SNOW ANGELS
Dearest Family and Friends
57 Cumberland Street, San Francisco CA 94110
Phone Number: +1 415 738 2112
January Highlights
Buying Nothing
I've decided to Buy Nothing for 2009 - for full details on the concept and rules of engagement, see the previous month's entry. So, how was Month One? Pretty easy as it turns out. Of course that was to be expected. The novelty factor, for one thing – it is easy to give something up to begin with. I don’t consider myself to be much of a shopper – this experiment would perhaps be more interesting if I was Paris Hilton.
And more importantly, I’ve already got lots of stuff in house already – it will become a more challenging as the year progresses and stocks dwindle.
On the domestic front, we've done well. Colman got twitchy when down to the last 1/3 of a roll of loo paper; final remnants of toothpaste were extracted by forcing the bristles of the toothbrush into its nether regions; and the washing up liquid had been diluted at least twice before the dregs were drained. In my quest to buy only 2nd hand items for Esme, Adam and Jen kindly drove half way across town for me to pick up diaper covers for her, as we don't have a car. Thanks guys.
Although haircuts would probably be permitted, I’ve decided against them. Normally it’s my bi-monthly treat – a haircut and facial at the beauty school for the bargain basement price of $60. The facials are always amazing, the haircuts pretty average. 
My reasoning is that the volume of products and water used on my hair at these primping and titivating sessions would keep a small yacht afloat, and more importantly, I would find it extremely hard to resist the temptation to buy their hair and beauty products, captivatingly arranged around the till. 
The last two haircuts have also been appalling, so I turned to Jason ‘Vidal’ Sassoon to wield the blades at the DLG we hosted in January – to great success! Thanks Jason! Transgression of the Month
But before I got too complacent, I slipped up. The morning after the inauguration, I saw a San Francisco Chronicle on our neighbour’s doorstep, with the headline ‘The World Has Changed’ and decided against nabbing it (as I had done once or twice in the autumn as they don’t pick them up for days sometimes) as no, they’d want to keep it, so bought one from a vending machine for 50 cents.
It didn’t occur to me that this was not allowed until several hours later. Shopping is so engrained as an activity, and the irony is: have I had a chance to actually read it? No! So Esme now has it for posterity.
One side effect has been that I’m paying more attention to food and have, rather against the spirit of the Buying Nothing plan, surreptitiously built up supplies – we are suddenly drowning in pasta, pulses and grains. I’ve also put on weight as food becomes the fixation, so have vowed to give up sugar and second helpings for Lent in an effort to counter-balance this food intake. 
But it shows how much we are programmed to shop, how hard it is to go out and not return with a bulging bag. And how, shopping passes the time - it gives me and Esme somewhere to go on a wet weekend afternoon if Colman is working and we have to give him some peace, or if inspiration fails me in thinking up fun things to do.
Toiletries
The question I’m most frequently asked is what about toiletries, make-up and other sundry items, lurking in the recesses of, I’d wager, every woman’s bedroom and bathroom cabinets. 
My response has been that some things – shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser, toothpaste, contact lens solution, new contact lenses, sunscreen, any prescriptions if required (health is not to be compromised) – can be bought on a strict replacement basis only. I don’t buy sanitary items anyhow, as I have a Mooncup and haven’t worn deodorant in a few years now. Everything else is banned.So far, the purchasing of any of these items, banned or otherwise, hasn’t been a problem because supplies are still in stock. For example, before I embarked on this grand scheme, I’d bought masses of hair dye (probably 25 tubes of colour are concealed in the bathroom) when in the UK, which is a lucky escape. The idea of being revealed to the world in my true colours is a truly scary one. And the amounts of peroxide fixer should last out the year.
I wondered how many other categories of female frippery were similarly stockpiled? So I catalogued the contents of my drawers and cupboards (yes I know I need to get out more). A really staggering and scary list. And one that also took me down Memory Lane – every bottle, tube, wand, brush, compact, jar reminding me of a time and place.
Starting in the bathroom and with hair. Amazingly, I have no fewer than 10 bottles of shampoo and 3 of conditioners, several of which are free samples collected in hotel rooms – one of which I remember taking when reviewing a hotel in Sydney in January 2006 and has travelled, at no doubt some small cost to the health of the planet, from Sydney to London to San Francisco. Not all are good quality, or indeed, even the right stuff for my hair. No matter, no more shampoo is allowed over the threshold until this lake of surfactants is drained.
I’d been complaining about how dry and dull my hair has become (little wonder after 25 years of industrial strength dye), and lo and behold, no less than 3 hair masks materialised out of the recesses of the cupboard – result! But again I’d forgotten I had them, and more to the point, I’d not need all this product if my vanity allowed me to look my age. Hair dye in turn demands special shampoos and moisturising products, which require conditioners to soothe aggrieved hair shafts and follicles. 
There is also the hair sculpting pomade – bought after a hairdresser talked me into believing for a nano-second that I’d change the ways of a lifetime and spend some time – any time – styling my hair. And used once, now reminding me I’m not as cool a chick as I’d like to be, and how foolish to have been swayed by the sales pitch to consume more, spend more, have more, into buying a lifestyle and look? Hang on, wouldn’t a really cool chick not have ANY of this nonsense in the first place?
Moving down the body, I was pleased to see only two exfoliants in my possession – and one is almost finished. Fine. No need for this evil practice any longer. 
Not only is it mostly unnecessary and causes premature ageing but most high street big brand products’ exfoliation ingredient is polyethylene, which causes terrible damage to marine life as these tiny non-biodegradable particles wash into rivers and oceans, contributing to the plastic that makes up 80% of marine debris, choking and killing. I was gratified to see my two exfoliants are of natural materials – phew. And also discovered an abrasive mitt (bought at the Korean Bath House in Sydney 15 years ago) which will do just nicely in place of facial and body exfoliants from now on.
I also counted 5 bottles of bodywash / gel (all pilfered from hotel rooms and again, will be consumed before any replacement), one set of bath bubbles, 2 bottles of contact lens solution (one nearly finished), 2 nail brushes (one taken with me from my parents' house when I moved out of home, and still works even though it looks manky), 2 pumice stones (one plucked from volcanic slopes in Guatemala, the other bought when I first set up home), one razor and only 2-3 razor blades left, 2 flannels, 1.5 x packets of cotton wool pads, about 50 Q-tips, 3 lots of insect repellent (at least one dating back 8 years) and 2 jars of Vaseline, hardly touched. 
I possess 7 tubes/bottles of sunscreen, and 4 of aftersun. What a waste of space and money, not finishing one before buying another.. And also 4 body moisturisers. Now, this category is a grey area. One could argue it is not required at all, and yet, my vanity tells me I need to moisturise my torso and limbs after every shower – surely a generic own brand basic moisturiser wouldn’t hurt? Or perhaps buy one from Neals Yard in a glass jar not plastic to salve my conscience? I’ve parked this one, vowing to make a decision once supplies run out.
Finally, extraordinarily, I have 6 face masks! One of which I stole from a department store counter when I was in my mid-20s. Well, no need to worry about not going to the beauty school. If I’m that desperate for a facial, I have all the requirements in house. The contents of the bedroom are to be explored next month.
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Expedition of the Month
A.D.A.M.- Adam’s Days of Alpine Merriment
January saw, for the most part, unseasonal, stunning weather – temps topped 70ºF for much of the month. For Adam’s 30-twelfth birthday we drove up to Tahoe for the long Martin Luther King weekend – Colman actually got a day off! Jen came with us on the way up and we shared Esme-entertaining duties – thanks me dear.
We were staying in Adam’s friend Josh’s friend’s rather swanky and very spacious chalet in Truckee. Although there was snow everywhere, it was rather compacted and icy; luckily all roads totally clear.
Ski Saturday
Saturday was another brilliantly sunny day. Five of us, Adam, Jen, Gerardo, Josh and I, hit the slopes at 1960 Winter Olympic resort Squaw Valley; Jen the only boarder. The views from the top towards the lake are stupendous, the runs pretty exciting.
It had been a year since I had skied (and that was the first time in 8 years) and I was definitely the worst skier of the party. The others kindly waited for me at intervals, and humoured my vertigo on ski lifts by pulling the bar down; Adam also helped me extricate myself from an overeager and undertalented snowboarder. Josh was gallant enough to say I had control and style marks even if I was losing points on speed.
The glittering light was extraordinarily strong, it was positively balmy on the slopes; the snow conditions actually much better than expected. But it was still a sobering sight to see the blood wagon with a body being strapped onto the ski lift. My eyes gave out in the afternoon from the glare and my shins started aching severely so the last couple of runs were matters of endurance rather than enjoyment.
We returned to darling Esme who had had a lovely day with Colman running around the chalet, and trying her hand at tobogganing nearby which scared her. Colman cooked us dinner befitting his role as chalet girl.
Adam alarmed Esme by doing his snow angel impersonation after his restorative bubble-filled whirlpool bath with Jen. He made up for it by serenading her with the guitar later on.
Colman and late arrival Matt played chess with great intensity. The loser of the next game’s forfeit was to make a snow angel outside.
When Colman realised it was to be him, he whipped his clothes off before you could say ‘shut that door, it’s blooming cold out there’ dived onto the icy balcony, but stymied by its compacted ice rather than soft snow, lay down on the ice before dashing back inside. Still, good show!
Leisurely Sunday
Another bright day and a relaxed start. After lunch, Esme, Adam, Jen, Colman and I went for a walk. Josh stayed behind to watch the semi-finals of the Super Bowl featuring his hometown team the Pittsburgh Steelers.
By a happy coincidence we had brought Esme’s Steelers bib with us, a kind gift from the Pittsburgh Stephensons, which Josh wore with great verve and style.
We set off down river near the Alpine Meadows turnoff but although the walk was in a tranquil Narnia landscape, dispiritingly it was beside the road, so after a while of listening to cars zooming by we turned back.
We reached the lake and spent magical hours admiring the shimmering blues, the scoured frozen lakeshore, the snow-capped ring of hills,
the pock-marked, sculpted and cracked lake ice, the dazzling light sending into strong relief all the eye could see.
Esme loved wandering around the shore, keeping a wary distance from the piles of snow and ice, staying on the grassy sward and learning how to look through binoculars. 
We took it in turns to wander off and commune with the magnificent lake and clean Alpine air, or, in Adam and Jen’s case, to pose for photos against such a spectacular backdrop.
That evening, Esme loved her bath in the whirlpool tub, and squealed with excitement after she got out and ran around the open plan living/dining/kitchen area, naked, fat belly sticking out, big grin on her face.
Some wag quipped, ‘hey Adam, the stripper’s arrived!’; she and Adam then played a game of naked peekaboo around the reclining chair.
That night was the Birthday Banquet; Josh also in celebratory mood as Pittsburgh had won. Jen and next arrival, pastry chef Maggie, made spring rolls and marinated salmon, followed by Maggie’s sublime chocolate cup cakes. We all read poetry to each other, before the non-parental types descended into party mode, while we retired to our room to deal with Esme who had woken up, uncharacteristically and very tryingly refused to go back to sleep for an hour or more.
Homeward Bound
After a morning constitutional down and up the road, looking at all the holiday homes, counting just how many are now up for sale, we packed up and left, leaving the others still slumbering after their mammoth 4am session. Adam and Jen did get up to say goodbye, which was sweet.
We left at noon. Plenty of time. Clear open roads beckoned. Traffic was a little heavy but moved swiftly. We recalled how hellish the drive back had been last year. Colman drove. The sky blazed blue. I read my Conde Nast Traveller. We listened to The Pretenders’ new album ‘Break up the Concrete’, my Christmas present from my sister, Louise. Esme sang to herself while reading books, happy as a clam. We left the mountains. The sun burnt above. We were now in the Central Valley.
Suddenly cars skittled in front. A red one, a pickup truck, a swerve, a shunt, into a shiny new Lexus just ahead of us, which skidded to a halt across two lanes. Colman, our hero, had braked at the first sign of a swerve so we stopped 10 yards behind the Lexus. We were the first car not to pile on. We started to breathe. Then heard a travelling scream as a biker, unable to stop, tore up our inside and smashed into the Lexus; she arced through the air onto the tarmac. We all screamed in sympathy and burst out of the car.
She didn’t move. All traffic halted. Her boyfriend, riding behind her, was incandescent with rage, fright and upset, railing at dangerous driving. Then she did move – relief. It looked as if she got off lightly with just a broken leg and broken nose. People rallied round. Drivers were walking around, slightly dazed, talking in self-justifying terms; none really knew what had happened. All except, perhaps, the driver of the red car who never left her vehicle.
The police, the helicopter, the ambulance and the towtrucks all arrived pretty swiftly from nearby Vacaville. Esme, who had been initially alarmed when parents dashed out of the car screeching and left her alone for several minutes, revelled in all the excitement of low-flying helicopters, red flashing lights, and motorbikes, and peeing on the freeway on cue, just as the cop approached for a witness statement. He must have thought we were stark raving mad! Colman was No.1 witness. He gave his statement. The police got one lane of traffic moving. We drove off on an empty road, a sizeable queue of rubberneckers on the opposite carriageway, and who knows how long a tailback (we heard later it was 6 hours) behind us. The whole incident took 20 minutes. We were home by 3.30pm. Safe and sound. And very thankful.Top
Inauguration
01.20.09 (as they write in America)
All morning I chanted O-Ba-Mah to Esme in preparation, she even said ‘bama’ back to me a few times.
We watched the inauguration ceremony, bouncing on the bed, with Soren and Lelli. I veered between practical mothering and high emotion, Esme on my knee for much of the service.
There was manifest joy in everybody. Local shops had signs proclaiming ‘new day, new hope’; many homes kept their campaign posters up for the occasion. Our downstairs neighbour, Kim, managed to get a ticket for the ceremony
and flew to Washington but the crush of people didn’t let her get near. Click here to read all about her amazing day and the extraordinary scenes in the capital city.
Here is Felicity’s end of year review, commenting on Obama’s historic victory.And we’re so pleased that Mr Wonderful President has hit the ground running and is working to overturn some of the evils of the Bush era so swiftly. There is a way to go, but a great start!
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Fun with Friends
Jen’s Birthday
Jen Daniel turned 35, Julie and James kindly hosted a fun party at their place. Colman had had a busy week that week (quelle toujours) and stayed at home to babysit, so I was out on the razzle. 
The night started badly when I forgot the camera – doh! But after a frantic ring round the guests still en route, and just as I was about to dash back home to get it, very kindly Amy and Geri diverted to collect it.
There was copious drinking, appetiser munching, a giggle of dolled up ladies, chit-chatting, a good turnout for the group, and a star guest: Abby Featherstone, who’d flown in from Noo Yoick to be with us for the weekend. Fabulous to see her looking great, and as ever on loud wisecracking form.
Debra and I were the Mums on the Run, more than one person commented that we could be sisters.
After the cake presentation, all too suddenly it was midnight, and I wended home, grateful, as ever, to have met and be part of the marvellous DLG.
South Bay Lunches
Adam, Jen, Colman, Esme and I ventured out of the city to visit friends twice. One Sunday to Menlo Park to see Brian, Jo, Noah and Jemima for a slap up Sunday lunch of melt-in-the-mouth rack of lamb and every conceivable vegetable you could think of.
Delicious food, no effort spared, including a formidable array of blow-torches deployed on the crème brulees.
Noah challenged Adam to checkers and Jen to Wii bowling, and everybody to football after lunch.
The following weekend we met Alan, Eli, Sarah and Zach for lunch in Palo Alto and then explored Stanford campus, on another beautifully sunny and warm day.
We then retired to their home,
where Esme and Zach banged the xylophone and took great delight in every plastic toy within reach. Eli and Sarah performed for us.
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Film
Films of the Month
Watching films posted to the house by our movie lending service, Netflix, and the screeners sent as part of my BAFTA membership, don’t constitute buying stuff, thankfully. We watched Mamma Mia on New Year’s Day – about the only possible thing I was capable of after my champagne poisoning.
That weekend we saw the light and nothing special Caramel from the Lebanon, which had done good business at film festivals, and the heartbreaking, sparse, beautifully played
I’ve Loved You So Long, which deserves all plaudits. I thought Elsa Zylberstein’s performance as the sister stupendous – perfectly pitched.
I enjoyed that self-indulgent marriage of Scorsese and the Rolling Stones Shine a Light, a straightforward concert film, definitely would love to see the Stones live.
We liked melodramatically flourished The Duchess, a story proving that there’s nowt so queer as folk with a masterful performance by Ralph Fiennes,
Keira Knightley proving she can do more than luminous.
Adam came over to see W, and fell asleep, yes and snored. Josh Brolin is good but there was a certain amount of ‘what’s the point?’ about the movie. We also fell asleep in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, a technical tour de force but is lit gloomily, has a very slow and measured pace and our adult characters don’t come into the story for an hour, by which time we were in the land of nod.
I was the casualty at the Wim Wenders Film Festival at the Castro Theater, after taking painkillers to pre-empt any discomfort from having had my wisdom tooth removed that day, which made me throw up so missed the Q&A afterwards with the auteur - grrr. But Steve, Dayna and I liked the film showcased: Shooting Palermo, stylistically interesting although flawed and featured the rather sexy Campino in the title role.
Best of the month contenders included the frivolous and funny Vicky Cristina Barcelona,
that I loved watching – a real tonic; the slapstick yet black-as-night-humour of Tropic Thunder that had Amy, Geri, Colman and I in stitches; and the intense, big budget, dark and brooding The Dark Knight (seen here in Lego!), which does justify all the hype, for this kind of studio picture.
But the best one for us was Edge of Heaven, which we knew nothing about at all, and were riveted by.
Directed by Fatih Akin (Head On), set in Germany and Turkey, the non-linear narrative explores parents and children, the immigrant experience, and is a keenly observed portrait. We thought it excellent, with standout performances, and has justly won 18 international awards including Best Screenplay at Cannes and the European Film Awards 2007.Top
Bird of the Month
Our nature walk by the river in Truckee had proved disappointing: slippery under foot, not a whisker of any wildlife, and the constant thrum of passing traffic. Down by the lake, I got pretty close to a flock of Mallards and Common Mergansers diving adroitly and floating serenely in the newly ice-formed harbours and bays, rendered black by the dazzling light bouncing off the aquamarine snow-fringed lake.
On our last morning in Truckee, Lake Tahoe, the three of us went for a walk along our ice-encrusted road. High thin clouds had started to appear, bleaching out the light. We were accompanied by various dogs and audible icicle-dripping. I’d not expected to see anything, the air was very still and we’d noticed nothing on the walk the day prior.
And then, I became aware of a light rapid jumble of husky trills, and fluttering action in a group of conifers beside a chalet whose melting roof provided a constant and attractive stream for this gregarious flock. LBJs (Little Brown Jobs), as birders fondly refer to the hard-to-distinguish similar-looking sparrow/pipit/warbler/bunting/finch species, make identification even harder by constant movement. My first instinct was a kind of sparrow as they had uniform brown streaks.
But the lack of distinct head markings and a yellowish wash on the wings and breast had me feverishly turning field guide pages while trying to keep the active creatures in view through my binoculars. Surveillance then methodical elimination of options followed by speculation and hesitant suggestion finally produced definitive sighting: a ‘winter finch’, the Pine Siskin Carduelis pinus - almost always in flocks, slender bill and constant feeding on buds and seeds of conifers – a new Life Bird.Mural of the Month
Stencil of the Month
Bumper Sticker of the Month
Love and hugs
Nadine, Colman and Esme xxx
