Reindeer pullovers are out. Like totally so.
This season the discerning Chihuahua wouldn’t be caught dead in anything but red fleece.
At The Beach
Yes, it was time for us to go to the beach again, like every year on Christmas Day. As we did have a bit of rain (much needed and very welcome) and wind, we decided to go to a slightly more rugged place than the usual beaches in the hope to see some real waves. And real waves we did see, at the cliffs and breakers in San Pedro:
We were not the only ones having fun out there – the pelicans apparently had decided on a Christmas outing, too.
Afterwards we had some lunch. I assume the pelicans went and had some fish.
Merry Christmas
And a tip of the hat to the most elegant and unique Christmas decoration I’ve seen in a long time.
Secrets
Let’s be frank – I cook a mean chili. The recipe developed over the course of two years, then I was satisfied with the result. Now the list of ingredients is safely stored away in my memory, not to be disclosed ever. It is after all my secret and it is going to stay that way.
Now and then I like to sample the chilis of the competition. More often than not that’s it – the dish is not up to scratch according to my taste buds. However, there is one exception:
At Chili John’s in Burbank the chili served is prepared after a secret recipe from Wisconsin. According to local folklore it was developed over a century ago and apparently the so-called “Wisconsin style chili” is all but extinct now. Which is something I do not understand, because it is really, really good, even though it is completely different from my own chili.
This is the bowl for the big eater, before the piling on of cheese and onions. I stick to the small bowl of chili and beans sans spaghetti, forgo the cheese and stick to the onions. A perfect dish, good and tasty every time.
They are keeping their secret well – just as I do mine.
It's Official
Yes. On my personal temperature scale (pre-summer / summer / winter) two nights ago winter arrived. The first night with satisfying amounts of rain and quite a drop in temperatures. Which necessitated the employment of the winter quilt for the time to come until pre-summer. And switching on the heating in the mornings. And taking the warm jacket out of the closet. Plus a scarf and gloves. After all, at temperatures during the day of just below 60 F (16 degrees C) one needs to muffle up when outside.
Winter brings something else: clouds. The usually picture postcard blue sky takes on a new life; one can see changing panoramas, from delightfully fluffy white clouds to massive towers of billowing clouds in all hues of grey.
This is my cloud/winter picture of the day, complete with palm trees and a facade thrown in, because the composition looked so nice:
Irresistible
Could I resist? No.
This has to be my new favorite.
I Am Green And Pretty. And You?
I am basically never outside without a camera. Sometimes I just carry a little point-and-shoot around, but more often than not I just sling the camera bag over my shoulder. Just in case, you know.
This “just in case” paid off today. A whole flock of parrots had congregated in my favorite silk floss tree to have a nibble at the fruit. A quick change of lenses later I just shot away:
Yummy!
And then I saw this sweet pair of parrots, not eating, just huddling up. Just watch that face – this little bird says: “I am green and pretty. And you?”
Strangely enough, I had to agree with this little critter – not being green is not pretty (in the parrot world of Los Angeles).
Thieves!
This morning the squirrel who comes by every day for a nibble from the corn cob provided was in for a disappointment: no cob there. I was similarly astonished, because the little hanging cob basket is constructed in such a way that even a cob nibbled down to the very last kernel can’t fall out. I even checked the ground under the tree – totally cob-free.
So – where did the cob go? It was still there yesterday.
Have raccoons invaded the tree and dragged the cob off?
If so, how did they get it out of the basket?
Mysteries, strange mysteries.
The Day After
Sleeping in.
Ham biscuits with balsamico mustard for breakfast.
A long and leisurely walk through the quarter.
What a perfect follow-up to a wonderful Thanksgiving.
O-Bento
Years ago, in the town where I lived in Germany, going out for Japanese food involved a drive of nearly two hours; not because the city I lived in was so big, but because the next Japanese restaurant was so far away.
Today that same town boasts three (3) Japanese restaurants. That’s one for every 100,000 people living in town.
But that is not a problem for me any longer. If I am in the mood for Japanese food (which is always) I have the choice of four places within a radius of five minutes walking distance from the house.
My cup would flow over with joy if a Ramen place would open up nearby. As it is, for that delight one has to get into the car and drive for 10 minutes.
Oh well, that is still a shorter distance than what I was used to.