Left Coast Cowboys

Andy took off to England last week and left me to wrangle an 8 foot tree out to the curb for recycling. I’m 5 foot 2. I tell you, the physics here just do NOT work.

I fell down on the job blogging during the Christmas season despite my pledge to blog thirty one times out of thirty one days in December for NaBloPoMo. Bad blogger. BAD.

But despite lapses, it’s not too late for a quick wrap up of some of the highlights of Christmas 2008 in our small corner of San Francisco. I’d have to say, this Christmas counts as one of the best ever. In the past several years, we’ve settled into having the same group around for what one friend calls “The High Holy Holidays” and another calls “The Trifecta”. That includes Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, where our traditions have coalesced around way too much rich food, lots of merriment in our basement recreation of a British pub and a special movie for the entertainment portion of our evening.

This is NOT the Old Spice Man. Or Kenny Rogers. Or Sean Connery. This is my friend Rob wearing what he insists is proper Christmas gear: a beard and a British paratrooper's sweater.

The fun starts in the planning as there is always a fight between the British contingent of our group and the American contingent. First battle: the Brits never want to concede that an American meal, especially a celebratory meal, is never complete without an orange vegetable. Since the British refuse to recognize any orange vegetable but the carrot, the appearance of squash, pumpkin and sweet potato is always a shock. My eccentric friend Julian has taken to calling this “The Obligatory Orange Vegetable” and every event, he pushes it to the side of his plate. This Christmas, I made sweet potato rounds roasted with olive oil and garlic. Even Julian ate a few and pronounced them “almost good for an orange vegetable.” Then he asked my mother why it was required that there always be an orange vegetable at celebratory dinners. My mother told him: “Because Lisa says so.”

Why are carrots the only orange vegetable Brits will eat? It's the least interesting of the many wonderful Orangey Vegetables of Goodness.

The force feeding of orange vegetables was somewhat mitigated by the centerpiece of grass-fed, organically grown standing rib roast of prime rib provided by the incomparable Sonoma market. Add to that, the fact that my husband drained off the fat and used it to cook the Yorkshire Puddings and roast potatoes to perfection. Everyone was astounded at the flavor and flakiness. And nobody spoiled it for the vegetarians by telling them the secret.

We blew it on the appetizers as everything was on the "Pregnant Lady, Eat This and Your Child Will Die List". Luckily, we palmed the pregnant lady off with jam and bread which is very Sound of Music-y so very seasonally appropriate.

Next up was the Secret Santa give-away which this year was dubbed “Recession Santa”. All gifts were mandated to be under $20 and be in the category of 1) food 2) CDs or 3) DVDs. The winning entry was the CD of “Heavy Metal Christmas” which some Secret Santa bought for me knowing that it was the one hole in my extensive, eclectic and profoundly embarrassing Christmas music collection. It was surprisingly good. Alice Cooper does a very enthusiastic version of “Bring Us a Figgy Pudding (We Wish You a Merry Christmas)”. 

There was a very discreet show and tell of various other Christmas presents, but, as usual, no one could match Julian who each year buys his wife, Vicky, the most extravagant, expensive and fashionable presents possible. This year it was Christian Laboutin shoes. She could just about walk in them and had to be carried into the dining room. But she looked fabulous.

Totally FAB-U-LOS Christian Laboutin shoes which blew away anyone else's Christmas present. As per usual for our expansive friend Julian.

So not really a point to this story except that you can gather good friends, string together a few traditions that you all either agree upon or have fun fighting over and do it year after year and it gets better every time.

Yes, we have the Hula Santa. And we aren't too proud to take him out and let him rock every Christmas!

Hope everyone else’s Christmas and holiday was just as wonderful!

Every year I mean to do photographic justice to San Francisco’s famous “Christmas House”, and every year I fail. The house is just such a popular holiday sight that, if you are driving, you can only cruise by as the streets are filled with families and children and other spectators marveling at the sight. I always mean to hike up out of Noe Valley to the top of the highest hill overlooking the Castro with my camera, and every year I get too busy. So, until next year, when I’ll have these same good intentions, this little photo essay will have to do.

A bit of background: The Christmas House is the creation of two long-time residents of the upper Castro named, appropriately, Tom and Jerry. Rumor always has it that one or both of them were window decorators at Macy’s. I can’t confirm that, but it would make sense. Back in 1973, presumably when they bought this three story Victorian overlooking the City, Tom and Jerry bought a little Norfolk pine as a house plant. It eventually was transferred outside and grew to the size you see now. At some point, twenty or more years ago, Tom and Jerry started creating an ever more elaborate Christmas display around the tree. It’s grown to include animatronic figures, train sets and music. In the last decade at least, they’ve even been hiring a Santa every night in the week before Christmas to wave and talk to the many kiddies whose parents bring them to see the house.

The Christmas House in context.

The 3-story Douglas Fir that is decorated every year.

Christmas House detail.

Tom and Jerry do all this out of their own wallets and will accept no donations, except for corporate donations. Every year, this is their gift to the children (young and old) of the City.

Thanks, Tom and Jerry. You’re one of the reasons San Francisco is Just Possibly the Best City in the World!

P.S. Next year I promise to walk up the hill at night and get your display in all its lit-up glory.

Christmas looks a little different around here. Classic street cars, Canary palms with Christmas bows and lots of sunshine. Happy Holiday Season from San Francisco’s Castro/Noe Valley area.

At the Delancy Street lot.

Most of us get our trees at the lot run by Delancy Street, a locally grown foundation that helps rehabilitate drug addicts and give them job training. This year, Delancy Street is featuring only sustainably farmed trees.

There's always a good selection of tiny "Charlie Brown" trees for apartment dwellers.

And in a neighborhood close to the Hispanic Mission District, some of us enjoy the colorful Latin American Christmas traditions. Like a snuggly Mexican blanket.

One bold claim I can make with absolute certainty of remaining unchallenged is that — as defined by breadth, depth and sheer volume — I have the world’s greatest and possibly most embarrassing Christmas music collection. And I’ve been sharing these gems. Yes, I’m generous that way. If you’ve been reading this blog or my cross-postings on NaBloPoMo or BlogHer, you’ve probably run across my Best Christmas Songs You’ve Never Heard, or Christmas Cocktails, or even Undiscovered Christmas Gems: The Dance Party Edition or The Come to Jesus Edition.

What is amazing is how, whenever I post a Christmas playlist, my readership spikes. Extremely high. But from interesting places. In particular, from former Eastern Bloc countries. When I say readership spikes, I mean to the point where I can’t imagine anything is going on in Latvia, Estonia and Serbia and Montenegro other than large parties of people huddled around in Internet cafes making notes on my Christmas music recommendations. I know this is happening because my Secret Squirrel Visitor Tracking software lets me pinpoint, with Google Maps, down to street level where visitors are surfing. I just wish my visitors would leave some comments, even in whatever language they speak in Montenegro.

To what can we attribute this phenomenon? I have my theories. Perhaps after decades of Godless Communism, people in Eastern Europe have no idea how to pull together a Christmas playlist. They’re searching for help. And I’m there for them. Doing my bit to spread Democratic ideals to far flung places.

Photo of Soviet Santa from www.justgorussia.co.uk/