Suzy Says

First day at school!*

When Audrey woke me up this morning, I discovered that both kittens were sleeping on me. One of them was lying across my neck with his head on my ear. I’m beginning to understand that old wives’ tale about cats stealing one’s breath – they really like to be close to your face. Audrey still likes to sit on my chest with my nose muffled in her fur.

I let her out at 5:15, even though it was still dark out. I put all the outside lights on and hoped that the predators had clocked out early. Mark mentioned that he saw (and heard) a fox in his yard a few days ago. He lets his kittens in and out, day and night, and they are fine, which I’m trying to think of as an encouraging sign about the safety of the great outdoors. His kittens are about the same age as mine. I bet mine are jealous of his. I’m still going to try to follow Dr. Karen’s instructions and keep mine in for another three months. By then, it will probably be raining and they might be slightly less enthusiastic about the whole idea.

Maybe.

As I write, Clyde is napping on my left shoulder. He was very determined to live up to his nickname today. I put him in Henry’s old bed with Roscoe, and bent over to get my coffee cup from the side table for a refill. Before I could pick it up, Clyde ran up my back and clung to my neck, purring. I carried him with me to the kitchen and poured the coffee. When I sat down to drink it, he settled in and went to sleep.

I hope Audrey gets used to the boys soon. She still sleeps with me, and I make a big fuss over her every time I see her. She’s been out a lot lately, but that may well be because we’re hitting the best weather of the year as well as kitten avoidance. Hopefully they’ll all settle down amicably.

In non-kitten news, yesterday was Jessica’s first day at the local school. When Erica picked her up, Jessica exclaimed, “Mom, that school is a blast!”

*Photo by Erica!

Back view of the vet office

On our way to the vet’s office, I observed to Megan that it seemed early for the Naked Ladies by the side of the road to be in bloom. “They don’t usually bloom until fall,” I said.

“Uh, Suz…it’s September in two days.”

Oh.

I was a little concerned that the kittens would react to the car trip to the vet in the same way they did to the car trip home, and about halfway there, it became obvious that my fears were well-founded. Inspecting the carrier after we arrived, it appeared that there was no damage to the kittens, and only minor damage to the towel inside, which was quickly disposed of by the cheerful technician, Cathy, and inspected by the kittens:

Dr. Karen was amazed by how identical they are. I have to admit I often have a hard time telling them apart. The main difference is Clyde’s bow tie (vs. Roscoe’s dash of white). It turns out that the roof of Roscoe’s mouth is adorably polka dotted and Clyde’s isn’t, but that’s not a lot of help at a distance. They even weigh the same: 3.3 pounds.

Here’s Roscoe examining the examination table:

I was really proud of how good they were. Dr. Karen said they were exceptionally happy and well-adjusted kittens. And yes, their purrs are in fact very, very loud.

It was great having Megan there to hold the kittens and help with the shots, temperature taking, etc. It’s always good to bring along your own EMT to any medical appointment.

The boys took a nap while we wrapped things up with Dr. Karen (she had finally found time to use the massage gift certificate we gave her when she opened the office and loved it):

We’ll be back in a couple of weeks for the next set of the shots. Apparently the entire vaccination process goes on for quite a while, so I’m supposed to keep them inside for the next three months. Can she do it?

Name: Clyde
Nickname: The Cuddlebug
Likes: Food; fighting with my brother; cuddling with the girl; taking it one day at a time.
Dislikes: Being picked up just when things get interesting; having to stay inside.
Personal Ambition: To be friends with the big cat. And world peace, of course.
Quote: “Least I ain’t a liar.”
Fun Facts: Clyde sports a bow tie, and Clyde Barrow was very particular about his appearance, even when on the run. The only cars I have ever owned have been Fords, and Barrow was such a fan that he supposedly wrote Mr. Ford a letter about how great his cars were. To steal, but still.

Name: Roscoe
Nickname: The Rascal
Likes: Food; getting in the girl’s way; chewing on people’s eyeglasses (and hands); finding new ways to get in trouble.
Dislikes: Being stopped from getting in trouble; having to stay inside.
Personal Ambition: To go outside and play. Be all that I can be.
Quote: “A good laugh…is the most worthwhile thing in life.”
Fun Facts: I asked my brother what I should name him, and almost without thinking, he said “Roscoe”. Which I had already told my sister was the name I was thinking of. We couldn’t stop laughing. Also, “roscoe” is apparently old-time gangster slang for a gun. Who knew?

Sharing

It’s 8:30 am, and I’m ready for a nap.

Audrey started demanding to go out at about 4:30. Despite the earplugs, it was almost impossible to ignore her clawing at the door, especially since it was accompanied by howling. Now with extra noise! There was no way I was letting her out in the darkness, especially since my brother’s cat, Twilley, has twice been chased home by a bobcat. My brother’s gun was loaded, but he didn’t get a clear shot, so the bobcat(s) are still out there somewhere.

As if the howling and clawing weren’t enough, the rowdies decided to play/fight all over me, with breaks for chewing on my hands. No matter how many times I pushed them off me, they boomeranged back. Those boys walk all over me – literally. When one of them clawed my lip, I gave up and got up.

After I stopped it from bleeding and retreated to the couch to drink coffee and read my email, they both curled up on my chest, purring and trying to chew my glasses. It made it pretty much impossible to do anything, including writing my near-daily postcards from the depths of obscurity.

I am continuing with my policy of not feeding them when I first get dragged out of bed – especially when it’s due to their naughtiness – so when Audrey slinked home around 8:00, I was almost psychologically prepared for the feeding time fiasco. Almost.

Unfortunately, the boys have figured out that the food is in the pantry. So every time I go there, they immediately stampede underfoot to try and beat me to it. You can imagine how enjoyable this is when making dinner, calling for several pantry trips, or laundry.

Audrey was also there, so they fought and growled and got underfoot. I put Audrey’s food in her dish, and put them both on top of the washer. Audrey hates being picked up* in front of the kittens. She must think it’s undignified.

Then I got the kittens’ food and put it in their dishes, which are currently adding to my living room’s décor, along with the litter box. They came running, and immediately started eating out of the same dish (see above), which is what they always do. They jam their faces into it, then realize they don’t fit, and start taking turns, completely ignoring the other dish until I pick one of them up and put him in front of it.

Then they rush back to the pantry to try and scam some of Audrey’s food. Audrey is far too ladylike to bolt her food, so she always leaves some and comes back to nibble on it later.

Can you imagine what feeding time will be like when they’re big enough to jump up on the washer?

*Actually, she never likes being picked up, even at the best of times. Maybe it’s always beneath her dignity.

Bookends

The boys managed to escape when I let Audrey in for the night. You try and find two black cats in the darkness. And country darkness at that. That’s the darkest kind, you know. It’s the French Roast of night.

I went and got one of the emergency lights I keep on hand for the inevitable winter power outages, along with some kitten food and treats. One of them had raced off into the bushes, and the other was under the house, despite the fact that everyone told me they wouldn’t venture far at this age and would stay close to me.

Yeah.

Eventually, I caught them one by one and trapped them in the bathroom while luring Audrey in. I let her eat her treats in peace for once, and then released the rowdies, who were unperturbed by their evening adventure. Whereas I needed an immediate cocktail.

In non-kitten news, Jessica is now enrolled at the excellent school just down the road. She and her mother completed enrollment yesterday and then came by for a little visit. Apparently Jessica’s reading level is now at eighth grade, though she is just entering second grade. While Erica and the teacher were discussing this, Jessica piped up, saying “Spelling isn’t my strong suit.” You have to manage people’s expectations.

Erica is going to have a mighty long list of people who can pick Jessica up from school. I’m looking forward to spending more time with her.

Playing in the ficus tree is always held in high regard

As I write, one of the kittens is curled up on my left shoulder. They may be the cuddliest kittens ever. They are always climbing up on me and purring. They are also equipped with deluxe power purr.

They are growing up fast. Or my expectations were totally wrong. Or both.

When I first got them, I thought they were too small to get up the stairs. Wrong. They did it the first day. They love playing in the ficus tree on the landing (see above), even when I’ve just watered it. Then they can spray mud and leaves everywhere instead of dirt and leaves. Extra fun! They also walk along the railings as if they were walking across the living room floor.

Last night, I went upstairs to close the balcony door, and arrived just in time to see one of the kittens scale the baby gate and leap onto the balcony. Eeek! I chased him, and caught him as he hovered on the edge, looking down into the garden. So that means no more opening the balcony door until we can come up with some means of keeping the boys in. Fortunately, the fog is back, so it won’t be suffocatingly hot, at least in the immediate future.

This morning, I went to feed Audrey and closed the studio door behind me, foolishly thinking that this would keep the kittens out of her food (needless to say, they are more interested in Audrey’s food than theirs, and vice-versa). One of them shot through the cat flap and raced to her dish. Surprisingly, Audrey just let him eat it until I scooped him up and took him back to his dish. Feeding time just got a lot more challenging.

Yesterday was a really frustrating day.

I had a ton of work to do – which is supposed to be finished by the end of today – but I was frustrated at every turn by the perfect storm of my internet service provider’s failure to do same, and the “upgrade” of our on-line database, which meant, as upgrades usually do, that nothing worked. I lost track of how many times I called tech support for each provider.

I got nothing done by early afternoon, despite expending a lot of effort.

In addition to these frustrations, and despite Rob’s best efforts, it was 94 degrees in my house. Mother Nature certainly has a wicked sense of humor, what with natural disasters, bugs, and that whole gravity thing. All that complaining about the coldest summer since 1975 inspired her to say, “You want summer? I’ll give you summer!” The temperatures skyrocketed 40 degrees overnight, and smashed records all over the Bay Area.

The boys wilted on the floor, and Audrey was nowhere to be seen, presumably hiding under the house or in the woods.

Megan called to say that she was back from seeing the surgeon in Willits, and was cleared for takeoff on September 1, when she will resume her duties three months to the day after injuring her knee. She suggested that I take a break from my suffocating house and futile work efforts and go with her to walk the dogs on the beach. I opined that it would be just as hot there, and she laughed and said to trust her.

She was right, of course, and the sea breeze was refreshing. Star especially enjoyed frolicking in the water. I’m pleased to report that Schatzi’s leg is completely recovered, though she needs more exercise to restore her splendid musculature. You really would not believe that she is 10 years old.

I checked on the boys before camping out in Megan’s significantly cooler house. Her house is surrounded by trees, so it’s somewhat dark inside and never gets hot. On the other hand, she has to worry about trees hitting her house during winter storms. She and Rob lost six trees this past winter, and one just grazed the edge of the house.

Later, we went to sit in the garden and drink wine. Our brother came by, and we finally had the first barbecue of the waning year where we did not have to wear sweaters. Also, it’s the first time we’ve had dinner together in months. All’s well that ends well.

A simple solution

Yikes. Audrey woke me up around 6:00 this morning, making a really scary howling noise (not to be mistaken for her “get lost, boys” growl, which I am hearing right now as I type this). I came downstairs and found her in front of the sliding glass doors in the living room, her fur and tail all puffed out.

I turned on the outside light, but couldn’t see anything out there, so I went out to see for myself. I expected at least a raccoon, but nothing. In the back of my mind, I hoped it would be June Bug and Audrey was trying to alert me to her return in a cinematic fashion, but once again, real life turned out to be disappointingly unlike the movies.

The boys were concerned (or curious), and kept approaching her, despite the constant rebuffs. Audrey was determined to go out, and I was determined to keep her in, even though her fur had deflated by this time.

I know it’s slightly irrational, and mountain lions and other predators don’t punch their time cards and clock out at 6:30, but I have to wait until it’s fairly light outside before I allow Audrey out.

Imagine how much fun it’s going to be keeping three of them in the house all night.

It’s already bad enough keeping the boys in during the day. About two days after their adoption and baptisms, the weather abruptly changed from silvery and cool to sunny and hot. Most people have been referring to this summer as “the summer that never was”, whereas to me it’s been close to an ideal summer, not least because it has kept the wildfires down and my brother out of danger.

One of the many eccentricities of James’s eccentric architectural style is the almost complete lack of windows that actually open. In my house, the only one that opens is in the shower, where, you know, you don’t really need it, especially in winter. The windows in Megan’s house and Jonathan’s former abode don’t open at all. To get any ventilation in our houses, we have to leave the doors open, which is not conducive to keeping cats in. So while I have six doors in the house, I couldn’t open them. Water, water everywhere, but nary a drop to drink!

Needless to say, it was Rob to the rescue.

He came over bearing a wooden baby gate, which he placed in the balcony door, facing west. A couple of minutes later, he appeared at the sliding glass doors of the living room (facing east), and put a metal grid in it (see above). The metal grid used to be outside the pantry door, to scrape boots on in the winter, but it makes a great screen. He then got a ladder and turned the switch on the ceiling fan so it supposedly cools the air*. He found the baby gate at the dump, so everything was free! Also, I hadn’t said a word to him about it, but I guess it all comes of his knowing me for most of his life.

*I can’t tell the difference, but I also couldn’t tell that it drew the warm air up in the winter, so maybe it’s Me. Where there’s no sense, there’s no feeling, as my grandmother used to say.

Meet the boys!

Well, the Evil Eighteenth was harder for me this year than it has been in a while. Grief is a strange thing. It can be nine years since you lost someone, and you can feel just as terrible as when you first got the news.

It’s probably because I lost both Henry Etta and June over such a short period of time this year, and my emotions were pretty raw. June’s death was as senseless and sudden as Dad’s was, and I think it reawakened a lot of those feelings.

It took some time to work through them. Fortunately, work has been very busy lately, which is great, since it occupies the surface of my mind (and in my case, surface is pretty much all there is) and helped me get through the days.

While I was busy working, the local Animal Care and Control was busy shutting down. In their infinite wisdom, the authorities decided to move everything to the county seat, a two hour drive away, for those who have a car. That means there’s no-one here to take care of lost or stray animals, or to deal with animal cruelty cases. Not to mention the loss of local jobs.

With the closure of the ACC shelter, the remaining Humane Society shelter was overwhelmed. They had more kittens than they knew what to do with, and I thought Audrey might like some company, so I went to see them with the intention of window-shopping. But I was taken with two little black kittens, who snuggled under my chin and purred so loudly that I thought the neighbors might complain.

The shelter worker told me that no-one wanted the black kittens, so they were two for the price of one. One of the kittens jammed his purring nose into my ear, and I knew I had two new family members.

As I filled out the paperwork, the kittens’ mother was being adopted! The shelter workers said that she was a wonderful mother, and that the kittens were the happiest and most affectionate they could remember having.

It soon became apparent that they shared Audrey’s distaste (and mine, for that matter) for traveling by car, and used the same method of expressing it. As soon as I got them home, I had to bathe them in the sink and apply Nature’s Miracle to the car’s upholstery. I might have to burn the carrier they came in.

Amazingly, they purred through the baths and were notably less upset by their sudden wetness than they were by the car ride. Here you see one of them asleep in the towel:

He looks a lot like a bat.

Audrey was not impressed with her bargain basement roommates. Here you see her giving them the stink eye:

Also, she is now making up for all the hissing and growling she didn’t do when Henry Etta moved in. But June and Audrey have always been great at adapting to circumstances, and they’ve been through so much in their lives, so I’m hoping that in time, she’ll accept them and maybe even like them. In the meantime, she can teach them how to be a wonderful cat.

By the way: I’m open to suggestions for names for these little boys!

People complain these days, and maybe rightly, about the downside of social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter, but there are good things about it, too.

Just this morning, I learned the following on Facebook:

• A friend and his girlfriend became first-time parents;
• A friend’s beloved only brother returned safely home from serving in Afghanistan;
• A friend’s sister had successful surgery for cancer, with a very positive outlook for the future;
• A friend arrived safely in his native country, to which he is returning after many years abroad, and where he and his long-time partner are building a new home and new life together.

That’s a lot of good news for one day, from all over the world. Way to start Friday the 13th!

Meanwhile, back in Suzy world…

I’m getting swampéed with emails from money managers. One of the trade rags published an article saying that one of our clients might possibly be looking for a new money manager sometime, maybe, and listed my name and email address. Après moi, le déluge. Also, they all seemed to miss the fact that it’s only a possibility, and may or may not happen. No matter how many I answer, there are still more. It’s the Sorcerer’s Apprentice of email!

To escape my inbox, I went to town yesterday. It was still pretty early, thanks to Audrey and the still-invisible mouse, so the Safeway was delightfully unpopulated. You would be surprised by how busy it usually is, considering the town only has 5,000 residents.

I was trying vainly to reach something on an upper shelf, and someone actually came over and helped me. Imagine. I have to admit that I’m not above being a helpless girl when it suits my purposes. I might as well enjoy it, since my cuteness has a rapidly-approaching expiration date of its own.

When I got in line, there was only one person ahead of me. Behind me there was a pushy broad with a giant bottle of Pepsi. Why she didn’t use the express lane, which was wide open and unpopulated at that early hour, is beyond me. Same goes for why she kept shoving her cart into me, including when I was trying to pay for my hard-won groceries. I get extra credit for not saying a thing.

On the way home, I stopped in to see my brother. I had a bunch of mail for him – we all share one mailbox – and I wanted to see how the water heater replacement was coming along. Slowly, it turned out, but hopefully he’ll get it fixed soon. While I was there, I visited Henry, who is sleeping peacefully under her tree, and checked on the bees.

I could see where the phrase “busy as a bee” comes from*, since the bees were very active. You should have heard the happy humming coming from the hive! The returning bees were so loaded down with pollen that they could hardly fly. My brother has given them a little bucket of water with a screen in it, so they can drink without drowning. They seem to be thriving. Now all we have to do is decide how to treat them to prevent mites this winter: the organic way, or the chemical way. We’re leaning toward organic. Though we may lose more, the ones that survive will be stronger. Darwinism in our own backyard.

*Turns out it’s Chaucer! So it’s a very old phrase. I guess bees haven’t changed their ways much over the past 700 years.

Spot the Audrey!

Here you see Audrey perched on the bureau in the sleeping loft. She has the opposite of acrophobia. She has love of heights. Only an empty box makes her happier than being as high up as possible. She must enjoy looking down on me.

I heard her racketing around downstairs this morning at about 5:00. I came down to investigate, and discovered her chasing a mouse. I screamed and fled in the traditional girl manner, retreating to my bed. Needless to say, I was unable to sleep, so I just got up again about twenty minutes later.

The intruder was nowhere to be seen. I put on three lights in the living room, instead of my usual one, and am now looking around in horror, trying to decide whether it would be worse to find a live mouse or a dead one. Audrey is acting like nothing ever happened, waiting for it to be light enough to be allowed outside, whereas I am so nervous that coffee is probably superfluous at this point.

It’s probably a good time to resume the laundry project interrupted by the Back Débâcle this weekend. It seems to have recovered, but I’m being extra-careful and trying to remember to lift with my legs, not my back. It’s astonishing how many times a girl bends in a day. You only notice it when you can’t do it. When I was taking care of Megan after her knee surgery, I felt like I was flaunting my bendiness around her. Maybe this is karma?

The mostly dead wisteria vine

And today, on Wild Kingdom…

When I took the coffeepot out to fill it with water, a little moth fluttered in. I had to persuade it to leave. If it had stayed, it probably could have flown to the moon unaided, since the coffee I made was totally atomic. I accidentally bought ground coffee, and was unwilling to drive for over an hour to correct the error. Unfortunately, it has been so long since I dealt with pre-ground coffee that I have no idea how much to put in the filter. Nor am I inclined to overthink this in a pre-caffeinated state.

My usual MO is to fill up my trusty coffee grinder with beans. However much that is turns out to be the exact right amount, as is so often the case when I cook. Half an onion? Exactly what I needed! Some leftover cilantro? The perfect addition to burritos! However, this was not the case with the ground coffee. A coffee grinder full is too much. The coffee was so strong that I actually had to water it down, making my very own, teeny little Americano.

While I was still waking up, Star came bursting through the front door, left open for my and Audrey’s mutual convenience. She raced across the room, kissed my surprised nose, and then jumped up on the couch next to me and curled up, settling in as if she lived here. It was super cute, and took less time to happen than for you to read about it.

Then the phone rang. You know how parents always ruin your fun. They came and got her before we had a chance to do each other’s nails.

After Star went home, I went to feed Audrey, only to see a lizard scuttling under the washing machine. I thoughtfully left the door open for him, considering not for the first time how blurred the line is between indoors and outdoors here. In fact, there may well be no line at all.

It turned out that Audrey was otherwise occupied anyway. She came trotting into the yard outside the sliding glass doors with a snake writhing in her mouth. I know that the snakes around here are harmless, but that doesn’t make them any less gross, or unwelcome in my house, whether alive and sliming or dead and flaccid. She played with it for a while, and then got bored and went to do something else.

It wasn’t just to keep the snake where it belonged that I shut the sliding glass doors. Really. It was because of the hummingbird which was feeding off the honeysuckle right outside them. He kept buzzing perilously near the open door, and I don’t know about you, but I didn’t want to try and catch something that can fly 30 mph (and dive at 60). It was fun to watch him zooming around and hovering, though.

Later, I caught myself brushing a spiderweb* off the (mostly) dead wisteria outside and wondered if the crazy gene has finally caught up with me. Megan and Rob both assure me that it’s not really dead and there’s new growth coming along, but it sure looks dead to me. I’d like to get a cutting of the jasmine that covers part of their house and train it up the dead(ish) vine. Imagine how great the honeysuckle and jasmine would smell together!

*Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just gave up on my constant spiderweb removal. How long would it take until this looked like the Addams’ Family’s vacation home?

Proof, if any were needed, that sloth always wins out with me:

It’s about 47 foggy degrees outside, and about 55 inside. I’m wearing my morning sweater and waiting for coffee to brew, but I have the sliding glass doors slightly open, and the front door, too. Why? Because I let Audrey out at 6:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep, and I know that as soon as I get comfortable, she’ll be asking to be let in one door and out the other, so I’d rather just leave the doors open than resume doorman duty.

See? Sloth over comfort!

Part of the reason I couldn’t get back to sleep was that Audrey woke me up from a dream about June Bug. In my dream, Audrey clawing at the door to go out in real life was June clawing at the door to come in. I could see her beautiful fur through the glass panes of the door, and it all seemed so real. As usual in dreamland, it was all a big mistake. I lay there for a while, regretting my stupidity for the zillionth time, and then decided I might as well get up and get on with the day.

I can see that it’s going to be sunny here pretty soon. If I can get my work done in time for the narrow window that the farmers’ market is open, my non-slothful sis and I will venture out together for the first time in two weeks. I’m pleased to report that she drove the hour and a half home from Willits with no adverse effects, so she’s definitely on the mend. The surgeon has to sign off on her being ready to go back to work, so it looks like she’ll be back at work in early September, with lots to tell the class about what she did on her summer vacation.

Curious Audrey, August 2007

Audrey woke me up this morning by clanging on the metal shade of the bedside lamp. She woke me up from a dream with June in it (we were buying pomegranates for something Megan was cooking*) and then just sat there, looking at me.

It was especially annoying because two hours earlier, I had gotten up and opened the door for her at dawn, leaving it open despite the chill. As I went back to bed and snuggled under the blankets, I thought how lucky I was to enjoy blankets near the end of July.

When I plodded downstairs, Audrey raced to the studio door, suggesting that she is STARVING. I ignored her and made coffee, not just because I’m a mean green bean, but because I think it’s a bad idea to feed your cat as soon as you get up. This gives them ideas and leads to less beauty sleep for you (though not for them).

Also, I knew perfectly well that there would still be food in her dish. Audrey never eats all her food, but she likes to have fresh food put in her dish at her command. She won’t eat any of the old food until new food joins it. This, like blankets in July, is a luxury she did not have when her sister was around. Even when the kittens were newborns, June was the biggest and cheerfully walked all over her tiny siblings to nurse.

Speaking of kittens…Mark and his family have two! They are little brothers, black with white paws, and one of them has a white stripe on his nose. I’d guess they are about six weeks old, and they still have blue eyes. I was so excited when Mark told me about them that I forgot my camera, but will hopefully have visual aids for you soon. To make up for this egregious oversight, I have posted a picture of Audrey at around the same age, already looking for trouble.

*In my dreams, my lost loved ones are never dead, it’s all a big misunderstanding. Also, the cats are semi-human, in that we have adventures together and can somehow communicate without actually talking. I like to think of these dreams as visits.

You can take the girl out of Oakland*, but you can’t take the Oakland out of the girl…

L’il A has taken to acting like a little hoodlum lately. She probably has a tattoo lurking under her fur. Her target: the Notorious D.O.G. gang.

When Rob was helping me with the great Painting Project last week, Star showed her objections to being left home alone by breaking out and joining us. L’il A showed her objections to a rival gang member being on her turf by puffing up hugely and clawing at the unsuspecting (and surprised) Star.

I shooed Audrey away, but she hid under the house, and when Star walked by, Audrey pounced on her. Star was shocked and backed away, wondering what the hell was going on. Audrey was unrepentant.

Rob took Star home again and Audrey ran off to terrorize the local bird population for a change of pace.

Yesterday, Luna was lying on the dusty driveway, minding her own business, when L’il A pulled the puff’n’pounce on her. Luna wisely trotted home, but I have to say I’m worried about this trend. One of these days, Audrey is going to pull this crap on a dog who is less understanding than Luna or Star and she’ll be hurt or even killed. Attacking someone who is about a hundred times bigger than you are is not the greatest idea.

Any thoughts on how to reform this feline delinquent before it’s too late? Possibly a well-timed and well-aimed squirt of water? All suggestions welcome.

*News like this certainly makes me glad I did.

A misty morning at Woodhaven

~Yawn~

Audrey’s been pretty good about her nightly imprisonment. She generally comes in on her own before dark, settling on the bed for her beauty sleep while I watch old movies to escape the present. She usually doesn’t wake me up before dawn, though today she was determined to go out at 5:45 am, whereas I was determined to stay asleep.

Guess who won.

It’s very foggy this morning, so we compromised by letting her out at 6:05, when it was essentially light out, but the fog created a sort of faux-darkness. I even had the light on while I made coffee, as well as a sweater. It was 58 degrees in the house this morning, and as I waited for the coffee to brew, I pondered the fact that if it were winter, I’d put the heat on, instead of leaving the door open a crack to let Princess Audrey in and out.

Go figure.

Yesterday, I did three loads of laundry (light, dark, and Megan). I virtuously hung out my laundry and put Megan’s in the slightly scary dryer. About 3:00, the fog rolled in to the point where it was making the laundry wetter, not dryer, to be outside, so I ended up putting it all in the dryer, propane bill be damned.

So much for being green-ish.

While I was doing laundry, Megan and Rob were winding their way up and down the curvaceous challenges of Highway 20, on their way to visit the surgeon who operated on Meg a week ago. He took out the stitches, some of which were quite recalcitrant, and said she was doing well. She’ll see him again in late August, when he’ll give her a final check before letting her go back to work, nearly four months after the original injury, half of that spent dealing with bureaucracy and fighting to get the surgery done.

Audrey sitting in the shower window

You can see that I’m not kidding about the window actually being in the shower, allowing for more opportunities for flashing meter readers than the average house.

In this picture, I have managed to completely avoid showing you any of this past week’s painting endeavors, though I swear I have painted the shower window white, and also the piece of wood crossing the window.

The door to the left leads to the back porch and the outdoor shower.

Today, I peeled the tape off the now-painted many-pained window on the outside and taped the inside. Still to go: the many-pained front door and the electric lime-green floor, plus et ceteras. It’s true that once you start painting, it’s hard to stop. It also makes sense that “pain” is part of “painting”.

I do have the perfect excuse for not painting, though: taking care of Megan as she recovers from her long-awaited knee surgery. This mostly entails the occasional pillow fluff or juice pouring, along with eating junk food and watching “Harry Potter” movies. Sometimes I make dinner and do the dishes. Exhausting.

Yesterday, I did make an express trip to the farmers’ market, which is open for all of two hours one day a week. With Megan’s list in hand, I zipped through the stalls in record time, mentally cursing the idiots who stand in the middle of the aisle in order to converse while taking up the maximum space possible and their buddies who meander across Main Street without bothering to look for cars or other people.

I selected nectarines, plums, blueberries, and goji berries from the controversial fruit people, off in their little corner past the pointed sign saying “Thanks for shopping LOCAL”. I’m sorry, but fruit like that doesn’t grow well on the foggy coast. And if these people, who grew it and picked it themselves, want to bring it here, I’m happy to buy it. They’re really nice people, too.

Next up was local lettuce, onions, our favorite soap from Lovers Lane Farm, a loaf of bread, and I was out of there! I also picked up some corn and tomatoes for me.

I was parked near the new hardware store beside Mendosa’s, so I popped in and asked about floor paint. The friendly and knowledgeable clerk gave me good advice and a great deal on some light grey paint. On my way back home, I stopped in at the local store. Lu had kindly dropped off an industrial ice pack for Megan. I asked the clerk about it, and she called across the store, “Hey – can you get Meg’s ice pack out of the walk-in?” Armed with an ice pack, I resumed my nursing duties and once more marveled at the marvels of small town life.

Vogue and Vanity Fair are my two luxuries. At $12 a year each, they’re affordable luxuries, even for me. However, my luxuries have been letting me down lately. First there was the Vanity Fair cover with the oily soccer guys in terrifying Speedos; then the Vogue with Oprah and Lady Gaga (a hailstorm of mediocrity – and surely one of the silliest celebrity names ever); now Vanity Fair has Angelina Jolie, the most boring celebrity ever, with her incontinent child collecting and tedious personal life; and Vogue has Gwyneth Paltrow, the former It Girl who once said “I’d rather die than let my kid eat Cup-A-Soup”. Now, there’s a girl with her priorities in the right place.

After yet another hard day of painting, my luxuries may have let me down and my patience may have run out, but there are always the consolations of a cocktail, that never-fail attitude adjustor, and petting little Audrey, seen here having a nap in a box in the yard, recently used for spray painting the flash heater’s chimney flat black:

There is nothing Audrey likes better than a good box. Unless it’s a good nap.

Finally, after three days of labor, the outside wall is finished! As a reminder, here’s the “before” picture again:

And here’s the finished product, with the chimney painted, yellow electrical cord hidden, flash heater painted, and masking tape removed:

I think I achieved my goal of “slightly less crappy looking”, don’t you?

Before

It’s a lovely, sunny Saturday. It seemed like a good day to paint the wall. You know, the one with the flash heater outside and strange, convoluted piping. I should have known better than to start any project during the reign of terror of the comma*, when I tend to be at my crabbiest and least patient – I should have spent the day lying on the couch, watching Marilyn movies, eating PopTarts, bemoaning the utter uselessness of ibuprophen and wondering why everyone acts as if it’s the answer to everything – but I am a) a slow learner; and b) not all that smart. Though I’m apparently the queen of lengthy sentences.

I assembled my appropriately named quart of paint, a brush, a piece of cardboard, painter’s tape, and a small step stool. I figured it would just take an hour or two, easy. In this, as in many things, I was wrong. Fortunately, Rob stopped by to point out the error of my painting ways, such as:

• Don’t wear sandals.
• Use a real ladder, not a step stool.
• Don’t hold the can of paint while you’re painting. Pour some of it into something smaller, in case you Calamity Suzy it.
• It’s a good idea to measure the wall before you buy the paint. That way you’ll actually have enough. Imagine.
• I should have primed the wall first. Oh, well.
• Clean off the spider webs and dirt before applying painter’s tape.
• Yes, it is gross.

  And I thought I’d done so well in picking out a nice color and telling the guy it was for an exterior. I’m convinced that this, among many other things, is in that grown-up manual I never got.

  It soon became apparent that a quart would not be enough, especially when painting this weird chipboard stuff, which lived up to its name by chipping and peeling at every opportunity. It’s also thirstier than F. Scott Fitzgerald after a particularly grueling day of screenwriting.

  While I was swearing and daubing, Rob removed the bright aluminum thing from the top of the flash heater and is spray painting it for me. He also removed the decaying lattice over the bathroom window and rerouted and hid whatever that yellow cord was on the wood part of the wall.

  While we were doing that, Star was escaping from Rob’s backyard, bounding into the middle of the proceedings, annoying Audrey and making her puff up to about six times her size. She clawed and hissed at Star until Rob tied Star up. Audrey sat just out of range, giving Star the stinkiest stink eye you’ve ever seen. Audrey has become much more territorial in this post-June world, and now growls and claws at any dog she sees.

  I’ve used up all the paint, so I can’t post an “after” picture until I go to town and get more paint (don’t hold your breath). But here’s a “during” photo:

  

  *I’m not calling it a period anymore, because that suggests an end to something. Whereas a comma suggests a series of things, possibly even an unending series of things, which is the way things seem to be going.

As I write, the Amerigas truck is outside, filling the tank with gas and the house with a hideous smell. It’s supposed to smell like garlic, but it doesn’t smell like any garlic I’ve ever experienced, raw or cooked. Thankfully.

Audrey ate less than half of the tiny can of repulsive wet food I bought for her birthday. So much for celebrating. She did, however, manage to knock chunks of it on the floor while eating it, so I could have the fun of picking it up as well as putting it on the plate. The gift that keeps on giving…

Megan didn’t have a very romantic anniversary, either. We did the three hour tour during the power outage, and after we got home and decanted our respective groceries, I brought some wine over and we drank it in the garden. So there was some celebrating. They really liked the card, too.

Megan started her anniversary early with a trip to the store for coffee and the local paper, which featured my story about Star on page two. Page Two! I was very excited. You can’t see it on line, unfortunately, but I bought a couple of extra copies on our way to town. Let’s hope that Star finds a great home soon.

The mail was good to me, too: I got a postcard from Quince’s mother, who was visiting her native Scotland, and there was the Motel 6 voucher. Now I can stay for free at any Motel 6 in the country, though it’s most likely that I’ll stay at the one in a seedy part of San Francisco. At least I won’t have to drive a couple of miles to get coffee there.

And finally, my library haul was oh so Suzy, including “The Carrie Diaries”, the prequel to “Sex and the City”, and Elizabeth Taylor’s “My Love Affair with Jewelry.”