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Nancy R. Buck. I met Nancy my first year in San Francisco. She ran the photo lab for City College at Ft. Mason. What began as a weekly tutorial in how to develop film, what filter to use for the proper print contrast, and the art of dodging and burning, quickly evolved into a deep friendship. Each week in the lab, we would share a mango iced tea or a mint chocolate cookie from Greens and discuss the latest must-try hamburger joint.

Then Nancy became family. She would visit with Jeff and me to see our latest garden project. She looked after Dobie and Buster while we were on travel. She shared tips on where we could get good gelato. And she joined our holiday dinners when our families visited.

Nancy had a passion for trying and doing…everything. Nancy had as many hobbies as you could cram into the one bedroom Russian Hill apartment where she lived for 30 years. In addition to being an accomplished photographer, Nancy made jewelry, studied horticulture, played instruments, was a voracious reader, loved food, and had a passion for travel. Her apartment was a museum–with a carefully selected collection from her extended travels in Africa, Europe, and Asia.

When Nancy died this year, it all happend so quickly, that we barely had time to say goodbye. But in the process of visiting Nancy in the hospital, and helping her family to put her affairs in order after her death, Jeff and I became close with some of Nancy’s friends from other parts of her life. Its like Nancy planned it this way.

At our most recent holiday show, Nancy’s absence was evident. But so was her lasting impact. Friends that she brought together through her life gathered and toasted her memory…and made plans to visit together again.

Below, is a picture from Nancy’s memorial service on the Bay. Below that is a photo from the “after party” at Paradise Bay on the harbor in Sausalito–John, Regina, Jeff, Suzette, Joyce, Pat, and Susan offering a toast to Nancy (some of us with an awesome rasberry mojito, which Nancy would have LOVED!!)

The hustle and bustle of December, a fast-approaching Christmas, and 2006 save-the-dates already being penciled in have all brought 2005 rushing back to me in a similar blur. Facts fade quickly and memories blend together. This is what I am thinking about at midnight tonight–unable to sleep–a flood of recollections and a fear that I may not ever capture them.

I lost three people in my life this year. My dear friend Nancy. My Aunt Sallie. And my Grandmother.

So, I’ve decided to jot down some stream of conscious memories, before 2006 reprograms those brain synapses with the latest celebrity breakup or infuriating political drivel.

Last night, I made some cookies that Jeff and I had in Siena this year for the first time. They are called ricciarelli.

We first stumbled on ricciarelli in the middle of a long afternoon walk around Siena. As had become our habit in Italy, we delayed lunch until that magic hour when everything closes in the afternoon–any time after 1:30pm is risky in our experience.

No lunch + steep medieval streets = grumpy!

So, thank goodness for La Nuova Pasticceria, which supplied us with these delightful, almond-based treats. After this run-in, we started to see ricciarelli on desert menus and in other stores. But we never saw them outside of Siena.

In any case, I’m happy to report that our version of ricciarelli is excellent. The next batch will have some orange zest…so I’ll have to report on that. Here’s a photo of the finished product. These cookies are perfect for Christmas desert with milk. They are chewy and sweetened with honey and vanilla and powdered sugar (yum). Enjoy.

A couple of signs caught my eye this week, and fortunately I had my camera handy. The first is a set of window signs that we have seen above a Burger King in the outer Sunset District. “Stinky Burger King” is one of our favorite phrases now 🙂 And don’t miss the “smell smell smell” sign! Oh, and the “get ZITS” sign!!
Now, this second sign is typical of the hole-in-the wall restaurants in the Tenderloin District. I particularly like how the word ‘restaurant’ runs off the page. It reminds me of the posters I made in elementary school. And it certainly gives me confidence that they use only the choicest cuts of meat.

So, perhaps this is old news by now, but our rain Wednesday made me think about a story I read in both the Examiner and the Chronicle that just captured my imagination. The story concerned a small town–Rattenberg, Austria–that 700 years after its founding has decided that it is sick and tired of winter darkness. It seems that the same mountain nook that has shielded the town from enemy attack also blocks direct sunlight between November and February. Sixty other nearby Alpine towns suffer a similar fate.

The solution for Rattenberg: 30 mirrors mounted on a hilltop in such a pattern that light is directed into select common areas of the town. The cost: $2.4 million.

Now, the 440 residents of Rattenberg believe that bringing sunlight into their town will reverse the decline in population, particularly the young people that move away. Before committing these funds, however, I suggest that the Rattenbergers visit an urban club or disco to watch what young people do when the lights come on at closing time–they scurry, lest they be seen under the unflattering fluorescent lights.

The lesson? Perhaps Rattengerians aren’t that good looking, and turning on the winter lights could decrease the population even further. I’m just tossing that out for consideration.

In rebuttal, Buster (below) would like to point out that sunbeams are quite nice, thank you.