“If you want to know all about Andy Warhol, just look at the surface of my paintings and films and me, there I am. There’s nothing behind it.” — Andy Warhol
Same goes for me. Just read my blog. Questions? Comments? Want to send me a present but don’t know how? E-mail me at sjpeakall AT gmail Dot com for a swift and witty reply.
In case you’re wondering who the other cast members are in the dramedy of my life, they are:
Megan: My sister and best friend. Former EMT who now works at the local hospital’s ER. Not afraid of anything but snakes. Married for 29 years and counting to:
Rob, our brother’s best friend and partner in crime since they were nine years old. He can make anything out of nothing, and probably rues the day his incompetent sister-in-law moved in next door.
Jonathan: My brother. Volunteer fire fighter, teacher, and all-around genius. Lives off the grid about a quarter of a mile away from my sister and me.
Our parents are both dead, as are our grandparents and only aunt. We never had any uncles or cousins, so we’re a small, but close, unit.
Mark: My hard-working former landlord and former next door neighbor. Husband to Citlali, who is Rose’s daughter. Rose and James lived in my quirky former house until their deaths. James built it himself out of redwood.
I lived on Mark and Citlali’s property for 10 years until they moved to Southern California. I still miss them and my old house.
I moved in May 2019 to my current gorgeous house, owned by Danielle, who built it herself and even milled the redwood beams. She is meticulous in making sure everything is fixed and running as it should. She and her son Alex live on the same property, but in different houses.
Jessica: My amazing friend Erica’s brilliant 16 year old daughter. They are two of the smartest and most delightful people I know.
Schatzi: Megan and Rob’s beautiful brindled pit bull mix who disappeared in August 2013 at the age of nearly 16. She was always a stubborn dog and more in touch with nature than being a house pet. She was a rare and beautiful spirit who will always be loved and missed.
Star: Megan and Rob’s beautiful black pit bull mix. Megan and I made a long and memorable trip to Colusa to rescue her one fine spring day and she has never looked back. She has Megan trained pretty well now.
Stella: Stella came our way a few months after Schatzi’s death – with 11 puppies. Homes were found for all the puppies, and Megan and Rob fostered Stella, fell in love with her, and adopted her. She and Star love each other.
Audrey: My beautiful, adventurous tabby cat. A bewitching bundle of cuteness and naughtiness in one furry package. Sister to:
June, aka The Beautiful June Bug, who vanished on the night of June 4, 2010, to my ever-lasting grief and regret. I keep Audrey in at night now.
Henry, aka Henry Etta James: The stray cat I fed for nearly three years in Oakland. When I moved to Hooterville, I brought him with me. He turned out to be a very old lady, and died in his/her sleep on April 2, 2010. She is buried under a tree at my brother’s place, and I say hello to her every time I’m there.
Clyde and Roscoe: Cat brothers born on June 8, 2010. I adopted them late in August, when it was obvious that the beloved June was gone forever. I thought they’d be company for Audrey, but they drive her crazy instead.
Roscoe disappeared on December 2, 2015, leaving a huge hole in my heart and home. I love you, sweet boy.
Dodge: A stray Siamese cat who followed one of my co-workers home from work one day. He was starved and nearly furless from exposure. We discovered he had been hanging around the car dealership for weeks and they hadn’t done a thing to help him. I couldn’t resist adopting him. He is now plush and gorgeous and the happiest and friendliest cat I have ever had. Audrey hates him.
Hooterville: A small town of 168 people (according to the official sign) on the Northern California coast. I live about 6 miles from downtown Hooterville, which consists of a grocery store, post office, and hardware store.
If you dig back in my archives, you may come across John, aka Rufus, my ex-husband. We separated after fifteen years of marriage, and took another ten to do the final paperwork. Why rush these things? We’re still friends.
Things I want to do before it’s too late:
Ring the opening bell on Wall Street.
Attend Fashion Week.
Be presented to the Queen.
Be a blind item on Page Six.
Say “Follow that car!”
Go to a game in every major league ballpark in the country.
Be a socialite.
Live in a hotel.
Go to the Vanity Fair Oscars party.
Be completely honest for one day.
Take the Orient Express all the way to Istanbul.
Be a philanthropist.
Go without computer, TV and cellphone use for a month. Or even a week.
Run barefoot through the grass.
Be published. (Can I cross this off after having two articles published in a magazine?)
Have a library. With one of those rolling ladders.
Go to cooking school, like in “Sabrina”.
Walk across the Golden Gate Bridge – and back.
Pick strawberries in the sunshine near Santa Cruz.
Move back to San Francisco. Nope. Don’t want to go back there. It’s not the same place I used to love.
Be a role model (instead of an Awful Warning).
Learn to type.
Touch each continent, even the icky ones.