Marina was housesitting at a ranch in Tomales, so we grandchildren ventured up north to join her for Christmas. Austin and I drove up on Christmas eve, arriving after lunch, and Jeffery followed after putting in a half day at work. The only hiccup in the holiday was that soon after we arrived, the ranch completely ran out of water and we had to pull buckets of pool water to wash dishes and flush toilets.
At sunset I took the truck down the road to photograph the cows. I shot for a while, and they were pretty cute, all turning to look at me, inching closer with curiosity. When I was ready to move on I headed back to the truck and found the keys locked inside and the headlights on. I texted Jeffery, who was on his way from the city and had the other set of keys, and I went back to shooting the cows. When I was starting to lose the light and it was getting cold and I hadn't heard from him, I gave him a call. "Where are you?" I asked. "I just drove over a cow grate. Where are you?" he asked, and as soon as he said the words, he came around the bend. My hero.
We enjoyed bouillabaisse for dinner and woke up to an incredible sunrise.
I spent most of Christmas day with Coco Chanel, a beautiful Burmese kitty, on my lap, reading Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed. Pausing for turkey dinner and too much dessert. I finished the book just in time to watch the Warriors beat the Clippers and then we drove home. Good book, good Christmas. Without something going wrong there is no story to tell. Last year our heat didn't work. It just makes me appreciate all of the little thing we take for granted.