This past Thursday I posted one of the above pictures as my entry into TBT on FB...it is the one of Jeff, me, Ronnie and Marilyn.  As I pondered the other pictures in my photo album of this birthday celebration (it was one of my now many), I could not help but reflect upon how blessed I've been to have such good friends as well as such good memories.

The menu that evening (besides lots of cocktails and lots of wine) included breaded pork chops (one of my most favorite foods in this whole wide world)...trust me that it was a feast.  It was a wonderful evening followed by an evening of hitting the bars, then the Trocadero Transfer where we danced until the sun was coming up, before finally stopping at the End-Up for one final drink before heading off to our homes and trying one way or another to sleep off the night before.

However, I've digressed for a moment for I also want to tell you about Marilyn and I living not only in a haunted building but living next door to what is/was an abandoned house in which a spirit dwelled...and it may have been the same spirit the dwelled in our building.

Let me try to explain the chain of events.  We were all living in this small apartment building...an old apartment building on El Camino Real in Burlingame.  Three of us became came good friends...Marilyn, Evelyn and myself.  Marilyn was in sales at a Silicon Valley company, Evelyn worked as office manager in this small start-up called Genentec, and I worked at a Silicon Valley company.  We were a happy three-some of friends.  For instance, when my mother visited both of them pitched in and took her everywhere when I was not around.  I truly think my mother had a blast with these young women.

I lived upstairs from Marilyn...and Marilyn lived next door to Evelyn.

The thing I experienced in my apartment was a visitor that always visited at 2am and I could always know this because I felt him/her/it sit on the edge of my bed and it would watch me.  Repeatedly.  I was bothered by this presence/experience.  Yet I thought it was all part of my imagination so I said nothing to anyone.

Then one evening, while Evelyn and I were sitting in Marilyn's kitchen...she (Marilyn) started to talk about how she would hear me in my apartment even when I was not there...the water turning on/off...footsteps.  At that moments we heard slow measured footsteps over our heads...in my apartment...as all three of us stared at her ceiling, Marilyn said "see what I mean?!?!"  That event scared the shit out of the three of us.

Evelyn took to lighting a white candle at the foot of her bed before she went to sleep.  It's purpose was to deter evil spirits.  It also scared Marilyn and I because of the fire hazard!!! LOL

It was so scary that I can remember coming home from work on a rainy night and looking at my front door and being afraid to enter my home.  One night in desperation, I finally had a talk with the spirit and said "I know not who you are or why you are here but please can we peacefully co-exist."  From that point on, I was never bothered again.

But that is not to say friends were not bothered.  One time while I was back home in Wisconsin/Minnesota visiting a good friend (Al) stayed at my place and he complained about being woke up at 2am by a "presence."  Mind you, I'd never told Al about the spirit/ghost.  Interesting, eh?

Another time, another good friend was living with me temporarily until he found his own apartment...he slept on the couch in the living room.  One early morning he, embarrassed, told me that he had woken up during the night to a presence pulling on him...as if it were trying to wake him up.

So, go figure...I'd never told anyone about this yet they all experienced this spirit/presence.  One final note...during the height of my discomfort and before the spirit/presence and I came to terms with each other...it was on a New Year's Eve and a good friend was visiting for a couple of drinks before heading for his home.  It was late for he worked at the airlines...and I started to tell him about these strange experiences (I was embarrassed for I thought people would think I was "nuts")...he stopped me from talking and said "I know what you are going to say for I can feel "him" standing behind me and he is breathing hard.

Gulp.

As my last picture above...the one with me toasting all of you...I say to you good-night.

An old man's mind tends to wander.  Although I am not as old as I am going to be, I am definitely not as young as I once was.  So, when I came across this stash of old pictures from a Christmas in the past...I had to share them...as well as my memories of that Christmas in the past.

Jim and I were next door neighbors and that is why you see the start of the Christmas season pictures with him helping me decorate my Christmas tree.  Jim was from Eau Claire.  I was from Bruce.  So that Christmas we flew back to Wisconsin/Minnesota together and rented a rental car together.

When we landed in the Minneapolis/St Paul airport it was early afternoon and a balmy -4(F).  I was shocked (just shocked) and Jim had quite a laugh at my shock for already I'd grown used to the California climate.  Although we'd reserved a compact, because it was Christmas Eve day, the rental company could only give us a Lincoln Town Car for the same price.  Not bad, eh?

Let me see, what else do I remember...oh yes...we stopped at the Gay 90s in downtown Minneapolis for "one" before proceeding to Tom's and Bob's home for an early Christmas Eve afternoon Irish stew.  their home was warm and welcoming.

After our bite to eat, we had to leave for it was already getting late and we had to drive to Eau Clair to drop Jim off at his parent's house before I could head onward to my mother's home.

For some reason the stew gave us horrendous gas!  And even though by the time we started driving into Wisconsin and it was -20 (F) the windows in the car were frequently opened as we gasped for a breath of fresh air...and laughed and laughed and laughed some more.

I dropped Jim off at his parent's home in Elk Grove and then headed for my home and had the most magical drive.  By that time the northern night had set in as I was driving back roads to get home as quickly as possible.  It was a full moon that night and there was a lot of snow so it was one of those times of nighttime light...and the farm houses here and there along the way against the backdrop of cold, snow, and northern woods had sparkling Christmas lights...each and everyone of them.

Home at last we quickly drove to Ken and Marion's home for our Christmas Eve celebration.  I was dressed for northern cold with long underwear, cords and a heavy wool sweater.  Ken and Marion were afraid I would be cold (coming from California)...and the two situations collided.  I laughingly remember as sweat dripped off of my nose asking if they could please turn down the thermostat!

It was a delightful evening spent with my family...my nieces were growing up way too fast...the food was wonderful:  ham, scalloped potatoes, Christmas cookies & bars...and I do not remember what all I ate but I do remember hurting from eating too much.

Then, all too soon, as with most Christmases it was over.  Jim and I met in the Twin Cities before flying home...but before meeting I was able to spend some quality time with my friends Bob, Tom, Aunti Vi, and a few others...as well as Al...who was also visiting from California.

Where have the years gone?  This is a memory that is alive in my heart...and now on this blog it is alive once again complete with pictures.

Many years ago while living in St. Paul, MN a dear friend (Tom) gave to me a recipe that he called "Chicken Italian."  I believe it was one of those recipes that is found on the back of a box or a bottle of Italian salad dressing.  Although I did make it a few times while living in St. Paul it was not until I moved to California where it became a favorite staple of my menu as well as a favorite comfort food.  Every time I make this recipe I think of my dear friend Tom who gave it to me; but, also I always think of my apartment in Burlingame and its big old fashioned O'Keefe & Merritt gas range. 

The apartment  in Burlingame was my first home in the Bay Area.  Up until then I had been room-mates with a friend named Bob.  The thing that sold me on this apartment was the nice large size, the big floor to ceiling windows in the living room and that big gas range in the kitchen.

So, over the years that apartment was the home of many happy events:  Christmases, Thanksgivings, birthdays, friends visiting, and my mom visiting.  I have fond memories of my four and one-half years of living there.

The first winter of living there was an exceptionally rainy winter and I do believe it was a record breaker in the amount of rain received.  Frequently at the end of a long work day, a long commute from the Silicon Valley, I would arrive home wet and tired.  The first thing I would do was turn on the heat and if I had chicken in the fridge, I would make "Chicken Italian."  There was something about pre-heating the oven on that big old gas range...and then browning the chicken in a frying pan before putting it in the oven that was comforting.  The cares and concerns of the work day would ease away, the oven would give off a gentle warmth that would fill the kitchen, and basting the chicken while it cooked would be one of those simple and pleasurable chores...while the rain poured outside tap-tapping against the windows.

Now I have lived here for over 30 years and as I look back I smile fondly at the memories...especially when like last night...I was once again making "Chicken Italian."

p.s.  If you want the recipe for "Chicken Italian", go to "recipes" and/or type in "chicken" on the search bar.