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Dad & Big Brother

My husband knocks on the car window and our son turns as he’s walking toward the school. My husband waves, my son waves back, then turns toward the school again. He takes a couple steps and my husband knocks on the car window again. Our son stops, turns to look at his dad waving again and shakes his head. Then a smile spreads across his face and he wriggles his fingers at him and turns back toward the school.

“What was that for?” I ask. If our son was six, and on his way into elementary school, it would have been cute, but he’s fourteen and in middle school.

“I’m building up his immunity,” he says.

“To what?” My brows pinch together in puzzlement.

“Being embarrassed so easily. If I embarrass him enough then he won’t take it so seriously when other embarrassing things happen in his life,” he reasoned.

I’m not sure how sound his theory is, but I do know that I love him for it. I love how he knows when to be dad to our son - an only child - and when to be big brother, and that he does it so well. He’s an amazing dad in so many ways, but I think his ability to play both roles and understand the importance of both in our son’s life is really ingenious. I also think it’s remarkable that our son learned so quickly to tell the difference between the two roles and responds appropriately.

Those of us who have had older brothers or sisters remember well the lessons we learned from them. They toughened us up, taught us to not cry so easily, showed us how stupid we look when we threw tantrums, modeled how to talk trash and banter in way that is funny, but not cruel. They often pushed us farther than we wanted them too, but they always seemed to know when to stop. As much as we may have disliked older siblings as a child, they played an important role that many of us would not appreciate until we are older.

My husband has used his role as father for all the traditional reasons: to teach our son about life, to protect him, to mentor him, and to raise him to become a good man. His role as big brother has proved just as important and he uses it for a different set of lessons: to teach our son how to interact with friends, how to be competitive without being a sore loser, how to banter with the guys without being a jerk, and how to be a good man who shows compassion as well as strength.

When my husband is big brother, our son can talk trash with him, try to best him in games and pranks, poke fun at him and wrestle with him. When he’s dad, our son knows that he has to be respectful, listen to the advice he is being given, and follow his instructions. There is a shift in both of them as they move between the roles of father/son and big brother/little brother. The shift is subtle, but both of them are so tuned into it now and rarely misread the other.

I love watching this dynamic, and smile to myself as husband taps on the car window again to get our son to turn around. I know he’s trying to annoy him, just like a big brother would, and our son knows it too. That’s why he rolls his eyes at him as he turns away, a reaction that would get him a reprimand in other situations, but is completely appropriate in this one. My husband smirks back at our son as he walks away and I marvel that a man who mostly raised himself knows so well how to be a great dad, and the importance of being a big brother, too.  

Philadelphia From The Outside

Philadelphia is brimming with sounds, smells, and sights that are so different from the west coast. Sirens blare constantly, people yell prophesies on the street, painted murals adorn many a wall, and the aromas of every food imaginable fill the air. People seem as leery of me as I am of them, until a smile is exchanged, and then they warm quickly.

At night, the streets remind me of Gotham City. Tall stone buildings with pillars and towers and carvings are lit, glowing eerily in the fog. Steam rises from the grates on the sidewalk, but through the windows, the interiors of the restaurants look cozy and inviting with tables crowded with couples and friends.

I spent an afternoon in Reading Terminal Market, overwhelmed by the choices and the assault on the senses. The farmers markets on the west coast is a lovely outdoor experience with fresh air, vegetable and fruit stands, a handful of hot food vendors, and people meandering from booth to booth. The east coast version of a farmers market is so very different, but just as wonderful. The market is indoors, the smells are inescapable, the food vendors far outnumber the fruit, vegetable, spice, coffee, and tea stands, and a sea of people move quickly through, intent on their destinations. Only a few of us brave souls dared wander slowly through the crowd looking at the array of baked goods, fresh fish, and ethnic foods displayed behind glass cases.

Each person I motioned to go ahead of me in line looked vastly relieved to not have to wait for the lost tourist to make up her mind. Most smiled quickly then rattled off their order as I eavesdropped. One woman followed that same pattern, but then turned to look at me again as she waited for her food. "Is this your first time here?" she asked, softening the 'r' on here and extending the last vowel (which most of the country assumes is a silent 'e'). I nodded and she proceeded to tell me the best places to eat in the market and what to order.

She inquired and I told her I was in town for an education conference. As luck would have it, she was a teacher for many years and had just as many opinions and suggestions on how to fix the education system that she was more than willing to share with no encouragement from me. I found it amusing that she had  no qualms about airing her bold opinions with someone she knew nothing about, and had I not been a person who happened to agree with much of what she said, I may have found her offensive. I didn't, so I smiled and nodded. In retrospect, she probably would have appreciated a little dissension and a good discussion.

I took her advice and tried some of her suggestions, and thoroughly enjoyed being an outsider looking in for a while. I saw her again as she sat with her husband, eating huge slices of pizza (the kind you really can only find on the east coast). She waved and pointed me out to her husband as I held up the bag of sweet potato fries (the best I've ever tasted!) to show her I did take her advice.

It was such a brief encounter, standing in line while she waited for her pizza slices and I browsed, but it made the whole experience better. Her forwardness was refreshing in this case. Maybe I would have found her annoying if I had to sit next to her for five hours on an airplane, but for the five minutes we conversed in line, she made me feel a little less like an outsider.

As I left the market, a man held the door for me and smiled. "You are destined to know each other," he said at the coincidence as his wife--my new, opinionated friend with the warm face and intent eyes--passed through the door behind me. I sincerely agreed. I contemplated asking her name as we wished each other a good day, waved, and went opposite directions on the sidewalk, but decided against it. In my mind, her name will always just be Philly.

Re-Energize Your Soul In Idyllwild

Idyllwild, CA

Small towns get in a person's blood and stay there. It's the way people in small towns treat you like their neighbor and have conversations with you like it isn't the first time you've met. The shops and restaurants have as much character as the people who live there and nothing is unoriginal.

Red Kettle in Idyllwild

I feel like my soul gets rejuvenated when I spend time in a small town, and Idyllwild did not disappoint. We started the day with lunch on the patio of the Red Kettle. The place was packed and the server referred to everyone as Sweetie and Honey. The sun was warm, the breeze refreshing, and the diner homey. 

Merkaba tea shop in Idyllwild

Some shops carried trinkets and t-shirts, as expected, but many of the stores catered to specialty items and local artistry. The aroma of the tea shop wafted though the open windows and onto the street, beckoning. Front porches on stores were as cozy as any on a home, with potted plants and benches to sit on. 

Mountain Paws encouraged dogs to come in and enjoy the treats and browse through the store with their owners. Dogs were every where in town, strolling the streets with their humans and leaning out of open windows in cars, enjoying the day as much as anyone. 

A one mile drive out of town brought us to a great hiking spot with trails climbing into the mountains. The crisp scent of the pine trees and fresh mountain air kept us hiking ever higher, looking for the next view of the beautiful valleys below. 

As a final stop, we went to the ice cream shop before we left town, for thick shakes (too thick for the straw and almost too heavy for the plastic spoon) and chocolate dipped cheesecake. We meandered back through town to our car, wanting to enjoy the late afternoon. 

Everything slows down in the afternoon in a small town, just the way I like it. 

6 Reasons I Love My Stand Up Desk

My job is killing me! And making me feel like a hippopotamus. At least that's what all the recent research is showing. Article after article keep appearing on the major news sites saying that sitting is the new smoking, too much sitting is killing us, and that even if we run every day after work, it doesn't undo the damage done from being sedate all day.

I can focus on a project and work on it until it's completed without breaking for much more than a quick lunch at my desk. It's great for my employer but terrible for my ever-broadening rear and rising blood pressure. I know I should take breaks, go for a walk, set a timer to remind me to move around, but I just don't. It's a lame excuse, but it breaks my concentration.

Despite the lame excuses, I am not one to give up easily on finding solutions. If taking a break from my desk wasn't going to happen, then I had to make working at my desk better for my health. Fortunately, my employer was willing to discuss the options to change my situation, and just last month installed a standing desk option into my work space. Now I spend four to six hours of the work day on my feet at my desk.

So far, I love my stand up desk, but I was surprised to discover the benefits that go beyond safeguarding my health.

1. I move around my office more. Instead of being lazy and waiting until later to grab a file or look up a bit of information, I move around my office as needed, retrieving and putting away files instead of letting them pile up on my desk.

2. It's easier to stay focused on the job. My mind wanders more often when I am seated at my desk, but while I'm standing, and the blood is flowing, I feel more alert. I get projects finished even faster than before and I feel more creative, resulting in a better end product.

3. I work faster. There's just something about being on your feet that makes you hustle a bit more. It reminds me of doing chores around my home, intent on getting the tasks done and everything put in its place as quickly as possible so I can move on to better things. Maybe it's just habit, but I set the same brisk pace at work when I'm on my feet.

4. I can dance while I work. Fortunately for me, my office is a bit secluded and the view through my windows is obscured, so I can sway and shimmy to Pandora like it's 1987 again and no one is the wiser!

5. Napping is not my number one priority when I get home. I don't get so drowsy while I'm standing and I feel more energized at the end of the day, so the commute home isn't a battle to stay awake. Once I'm home, I'm more likely to take the dogs for a walk or go for a run than sit on the couch and watch TV.

6. I've lost a ton of weight and I'm in better shape! Okay, so this isn't exactly true, but it's only been a month. I'm hoping that after a year with my new desk, I will be able to report that this is true.

Soccer Mom or Kidnapper?

One of the really fun things about being a writer is having a great imagination. As with so many things, the great thing is also a terrible thing, and that holds true for having a great imagination as well. I can vividly imagine what it will be like when I sell my first book, or the places I will travel as a writer, or what the life would have been like 800 years ago when I sit on a hillside in England.
I can also imagine, in vivid detail, what might happen when the client that I've never met, and whose house I am on the way to, turns out to be a kook.

For 15 years, I worked as a small business consultant in northern Minnesota, going into people's homes or remote businesses located on gravel roads winding deep into the woods. I didn't worry, though, because we lived in a small town and I could always find someone who knew the new client to give me a reference.

Now I live in an area that has a population of over 200,000 (a bit more than the town of 3,000 that I was used to), and though I know people here, I don't know enough to be able to ask about someone who lives on the other side of the city and have any hope that my friends know that person.

So when I got my first consulting client here (southern California), I felt some trepidation about going to the person's house. I suggested we meet in a public place, a Starbuck's perhaps, but of course, the client's business information was on the desktop computer at her home, not on a laptop, and she had kids who would be home during the day, so she really preferred I come to her house. The fact that she had kids was a good sign, but I was still nervous to walk into a stranger's home.

I did my research on line, and found out what I could about the person and the business, which was a bit reassuring, but when the day came to go the house to do the consulting, my imagination started taking over. It began as I was choosing the necklace to wear with my outfit. As I was reaching for the one that usually goes with the sweater I had on, I started thinking about how thick the chain was and whether or not I could break it if someone tried to strangle me with it. Then I started thinking about what I would do if I got hit over the head the moment I walked in the door and locked into some dungeon of a room. I thought of the things in my purse that could be used as tools, but then realized that my purse would probably not be put in the room with me. The only solution, I decided, was to carry something on me in case my purse was taken away (which I did, just to be on the safe side, imagination be damned).

Every scenario possible went through my head of what could happen, ranging from being strangled by my own necklace, to being locked in a room in the basement and sold into the sex-slave industry, to being forced to strap explosives to my body and walk into a crowded store. All of it is really rather stupid. For one, who wants a middle-aged bookkeeping expert as a sex-slave? And why would terrorists be targeting our city to find suicide bombers when Los Angeles and San Diego are crawling with much better candidates than a place with an inordinate amount of housewives and soccer moms?

When I finally arrived at the client's house, I was relieved to find that she truly did have her kids at home with her, she looked like every other soccer mom in town, and she didn't appear to have any ulterior motives than to be sure her books were correct before she sent them to her accountant. Once again, my imagination was my own worst enemy, and there was nothing to worry about at all!

Then again,sometimes I completely agree with the person who said "You can't tell me worrying doesn't work. Most of the things I worry about never happen!"

Netflix Is Interfering With My Writing Life!

Netflix, and currently Orange is the New Black, is interfering with my writing life.

A couple months ago, we decided to get rid of our TV service. We had hundreds of channels, but only a handful of them were worth anything, and we watched more movies than TV shows. After getting rid of the TV service and adding in a subscription to Hulu and Amazon Prime, we'll save the equivalent of two plane tickets to almost anywhere in the U.S. over the next year.

But the best part was going to be that it would change how we watch TV.  No more endless hours of the TV being on just because one show follows another and it's easier to keep it on. Now, we would have to be deliberate in our TV watching and the rest of our time could be spent doing more productive activities, like reading or writing. The problem is I didn't anticipate Netflix's ability to make a person want to binge watch whatever current series the watcher is hooked on! Most shows have several seasons of each show available - that's hours of watching to get to the end! And I always have to know how it ends….

I have a greater appreciation for old fashioned TV channels that show one episode a week. It sucks to have to wait a week to find out what's in store for your favorite characters, and what's going to happen next, but it gives you a whole week to do something else, something useful. When the next episode is just a click away, it's much too easy to just...click.

Not only is the next episode at the tip of your fingertips, but the titles of all the episodes are there, enticing you to jump to conclusions about what they mean. Last night, I was going to only watch one episode, maybe two at the most, but that plan went out the window as soon as I went to the list of episodes to start the next one (Episode 11: Tall Men With Feelings) and I read the titles of the episodes coming up. Episode 13 was titled "Can't Fix Crazy" and I got worried! Crazy-Eyes has grown on me and I don't want anything to happen to her, but the title of Episode 13 sounded very ominous. They couldn't hurt Crazy-Eyes! So I had to watch all the way through Episode 13 before I went to bed to be sure she was okay. Fortunately, the title was just referring to Crazy-Eyes not being able to change who she was and actually sing in front of the rest of the inmates at the Christmas pageant, so I was able to go to bed, finally, after that episode.

Willpower has never been one of my strengths, but I do have determination (you'd think the two would go hand in hand, but they don't) and I am determined to spend more time writing and getting through my to-be-read pile. Not that I'm giving up OITNB, but I will practice restraint. There are thirteen more episodes I've yet to see and my goal is to NOT watch all of them by the end of the weekend.

And if that doesn't work, I'll may have to cancel my Netflix subscription...

New Name, New Look

New name and new look to go with a new phase of life. More to come...

Where's My White Christmas?!?!?!

One of the conditions of moving to California was that we had to

return to Minnesota for Christmas every year. Christmases are meant to be snowy and white with crisp air that puffs like smoke from your mouth when you breath. The pine trees should be layered with snow and the other trees should have frosted branches that sparkle and shimmer in the sunlight. Snow should be piled up on the side of the driveway like frosting on the edge of a cake. If the air is crisp enough, your nose and cheeks will have a rosy glow to them when you come in from outside and the tips of your eyelashes will be frosted. All of it very invigorating, getting the blood pumping and making me feel alive!

Christmas 2014

Christmas 2013

This year, the temps were 60 degrees warmer compared to last year when we got of the plane in Brainered, Minnesota. Last year, the temperature was -32 and the first breath of fresh, crisp, Minnesota air seared our lungs (love that! though the rest of my family does not). This year, the temperature was 30 above zero. I stepped off the plane and breathed deep, excited for the first really cold, really fresh breath of air I'd had since leaving Minnesota last year after Christmas, but it didn't sear my lungs and let me know I was alive. It was just like any other breath in any other part of the country. I was so disappointed!

Christmas 2014

On the way to my parents house from the airport, it started to rain. Rain!?!? It's supposed to snow! Don't get me wrong, I love rain, but just not at Christmas time in northern Minnesota. If it rained this time of year at home in southern California, I would be doing a happy dance and taking the day off from work to enjoy it, but not in northern Minnesota at Christmas! The worst part was the rain was washing away what little snow there was on the ground. 

Christmas 2013

I tried not to despair. I looked at the forecast on my phone again, reassured by the promise of cooler temperatures and snow for the next two days after that awful rainy day. I breathed a sigh of relief that the temps would drop and the snow would come in time for Christmas and all would be right with the world....but then the forecast changed! More rain, more warm temps, more melting. And now there isn't a little snowy cloud symbol on my mobile weather app until AFTER Christmas! This isn't supposed to happen in Minnesota! We aren't supposed to ever be concerned about not having a white Christmas. Hell would freeze over before Minnesota would have a Christmas without snow! 

 
Well, hell sure as hell ain't frozen over, and neither are we....

Give Me Some Space!

"I love seeing so many people out enjoying the trails," I overheard a woman say as she rode by on a bike with her friends through Santa Rosa Plateau. As much as I'd like to say I agree with her sentiment, I'm too selfish to feel the same way.

This weekend was a busy one, so the first attempt at exploring more of southern California took us just down the road a few miles to Santa Rosa Plateau for a Sunday morning hike with the family. Lately, the city has felt a bit claustrophobic, so getting out to nature for a while was a much needed break.


Despite the lack of rain and being several years into an epic drought, there was still a few pockets of nature that allowed for a temporary escape from the dry, brown landscape that has become the norm. The stream beds were still dry, but there were groves of trees with green leaves and views unobstructed by buildings or other signs of civilization.

Civilization is exactly what I am trying to get a way from when I go for hikes, so I always search out "the road less traveled" where there is room to breathe. Even if it's a short hike, the time away from people, buildings, technology, and the modern world helps me to regain my energy to face all of that again. 

So as much as I wish I could be so selfless as to say that I love seeing so many people out enjoying the trails, I can only agree as long as they don't enjoy them at the same time I do. I know it's selfish, but I spend the majority of my time sharing my space with way too many people, so when I hit the trails, I will continue to search out the ones least likely to attract the masses. 

I Need to Put the Shine Back on California...

I've been in a slump. And not just with my blog, but also because the shine of California has worn off a bit.

This it typical of me - I love new things! I get excited, I pour all my energy into it, I start fresh, and feel like I have a new lease on life! Then the shine wears off and the routine of everyday life starts to take over.

When we first moved to southern California, I loved my new neighborhood, the new sites, new places to explore, all the possibilities... I still do love my neighborhood, mostly because we have GREAT neighbors who have become fantastic friends, but the pull to go out and explore, to discover new things, to see what's around the next corner just isn't there like it used to be.

And, I'm missing being part of a community. I loved living in a small town, knowing the people who lived there, bantering about business with the owner of the coffee shop where my favorite flavor of ice tea was always on hand, going to the flower shop to get suggestions for the perfect gift (they were always spot on because they knew everyone's tastes), walking down the sidewalk and recognizing most of the faces. Our city here grew up fast as a home for commuters who worked in San Diego and Riverside but wanted cheaper housing. In twenty years, the town has gone from a tiny diversion off the freeway to a major city with a couple hundred thousand people. As a result, we have great schools, new homes, a lots of amenities, but it's all spread out and there really isn't a downtown area or a central community area. And there are lots and lots of unfamiliar people.

There's a comfort in being surrounded by people who know you, even if they know the not-so-good things about you, as well as the good things. When you are part of a community, you have to take everyone for who they are because you are stuck with them. Sometimes you don't like them, sometimes you cross the street to avoid some of them, but most of the time you take comfort in the familiar smiles and the casual waves as you pass by, or the quick conversations in the aisle of the grocery store.

Most of all, I miss having family near. My closest friends when I lived in a small town were related to me. Being surrounded by cousins, aunts, uncles, and especially my parents gave me a sense of belonging. Great friends are fantastic, but it's hard to replace family.

Now I live in a big city, in a neighborhood bigger than the town I used to live in, right in the midst of urban sprawl. And because I work in a different large city, I just live in this city--I'm not really a part of it outside of a little part of my block in our neighborhood.

But this is our home now. The schools are great, we live in a nice neighborhood, and it's sunny and 70 all the time (which greatly improves my husband's mood), and our son loves it here. So, I have to find a way to put the shine back on southern California.

In order to do that, I set a couple goals. They aren't huge goals, but they are small steps in putting down deeper roots here.
     1. Find a quaint coffee shop: I love bringing my computer to an eclectic coffee shop or cafe to work,and it's even better if it's full of regulars. I want them to know my regular order, and I want to recognize the other people who are there, even if the only connection to them is a small smile of acknowledgement.
     2. Start exploring on the weekends: There is a lot to see within a couple hours of where we live. I love discovering new places, so I want to take day trips at least once, maybe even twice, per month to discover the towns, mountains, beaches, and hidden hideaways that are right here. I'm missing the country life right now, and feeling like I have space to breathe, so getting out and seeing what's around us will give me a break from the city and feed my need to discover new places.

I still think moving to California has been a great experience, and a good change for our family, but I have let myself get into dull routine. It's easy to look back and think things were better when....especially when homesickness sets in. It took three years, but I'm thinking this is like the end of the second week of a vacation - lots of excitement and great adventures, but now I'm ready to get back to the familiar.

Since the familiar is 1900 miles away from where home is now, it's time to take ownership of where I am

Hidden Treasures Along Highway 79...

If you venture down Highway 79 in Temecula past the box stores and condos to where the road becomes single lane and winds toward the inland desert, there is a hidden treasure. The first time I drove that way, toward Vail Ranch Resort, I was startled by the horses standing sentinel over the road, the goat staking his territory on a hill, and the snake coiled at the foot of the American flag. 

These are all creations of local artist, Ricardo Breceda. He is famous in the Inland Empire for his metal sculptures, and his work is a major draw for tourists to Borrego Springs, just another hour up the road from Temecula.

I stumbled upon his studio on a Saturday afternoon after venturing out to take photos of the sculptures along the highway. Mr. Breceda builds his creations on site at Vail Ranch Resort, and they will happily let visitors enter the grounds to see the sculptures on display.

Mr. Breceda himself came out to greet me as I wandered around the grounds. He smiled and nodded when I asked for permission to photograph his work, then took a seat on the back of a trailer and proceeded to tell me about the sculptures. He used to be a boot maker, and a very good one from what he says. His shop was well known and his reputation carried far and wide. He created his first sculpture for his daughter, a life size dinosaur, and after that the creations just kept coming.

The sculptures are amazing in size and creativity. Some are true to life, astounding in their realism, such as the stagecoach drawn by a team of horses. Others are amusing and whimsical, like the winged pigs. He’s most famous for his horses and his dinosaurs, but I must admit, I like his gargoyles the best.

I love the unexpected, so the first time I drove down Highway 79 and saw the sculptures of the rearing horses perched on top of the hills, I was like a kid finding an Easter egg. It was truly a treasure and I wanted to find more…

To see the sculptures, drive east from the 15 on Highway 79 for about 7 miles, then start looking at the hills to the side of the road. His sculptures dot the roadside until you get to the entrance to Vail Ranch Resort. There you will see the horse-drawn wagon and a plethora of other sculptures right next to the road. Once there, it is definitely worth your time to drive in to the resort and see Breceda’s studio. All of his works are on display outside, so it is a great way to spend an afternoon strolling around the grounds.

To learn more about Ricardo Breceda, visit his website at www.ricardoabreceda.com

Time to Prepare for Winter!

Preparing for Winter in Minnesota:

  1.      Wait for the fine line in the weather when it turns from hot and muggy to cool and rainy to make the transition from summer to winter, but don’t wait too long or it will be difficult to work in the mud and the ground will be too soft.

  2.      Pull the dock out – but don’t do this too early as there could be good swimming days left. Wait for that one day when the water temperature drops roughly 30 degrees overnight to signal that it is no longer swimming weather. Once this happens, don’t wait, as the water will soon be turning to ice.

  3.      Put away bikes, scooters, skateboards, rollerblades, and all other summer toys.

  4.      Put plow on truck/4-wheeler/ranger/bobcat, or whatever vehicle is used to push the mounds of snow out of the way .

  5.      Put chains on tires of above vehicle.

  6.      Rake up leaves and mow the grass one last time or it will be a huge mulchy mess in the spring.

  7.      Prepare driveways for snowplowing by moving all stationary obstacles as far away from plowing areas as possible. If this is not done, you run the risk of burying them in the snow and losing them until spring - that is if you don’t find them by hitting them with the plow.

  8.      Fill the barn with hay so the horses don’t starve over the winter.

  9.      Put hay over the septic systems and well to keep them from freezing. Nothing like having your pipes freeze half way through winter only to spend the rest of the season bringing clothes to the Laundromat and showering at friends’ houses.

  10.  Put summer clothes away and pull out all long sleeve shirts, sweaters, sweatshirts, long underwear, turtlenecks, boots, scarves, mittens, earmuffs, down jackets, snow pants, and anything else that will keep the chill away.

  11.  Pull out winter toys, including snowmobiles, sleds, skis (cross-country and/or downhill), snowshoes, and snow molds for building snow forts.

  12.  Change the tires on the car from summer tires to snow-tires.

  13.  Change oil in the car to winter grade.

  14.  Fill up the windshield washer fluid in the car.

  15.  Put away the ice tea and stock up on hot-cocoa and marshmallows.

  16.  Turn off the air-conditioner, and move the wood pile closer to the house for cozy nights by the fireplace. 

17.  Stock up on Kleenex and cold medicine. 

  18.  Put away the potted plants and make room for Christmas lights.

  19.  Now wait for the snow to come…

Preparing for Winter in California:

    1.      Put pool toys in shed.

    2.      Pull out sweatshirt.