Suzy Says

The handsome and agile Roscoe

One of the many great things about being in LA was the ability to sleep in until the sun was up – and it was always sunny. Back here in Hooterville (and probably in LA), it is the unlovely time of the year where 6 am looks just about the same as 12 am.

I hate getting up in the darkness as much as I like sleeping in it, and the worst part is having to keep the kitties in until that slacker Sol gets his butt up and going. I know the time changes this weekend, but will that make it better or worse? I can never remember and the mere thought of it is too mathy for my two brain cells, much like splitting a restaurant check. Whatever way it is, I will be discombobulated – more than usual, anyway – by the overnight flight to Atlanta.

I think this is how we humans cope, by forgetting how cold and dark the winter is and how hot and sunny the summer is and the fact that we all have an expiration date. Every year I seem to be surprised by how “early” it gets cold and dark.

This week, it has been cold enough for me to put the heat on when I get up, and it serves as something of a pacifier for the cats as they bask in front of it and stop asking to go out. Even Audrey is not immune to its charms, though it palls on her faster than it does the boys and I cave in to her insistent insistence. That’s Audrey. Yesterday I happened to catch her rearing up on her back legs and chasing poor Luna away. It was like a real life cartoon as the 75 pound dog fled in horror from the tiny, stripy cat.

Even Audrey has been sleeping with me at night, though at the foot of the bed. The mysterious Mr. Roscoe loses his usual aloofness and cuddles right up to me all night. Sometimes he doesn’t bother to get up if it’s too cold for his taste. Surprisingly, Clyde, the mama’s boy, has been sleeping on the couch, though he does climb up on me for cuddles while I drink my coffee.

The boys seem to have been going through a rowdy phase. You may be able to see that Roscoe is missing some fur above his eye, and also sports a slightly torn ear on the same side. This morning, I noticed a chunk of fur missing on the back of Clyde’s neck. I guess boys will be boys!

On Saturday, I made a special appearance at the jobette. The guy who has taken over Saturdays from me was at a jobette-related event in the City. I made good use of my time by selling a piece of art for $150*. I seem to be good at selling expensive artwork on Saturdays (this summer, I sold a $500 painting from the window before I even had a chance to take my coat off).

While I was selling art and telling people where Glass Beach is, Megan was walking the beautiful and shiny Miss Star by Big River, one of our favorite places. It’s one of Star’s favorite places, too. She started squeaking with excitement when Megan put on her signal to turn off on the road to the beach.

They walked for five miles, and Star was “100% good”, not responding to barking dogs or passing bikes or horses. Megan texted me pictures during the walk, so I felt like I was there with them.

“I thought I would bring the walk to you.”

“Just had some water. I love it here!”

“Maybe I’ll find a four leaf clover! I feel pretty lucky already, though.”

“Where did the ocean go? It was there this morning.”

It really brightened my day, and Megan’s too. She needed it after a particularly tragic week at work in the ER. That night, I came by for dinner and of course, some Star petting. It’s great to see how happy and trusting she is now. It’s funny how love will do that.

*It was a beautiful hand made skirt which looked like delicate, multi-colored feathers. The guy who bought it was from New York and thought it was incredibly reasonable. He bought it for his sister Megan, who was baby sitting his dog while he was here on vacation at a friend’s house in Hooterville.

I gave myself about the same amount of time to drive to LAX, return the rental car, take the shuttle to the airport and go through the dehumanizing process that is required of those who have the temerity to fly as I did to drive all the way to Santa Rosa from Hooterville.

I also avoided the freeways en route to LAX, a wise choice since every time I passed one, it looked like a parking lot as far as the eye could see. Arriving at the rental car place, I unloaded the car and waited for a minion to make sure I hadn’t wrecked it. Fortunately, the wait was much shorter than the wait to pick up the car. Then it was on the shuttle, to be next to last decanted.

By the time I had undressed and dressed and gotten to the gate, there was about 20 minutes to wait. I had given myself three hours, and if there had been a delay at the car rental place or Security, even that might not have been enough time.

Fortunately, all the hassle was on the LA end. At the Santa Rosa airport, there is one luggage belt, about 10 feet long, and it only took a few minutes for my luggage to appear. Then it was a short walk to reclaim Miss Scarlett and be on our way.

Needless to say, the traffic seemed like a total breeze. Driving through the Valley, it was wonderful to breathe clean air and admire the rolling hills ablaze with yellow, red and orange vines, our version of fall colors.

I got home in time to see Megan before she headed off to work. She told me that the kitties had taken their birds to her house, and also hung out on her car while I was away. They certainly missed me – the next day, they hardly played outside, despite the sunny weather, and they have slept with me every night since I got back. I feel kind of guilty about the upcoming Atlanta trip.

Sunset over the Pacific

You may not have visited our little corner of the world, but you’ve probably seen it.

The Village was the setting for the long-running series “Murder She Wrote” (fun fact: Jessica Fletcher’s house in the TV show is now a B&B), even though it was supposedly set in Maine, on the other side of the country. Our rocky, wild coast often stands in for New England in the magical world of movies and television. Most of our early settlers back in the 1850s were from the east coast, and built houses that would look right at home in a New England village.

“Same Time Next Year”, a movie starring Alan Alda and Ellen Burstyn as lovers who meet up once a year for many years, was filmed at a lovely resort just south of the Village. This property was closed for five years, but never lost its cult following. People always called to ask when it would re-open and to say how much they loved and missed it.

A couple of weeks ago, their prayers were answered and the hotel opened their doors once again after a lengthy repair and renovation process. I was invited to the opening celebration (though I missed the complimentary overnight stay the rest of my jobette co-workers enjoyed while I was spaing it up in Reno).

I followed the slow line of cars down the precipitous driveway. When I checked in with one of the uniformed attendants, he stopped me when I started to spell my last name and asked me if I was Jonathan’s sister. He was a fellow firefighter, and it was another wonderful small town moment. I parked the car and made my way up to the main building.

Outside the building, there were waiters circulating with trays of nibbles and wine. Inside, there was a table entirely devoted to a mountain of bite-sized desserts, another with cheese, crackers and accoutrements, and an open bar (two of the most beautiful words in the English language, besides “room service” and “taxi”). The views were breathtaking:

I met quite a few people I knew, as well as co-workers, and everyone was delighted to see this landmark welcoming guests again. Dr. Karen was there, and I thanked her for her very kind gesture. She brought flowers and a card to Megan at work one night. Dr. Karen was very saddened by Schatzi’s loss, and once again said what a remarkable animals she was. Karen reassured me that when dogs take their own path like Schatzi did, that it is peaceful. They know what they’re doing.

I took a moment to look out over the endless sea and think about those I have loved and lost, and to be grateful that they were part of my life, I was part of theirs, and that they live on in my heart.

Postcard Day

Megan and I were invited to a wine tasting at a friend’s house in the Village on Saturday night.

We thought it would be fun to stay overnight in the Village instead of trekking back home in the dark after the party, so we decided to stay at a hotel. There was a fire blazing on the lobby hearth despite the 80 degree day and a very slow desk clerk, so Megan went outside to avoid wilting. Finally checked in, I received an actual brass key and a map to help us find the room.

Needless to say, I still managed to have trouble finding not only the room, but my sister. The room was set in a separate building in the hotel’s gardens. It was very Victorian looking and smelling, with a fireplace and brass beds. We dropped off our things, discovered the wifi didn’t work (what else is new?), opened a few windows, and headed out to get some dinner.

The pub, where we usually go on the rare occasions when we go out to dinner, was packed to the gills, so we tried the café down the street. We were eventually seated at an outdoor table, but after twenty minutes, we had still not seen a server. Maybe waitresses are mythical creatures, like unicorns. We left, and they may not have noticed yet. Third time was the charm, as we found a little place where we got sandwiches before heading to the party.

Everyone from the jobette was the party, and also Dr. Sue, who it was nice to see in a non-professional capacity. I realized how much I have become a part of this little community in the four short years I have lived here. We tasted wine from Bordeaux, Napa, and Sonoma. True to form, I liked the Sonoma the best and so did Megan. I wonder if Dad would have preferred the French wine. I’m sure he would have enjoyed the party.

We headed back to the hotel, jumped into our PJs and opened a bottle of non-fancy local wine and watched a little HGTV. I have to admit that I love those shows where people are looking for a house and freak out over things like no granite counter tops or walk in closets. They wouldn’t last a day in my hippie hovel, with no closets and a three foot wide counter, made of (gasp!) painted wood. This gives me a delightful feeling of superiority, an unusual experience for me.

In the morning, Megan bravely ventured out to get coffee. She was gone so long that I began to worry a little, though what could happen in the Village on a sunny Sunday morning? It turned out that she was talking to a couple of homeless dog owners about how to get their pets spayed for free and how important it was. We “euthanize” a dog every fifteen seconds in this country. If people only spayed and neutered, there would be no more homeless pets. Imagine a world where dogs are rare and there is a waiting list to adopt! Kudos to my friend and fellow blogger Mike, whose family adopted a homeless dog from Greece, where the economic crisis has caused a dramatic increase in shelter animals.

We checked out of the hotel on the second try (the first time, there was a sign saying “Back Soon”), and wandered around the Village. As you can see, it was a picture postcard card day. There was no sign of fog, and it was warm even first thing in the morning. It was fun to play tourist in our own town before heading home to get ready for the work week. I always have fun with my sister.

Halloween San Francisco Style

I’m back home with the kitties and it’s a beautiful day. It’s warm enough to have the fans on – summer’s last hurrah. I can tell the cats missed me. They came in on their own yesterday evening and took turns sitting on my lap. As I write, they are all nearby.

Yesterday, I packed up the car, had breakfast at Polker’s, and checked out of my home away from home. I headed to Victor’s to pick up the traditional pizza, and discovered that I didn’t have my debit/credit card.

Uh oh.

I retraced my steps to Polker’s, and as I walked through the door, the waitress came up with my card. “I know why you’re here!” she said cheerfully.

I was much more cheerful as I went to Trader Joe, got gas for the car, and headed toward the iconic Bridge in the brilliant sunshine. Even though I really just worked on this brief trip, it was a good one. I listened to the baseball playoffs on my iPhone until cell service gave out, picked up some fresh cider at Gowan’s, and arrived home to be greeted by Clyde.

While I was enjoying my extreme takeout pizza, there was a knock at the door. It was Mark’s wife with a bag full of kale grown by a friend of hers. Welcome home!

My week got off to a great start with my car not starting in the Safeway parking lot on a rainy Monday morning. I stopped off to pick up a few things on my way to the jobette, got in the car, turned the key, and heard a very discouraging noise.

Figuring that it was likely a user issue, I tried again a couple of more times with no result. Unsurprising, but not the results I was pointlessly hoping for.

I called Fernando, the mechanic who fixes Miss Scarlett when ministrations are needed which are beyond my brother’s many capabilities. He said he’d come by and see if he could start the car. Ironically, the Rolling Stones’ “Start Me Up” was the last song on the radio when I turned the car off.

Fernando was unable to resurrect the car, but offered to drive me to the jobette and then call the tow truck for me. I handed over the keys to my car and got in his. As we hit the highway, we saw the tow truck. Fernando chased it down the road, honking and waving. The truck pulled over and agreed to pick up my car.

I realized how lucky I was that this happened in The Big Town instead of in San Francisco, where I am going tomorrow. I would have no idea what to do there, and it would probably cost a lot more to get the car up and running again.

It turned out to be the starter. It was the original, almost 20 year old starter, and the new one is warrantied for the life of the car. It was nearly $500 to fix it ($300 of it being the part and a further $70 for the tow, which the insurance company will reimburse), but I’m glad that my car keys aren’t just a collection of pretty, shiny objects today.

Wish me luck heading to the city tomorrow!

After our safari adventure, we spent a little time looking around Point Arena, which, with a population of less than 500 people, is one of California’s smallest cities, if not the smallest city.

Here’s a look at the main street:

On the right, you can see the Arena Theater, one of the few remaining independent theaters in the county – and the state. It dates from 1929 and in addition to showing movies, also shows opera and theater performances from around the world.

Across the street from the movie theater is Franny’s Cup & Saucer, home all things delicious and the home of all things cute. The pre-safari mocha Megan got there (cinnamon scented!) was so good that she got another one afterwards. It gave us time to look around and pick up a few early Christmas stocking stuffers. Who doesn’t need a bendy drinking straw that looks like a giant multi-colored worm? Or a matchbook full of sharp pencils? Or a sparkly skull ring? I have to admit that it might be hard to part with the ring, even for Jessica.

It’s a tiny space, but chock full of delicacies and delights, all made on the premises. You have to see the pastries and chocolates to believe them.

Right down the road is the Druids Hall and Seniors’ Center:

Can’t have one without the other! An even more unlikely combination is the druid cemetery being right next to the Catholic cemetery, just up the road. Near both final resting places is a hill top bar that’s only open when the owner feels like it. He lights the beacon when he’s ready to receive guests.

We stopped for lunch at a little Thai restaurant. You know that Thai is one of my favorites, and this may be my favorite Thai food ever. The restaurant is small and cute, and we had the nicest waiter I have ever met. He took us through the menu telling us what he liked best and why, as well as what sells most. He was spectacularly patient with our indecision, request for separate checks, and requests for separate take out orders to take with us.

The food was completely amazing – incredibly fresh and nuanced. When we paid, we asked the waiter to tell the chef how great everything was. He was delighted and said that the chef is his girlfriend – and that they are co-owners! So the nicest waiter in the world was also the owner. That was a new experience. We’ll definitely be back. It can’t be soon enough.

I am always amazed by how many wonderful places and things there are in our County. A beach made of glass. Another that looks like bowling balls. Lighthouses. The City of 10,000 Buddhas, a working monastery which is open to the public (and has peacocks wandering around its gardens). And the B Bryan Preserve, which is dedicated to preserving and breeding endangered African hooved animals.

Megan and I made our way to the beautiful south coast, which you may remember I really enjoyed visiting earlier this year. We soon found ourselves at the Preserve, and met Frank, one of the owners, in the lovely barn:

Here Frank gave us an overview of what they do and why they do it. The animals they are trying to save have been hunted to near extinction in their native Africa, and Frank and his wife are working hard to breed and preserve these rare creatures.

We hopped in Frank’s truck and were off to meet them. Here’s Bonnie, the shy Mountain Zebra, peeking around the corner of the barn:

There are now only three types of zebra left in the world: the common, the mountain, and Grevy’s. Grevys are notable for what Frank describes as their “teddy bear ears”. As you can see, they are more graceful and less stocky than the common zebra:

That’s 7 month old Lester in front, staying close to his mama. Zebra develop the black color of their stripes as they mature.

Up next were the antelope. These are Roan Antelope, considered the most beautiful antelope in the world. There is a five year waiting list to get one of these! The alpha male and female of the herd are the largest and darkest due to their hormones. Mabel, the alpha female, had recently given birth to a new baby (left):

Apparently the baby already thinks she’s special since her mother is the queen of the herd, and she just butts in for food among all the adults. All the other babies, whether they were zebra or antelope, held back until the adults had started to eat. And the babies stayed close to their mothers.

Across from the antelope are the Kudu, called the “Gray Ghost of Africa”. You can see they blend into their surroundings. Frank has tried to replicate their native habitat:

Last but tallest, we visited the Rothschild giraffes. I can’t tell you what it’s like to have these enormously tall creatures swoop their long necks down to look you in the eye:

Incredibly, these boys are not finished growing. They are expected to grow another five feet!

Megan held up an acacia branch, which was soon devoured by Jagger (right) and Sonny:

They have long, black tongues that curl around the leaves, then they snap the leaves off, leaving the branch behind. We also fed them carrots. It’s amazing to look them in their huge eyes and have them kiss you as they eat the carrots. It was the experience of a lifetime!

Apple Jack Welcomes You!

The County Fair is definitely one of the highlights of the year for me. Megan and I headed out of the coastal fog and into the warm sun of the valley. We parked in Megan’s secret spot and headed for the gates, where we were met by Apple Jack and had our hands stamped with an apple (what else?).

First stop as always was to enter the quilt drawing (which we never win) and for Megan to pick up her annual t-shirt from the Yorkville Ladies’ Sewing Circle and Terrorist Society. There really is a Yorkville (population 70) LSC, and they work to support their volunteer fire department. Gotta support your local volunteer firefighters!

We had planned to meet Erica and Jessica, but they had an unexpected and lengthy trip to the county seat to see the doctor (they are both fine) and were too tired to traipse around the Fair after their adventures. In their absence, we checked out Erica’s many entries in the wool barn.

I imagine Erica’s fellow contestants bemoan her return from Portland, since Megan and I lost track of the ribbons and awards. Best in show, best in division, first prize – they were showered on her work. Sometimes all three at once, as you see here on an exquisite, gossamer shawl:

I believe she spun all the wool herself as well as designing and knitting or crocheting the pieces. I really think the only the thing Erica can’t make really is a piano*.

After enjoying Erica’s triumph(s), we went to admire the quilts:

After that, we tasted some apples and Megan got some advice from an expert about the orchard on the property. Of course, we also had to check out the enormous pumpkins. This year’s biggest was 606 pounds! How does a pumpkin get that big?

Our last stop was the floriculture building. This was my favorite exhibit:

There’s something magical about it, don’t you think?

As we left the Fair, the lights were beginning to come on and the crowds to thicken. I really think Friday late afternoon is the perfect time to go to the Fair.

The sun was setting over the hills, such a breathtaking sight that Megan pulled over so I could take a picture:

As you can see, we were heading home into the fog:

It had been a wonderful day.

*When Jessica was small, she visited a friend whose parents had a piano. She was very taken with it, and on getting home, asked Erica if she could make her one. She was astonished when Erica said she couldn’t. It was the first time in Jessica’s life that her mother actually couldn’t make something.

You guys know that I’m not too crazy about driving, right? My chief objections are that it’s both too fast and slow, while being simultaneously boring and terrifying. My siblings’ years of EMS experience have taught me that the faster you drive, the worse the outcome if you crash, but of course you want to get where you’re going – and get out of the car! – as quickly as possible. So it’s too fast if something bad happens, and too slow because it takes forever to get anywhere. There you have the boring/terrifying dilemma.

I do realize that a girl with this kind of automotive attitude should not have moved to a place where a car is an evil necessity, or a necessary evil. And public transit is not an option. It’s more than five miles to the store, where the bus leaves once a day and takes more than an hour to get to the Big Town, and one bus coming home. I don’t think even the most pioneer-spirited among you would want to trudge 11 miles a day, especially with groceries in hand on the trip home, and even more so in the pouring winter rains.

Having said that, it is a nice, though long, drive to the jobette, beside the mighty Pacific – I still love the part where I come out of the trees on the Ridge and get my first sight of it, spread below me in all its glory – through trees, past little villages and meadows. The worst part is being behind people going under the speed limit who refuse to, or don’t know enough, to pull over. I have suggested that we include this vital information in the visitor guide, but it doesn’t seem likely.

The other day, I was on my way to work when I was faced with a long line of traffic on the road by the store and post office (and the happy cows in their giant field). I waited a long time before finally turning onto the highway. There I was confronted with the unlovely sight of a line of cars recently released from the stop light governing the work on the next bridge south, waiting at the Hooterville bridge light, governing its epic repair/restoration project.

Normally, I’m all for the Hooterville bridge project. It’s the only remaining wooden bridge on the entire long length of beautiful Highway 1 and deserves to be preserved. But this was a perfect traffic storm, and I was on my way to work. There was no cell service to text or email my boss from the gridlock, so I just had to hope for the best.

When the light finally turned green, we started slowly on our way. I was probably the 20th car in line, many of which sported the dreaded out of state plates, so I knew I was doomed. Indeed, we proceeded at a pace so glacial that I have literally driven in funeral processions that were faster.

When we finally got to the Village, where there are two welcome lanes – your one and only opportunity to get past the snails who have been stymying you for the past several miles – everyone kept up their glacial pace of 30 in a 55 zone. I soon discovered that midway in the cortege was a CHP car, so we all made our sadly majestic way to the Big Town.

I was only a few minutes late after all.

I was perched on the couch (my usual, non-ergonomic workplace) working on a project* when there was a hello at the door.

This time of year is when we get our summer weather – less fog, more sun – and all the doors were open, so knocking wasn’t necessary. Even if the doors had been closed, they are all glass, so visitors can (and do) look (and walk) right in. The fact that this one didn’t meant that it wasn’t someone I knew.

It turned out to be a county sheriff, delivering yet another copy of the subpoena in person. I tried not to think about the fact that I was still in my pink flowered PJs and bare feet as we talked on the porch. He filled out a form and gave me yet another copy of the subpoena. I pointed out that I had received one by mail and sent back the required form, signed. This time I didn’t have to sign anything, so I asked why he had to do this in person. He said that everyone asks that, but he had no answer.

Seems like a giant waste of time and money to me, but what do I know? I’m still hoping that the whole thing will be settled before the court date later on this month, even though I should know better. The thought of being a witness yet again fills me with horror, though of a different kind than last year’s ordeal. It was daunting being questioned by the US Attorney’s office, but I never had to see him again (so far), and I will have to see the people I am testifying against, since we all live in a very small town.

Trying not to think about it, I set off for the post office, restoring my mental health by petting the postmistress’ adorable dog Ginger and getting glossy magazines in my mailbox. In the store, I ran into Lichen, and caught up with him. The clerk asked after Megan, wondering how she was doing in her grief. As I drove home, I thought of how lucky I am to live in a little community that really cares about each other. The up side more than makes up for the down side.

Most of the time.

*A friend is developing a smartphone app where you can search for an unfamiliar food term when at a restaurant. I’m writing up the definitions and he’s doing the coding. Each according to his abilities…

The other day, I came home to find an unexpected express mail envelope.

Sadly, there was no glamorous starlet to open the envelope and announce the contents – life is full of these small disappointments – but the contents were glamorous. A friend had sent me a gift certificate for two nights at a posh hotel, along with a day pass to the spa, $100 resort credit to spend on dinner or in the gift shop, and other delightful et ceteras.

The only catches were: the hotel is in Reno, a 6 hour drive from Hooterville, and the gift certificate had to be used by September 14.

I called to see if they had any availability at such short notice (and at the Labor Day holiday*), and they did, so I’m heading out of here on Tuesday (my brother’s birthday**) and coming back on Friday. I hope I can see something of Reno through all the smoke of the Rim Fire, which is still merrily blazing away. Oh, and it’s supposed to be about 95 degrees during the day while I’m there.

At first, I was all like “Finally, I’m going somewhere that has nothing to do with work! For the first time in about 10 years!” In fact, the last time I went anywhere not for work or with a work component of some kind might have been when I went to England to sort out my late father’s things, which no-one would consider to be a vacation.

Then I had a call with some folks based in Reno about a software product we may be interested in, so I’m stopping by their offices. I’ll have to take dress up clothes and pretend to be a grown up for part of my Nevada adventure.

I had about two hours after getting off the phone with the resort to enjoy my vacation glow before having a subpoena delivered to my door. What is it with me and summertime subpoenas? This is getting to be a bad habit.

This subpoena arises out of the fact that I tried to help out a neighbor who was involved in a domestic situation. I didn’t see or hear anything personally, but I still have to go to court. At least it’s just in the Big Town and doesn’t involve cross-country travel or the US Attorney’s office. I guess I was enjoying that vacation anticipation just a little too much.

*Needless to say, my sibs and I are working on Labor Day. That must be why they call it Labor Day.

**We are celebrating his birthday with a BBQ tonight.

Little River Sunset

Everything is more fun with my sister. Even babysitting. Or “brat bashing,” as my father used to say. He also referred to school as “government sponsored daycare.” Come to think of it, he had a pretty cynical attitude for someone with several kids. Maybe that’s no coincidence…

Not only are we kidless, it’s been a while since I babysat. I never really think of spending time with Jessica as babysitting (especially since she’s a lot more mature than I am in many ways), more like hanging out with a really fun friend. So I can’t actually remember the last time I actually brat bashed.

So it was probably good that Megan was there as the token grown up (and emergency services personnel, if needed).

We headed to my friend’s house earlier than usual, due to the construction on the iconic Hooterville bridge and the thrilling repaving of the Ridge – at least part of it. I can’t tell you how excited I was to discover that they were paving the rough, potholed road from near the store almost to the firehouse. I could practically hear my tires sighing with relief, and I was positively happy to sit and wait in the one lane traffic.

We arrived in good time and met our charges for the evening, two boys aged about 6 and a girl about 4. They are really sweet kids and were no trouble at all. We shared a pizza while we watched the movie “Cars”. Despite the stellar cast (Paul Newman; Billy Crystal; George Carlin), it was pretty boring for the female contingent of the audience. When it was over, we asked the little girl what she wanted to watch, and she chose “Winnie the Pooh.”

The boys loudly decried her choice, but Megan and I thought that she deserved a turn after sitting through the boys’ choice. About five minutes into “Winnie the Pooh”, the boys grumbled, “I guess we should just watch this stupid movie,” and within another few minutes, they were laughing and totally absorbed in the humor and charm. Megan and I were both amused by this.

I took a few minutes to snap the sunset over the foggy ocean – the house has a lovely view of the Pacific from its setting among the redwoods and sipped the rest of the wine thoughtfully left by the parents. It was a really nice evening. Everything’s more fun with my sister.

Here’s a quick recap of what happened around here lately besides the Great Schatzi Search. I have to admit that I still drive our part of the Ridge really slowly, scanning the roadside, even though I know perfectly well that Schatzi is gone. My heart is even more underachieving than my head (and that’s saying something).

Clyde:

Even though my heart-broken sister was spending almost every hour of every day looking for Schatzi, she managed to find time to tend to Clyde and check on his progress. After a week of house arrest while the horrifying Slobber Monster wound drained and finally healed (he still has a bald spot the size of a quarter on his neck), I let him out before taking Star to the beach, with stern warnings to pace himself. There’s no need to use up all nine lives at once. Don’t fill up on bread before the entrée arrives! He really put me through the mill with the Mystery Illness and the Attack of the Slobber Monster occurring within a three week period.

He seems to be staying closer to the house lately, and I’m hoping that he is avoiding the Slobber Monster’s lair. I thought that the constant spraying and medicining would damage our relationship, but he is as cuddly as ever with both Megan and me. Last night he fell asleep on me while I was watching the final couple of grueling* (yet gripping) episodes of The Killing and I could hear him snoring.

Megan:

Besides getting a pay cut, the hospital no longer allows its employees to cash out their accrued vacation time, which Megan used to do every year. To make it more fun, they are so understaffed that it’s really difficult to take the time off that you can no longer cash out.

However, Megan managed to take two weeks off, during which Schatzi disappeared and her car was out of commission until a couple of days before she had to go back to work. She spent most of her hard-won time off looking for her lost dog and borrowing rides. As she said, “Worst staycation ever!”

Friends:

Our friends (and my sibs’ land partners) Jennifer and Dave came for a visit. They are planning to start building a house on their part of the property and are slowly working toward that goal. They brought their horses:

and two miniature ponies with them. That’s a lot of weight to haul on our narrow, curvy roads!

Megan was able to spend some time riding Bella, the spotted horse on the right.

We had a really nice dinner down at their place, admiring the view:

They are such wonderful people.

After dinner, we played Bananagrams, a sort of free-form Scrabble without a board. I discovered a hidden talent for this game. Like most of the things I’m good at (accurately guessing the price of antique estate jewelry in The New Yorker, for example), it has no practical application, but fun all the same. I never said I was practical.

Megan and I ventured to lovely Anderson Valley on a lovely summer day:

We meandered past vineyards and farms, stopped in at the farm stand looking for Megan’s favorite Pink Lady apples (not ready yet), and poked around the cute little shops. We met up with Erica and Jessica at Libby’s for dinner:

I finally gave Jessica her Secret Society of Paper Cuts book as well as a copy of the cult classic Pee Wee’s Playhouse, just what a girl needs when recovering from limb breakage. As it happened, Jessica had just gotten a walking cast, which looks something like a giant ski boot, that very day. She prided herself in her ability to get around with crutches and accomplish things like getting in and out of the car by herself – no easy feat.

It was great to see them. Erica was a great comfort to Megan in her time of loss, and Jessica was as delightful as ever:

We are planning to go to the County Fair in mid September. I’m hoping to switch my work schedule so I can go to the Sheep Dog trials on the Sunday – it’s the most exciting part of the fair!

Mark and his family are back home after a year in New Jersey for Mark’s job, dismantling a factory and shipping it to Mexico. He said if he ever gets offered a job like that again, he won’t move his whole family to do it.

While in New Jersey, they survived Hurricane Sandy and an epic winter. They took Route 66 home, and had lots of adventures along the way. They went to Toronto so the girls could see Justin Bieber, and fell in love with the city, its diversity, culture, friendliness, and energy.

They stopped in Flint, Michigan and a Good Samaritan, eying Mark’s out of state plates and family of women, advised him to stop elsewhere for the night. Later they learned that Flint is the most dangerous city in America. They settled for the less hazardous Detroit that night.

The highlight of the trip was the Grand (or as Mark called it, the “Great”) Canyon. When they described it, you could see the look of awe on their faces.

We sat in my garden and had some wine and caught up. I’m glad they’re home.

I love our friends. What would we do without them?

*Episode ten was the most harrowing thing I’ve ever seen on TV.

Or how to make the world’s most expensive peach pie!

First, you plant the peach tree:

Keep in mind that this simple statement includes:

• Getting your friend and neighbor to come over with his heavy machinery
• Scrobbling up all the brush and bushes
• Removing hundreds of rootballs by hand (the very definition of back-breaking labor)
• Buying truckloads of dirt
• Spreading out truckloads of dirt by hand
• Spreading hay all over the dirt and planting vetch so it won’t blow away

  Easy, right? And this list does not include minor details like installing a drip system to keep the trees watered; installing and cementing heavy fence posts; deer fencing the entire operation; and rabbit fencing, another grovelly step done on hands and knees.

  Once all that’s done, you just have to wait for the tree to bloom:

  

  Fortuately, the strawberry plants at the tree’s feet bloom and fruit before the peach tree. This year, there was even a second crop of strawberries, so we had peaches and strawberries at the same time.

  Finally, the tree begins to fruit:

  

  And then the peaches are ready to be picked:

  

  Megan and Jonathan made eight pounds of peaches into jam, with roasted almonds and lemon thyme. It is amazing!

  I settled for making a pie with the remaining peaches:

  

  It’s wonderful to pick fruit and make it into pie within an hour. It doesn’t get fresher than that!

On Saturday, I took Star to the beach. Megan felt that her remaining dog was being neglected during the Great Schatzi Search and was overdue for some fun.

Star hopped happily into Miss Scarlett – I remain convinced that she remembers this is the car that rescued her – and sat beside me in the passenger seat. It was great to have a living, breathing dog beside me after so many days desperately searching for one who wasn’t, and Star was wonderful company. The only drawback was her tendency to lick my face, which can be hazardous while driving.

We stopped at the hardware store to see if they could copy the flyer I had made. They could, but only in black and white. Better than nothing, though, so I asked for 20 copies. The cashier had had the same experience with her own dog many years ago and sympathized with what we were all going through. I have to say that this crisis has really made me appreciate our neighbors and little community more.

Back in the parking lot, our postmistress – who brings her own brindled pit bull Ginger* to work every day – was washing the post office windows, even though they are officially closed on Saturdays. She said, “I think I have a package for you” and went in to get it. She returned with my package and a cookie for Star. I said that she probably wouldn’t eat it, but to go ahead and try. As predicted, Star rejected it, being used to a much higher caliber of treats (I kept this comment to myself). A neighbor came by and petted Star through the open car window, and I could tell she was enjoying the attention.

We headed to Big River beach, the site of my brother’s fearlessly frigid Polar Plunge a few months ago. It was early enough that we had the beach almost to ourselves. Star was incredibly excited when we turned off the road toward the beach. She wasted no time in exploring:

leaving Star prints in the sand:

She happily sniffed the beach flowers:

We admired the tide pools as we headed toward the bridge:

This is where the river meets the ocean, and the water is so clear you can see all the pebbles and seaweed:

Star avoided the water itself, but she was definitely happy to be at the beach. I really enjoyed my time with her. I should do it more often.

*Ginger may well be Hooterville’s most popular resident. Megan and I often stop in just to pet Ginger, and we are far from the only ones.

Wonderful Wednesday was followed by Frantic Friday. I worked an extra shift at the jobette in the afternoon/evening, and had a few things to do before hitting the office:

• Stopped at the post office to mail a package. The woman at the head of the line left her wallet on the counter to get something she had forgotten in her car, and when she returned, the postmistress said that she probably shouldn’t leave her wallet lying around. The customer said that she didn’t worry in Hooterville, especially in the post office. The guy behind her in line said that he had found someone’s wallet in the grocery store the other day. The wallet’s owner was floored to have it returned, complete with $300 and all its credit cards intact. I said, “Welcome to our little corner of the world,” and we all laughed in agreement.
• Next stop was the gardening supply store. I recently acquired an acacia tree which needs to be planted in a wine cask, and there are (as always) other garden-related projects that require dirt. I asked if they could deliver some dirt, and the charge was about $120 plus whatever the cost is of three cubic yards of dirt, which even I could tell was way more than I needed. Instead, I bought two big bags of dirt which were on sale and which were very kindly loaded into my trunk.
• After that, I picked up balloons to display outside the jobette for First Friday, which is when shops and galleries stay open late and serve wine, beer and nibbles. I put them in the backseat and soon discovered that they completely obscured the view in the rearview mirror, so next stop was the jobette to unload them.
• Unloaded the balloons and chatted with co-workers before going on to the next stop: the town dump.
• Missed the turn off for the dump. Found it on the second try, but had a long wait to turn into the road from the highway with all the summer traffic. When I finally got to the dump, I wasn’t sure where to go, so I drove around until I saw a sign for Haz Mat, which is why I was there. For about three years, I have had some of those long fluorescent light bulbs which were dead, as well as the hideous CFL bulbs we are now forced to use since they are supposedly more energy efficient (though they are more expensive, ugly, full of mercury, and the light they give is hideous, as well as not being able to throw them away) and some dead batteries and old anti-freeze.

  I followed a trail of traffic cones, pulled up on a big sheet of plastic, and was told to turn off the engine and STAY IN THE CAR. Guys in space suits and covered shoes wearing masks removed the hazardous materials from my backseat. I guess it’s about the closest you can get to having guys come running out of the gas station, one filling your car up while the others wash your windows, the way they did in my long ago childhood. Speaking of gas: I filled up on my way in today and it’s $4.21 a gallon! Happy summer, y’all!

• Went to the Feed & Pet and got both canned and dry food for the cats, as well as a bag of grain free dog food for Monica. I always give her a bag of food for her rescue dogs when I bring her the fashion magazines I’ve finished reading.
• Put the pet food in the car and went to the hardware store across the street for a few things.
• Went to the library and dropped off a bag full of books and replaced it with a bag of new ones. Chatted with Wally the librarian, who thinks I have good taste in books.
• Up next, Safeway. It was an utter zoo, which I guess you can expect on a Friday afternoon in the summer. I was really glad to get out of there with my hard-won groceries.
• Stopped by Monica’s store. Gave her the dog food and took pictures of things she is selling to make money for the rescue dogs. On Saturday, I uploaded them to Craigslist, the local listserv, and Facebook. Little did I know that I’d spend the next two days answering questions from people who didn’t read the whole ad, like how much things cost and where to pick them up, all of which was clearly stated. ~sigh~
• Went to work for First Friday. Tried to keep track of the number of visitors, answer questions, and sell them things while attempting to be nice and charming. My co-worker handled the beer pouring and chatting with the beer drinkers, as well as staying until 8:00 and locking up. I think I got the good end of that deal.

I was pretty tired by the time I got home at 8:00 pm. I had left at 11:00 am.

A day off is a rare thing. And yesterday, it was also a beautiful one.

Megan and I both had the day off yesterday, and the weather was beautiful. Warm enough that we didn’t need the sweaters we brought, but not too warm, since we could walk around without sweating. There was a lovely breeze off the ocean, and the Village looked like a postcard:

We stopped in at The Attic, a little shop filled with wonderful things. I know the owner and he happened to be there that day, so I introduced Megan and caught up on his news. He is moving after Labor Day to a house on Main Street which was the village dentist’s home and office until the 1920s, right next to the wine shop. I think that will be a great location for them.

Next we meandered around the bookstore. I had forgotten my birthday gift certificate and made a mental note to carry it in my wallet from now on. Not only does the bookstore have a resident cat, Catsby, it also has a lovely view of the ocean:

I just adore a bookstore view!

We took Star for a walk along the Headlands. I am proud to say that our CGC accredited girl was perfectly good when meeting yapping, barking, out of control dogs and didn’t react at all. Are tourist dogs as annoying to local dogs as their humans are to us?

Here is Star posing like the good girl she is in a field of ice plants:

Megan’s sharp eyes spotted a bird having a very enjoyable bath in a tidepool:

He or she was having a wonderful time, splashing around, ducking under the water, and preening.

The rocky, wild coast looked beautiful:

Looking toward Big River Beach, where my amazing brother took the Polar Plunge earlier this year:

Driving across that bridge always lifts my spirits. There’s something serene and special about that place. Maybe it’s the meeting of the ocean and the river?

After our walk, we went to the grocery store and picked up a few things. We stopped at the deli in Little River for lunch. It’s one of the best-kept local secrets. They make the best BLTs, and you can eat them overlooking the ocean:

Usually, there are horses in the paddock, but yesterday, they had the day off, too.

It was a perfect day.

Peaches at the family property

It’s that time of year again, when quarterly calls and reports are due, so things have been kind of a hectic whirlwind at Chez Suzy this past week. And as you know, all work makes for no blogging, since a) blogging about work is not fun as well as unwise; and 2) there’s no time for fun things since you’re always working.

But I did carve out a little time for fun this past week.

I drove the three miles to my friend Jim’s house, experiencing the wonder of microclimates once again. It was warm and sunny at my house, but I needed a sweater by the time I got to Jim’s place. I was greeted by his adorable dog Zoe, and ushered into the lovely house by Jim’s partner, Joel.

Ironically, since I am in the throes of a hard-won divorce process, I was there to help the couple plan their wedding in August. After 25 years together these two can finally say “I do” in the eyes of the great state of California. It’s about time.

They are expecting about 30 people (including Me), and Joel is doing all the cooking. It all sounds quite wonderful. We spent some time figuring out logistics (where to put the tables; what to rent and what to buy; what to do for decorations) and then just caught up on our lives over peppermint tea. I am so happy for them both and am looking forward to the ceremony.

On Friday, my brother and sister threw a huge BBQ at the family property. There were dozens of people there, some who were new to me, but most were known and loved: Lu, her daughter Ali, and partner Rik; Jennifer and David, my siblings’ land partners (who brought their horses all the way from Grass Valley); and Monica and her husband Joe. Joe and Monica have owned and operated a flooring store for 20 years, and Joe told me that every time he lays down carpet, he leaves a page of newspaper or some baseball cards underneath, like a little time capsule.

I was delighted by this, and he said that he has replaced some of the carpets he previously laid and found his own time capsules. He adds to them and keeps the original items as well. Lu mentioned that her sister had just bought a house, and it turned out that Joe had put new carpet in that week. Small town!