Suzy Says

I have been the lucky recipient of a lot of generosity lately.

Last week, one of my co-workers gifted me with a lovely piece of Brie. He was a judge at a Cheeses of France Pop Up Café in San Francisco. It was magically delicious. And luckily for me, the CEO of the jobette had just given me a bottle of wine which he picked up while he was in Italy.

When I came home on Wednesday night – it had been another long day at the jobette, involving yet another late-breaking delivery of heavy boxes, and I was the only one still there – I found a brown paper bag on my doorstep. In it was just-picked apples and cherry tomatoes from a mysterious benefactor. I still have no idea who brought them over, but there may be a pie in my future.

My wonderful co-worker Erin is on vacation in Disneyland with her family this week, so I’m taking care of her cats and chickens. I went over on Thursday morning to check on them, and they were all happy to see me. The chickens bustled around and clucked as I fed them:

I scored four fresh eggs for my trouble:

Inside the house, the kitties were out of food. I tried to take a picture of Mimi, the spectacularly beautiful kitty, but this was the best I could do:

You will have to take my word for her beautiful blue eyes and softest fur ever. Kitties can be very uncooperative models. I think I’ll stop by and check in on them again on my way to the jobette on Saturday morning, just to make sure everything is in order when Erin and her family come home on Saturday night. I hope they are having a fabulous time.

On Saturday morning, Megan and I had our first swimming lesson since the end of August. But on our way to the quite splendid pool, instead of turning right at the highway, the way to the Big Town, we turned left, the way that leads to San Francisco and Civilization.

Why, you may ask. You know I’m good at getting lost, but after nearly three years in Hooterville, you’d think I’d at least know where the pool is.

There was a method to our madness: we were going to pick up Jessica to take her for a swimming lesson!

We met up with Erica and Jessica at a spot on Highway 128 where the redwoods tower overhead, hiding the skies like buildings in New York. The air smelled absolutely intoxicating, and it looked so primeval that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a dinosaur emerge from the ancient trees and enormous ferns.

As Jessica settled into the backseat of Megan’s car, she sighed, “It’s sooo good to have my auntourage back!” And she will have her auntourage with her on Halloween – Megan took the night off, and I will meet them in the Village after work. Jessica is going to be a princess-vampire-assassin. She has already made her own circlet and dagger.

Megan reminded Jessica that her swimming lessons would be after ours, which is an hour long (well, a therapist’s hour long). So she would have to amuse herself during that time.

Megan: “Did you bring a book or something?”

Jessica: “Megan, have you ever known me to be without a book?”

Megan admitted that this was true. It turned out that the book was The Lightning Thief, which sounded so interesting that I ordered it from the library. A discussion ensued on Greek and Roman mythology and what would be the best super power to have. Jessica liked staying dry and breathing under water (possibly influenced both by the book and the impending pool time), whereas Megan thought flying was the way to go. I maintain that invisibility would be best. What do you think?

Once we arrived at the pool, it turned out that the bottle of water in my swimming bag had leaked its contents, pre-moistening both my swimming attire and the towel, rendering it useless.

Oh, well. Class was great, and Jessica absolutely adores Sallie (and vice-versa). After class, I rinsed off in the poolside shower and sort of dried my hair, threw my clothes on, and slapped on some concealer and lip gloss. Then I dropped off Megan’s car to get all new tires* and hustled the many blocks to work with my wet hair and library bag full of books**. The tire place closes at noon on Saturday, so that gave them about 40 minutes to install the new tires. Before I even left the premises, they had the car jacked up and ready to go.

Later, Megan and Jessica turned up with sandwiches, which we enjoyed at the conference room table with its brand-new carpet supplied by Monica’s store of fabulousness, The Floor Store:

It’s just a bonus that the name of the carpet is “Crime Scene.” Once again I wished my job was naming things like nail polish. Or carpet.

It’s so great to know that we have a date with Jessica every Saturday for the next few weeks, except next week. For some reason, the pool is closed because school is closed in the Big Town. You’d think that would make it easier to get to swimming lessons, but what does a career non-parent know about things like that?

Anyway, the week after next, Jessica is staying with us all weekend,because Erica is entering some costume competitions in Santa Rosa, and we’re going to the Zoppé Circus, an Italian family circus which has been delighting people since 1842. How’s that for a great weekend?

*Living in the country has made me really appreciate things like tires, fences, and driveways. And their surprising cost.

**I had the new Linwood Barclayand Ruth Rendell waiting for me. Yay!

Following Sunday’s power outage, there was another one on Monday. Apparently Sunday’s was caused by a driver mistaking a power pole for the road, and Monday’s by some kind of fire, though no-one I know in our local fire department (including my brother and my co-worker Erin’s husband) had heard about the fire. Either way, I had to re-set all the clocks I had re-set the day before, and now the one in the living room is on that annoying military time, which I hate. Nothing is worse than being forced to do math in your own home for no reason.

The power wasn’t the only utility to go on strike this week. When I got home from the jobette on Tuesday night, there was no water. Hmm.

Megan was already at work and Rob wasn’t answering the phone, so I called Zach, Mark’s brother-in-law and my neighbor. I realized that I still don’t know who to call when things need fixing in Mark’s extended absence. Zach came over and volunteered to look for Rob. Eventually, he found him, and Zach reported back that Rob fixed the well (needless to say, I never understood the technicalities of the stoppage) but it would take a few hours for the well to fill up and water service to be restored.

Normally, this wouldn’t be too much of a problem, since the Brita pitcher was full and there are several emergency bottles of water in the studio. But on that particular evening, I was in somewhat desperate need of a shower.

Erin has taken over the retail side of the jobette, and has made it look more fabulous every day. That day, a couple of carts – wheeled wooden things to display stuff for sale – arrived fully assembled. The total weight was 940 pounds. The delivery guy left them in the alley and bailed, leaving is with almost a ton of problems.

Erin quite reasonably expected that the carts would arrive disassembled in boxes, instead of assembled on huge wooden pallets. We unwrapped them and tried to wheel them through the delivery door. Nope. The wheels made them too wide. We rolled/dragged them to the front door, where they could fit through the double street doors, but not the inner door.

We were going to have to disassemble them and reassemble them.

So we did. We eventually got the first one inside, but the second one had a couple of stripped screws that made it impossible to remove the legs to get it in the door. So we left it in the foyer, put up the “Closed” sign, and locked it in for the night.

My morning’s shower had long worn off by then, and I had a conference call scheduled for 6:30 the following morning. Instead of being able to have a shower when I got home, I had to get up extra early to do it, when the well had re-filled. Waking up with yesterday’s mascara ringing my eyes gave me a curiously youthful feeling, as if I had fallen asleep after clubbing all night instead of dragging around unwieldy pieces of furniture.

By the time I arrived at the jobette the following day, the guys from the Skunk Train were already removing the offending piece of furniture, so all was well that ended well.

Note: The post below was interrupted by a power outage, literally out of the clear blue sky. I guess I was overly optimistic about the rest of the day being better than the morning.

I’m doing laundry before I go to the jobette. It’s a sunny day and I want to hang out laundry while the sun shines.

It’s already been quite the morning, and it’s not even 8:30. First the Clyde-defying shelf under my painting liberated itself, bonking me on the head and hand. I had those little cartoon birds and stars flying around my head while I wondered what happened.

While I was wondering, Clyde came running in with a dead bird in his mouth. I shooed him out and closed the door behind him.

The rest of the day should be better, right?

Yesterday, I sold more than $80 worth of stuff to unsuspecting tourists, a personal best so far. I also answered some unusual questions, such as where to buy underwear. You never know what will happen at the jobette.

When I was finished answering questions and selling things yesterday, I went to my brother’s place for a BBQ with our visiting friend, Paul. We have known him for 20 years, ever since he, Jonathan, and Megan and Rob were living on boats at Pier 39. He’s more like family, and has made several appearances in my blog over the years. I wish I weren’t working so much during this visit. At least we had a great time last night.

Megan marinated a pork roast from the farmers’ market overnight, and then set it slow cook in foil over the BBQ. Meanwhile, she made salsa using the tomatoes, cilantro, and onions from the garden while Paul toasted fresh corn in a skillet with shallots and red peppers, adding lime and cilantro at the last minute. I told him he should sell it as “Roasted corn ceviche” in the Hamptons next summer (he is caterer to the stars). He also grilled onions and red peppers over the BBQ. Here he is, supervising the BBQ with Star supervising him:

We also had a guest appearance by Schatzi. Due to her brittle bones, she doesn’t often leave home where she might be bounced à la Tigger and injured. But yesterday, she decided that she wanted to come along, and happily spent the afternoon trotting around or napping on the hay:

The garden is dying back, though the tomatoes continue to rampage. The sweetpeas we planted for Dad still look beautiful:

In case you’re wondering, the blue tape marks Dad’s favorites, so we can make sure we plant them again next year.

These flowers, whatever they are, continue to flourish:

And these by the gate, which might be African daisies:

Paul is on his way back to San Francisco tomorrow, where he will visit his uncle and then head to Pasadena, where his daughter and grandchildren live. He said he will come back and see us before he flies back to New York to pick up his car and drive to his home in Florida for the winter. I’m hoping he will come back for Christmas.

At around 5:00 on Wednesday – which is my Friday – a giant Fed Ex truck pulled up outside the jobette.

The truck was jam packed with boxes of new visitor guides, and Richard and I (the oldest employees by far) were the only ones still there. Unloading the boxes was complicated by the fact that someone had parked haphazardly in the narrow alley which doubles as parking area and delivery area.

Richard and I helped each other to back up our cars carefully into the busy street – this was complicated by the fact that the weekly farmers’ market is located about half a block from the jobette and was in full swing – to make room for the truck.

The Fed Ex driver gingerly moved the huge truck into the alleyway. While we were still unpacking the first pallet of boxes, the owner of the badly parked car arrived home.

“Is that you?” I asked.

“Is that you?” she asked.

“Do you live here?”

“Do you work here?”

It turned out that it was the lovely receptionist from the splendid pool, who always manages to be glamorous at that early morning hour. She lives right behind the jobette with her boyfriend and their two adorable dogs.

It was a small town moment.

She moved her car while Richard, Randy the Fed Ex guy, and I got to work. It never ceases to amaze me how heavy paper can be. One sheet doesn’t weigh a thing. But if you get enough of them together, you get a box weighing 40 pounds.

There were 200 boxes, but it seemed like more. I have to admit that I was proud that I could keep up with the guys and never got out of breath or behind. Eventually, they were all off the truck and stowed away. Richard and I thanked Randy and shook hands. Richard also gave Randy a very nice tip, which I thought was classy and considerate of him.

You never know what will happen at the jobette!

I woke up yesterday to sunshine and Roscoe cuddled up against me. It was the rare and delightful teddy bear cuddle, too, where he has his back to my chest and my arm is around him. For a while, I just lay there enjoying the purring and the fact that it was light enough to let the cats out right away. One of the many things I dislike about getting up early to go to the pool and/or work is having to keep the cats in until it’s light enough that the neighborhood thugs have retired to their lairs.

Speaking of cats, we got another update from Digit’s family:

I just wanted to give you an update regarding Digit. She is doing great. As I mentioned previously, we have two other cats, one outdoor (our long-hair grey polydactyl) and one indoor. She is very good friends now with both. She waits at the door first thing in the morning to go out and greet our long-hair grey cat. He waits for her outside the door, greets her with rubs and nose touches, then leads her off for a short adventure (he seems to really like showing her his territory). During the rest of the day, she often sleeps inside with our other cat (both of them in the big pad you gave us, which she very much likes again). All three cats really seem to like one another. So, all is well here and she is very much now a part of our clan. Thank you, Jane

Seems we really chose the perfect family for our sweet girl.

While I was making coffee, Megan stopped by on her way home from work. I really enjoy these little visits. These days, we rarely see each other, especially on weeks like this one where she worked four 12 hour night shifts in a row. I was worried about some things going on in my jobs, and she listened to my problems and helped me solve them. I realized how lucky I am to have a sister like her. She even came over last weekend and brought my laundry in and folded it neatly on the bed, and also took away my garbage and recycling. Best. Sister. Ever.

Later in the day, I sat out on the balcony:

with a drink and my latest library* book, admiring the last rose of summer:

and the golden light in the trees:

with my bare feet (toes adorned with the sparkly polish Erica gave me last Christmas) on the worn, sun-warmed wood, and thought how lucky I am to have such a wonderful, loving family and live in such a beautiful place. Whatever happens, we will always have each other.

*The library is now open 6 days a week. Huzzah!

Star (left) and Schatzi (right)

On Friday, Megan and I went to the Farmers’ Market in the Village.

I have to admit that the Farmers’ Market has become somewhat less exciting for us since Megan and Jonathan created their amazing garden. Pretty much everything they have at the Farmers’ Market, we already have, though there are some exceptions, like the fabulous Herbes de Provence mustard and delightful sprouts (we got lentil this time). Megan also picked up some organic pork roast, because our good friend Paul is coming to visit soon. Her plan is to slow cook it over the barbecue at the garden party palace while he’s here.

I took the opportunity to ask the makers of Seasoning Sand (as seen in the September Oprah Magazine) and Sea Smoke how to use the Sea Smoke. We sell this, along with other local products, at the new and improved jobette*, and people always ask me how to use it. I had no idea! Apparently the correct answer is to use it on everything. According to the makers, it’s good on everything from vanilla ice cream to Chinese food and sliced apples. He says you just need a pinch and that he takes some every time he goes out to dinner, in case he needs to improve his order.

So now I know.

After the Farmers’ Market, we took Schatzi to the vet for a check up. You may remember that she is a vintage 13 years old, and also that her old bones look like Swiss cheese inside. However, Megan’s careful drug, food, and supplement program has resulted not only in Schatzi smiling as she prances past my house every day, but in her kidney and liver numbers actually improving. I just hoped that her numbers wouldn’t be worse – I never considered that they might get better.

So that was a welcome surprise, especially when Dr. Karen told us that Schatzi has developed a heart murmur. Apparently, this is not as alarming as it sounds, and it’s a mild one. We should be concerned if we hear her coughing, so we’ll have to keep an eye (or ear) out for that.

It was a lovely, sunny day – even lovelier with the good Schatzi news – so we picked up a bottle of wine** and toasted Schatzi as we sat in my garden in the early autumn sunshine. I figured we should enjoy the garden while we can – the winter rains can’t be far away now.

I guess my version is “drink wine while the sun shines” instead of “make hay.”

*I was surprisingly upset to discover today that someone stole one of the bookmarks, decorated with a little glass vial of sand, beach glass, and shells, that we sell at the jobette. I’m still sad about it, hours later.

**The jobette CEO just gave me a bottle of wine and one of extra virgin olive oil from his trip to Italy, with a lovely card thanking me for my hard work. How nice is that?

Megan worked four long night shifts last week, so she woke up on Friday afternoon, my one day off that week. We realized that the County Fair started that day, and since I work on the weekends, Friday was our only chance to go. We decided to go in the late afternoon, so Megan could get caffeinated and ready for the hour long drive.

Due to the magic of microclimates, it was cold and foggy on the coast, but warm and sunny when we arrived at the Fair. We met up with Erica first – Jessica was on the rides with one of her many friends – and she looked great. I can’t believe how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other. I need to take some time out for fun.

Erica said that Jessica was enjoying school so far, and likes her teacher, which is good. One not so good thing was the furor that Jessica’s reappearance caused among the male population of her school. Apparently there was much nudging and yelling of “Jessica’s back!” by the boys, some who weren’t even in her class. After all, she’s only nine. But I’m sure Jessica has enough common sense to take it all in her (very long) stride.

As usual, she’s gotten taller since I saw her last. Here she is with two other kids: a goat named Edward, and Edward’s owner:

We checked out the livestock – goats, sheep, cows, rabbits, and an exotic chicken:

And an even more exotic rooster:

before it was time for Erica and Jessica to go home – they had been there since noon!

As they left, the lights were coming on:

I had never been to the Fair in the evening before, so it was fun to see the sparkle. Also the biggest pumpkin – a whopping 500 pounds:

And the garden entries – this was my favorite:

It’s hard to choose a favorite among the quilts. They were all so beautiful. I’ll narrow it down to two, the Bug Quilt:

And the Alphabet Quilt:

As Megan and I walked back to the car, I remarked to her that when she told me as a child that she would catch up to me one day (I’m 9 years older, though not wiser), I bet she never imagined that she’d be the one taking me to the Fair, which made her laugh.

It’s funny because it’s true!

I woke up to a 54 degree house this morning. I’m beginning to take the birds seriously.

First the migrating cranes have indicated that we will have an early winter – and unlike human weather forecasters, the cranes have never been wrong yet – and then there have been alarming reports of robins sighted locally.

Now, those of you who live in other places probably think of robins as a happy sign of spring, but here in northern California, they are a depressing sign of winter. These pretty (and possibly not too smart – why don’t they keep going until they hit Mexico? Or at least the OC?) avians spend their winters in Hooterville like more fashionable people spend them…well, in more fashionable places. The fact that they are already turning up is another sign that winter is coming sooner rather than later.

On Friday, I had my one day off of the week. I spent the time not wearing makeup or brushing my hair or talking to the general public, either by phone or in person. There was reading and movie watching, and that was about it.

I think the kitties – at least the boys, anyway – have missed me, because they hung out with me most of the day, instead of playing in what’s left of the summer/fall weather. Clyde sat on me and purred in his patented manner (always my left shoulder), and this morning, I woke up to find him sleeping on my head and Roscoe sleeping at my feet. As I write, Clyde is perched on me, purring and getting in the way as much as felinely possible.

However, when I finally got home yesterday evening, the boys were nowhere to be seen. They almost always come in around 6:00 to have their dinner, but not yesterday. I went out and called them to no avail. I was making my own dinner when I heard Clyde’s distinctive voice behind me. I picked him up, and instead of smelling like the woods, he smelled like rust and mildew, so who knows what he was up to.

I went out and called Roscoe, who finally appeared from the haul road, making his distinctive sound, which is oddly small and plaintive, unlike his rumbling purr (and giant personality).

Audrey, on the other hand, did not show up until 1:30 am.

I wonder if the cats all thought, “Well, if you aren’t going to be home, we won’t be, either! See how you like it!”

I definitely didn’t.

Over the past week or so, two of my dearest friends have lost two of their dearest friends.

Kelly’s Jazz, the most elegant and dignified dog I have ever met, left us on September 4 at the age of fifteen – a long life, but as we all know, it’s never long enough. Jazz was loved her entire life, from her first breath to her last, and how many of us, animal or human, can say that? Here she is in adorable puppyhood:

Patrisha, who gave me the priceless gift of June and Audrey (and who still has their mother, Quince), lost her handsome gentleman Hamish yesterday, also at the age of fifteen. I can’t imagine Patrisha’s vine-covered front fence without Hamish peeking through the bars, or her cycling down the street without him in her flower-decked basket. Of Hamish, Patrisha says, “Strong will & bold Scottish spirit to the last.”

Farewell, dear friends. You are missed. And loved.

Thursday kicked off with a visit from the money fairy while I was asleep. The money fairy really doesn’t visit me often enough these days. I actually thought she had lost my address a long time ago.

I woke up to discover a pile of cash on top of my also sleeping computer, with a note from my sister saying, “We gotta help each other out. We’re all we got. xo”

I was so touched that I had to take a moment. I walked out into the sunny garden, where the hummingbirds were buzzing around and the cats were playing, and thought how lucky I was to have such a wonderful family.

I was still drinking coffee when my neighbor and Rose’s daughter, Catrin, stopped by to give me some money for her half of the cable bill. More money! Then the phone rang to tell me that Miss Scarlett* was finally ready to leave the emergency room. Between the cash from the money fairy and the coupon I had received earlier in the week from the garage, the bill to repair her was much more tolerable than I had anticipated.

I love days where people throw money at me. It should happen more often.

*I’m beginning to think I need a “Car” category. Though I hope not.

You may remember that the splendid pool closed in February due to lack of funds. But our little town doesn’t give up that easily. Much as we did last year to save the library, we voted to impose an extra half penny sales tax on ourselves, the proceeds going to keep the recreation center open forever. I love it that even in these hard economic times and with such a small population, we are willing to make sacrifices to keep our library and recreation centers open and vibrant.

Megan and I went to the grand reopening last weekend. It was so crowded that the parking lot was completely full and we had to find street parking near the skate park. We paused to admire the airborne antics of skateboarding kids – some of them looked to my untrained eye no bigger than kindergartners, and maybe they were – and then went inside to renew our memberships.

I was having a grumpy day, beset by allergies and The Comma and general terror about my dwindling future, so I didn’t bring a bathing suit, which was lame of me, since our beloved swim teacher Sallie was giving free lessons. You can almost see Sallie on the left of this picture, and Megan is the little dot in the middle. Needless to say, the intrepid Megan brought her suit, and I should have listened to her advice and brought mine.

At least we were able to sign up for four Saturdays’ worth of swimming classes, which started this past weekend. It’s amazing how out of shape a girl can get after not exercising for five months, unless you count housework, worrying, and ambling errands. Even our brother admitted that he had a hard time swimming for 15 minutes at a time, when he was used to swimming 45 minutes without stopping. Hopefully I will improve with practice. But it was great to be back in the water, and Sallie is just so fun and inspiring.

We were starving after class, so we stopped by an age-old market and deli on the way to the library. Not much has changed in there since it opened back in 1933:

Though their spelling had not improved:

They make the sandwiches to order, so it took a while before we could obey the hand:

We stopped by the library and exchanged books. It was a pretty good Saturday.

As you all know, I usually dread the advent of August, the Official Month of Death, but its little sister July was such a bitch that I’m actually happy to see July end and August begin. And yes, I do hope the door hit July on the butt on its way out. Hopefully hard. Hopefully both the screen door and the front door.

It kicked off with the arrival of a federal subpoena and the departure of a filling, on a holiday week, no less. Though the filling was probably 25 or even 30 years old, and as the dentist said, I got my money’s (or possibly my parents’) worth out of it.

Then there was the heinous trip to Detroit. All those hours of sitting around the airport (I could have, and should have, driven from Chicago to Detroit. It would have been faster) gave me plenty of time to wonder why airports offer wifi – though at a price – but no power sources. My experience was that people sat on the floors by what few outlets there were with their laptops plugged in. Same goes for the planes: nowhere to plug in your laptop, which ruined my plans of watching “Gilmore Girls” as I lurched across the Rockies.

And then the ordeal of the Grand Jury, followed by a long and horrible trip home.

On arriving home, I discovered that my septic system had crapped out. On the bright side, Mark has redone the whole thing, and when I got home from the jobette yesterday, I was greeted by the sight of a toilet on my front porch, just the sort of touch that makes Martha Stewart so jealous of me. It turned out that Mark had replaced the underachieving Frankenstein commode with a brand new one. So, score one for July. Or at least for Mark.

Then the car engine light came on, which cost me $200 in the same week that the first installment of my luxurious $950 crown was due. Not to mention the horrifying installation of the (temporary) crown and its achy aftermath.

The month closed out with chaos. My job (not the jobette; the one that pays my rent and bills) is in serious jeopardy; the jobette is moving; Mark and his family will be in New Jersey for a year and I will have new neighbors.

I’m on my way to San Francisco this afternoon and I have promised myself that I will enjoy my time there and try not to worry about the future.

Well, the holes in my mouth and yard are filled in. For now.

Getting my Golden Jubilee crown was not as festive as it sounds. The dentist applied the anesthetic, and after it made my face feel rubbery and weird, tilted the chair way, way back until I was practically upside down. I pointed out that I felt like a bat sleeping in a cave, and he said it was good for my brain cells, which I agreed I could definitely use.

The down side of the head down is that the freezing spread through my face, encompassing my nose and the side of my eye, which was a little alienating. Still, it was a joy compared to the piercing, shrieking hell that is the drilling.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m glad this wasn’t happening to me in the year of my grandmother’s birth, or of mine, for that matter. Things dental have improved considerably during my reign. However, the fact remains that one’s senses are unpleasantly assaulted by the sound of drilling (not to mention the thought of it) and the smell of burning bone which is its unlovely accompaniment.

I realize that they can’t render us unconscious for such a trivial procedure, but couldn’t they at least have a DVD player and headphones so a girl could distract herself? Considering that these are standard equipment in many cars these days – God forbid that kids should have to actually talk to their family or look at the scenery – it seems an obvious amenity for a place where everyone wants to be distracted.

Somehow, I hadn’t realized that they were going to put in a temporary crown, while my real one is tailor made. So this was sort of a dress rehearsal and I have to go back in two weeks to get the real crown. Fortunately there will be no drilling the next time (I hope). I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, though. I know the Queen’s crown is very heavy, but I bet it doesn’t hurt as much as my mouth did the next day. I felt like I’d been punched in the mouth by Muhammad Ali.

Meanwhile, Mark and a couple of guys were working hard at the septic system. It turns out there were some roots in the way and various other tweaks and improvements to be made, but he’s basically done now, other than a couple of finishing touches and cleaning up. It also turns out that my toilet was Frankensteined together from various commodes in James’ epic decades-old collection, so that’s the reason behind its general torpor and underachieving. I’m not sure that will be corrected before Mark and his family take off on their East Coast adventure, but at least the septic system is working and my tooth is fixed.

More or less.

On Saturday, I was working* when Mark, my landlord and neighbor, stopped by with his wife, Citlali, who is Rose’s daughter. It’s always nice to see them, but especially when it’s an excuse to stop working.

They had some news for me: they have found three young guys** to rent out their house while they are in New Jersey for a year. The guys will also take care of their dog Luna, their cats, and their chickens, including the one who likes to come over and hang out here.

I’m glad Luna is staying. I feel a lot safer when she is around, and I’m convinced that she keeps the deer out of the garden and the mountain lions and their good time buddies away from my cats. And I can’t imagine that she would be happy living in suburban New Jersey, cooped up in the house and walking on a leash.

Mark wanted to show Citlali my garden. He mentioned that I have one part of it dedicated to Rose, which it is:

I am growing poppies and the calla lilies my friend Jim gave me there. Some of her art and pottery decorate the area, and there is a little “nest” she made with seashells as eggs.

Right next to it there are planters she made and designed, and a piece of her artwork:

They also loved the marigolds***:

And the succulents I planted in an old barbecue grill:

I guess living in the country makes planters like that rustic. And old car jacks and tire irons garden art:

Rose made the pots. The one on the right looks like a tree trunk.

Citlali was so pleased and kept saying how beautiful everything was. She also said that she is glad that someone who knew and loved Rose lives in her house. I think her spirit will always be here.

Later, I looked up from slaving over a hot computer and was astonished to see Jessica, followed by Erica and Megan. E & J were on their way to the beach and stopped by to surprise and delight us. We sat for a chat at the table and chairs I just got from the same woman who gave me the palm trees:

She is moving to Hawaii and sold the whole set to me for $60, along with a lounge chair:

It was nice to have some shade to sit in as we caught up. I couldn’t help thinking that it is so wonderful that we can see each other all the time now, even just a short drop in, because they are back home! I missed them so much.

*Writing up reports while sitting on the couch with HBO’s delightful series Girls on. I haven’t changed much since my teens, when I habitually did my homework with the TV or music on. It made it less boring. Still does.

***Marigolds are used in Mexican Day of the Dead celebrations, and have been since Aztec times. Their fragrance and paths made of their petals are supposed to guide spirits home, and the flowers themselves symbolize both the sun and the brevity of life.

Megan’s emergency services are, as you probably know by now, not limited to the Emergency Room or the ambulance, though her big sister might well be the most frequent beneficiary of her expertise.

This morning, a hummingbird took a detour from the fuchsia on the back deck into my house. He then flew up to the big but un-openable window in the living room. There he buzzed frantically against the window, emitting little chirps of distress.

I went to get the broom, thinking I could gently guide him down to the open door, but as usual in my house, I was too short to reach him. I called Megan and went to get a stepladder. By the time I came back, Megan was in the living room, but the hummingbird wasn’t. I could still hear the buzzing, though, and we soon discovered that he was now in the skylight in the sleeping loft.

Megan got a t-shirt and gently covered the frantic little creature with it, cupping her hands around to keep him in the fabric. Then she took him out to the balcony, where he immediately skyrocketed out of sight beyond the redwoods, clearly unharmed.

It was only then that I realized I should have taken a picture, but I was so afraid that he would hurt himself or die of stress and exertion that it didn’t occur to me.

Thank goodness for brave and resourceful little sisters, who not only catch up with you, but pass you. And then reach out a helping hand.

I mailed my expense report to the US Attorney’s office today, but as I waited in line at the post office (there were two whole people in front of me), it occurred to me that the real cost is trying to catch up on almost a week’s worth of work. It’s really hard to get any actual work done when you are being audited or caught up in the slow and inexorable wheels of the justice system.

I got up early for a conference call, and have more scheduled at 6 and 6:30 am on Monday and Tuesday, but I am still behind. This is why it took me 10 days to send in the expense report.

And then there’s the real life things, like the septic system excavation and the car’s engine light.

Mark has been diligently digging up the system, which apparently needs an overhaul. He says he can do it in a few days, but it seems like a pretty big undertaking to me. Fortunately, while the improvement process is going on, I can still enjoy the indoor plumbing, and having the front yard temporarily hacked up doesn’t bother me all that much.

As for the car…my brother’s reader gadget didn’t work on my car, so I called a mechanic he recommended and explained that the “check engine” light was on. He said to bring it in this afternoon. My enthusiasm level for driving all the way to the Big Town on a non-jobette day was less than zero, but I was concerned enough to do it. I dropped MIss Scarlett off, and ran a few errands while they diagnosed what ailed her.

I stopped by to see Monica and give her my accumulated “Elle”. “Vogue”, and “Harpers Bazaar” and catch up on our news. By the time we finished chatting and I picked up a burrito for dinner, it was time to head back to the mechanic’s. I could hear the Skunk Train coming in to the station, so I slowed my steps, knowing that I would have to wait to cross to the wrong (or right) side of the tracks. It occurred to me that pausing to watch a vintage train cross Main Street on a beautiful summer afternoon was not the worst thing in the world.

Meanwhile, back at the mechanic’s, it turned out that Miss Scarlett’s crankshaft sensor had to be replaced. The $200 (including labor) price tag made me slightly cranky myself, but it has to be done. They ordered the part and I will drop the car off on Monday to be repaired. I’m glad that the light didn’t come on when I was driving 101 last week.

Next week will be a pricy one: $200 for the car and $300, the first installment on my crown, which is to be installed on Wednesday. Just my way of improving the local economy.

Excavation

It’s been a busy week at the jobette – fun things like stuffing 500 envelopes with 3 different pieces of paper, after folding all the paper. Then putting two labels on each envelope, sealing it, stamping it, and hauling the whole thing to the post office. I actually had to drive there, and it’s two blocks away.

Speaking of the jobette: we are moving next month! This was a surprise to me. We are moving three or four blocks away into a space which formerly housed a bookstore. We will be in the thick of the shopping district, so we should get more walk-in traffic, and are planning to sell t-shirts and local products as well as dispensing our indispensable tourism advice.

We are planning to move in there the week of August 20 and must be out of our current space by August 31. Not a lot of time. But it will be a great opportunity to get rid of things and streamline the operation.

In other moving news, Mark and his family are moving to New Jersey next month for a year. He is dismantling a factory (I think he said it was L’Oreal, but I could be wrong) and shipping it to Mexico. I could (or should) comment here on the loss of American jobs and our slow economy, but I’m more concerned about who is going to be my neighbor for a year and who is going to fix things when they break around here.

Such as my septic system. On Saturday, I called Mark because my toilet, always an underachiever and my rival in utter slothitude, went on strike. He came over and plungered it, which created a little fountain of what appeared to be poo in the bathroom sink. A poo fountain is never a good sign. Mark thinks there is an issue with the septic system, and he is, if anything, more anxious than I am to get it cleared up before he leaves, since he would have to pay someone else thousands of dollars to fix it in his absence. He was at my place before I left for the jobette today, so here’s hoping he’ll have some good news for me by the time I get home.

I can use the good news, because the “check engine” light came on in my car yesterday on my way home. My brother says it might be nothing. But maybe it is. He has a gadget which can read the engine and tell him what’s wrong. Hopefully it’s nothing serious, since I’m getting a $950 crown next week which I already can’t afford.

Welcome home!

My garden says “hello”

Thursday would have been a beautiful day no matter what, but it was a sunny one, too, without the bone-crushing heat’n’humidy of an East Coast summer day*. I sang along to the Beach Boys’ new CD as I drove past the vineyards and redwoods in the California sunshine. I yelled “Woo hoo!” as I passed the Mendocino County line. I wanted to hug the whole County, even Willits.

Well, maybe not Willits.

I stopped off to get my mail, rejoicing in the familiar sight of the hardware store owner’s old black dog napping in front of the store, the swallows above the post office door peeping merrily away, and the peaceful cows across the road wandering through their huge, golden fields.

Hooterville had never looked so lovely.

Pulling up at my humble abode, it was immediately obvious that Rob had been at work while I was away. The hose was looped up far more neatly than I can ever manage, so he had watered my garden in my absence. He had also removed two cans of garbage and two of recycling and repaired the cupboard door which had mysteriously fallen off one day while I was at work.

Before I left, I asked Megan to borrow some twine so I could tie up the Little Rose That Could. Strangely enough, feeding and watering it have made it much happier and bigger, but its branches were kind of flopping around:

Instead of tying it up, Rob wove the branches through the balcony slats:

So I’ll have climbing roses on one end of the balcony and jasmine on the other.

The cats definitely missed me. They all came running to say hello and be petted, and then wandered off, reassured that all was back to normal.

Megan and Rob arrived with a bottle of Absolut Mandrin vodka and pomegranate-cranberry juice, which, with a squidge of fresh lime juice and some ice, made pretty good faux Cosmos. Sitting in the garden with the sun gilding the tops of the redwoods, it just felt like heaven. I was (and am) so glad to be home.

*It seems unfair to survive 6 or more months of cold, snowy winter only to be rewarded by intense heat, humidity, and bugs. How can it be so hot and so cold in the very same place? Enquiring minds want to know.

There’s nothing like an unwanted trip looming on the horizon to make you appreciate your humble abode. Leaving all my doors open when I go to work! Driving to work beside the ocean! Having the adorable Digit (and my awesome co-workers) at work when I get there:

My beautiful, peaceful garden! My naughty kitties! It all seems like a paradise now.

As I set about packing today, I kept thinking about how much I would miss the kitties, the garden, and my hippie hovel. Not to mention the silence and the safety. I would venture to guess that Detroit is the utter antithesis of Hooterville.

The cats ignored the signs of my imminent departure and played outside under the big blue sky in the clean fresh air. It was about 70 degrees today, and I had all the doors open. Roscoe took advantage of this to import as many lizards as possible. He even went behind the pots and bowls in the kitchen cupboard, emerged with a lizard, played with it a while while I went to get the broom and dustpan to aid in lizard removal, and then vanished with it under the couch.

Under the couch appears to be the favored reptile repository around here. I figure by the time I get back from The D, they will have completely taken over, sitting on the couch reading and smoking a cigar and raiding the liquor cabinet*. They will look at me in disdain and wonder what on earth I’m doing in their house.

I took a much-needed break from stewing and fretting yesterday to have a Q with family and friends. Erica and Jessica were there with the Lovely Lucy:

as were Lichen and my siblings’ land partners, Dave and Jennifer. Megan had marinated a pork roast, which was slow cooked over the barbecue for hours. We made that into fajitas with grilled onions and peppers, as well as salad just picked from the garden and a cherry pie my brother made from scratch. As if that weren’t enough, we also had grilled fresh peaches, yet another delicious Erica innovation. You split a fresh peach, take out the pit, brush it with olive oil, dust it with salt, and put it on the barbecue for 5 to 7 minutes. Delicious!

Is it any wonder I’ll be homesick?

*Which is itself without a door, having detached itself from its hinges while I was at work last week. Mark and his family are in Florida at Disney Land (or Disney World), and when they get back, they are almost immediately moving to New Jersey for a year, so I’m not expecting it to be fixed any time soon. Oh, Rob….what are you up to in the next few days?

On Monday night, I was engrossed in the second season of the complex and rainswept* Killing, when I noticed a hole in my tooth.

Uh-oh.

Apparently a filling had fallen from its original location. Even more disturbing, I must have swallowed it without realizing. I tried not to think about all the “lead is known to the State of California to cause cancer” signs I have seen, from wine bottles (really!) to lead-based artwork in museums. And what would happen if the tooth blew up on my while en route to my grilling in Detroit.

Of course, this has to happen with the Subpoena of Damocles hanging over my head, along with a national holiday. The jobette was closed for the rest of the week, and I was afraid the dentist would be, too. However, luck was with me, and the dentist who takes care of my siblings and took care of our mother just happened to have an appointment at 4:00 on Tuesday afternoon (aka Independence Day eve). They are closed the rest of the week, so I was lucky to get it.

I was scared about what he would say and what it would cost, not, as it turned out, without reason.

He frowned while looking at the damage, and I said, “Don’t give me that face!” He laughed and said he was concerned that the filling was cracked and there might be decay in the crack. Fortunately, there wasn’t. He removed another chunk of filling and then sealed it up with some clear stuff with antibiotics in it, which should hold me until July 25, when I will be crowned for the first time in my life.

The crown will cost $950.

I wish it was from Tiffany instead of the dental supply store, but adult life is full of such disappointments. At least it’s not a root canal, right?

When I brought Jonathan his Thursday dinner and told him the saga of my tooth, he asked me when I called the dentist’s office. “About ten, ” I said. He laughed and said that the dentist’s receptionist called him around 10 to say that an emergency came up and he couldn’t have the 4:00 appointment.

Small town.

*The show is set in Seattle, but filmed in Vancouver. I hope at least half of the rain is special effects. Otherwise, all Vancouverites would look (and feel) like mushrooms!