking out of a bar, stealing a cop car or allude to the one story he could never tell us.

I never quite understood this habit until this past Friday in San Diego. It was there that Erin, Neff and I caught up on life and reminisced about all of the shenanigans we got up to in college and shortly thereafter. And even more so, how the next generation will never understand how much fun we had despite, and probably because of, not having cell phones, social media and the maturity to know better.

And from these memories and desire to share them not only with our kids (who will surely roll their eyes at us) but also anyone else who wants to understand the simpler time of our unicorn generation of Xennials, we hatched our plan for a podcast. Not the most unique idea we realize but it should be a fun one. We will call it the Mom Profit and instead of making money or donating any money to a non-profit we will take all proceeds and give them to groups of girlfriends who need a vacation from their mom life.

I am buying a microphone and hope to record a few sessions over the winter and at our 20 year reunion in SLO in the spring. Stay tuned!

For reference, Xennials are defined as being born sometime between 1977 and 1983 and can be read about here.  

So I Married an Axe Murderer

We will call it the perfect storm of happenstance, dumb luck and little bit of dark humor that culminated with me talking with a retired crime scene investigator on how to get away with murder and identifying potential flaws in my hypothetical plan to murder Martin with an axe.

But first - let me state it loud and clear – I love my husband and everything I am about to write is a joke.  A terrible, inappropriate joke and one I will regret the moment I post this. But share, I must.

A few things have happened recently that have gotten me to this point:   

• I was introduced to the podcast “Crime Junkies” by McKane and I now listen to it almost daily on my morning walks.  As you might infer from the name, Crime Junkies highlights gruesome crimes (most of them murders) including the police investigation, potential suspects and open questions (if the crime has yet to be solved). 
• I found a bar with axe throwing and really enjoyed it. 
• Martin and I have watched one too many dark crime series on TV resulting in a hypothetical conversation on how to dispose a body, if needed.  Note to my readers, if I go missing and you can’t find a trace of blood, you will know it isn’t Martin.  The man has never been able to properly clean up a mess and I am still finding blood splatters from his most recent injury. 
• I have learned the value and importance of long term planning.

Flash forward to a few weeks ago, one Tuesday morning when I had to go to Timber Cove to meet the delivery guys who were dropping off our outdoor table. And, knowing I had the time, I figured I would tackle a few mini projects up there while I waited.  Loving a good small hardware store, I had stopped by the Ace Hardware in Petaluma to buy brackets to hang my rake, hoe and apple picker on the wall in the mechanical room. 

While I was at the store, I realized I probably had time for a few more projects (delivery windows at Timber Cove are notoriously wide and are always missed), so I decided to browse the aisles to see if I could come up with a few other ideas.  In an instant, I knew what I had to buy… an axe!  I was going to set up my own axe throwing board at Timber Cove.  We had wood, paint and plenty of space, I just needed an axe. 

Like I always do, I asked for help locating the axes in the shop, I asked for help in identifying the correct one based on shape, size and comparison to my pictures from my axe throwing night, and then headed up to the counter to pay making a complete scene and having multiple conversations about my axe purchase with everyone in line. You know what they say… it is best to hide in plain sight.

Unfortunately I actually didn’t get a chance to set up the axe throwing board at Timber Cove (the delivery guys were surprisingly on time in their specified window), but I did start the clock on when I could potentially use the now infamous axe in an accidental death… because nothing looks more suspicious than buying the murder weapon a week or even a month before the tragedy.