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WE VOTED! DID YOU? DEMOCRACY MATTERS! PREVIOUS ENTRY NEXT ENTRY

Have you been following “Invasion of the Scarecrows” in my recent October Instagram posts (@athenalucerotravels)? If so, I hope you are hungry for more that have popped up in front yards and storefronts all over Sierra Madre, California! My posts are just a sampling of the dozens and dozens of scarecrows standing guard throughout this foothill town celebrating the spirit of Halloween that’s just around the corner. If you have not seen the posts, you are not out of luck. Those photos – and a few more – come together in this photo essay. And then some. The history of scarecrows dates to ancient times when farmers around the world constructed decoys in the shape of humans to scare birds away from their crops. Thanks to Sierra Madre’s Creative Arts Group, its 11th Annual Scarecrow Festival is at full throttle honoring this tradition, on another level. Each year local residents, businesses, and organizations sign up to create their own scarecrow – be it scary, funny, friendly, or downright…well, you decide. Then the community has the chance to vote for its favorite. Dozens and dozens of scarecrows lurk throughout this three-square mile foothill village. This year, one hundred and twenty-four are official festival entries. Those not entered in the contest are created by sheer passion. If you are in the mood for all things Halloween -- aka Hallowe’en (All Hallows’ evening), Allhalloween, All Hallows’ Eve or All Saints’ Eve -- look no further than the Creative Arts Group’s website at https://www.creativeartsgroup.org/scarecrow-festival. Here you’ll find the complete list of the entries (some with fun and fascinating stories), their photos, and a map that will lead you to them. HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

When my husband, Louie, decided to hold off competing in this year’s Alcatraz Sharkfest Swim, the famous 1.5 mile race from Alcatraz Island to the San Francisco shore, I was relieved that he had decided to save the race for next year. He gifted this challenge to himself to celebrate his 70th birthday – his first attempt at racing in open waters. He trains at the Pasadena Aquatic Center in Southern California. But swimming the notoriously cold and strong currents of San Francisco Bay is no joke. Ask anyone who has done the swim. That’s why a prison was built on Alcatraz, I gently reminded my hubby. But we didn’t cancel the trip. Flights and hotel were already booked not to mention family members who were also making the trek to Frisco, northern California’s most cosmopolitan city. With more time and no wetsuit to pack, a drive up the coast was suddenly enticing. We banked our flight tickets to use another time then hit the road. Having our own car gave us freedom on the road, but when construction along the route slowed traffic to a one-lane crawl, we happily surrendered to soothing scenes of the Pacific Ocean splashing onto miles of sandy beaches and in the Central Coast romantic vineyards and agriculture as far as the eye could see. At Pismo Beach, the half-way point, we fortified ourselves for the rest of the ride with homemade vegetable soup at Honeymoon Cafe. Hours later, we left Highway 101 in the rear view mirror as panoramic landscapes segued to a bird’s eye view of the density and diversity of the country’s second richest and most populous large city (after New York City) with over 815,200 inhabitants in the city proper. The Civic Center’s fantastic landscape of monumental buildings – City Hall, the War Memorial Opera House, and Symphony Hall to name a few – reminded me of the magnificent architecture of Europe’s big cities. Checking into our not-so-typical hotel in San Francisco – the private Metropolitan Club on lower Nob Hill – was a rare peek into the women’s club movement during the early 20th century. Established in 1915 as the Woman’s Athletic Club of San Francisco, it was the first of its kind on the West Coast. With eighteen guest rooms, the discreet six-story structure near Union Square models the opulence of an early Renaissance palazzo and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. “The Met Club” is among many such private clubs born at the time when today’s major cities were in their infancy. They brought together forward-thinking citizens and public figures to socialize, intellectualize and to share ideas. Most clubs included athletic facilities because the philosophy of those pioneering days was -- and still is today -- the importance of fitness of body and mind. Through our membership with the Los Angeles Athletic Club, a reciprocal program allows us to book guest rooms at similar clubs around the country. And while lodging at most of these clubs are for members only, some -- like ours in Los Angeles -- welcome non-members, too. For the first timers in our group, seeing iconic attractions of the city was a must. In the Russian Hill neighborhood (San Francisco has thirty-six neighborhoods), we held our breath as we inched our way up a steep hill behind a line of cars before taking a vertical dip down the eight hairpin turns of famous Lombard Street known as the world’s crookedest street. And hopping the cable car at the Market Street turnaround in the Financial District was worth the hour wait. We were entertained by street performers, people-watching and witnessing the crew manually push the heavy carriage around on a huge wooden turntable before it could chug its way up and down hilly streets to the wharf. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, the country’s last hand-operated cable cars have been part of the city’s transportation system since 1873 and run seven days a week. Fog City is yet another name for San Fran because it’s usually covered by the cloudy gloom. But blue skies were with us when we caught the tail end of the Alcatraz swim race. With Alcatraz Island looming in the distance, kayakers guided the last of the elite swimmers to the beach at Aquatic Park. “I’m inspired!” Louie shouted, grinning ear to ear. A local man happened upon the race while walking his dog. Surprised to see the event, he shared that this is the reason he loves living in San Francisco. “Every day of the week there is something going on!” We slowed the pace and left the city bustle for the quiet village atmosphere of Sausalito across Golden Gate Bridge. This historic whale-fishing village turned World War II shipyard turned tourist spot is a relaxed and friendly houseboat community. Bridgeway Street, the main drag, was lined with shops and restaurants, and a dramatic view of San Francisco’s skyline beckons from across the waters. Back in the city we walked The Embarcadero, the famous street on the waterfront where colorful food stalls, countless shops and glorious aromas floating through the Ferry Building Marketplace woke all our senses. And like the cable cars, it was worth waiting in line for San Francisco’s quintessential clam chowder soup poured into sourdough bowls. Then we discovered what might be the only “cragel” in the world. The deliciously ingenious invention that rhymes with bagel is a divine cross between a croissant and a bagel created at House of Bagels, where authentic New York “beigels” have been baked on stone since 1962. The heavenly hybrid, airy on the inside and crispy on the outside, is as good as it gets – and another San Francisco must. IF YOU GO: www.sftravel.com www.metropolitanclubsf.org www.sharkfestswim.com https://houseofbagels.com/ www.honeymooncafepismo.com PUBLISHED STORY ON CREATORS.COM: https://www.creators.com/read/travel-and-adventure/10/22/san-francisco-is-calling

Yours for the taking…in case you missed a sunrise this morning. Thank you again, Paloma, for waking me early to take you out to pee. This morning we caught another one to lift our day! PREVIOUS ENTRY NEXT ENTRY

We love cooking at home. But one recent evening after an unusually tiring week, we didn’t have the energy to whip up dinner. So, we decided to follow through on a restaurant recommendation from our dental hygienist: family-owned Raffi’s Place in Glendale, California, which serves Persian and Middle Eastern cuisine. We usually have dinner late, but this time we arrived at Raffi’s Place early, around 5:00 p.m. before the busy dinner crowd. On this warm summer evening, we were seated at a table for two in the middle of a spacious outdoor patio. The serene setting of tall shady trees and sunlight cascading over awnings and umbrellas enchanted both of us. A few other diners were there, including a man sitting solo at the table positioned closely next to ours. We proceeded to look over the impressive menu but were overwhelmed by so many wonderful selections. We had been introduced to Persian food earlier in the year when our Persian friend invited us to dinner and made exquisite lamb shank and Persian rice. Suddenly, Louie looked up from his menu and glanced over to the nearby gentleman. “Excuse me,” he said nonchalantly, and with what my late mother always called his Mona Lisa smile, “What do you like to order? It’s our first time here…” (There was no doubt he could hear everything we were saying as we discussed one dish after another.) And when it comes to enjoying a meal, there is something I believe wholeheartedly: It’s not just the food that creates a memorable experience. It’s also the company. This was one of those nights. It lasted three hours. This patient man described many of the dishes. But I was anxious to savor lamb shank all over again. Louie settled on traditional beef kebab, saffron rice and roasted tomato and peppers. When my dinner arrived, a plate filled with beautiful Persian rice made with baby lima beans and fresh dill was set in front of me. “Am I supposed to eat all of this?” I asked our new friend incredulously. He smiled and said that it is common to scoop up the rice with pieces of the soft flatbread that was also on the table. “Just eat what you would like.” Then my lamb shank arrived. Oh my. It looked so pristine in an oblong-shaped bowl bathing in its own divine broth. It was exquisite – tender, delicate and full of flavor. Along with the outrageously flavorful basmati rice, I was in heaven. Over wine and our fabulous meals, we continued sharing lovely conversation with, I shall call him, our Persian culture mentor. And then some. One topic led to another and one hour led to the next. In the most extraordinary way, we felt transported. Before we knew it, the huge patio was packed with families, couples, and groups celebrating something special. And it was a weeknight! We finally finished our feast, but it was not the end. Our new friend surprised us with a Persian rice dessert. “It is made with pistachio,” he told us. He also ordered one for himself. The delicate smooth-as-silk mound was an elevated cross between rice pudding and gelato that sent us straight to heaven. On this night, the saying, “Time flies when you’re having fun,” earned a new meaning. But it still didn’t end. Our server informed us that the gentleman picked up our tab. We were moved by this serendipitous moment and meeting such a lovely human being. We couldn’t stop talking about this magical evening the rest of the night and days later. Things like this just don’t happen. PREVIOUS ENTRY NEXT ENTRY

9/3/2022 AN AUDIO RECORDING OF TODAY’S DIARY POST Transcript available below…Make your day a good one! Transcript: Now that Paloma has grown into a less needy one-year-old puppy, I have my mornings back. That is, I have resumed escaping to my favorite coffee shop for my daily writing ritual. Social solitude, I like to call it. It was a perfect quiet morning at Jones Coffee Roasters when I arrived before the crowd. What I love is that this rare hideaway has no public Internet service. People read here. And talk to one another. To set the scene, only two other patrons were in the spacious parking lot-turned-covered-patio that is now a permanent Covid-era fixture. A man in his 60s sat at a table with a small stack of books. Several yards away, an early 30-ish man was chatting on his cell phone. A big guy, he also had a big voice. A bit loud, I thought to myself, but he’s not obnoxious as he was engaged in civil conversation. I took a table at the edge of the patio. Within a few minutes, two 60-ish men walked towards the table next to me. As they passed the young man on his phone, one of them abruptly yelled, “HEY! CAN YOU KEEP IT DOWN?! THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE HERE…!” Who was the obnoxious one? There went my blissful morning. I kept my eyes on my computer screen unable to concentrate. Why couldn’t the old guy be more polite about it? BTW, I can call him “old” because there is no doubt the two of us are in the same age bracket. Did he assume the young man was arrogant and thoughtless? Of course, so he carried on his rant. The young man turned out to be a class act. “Sir,” he answered, I apologize, but I have been watching the volume on my phone…” But that wasn’t enough for the old guy. He proceeded to mouth off. I looked up to witness this exchange. Suddenly, I heard myself under my breath. “I cannot believe this!” The young man proceeded to say that he was speaking to his father. “WELL, TELL YOUR FATHER HELLO!!” the smart ass answered back thoughtlessly. And the old guy’s friend sat quietly in his seat poker-faced, taking no sides. I was about to lose it but stared back at my screen and took a deep yoga breath. The young man then stood up and approached the two men. He towered over their table. Uh-oh. By this time, any other man or woman might have punched the guy. “I would like to introduce myself,” the young man said courteously offering a handshake. And what is your name? Caught off-guard, the old guy said his name. The young man turned to the old man’s friend to also introduce himself and shake his hand. “I am a regular here,” the young man continued. If you are, too, I hope that the next time we see each other, it will be friendlier so that others here can enjoy their time.” “Good for you,” I couldn’t help saying out loud to the grown-up amongst them. “Bravo!” The young man then walked away and left the coffee shop. I was tempted to put the old man in his place…”What’s the matter with you?!” But I had already said enough, so I went back to my writing. Ah, things came full circle so quickly. Within a few minutes, a young couple took the table right next to the old man and his friend. In the stroller that they parked next to the table was their active and very vocal toddler. The old man said nothing. PREVIOUS ENTRY NEXT ENTRY

August has flown by…and no diary entry for the month! Thanks to my chronicle of photos, I looked back for reminders of what has been filling my days. It all quickly came into focus. A stand-out was the oppressive heat that kept us indoors most of the time. Even Paloma knew better, except when Mother Nature called. A couple of writing assignments had me on the move: San Francisco and the arts culture of Laguna Beach. Now that most of my research is done, I have begun putting pen to paper. And while we were traveling, Paloma went to “summer camp,” i.e., boarding/training with her breeder. Post-camp, Paloma’s maturity and newly acquired skills (she turns one on August 23) are astounding. Pre-camp, she was an impossibly strong puller on walks and always “put on the brakes” as if her feet were glued to the ground. Post-camp, she is heeling beautifully at our sides with no pulling and no stopping but for a few seconds to smell the roses. And we have learned the importance of paying attention to young Paloma during walks to reward her whenever she looks up at us to “check in.” Another life-changing tip is attaching her leash to the front of her harness, not the back. Repetition with praise and treats is the secret – as well as playing games to make training fun and stress-free for Paloma and us. I believe we have made a most important investment :) Last Friday, our weekend started off with the much-anticipated delivery of mixed berry pie fresh from the oven of our friends Joann and her son Andy. Joann arrived just in time for our afternoon coffee, so we sliced into the pie and shared together the delicious tang of their heavenly creation! I have been rejoicing the cool temps of recent mornings – a sign, a friend once told me, that fall is around the corner. PREVIOUS ENTRY NEXT ENTRY

Where the ocean’s nourishing breeze and mystique are a constant. Let these images tell the story in Belmont Shore (Long Beach), Carmel, the Central Coast, Laguna Beach, San Clemente, San Francisco, Santa Barbara, and Sausalito.

So heartbroken that our bag of coffee from Chiapas, Mexico, is almost empty – as in gone. I will miss the glorious citrus and floral aromas wafting from the brew percolating in my coffee maker. Our neighbors, Rick and Elva, surprised us with this most thoughtful gift when they returned from a recent trip. The bag reads, “Es mucho el orgullo que sentimos cuando compartimos este cafe, creado exclusivamente para Mexico,” which translates to: We feel much pride when we share this coffee, created exclusively for Mexico. I tried to make it last as long as I could, but alas, the time is near. The least I can do is enjoy the last drops in my favorite coffee cups from Paris and Buenos Aires. The next time I go to Mexico I must pick up my own stash. Or beg my neighbors for more. PREVIOUS ENTRY NEXT ENTRY

Sometimes a footloose agenda can be the makings of an unforgettable escape. Such was the case when a weekend getaway introduced our cousins, Gloria and Mario, to wine country in California’s Central Coast -- and the four of us -- to the nostalgia of a motel. “Motel” is a portmanteau, that is, a blending of the words motor and hotel coined after World War II when motorists on long road trips did brief overnights at lodgings resembling a cross between a campground and a proper hotel. In fact, the country’s first motel was born in San Luis Obispo here in the Central Coast. In this wide open pastoral land of more than two hundred wineries, we imbibed the luscious, fermented grape juices at three of them: Lone Madrone’s new tasting room in Templeton, and in Paso Robles, Tablas Creek and Dilecta. Then spontaneity turned the rest of our stay into an unforgettable throwback adventure starting with western-themed Stables Inn, a modern-day motel and the rustic sister of nearby Hotel Cheval (where a sophisticated English riding motif reigns). Simple rooms have first class amenities, cowhide rugs, tin mugs in each room, and in the middle of the parking lot is the coolest lounge called The Island. Beneath a leafy magnolia tree, it became our meeting spot where we woke slowly with fresh morning coffee and met the friendliest “neighbors” we could ever wish for -- John and Raquel from Houston. By day’s end, we fell under the spell of the flickering fire. All this plus breaking bread at a 1940s diner and feeding Cousin Mario’s penchant for antique stores delivered in spades what we just can’t seem to get enough of: unrushed quality time together.

On a lazy July 4th evening, our fireworks were Chef Louie’s smash burgers that christened his new carbon steel griddle. Ooh la la!

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June 27, 2022 Sometimes Paloma looks so grown up. Other times, “puppy” is written all over her. A constant reminder of this is that puppies sleep A LOT. She has finally grown into those big paws and is close to reaching her full height. Her super white adult teeth are a bit intimidating. We are grateful that she is no longer interested in nibbling on the legs of our dining room chairs or the tempting arms of our Fijian-designed bamboo-leather sofa, the corner of our coffee table or the wooden knob on our dresser drawer. This worrisome habit appears to be short-lived without full-blown destruction. Textiles are another story. But like our previous Golden Retrievers, we know the day will come when she will be done with digging holes in the ground. Patience… I came to a wonderful realization. Unlike Anouk and Lola -- who, as soon as they would wake up in the morning, made it known post haste that they were up and ready for breakfast NOW, Paloma steps quietly into my room (I feign sleeping), but doesn’t “say” a word. If she sees that I’m not awake, she quietly leaves the room and goes back to her bed. Although I am convinced that she stays awake until she hears me stir, then comes back to greet me for morning cuddles. I am constantly intrigued how, at her young age, Paloma has such a calm disposition. And she gets it. When I say things like “Mom’s working…,” “we’re all done,” “go play with your toys,” or “it’s too early to eat,” her insistent stance changes to “Okay, if you say so,” and she walks away. One morning I was a tease: Paloma walked into my room. I remained under the sheets as still as could be. She walked out. In a few minutes I quietly sat up. Darn! She heard me from the hallway. I quickly lied down again. Her nails clicked along the hardwood floor. At the foot of the bed she stopped, saw me “sleeping,” then walked away once more.

HONEYMOON CAFÉ, Pismo Beach, California An institution and home to fabulous fare, good vibes, and open hearts. PREVIOUS ENTRY NEXT ENTRY

DID YOU? PREVIOUS ENTRY NEXT ENTRY