Suzy Says

A foggy evening at the Community Center

On Friday night, Megan and I met up with Lu at the Caspar Community Center for a Farm to Table Benefit Dinner and Pie Auction. All the food was grown and donated by local residents, including my family – we gave onions, basil, lemon cucumbers, tomatoes, and the world’s biggest zucchini – and the pies were home made from local fruit, such as apples, huckleberries, and blackberries:

Since Monica was the event organizer, the dining room looked beautiful:

Each table had a centerpiece which Monica hand painted and decorated with inspirational sayings, filled with flowers:

In the other room, local musicians performed where there were craft projects set up for kids, glitter tattoos for kids of all ages (I got a ladybug and Megan got a dragonfly), and art by children under the age of 18 was also being auctioned off. I was very impressed with this picture of Monica’s dogs Daisy and Ladybug, drawn by a very talented 13 year girl:

And this painting by 5 and 3 year old sisters, who happened to sit near us at dinner:

We discovered our brother in the kitchen, chopping the basil we had donated. When we asked him what he was doing there, he said, “I know how to chop some things and big and some things small. And I’m not afraid of industrial-sized pots.” The fact that he used to be a professional cook in a previous life probably didn’t hurt, either.

The pies were auctioned off before dinner, with most going for about $40 and one going for $200! Monica was stunned – she thought they might get $15 each if they were lucky.

Dinner was wonderful. We had tomato and basil salad with sliced red onions; turkey stew; wood-fired salmon for salmon eaters; rice pilaf and roasted squash, and homemade ice cream with apple compote. I love the idea that all the food was locally produced and donated, and that the cooks took a look at the materials at hand and made up the menu on the spot.

Jonathan joined us for dinner, and it was wonderful to sit in that lovely room surrounded by friends and family and our little community, all brought together to help Monica’s rescue organization, the Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue. I am always impressed by Monica’s creativity and dedication, but she really outdid herself. It was a truly special event and I am so glad I was part of this magical evening.

Long ago and far away

I have been keeping in better touch with my former neighbor Patrisha since she lost her beloved dog Hamish, so I have recently learned more news about my old neighborhood.

As you may remember, I used to live in the woodworking shop of a Victorian coffin factory. My front door opened onto the building’s courtyard, and to get to my place, you passed through a slightly creepy brick passageway like the carriages of old. Living in an old factory had its advantages. The brick walls were thick, muffling the city sounds while keeping in heat in the winter and coolness in the summer.

In the picture below, you can just about see the passageway leading to my place on the far left:

The former factory was home to a thriving and eccentric community of artists, filmmakers, photographers, architects, woodworkers (though not coffin makers), and, well, eccentrics. It is also enviably located within walking distance of the Lake and in sighting distance of the CN Tower, not to mention its proximity to the delights of Queen Street and King Street West.

Shortly before I moved back to California, a building of fake lofts began construction at the corner of the street, to the horror of the coffin factory dwellers and those in the Victorian rowhouses beside it. How ridiculous is it to build a building of pseudo lofts across the street from a building of authentic ones – thus ruining the very artistic atmosphere and look they were trying to imitate? I had a feeling even then that the coffin factory’s days as an artist community were numbered, and they are.

The owner of the building is planning to build two huge, hideous towers where the (very modest) parking lot for the building is and in the secret garden overlooking the train tracks where the lovely Rita and I used to play:

Then the whole building will be made into condos, so adios to all the artists who currently live there. Apparently many have already moved. Patrisha is so sad at the changes to – I almost wrote “destruction of” – the street that she is seriously considering moving back to her native Scotland.

Ever since the recession, or economic downturn, or whatever you want to call it, especially in an election year, I have often thought that I should have stayed in the coffin factory, surrounded by friends and neighbors, within a pleasant train ride of Kelly and Joy and a streetcar ride from Mike and his lovely family, where I would have medical coverage and access to delivery food of any ethnicity you can think of. True, there are the sweltering summers and the freezulating winters and the whole ridiculous liquor store business, but still…it’s sometimes hard not to feel that leaving might have been a big mistake. Sometimes I think of how my life might have been different or better if I had stayed. Coulda, woulda, shoulda – can anyone ever resist playing that game?

But hearing this news, I realize that if I had stayed, I would be homeless in a very expensive place – not notably cheaper than San Francisco, as far as I can tell – and that would be very scary indeed. At least as it is, I can always camp on my siblings’ property and they will always be here to help me out whenever I need it. Maybe I’m not such a bad decision maker after all.

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.

On Monday morning, I drove to the new jobette. Needless to say, other people had taken up our allotted parking spaces – we now have signs up, but didn’t then – so I parked two blocks away.

At lunch, I went to the car to run some errands. I turned the key and the engine made the usual sound, but failed to catch. I tried a couple more times before calling my brother.

It turned out that he was a couple of blocks away himself, on his way in to work. He also tried and failed to start the car. I walked over to the mechanic’s and explained the situation. They sent a guy over to see if he could figure out what was wrong with Miss Scarlett, but he also couldn’t – she had to get to the garage to be diagnosed.

So I called the one tow truck in town and went to wait for him. He attached the car to the tow truck pretty quickly, and then offered me a lift to the mechanic’s. We went about 4 or 5 blocks and it cost $70. Fortunately, I just have to email or fax the receipt to the insurance agent to be reimbursed.

In the meantime, it was too late in the day for the mechanic to figure out what ailed Miss Scarlett, let alone fix it. Fortunately for me, my kind-hearted co-worker Erin lives just a couple of miles away from me in Hooterville, so she gave me a lift home. On the way, we stopped off to pick up her son at her mother’s house (which is literally a rose-covered cottage in the Village) and register him for kindergarten, which started today. Erin’s Mom even offered me the loan of her (very nice) car while mine was being fixed.

This morning, the mechanic told me it was the ignition coil, which will be $325 to fix. Later, he changed his mind, and as I write, I’m still not sure what’s wrong with the car or whether I can drive it home tonight. But I’m glad that I did try the car at lunch yesterday, instead of the end of the work day, that the tow truck and my brother were close by, and that I have such great people in my life to help me out in the meantime.

Well, I didn’t let the Bad Day get me down. Not completely, anyway.

On Friday night, we had a BBQ at the property with my siblings’ land partners, Jennifer and Dave* and our dear friend Lu, who brought her dogs Marco and Harlow, who is Star’s BFF. Marco has suddenly gone blind, so it was a challenge keeping him away from the fire, etc. When you have a 137 pound blind dog on your hands, everything suddenly looks like an obstacle course. He is coping pretty well, but at 6 years old, he is getting on in age for a Rottweiler and is also having a hard time with one of his back legs.

I think it was good for Lu to get out of the house and be with friends for a little while. As it was for me. We all toasted Mom and shared some memories. We all agreed that while our parents and their parenting style was somewhat unusual, we were lucky to have had them. And to have each other.

By the way: Roscoe is doing much better. I have stopped squirting him, and his skin is returning to its normal whiteness, with just a little bit of scabbiness. I hope the fur grows back – he looks a little odd with a bald spot. I guess I will never know what happened…a kitty mystery!

*I stopped in at the store after going to the post office, where I learned that Dave and Jennifer were here for two weeks with their three horses (I thought they only had two), and that my new neighbors had invisibly moved into Mark’s house. Good thing the store is there to tell me what’s going on in my life.

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.

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?

It’s a great day for cats. Today (or maybe yesterday or tomorrow or next week, since she’s in Australia) my gorgeous niece Cat turns 30, and my adorable cat Audrey turns 6. Cat asked me whether I thought turning 30 or being subpoenaed was worse, and I said turning 30, since it lasts longer. Audrey just asked to be let out.

In other happy news, Erica and Jessica are back! And better than ever!

They made their triumphal return last Monday, but had to spend several days removing the carpet from their house (Erica’s tenant apparently had an extremely incontinent dog) and painting the floors, tenting out in their own yard until they could start to decant their furniture and things’n’stuff from the giant 26 foot moving truck which Erica had valiantly packed and driven from distant Portlandia.

Because Erica is Super Girl, and missed us as much as we missed her, she made the hour’s drive from her place to Jonathan’s for a barbecue on Saturday evening. Even though it was foggy, and as the evening went on, it started fogging, which is what we call it when the fog gets so heavy that it’s almost raining.

Good thing that Jonathan (note the blondeosity of his hair) showed Jessica how to start a fire in the fire pit:

Every kid should have lessons in matches and fire from a real fireman:

It’s surprising how much warmth the concrete ring can both achieve and hold.

Jessica had wasted no time in learning how to drive the golf cart. I may not have mentioned that Jonathan acquired the golf cart from someone in a non-operational state, fixed it up with Rob’s help, and now uses it to haul equipment and wood and heavy things like that. And, you know, for fun. Everyone, including Star, loves to ride in it.

Jessica was no exception, and wanted to take me for a drive. Jonathan put her on his lap and let her steer:

She seems to be a natural driver. She did very well navigating the twists and turns and even remarked on how you have to look a few seconds ahead and how the longer curves can be easier to drive than the short ones, all of which is true. You can see the concentration:

Also the pierced ears she got for her birthday. Our little girl is growing up!

One of my many defects as a grown-up is my inability to make a decision. My usual method is to procrastinate until one course or another becomes inevitable, and then go with it as though it were my idea all along.

Sometimes a girl’s sloth gets unfairly rewarded in this manner.

Remember my concerns about road tripping to distant Portland to visit Erica and Jessica? The problem has been solved, without my having to do anything.

Erica and Jessica are moving back to California!

They should be back some time this month, and I can’t wait to see them. Unlike Self, Erica actually made an actual decision, and I think she was right.

Essentially, she was up against many of the same problems I had when living in Oaktown (aka the Bad Old Days): expensive rent (especially for the living space it paid for); huge water and electricity bills; the impossibility of finding a part-time job to defray these expenses.

She also mentioned that Jessica had concerns about the lack of other adults in her life, hardly surprising in a girl who was already thinking three years ago (at the age of six) about what would happen to her if anything happened to her mother. Here there is no shortage of grown-ups (faux and otherwise) to step in and help out when needed. Or just for fun.

I’m looking forward to having those two back in my life. More Jessica stories to come! Stay tuned!

Rainy birthday to me!

I woke up to rain pattering on the skylight. I could hardly believe my ears. At first, I thought it was dreaming, but no. At least I won’t have to water the garden today.

Megan and Rob did a better job of getting the cats in at night when I was away than I have since I got home. The first night, Roscoe stayed out all night – I finally got him to come in at 5 am, when he came trotting home from the direction of Megan’s place. Last night, it was Audrey who stayed out until 3 am. Between waking up all night to call the missing cat of the day and having a horrible cold, I’m feeling that half century today.

I took the day off, as I always do, so the kitties and I curled up and watched Doris Day movies together. Megan and Rob stopped by, and Rob not only gave me a beautiful scarf/shawl that had belonged to his late Mother:

but he also installed my new “rainfall” shower head. I figure, if I have to have a shower, it should be as good as possible. He also is planning to fix the window in the shower to eliminate the draft – it doesn’t really close and the draft can be a little too drafty, especially in the winter.

Between the cards and presents and phone calls and Facebook love, I am feeling pretty spoiled right about now. And I haven’t even opened the champagne yet.

It turns out my feeling of doom on Tuesday was correct – Rob’s Mother died around 9:00 Eastern that evening.

I believe Rob was with her and his siblings. He called Megan last night from the Philadelphia airport between flights, and with the background noise of the airport and the always bad cell to cell reception, he kept cutting out, so they kept the call short. As I write on this sunny San Francisco morning, Rob is (hopefully) peacefully asleep at Clayton’s Garage Mahal* and Megan has probably let my cats out to play** and is waiting to hear from Rob on when to pick him up in Santa Rosa.

I’m glad that Rob reconnected with his sisters and especially his brother, Bill, who was just a child when Rob moved to California 30 years ago. They found that they had a lot in common, and Rob stayed at Bill’s house in Ottawa. I’m sure that they will keep in closer touch now, so something good came out of something sad.

*Clayton has a former, vintage mechanic’s garage which he used to live in. It has a little kitchen, bathroom, office, and a living space with a hammock slung under a skylight. He lives in an apartment around the corner, so the Garage Mahal is his guest house and party pad.

**Megan texted me last night to let me know all the cats were safely inside. Finally: an actual use for cell phones!

Weekends have a magical ability to disappear. They speed by with lightning rapidity – unlike work days – and by Monday morning, it’s like they never happened at all. All that fun seems so far away…

On Saturday, we had a BBQ at Jonathan’s place. The 80 foot by 80 foot garden has become the summer party pad. I owe you some pictures of the spectacular transformation from hardscrabble pygmy to flourishing vegetables. The latest enhancement is having both water and power piped into the garden, an endeavor which required some serious trench digging (and filling in).

Our friend Clayton, who hosted us in the city during last summer’s popular HospitalFest, arrived after dark and thought he was in the wrong place at first. Some of his friends came up the next day, bringing dirt bikes and a three month old baby girl named Josephine*, an unusual combination. They took turns babysitting and biking, and Josephine took it all in stride. I have rarely met a better natured baby.

After the biking, we gathered around the fire pit (made from a cement well ring) and had dinner while Josephine cooed and napped. It was a nice evening, and it was good to see Clayton again. Hopefully they will come back up again now that the summer visiting season is in full swing.

Also on Saturday, a hummingbird meandered into my house. I had all the doors open, so it must have come in to explore. I heard the distinctive buzzing before I saw it. It was iridescent green with a red throat. I should have taken a picture, but I was so worried about the little guy getting out of there safely that I stayed out of the way and watched him zooming around. Eventually, he went out the balcony door and I heaved a sigh of relief.

Good thing the cats were all outside.

On Sunday, I had yet another memorable encounter with my old friend the moon. That evening, she glided in front of the showier sun and eclipsed its blaze for a little while. Mark came by with his family and a welding helmet, so we all trooped through the house to the balcony and took turns peering at the eclipse through the helmet’s tinted window. It was amazing and spooky to see the sun covered by the moon. Eventually it became a “ring of fire”, and it was spectacular.

It was also eerie, the light becoming dimmer and with an unearthly quality that made me understand why it freaked out the ancient people so much. It kind of freaked me out, and I understood why it was happening.

The cats came in from outside, and Roscoe hid under the bed for the rest of the evening.

*As you may remember, I once had a beautiful Siamese cat named Josephine, after Jo March in “Little Women” (“Such a little name for such a person”), and an equally beautiful sliver-blue 1966 Mustang convertible, the color of my cat’s eyes. So I was delighted by their name of choice, as well as the name’s bearer.

Ever since Erica and Jessica decamped to Portland last summer, the fabulous quotient in Hooterville and environs dropped by about 1,000%. I’m glad that Jessica is living a Ramona life in the land of Beverly Cleary and that Erica is revelling in city amenities, but I miss them.

Megan wants to go and visit the Dynamic Duo this summer, but her older sister has some reservations.

Number One: It’s a twelve hour drive. TWELVE HOURS. It used to take me 12 hours to fly non-stop to London from San Francisco, and even with the ability to get up and walk around, drink cocktails, read, sleep, and watch movies on my laptop, I could hardly stand it. At least there was Dad, London, and Europe at the other end.

The whole problem with driving is that it’s the worst of both worlds: really boring, but you have to pay attention. Also, it is simultaneously too fast and too slow. On the freeway, if you’re going 70 mph and everyone else is going even faster (as they usually are), if they hit you, not even Rico from Six Feet Under could make you fit for human viewing ever again.

And then there’s the whole dead thing.

At the same time, you are speeding along at 70 mph or whatever it may be, and it will still take you half a day or more to get to the next state.

And then you’ll have to do it all again in a week’s time.

Add in the fact that I don’t get paid when I’m not at the jobette and gas will be around $300 plus whatever other money we spend while we’re away, and you can add “expensive” to “boring” and “scary”.

On the other hand, we haven’t seen Erica and Jessica since Christmas, and they braved the hideous trip with their dog to see us, so we kind of owe them. Also, Megan is afraid that if we don’t make the effort, E & J will drift out of our lives, and that’s a fate worse than road tripping.

What to do, what to do?

*Honestly, have you ever seen a cuter school picture? None of mine even came remotely close.

When I (finally) got home last night, I covered the outside couch with a plastic drop cloth, even though it was a beautiful, clear evening and the moon was smiling down on me:

The forecast said 100% chance of rain, and they were right: I woke to ran pattering on the plastic and the plants. I won’t have to water the garden today.

Speaking of the garden: Rob dropped by last night and we talked about making a bent wood trellis. I lent him the book, so I’m hoping we might get it done this summer. My idea is to have the trellis (and whatever I’ll grow on it) hide the decrepit trailer full of Rose’s pottery which Mark may or may not have time to empty out and/or move one of these days.

Rob also fastened some mesh to the underside of the balcony, so the jasmine that’s growing beneath:

can wind its way up to the balcony itself. I love the idea of a jasmine-covered balcony.

Last night, I suddenly realized that I had missed my own blogaversary! I even had to look back in my archives to find out what day it was. It was April 20, for those of you who keep track, and my blog is now 12 years old. Or my approximate mental age. Pretty soon it will be pestering me for a driver’s license and an overpriced prom dress and developing the surly attitude beloved of teens everywhere.

You have been warned.

Digit’s first week as our Office Cat was a success, at least as far as her human colleagues are concerned. I was happy to hear that everyone but Me stopped in to see Digit on the weekend. It turns out that our IT guy comes in pretty much every weekend (who knew?), so she will always have some company.

She is still completely uninterested in making a break for it, which is great considering how often people are in and out of there during the work day. She always greets me with a purr and rolling over onto her back to have her tummy petted. She’s good at playing by herself, chasing a toy (or her tail) around the office.

So far, so good.

On the Saturday after the Girl Day, we had the first family barbecue of the year. We had it in the huge (40 feet by 40 feet) new garden on the family property, which is an amazing work in progress. it’s taken a couple of months to get to where it is now, deer-fenced and gated and planted with fruit trees and almost every vegetable you can think of.

We were joined by friends, including Lichen, though it was unfortunately too windy to cut my hair. We perched on hay bales and drank wine and ate like kings and queens: turkey burgers; marinated, grilled peppers and summer squash; my famous potato salad (mayonnaise free for the picky eaters among us); as well as mixed olives and marinated artichokes.

It was a great evening.

On Friday, I postponed work and all other obligations to spend the day with my sister. We’ve both been so busy lately that we’ve hardly seen each other.

I was shocked to realize that even though Megan has had her new car for almost a month, I hadn’t been in it. That alone tells you how overdue we were for a Girl Day.

I took the rare opportunity of being a passenger to try and show you my favorite part of the drive to Hooterville itself, where the trees part to reveal the ocean:

I also got a shot of the historic Hooterville bridge, one of seven that we cross on our way to the Big Town. The bridge is the only wooden bridge left on Highway One:

The car handles the curvy roads really well. It has good brakes and enough get up and go to pass the rude sluggards who refuse to pull over. I have noticed over the past couple of weeks that the traffic is becoming more summer-esque in its quantity and slowness.

The new car, unlike the old one, also has a CD player (I know, so 90s), so Eminem regaled us on our way to the Big Town. Once there, we stopped off at a used book store, where we learned that they also sell records. Yes, actual vinyl. Even more retro than CDs. I picked up a book on making bent wood trellises. I have a project in mind for Rob…

Boys, avert your eyes for this next paragraph. Go and get a beer or something. You can rejoin us later, when the coast is clear.

Our next stop was Understuff, a fabulous lingerie emporium, where we learned that, like almost 90% of women, we were wearing the wrong bra sizes. We were ably and charmingly assisted by a pregnant sylph (her baby, Ezekiel, is due in two months), who measured us and found bras which fitted, were cute, and were not that expensive. The magic bra trifecta! Also, we had the satisfaction of shopping locally. For the first time in my bra-wearing life, the straps have stayed up. As we left, Megan high-fived me and said, “Let’s take the pledge! It’s Understuff or nothing!”

OK, guys, it’s safe to come out now.

Flushed with triumph, we repaired to The Wharf for Mexican mojitos, mini crab cakes, and Caesar salad. As we ate, a fishing boat on his way out to the ocean passed by our window:

A seal was bopping around and playing in the waves, but I couldn’t catch him on film. You will just have to imagine the cuteness.

We had a commission from our brother to buy tomato insulation, so we stopped off in the Village on our way home and went to the garden center:

Where they have an innovative way of displaying plants:

It was a really fun day. As I told Megan, if she weren’t my sister, she’d still be my friend. As it is, she’s both.

Nothing cheers up a girl after a hard week of screwing up like an unexpected gift from a wonderful friend.

Imagine my delight in discovering in my mailbox, along with a jury duty summons and a car insurance bill, an interestingly rattling box. When I got home and opened it, I discovered that it was a whole set of chalkboard mason jar tags for my oh-so-disorganized pantry, handmade by the fabulous Amber:

As if that weren’t enough, she had tucked into the package a little Scrabble tile to which she had decoupaged a miniature of the first edition cover of my best-loved book, The Box of Delights. I wasted no time attaching it to my keychain*, so I will have it with me every day:

Inside my Louis Vuitton Monogram Groom keychain (one of the few remaining vestiges of my once-glamorous life) are little notes from my family, including my father and sister, so this little book, which our father read to us so often as children, is the perfect addition. I like feeling like their love is always with me.

Amber makes amazing things: three beautiful children (or, as she affectionately calls them, The Rottens), and countless handcrafted goodies. You can have a peek at some of her handiwork here. Be prepared to be delighted.

Oh, and when she’d not doing all that, she’s also a wife and engineer and blogger. And not at all a screwup.

I wasted no time in trying on one of these clever labels. I can’t wait to get a whole bunch of matching jars to fancy up my pantry. And I’m so lucky to have such wonderful friends.

*They are the keys to the kingdom, my friend. With them, you can start up Miss Scarlett, check my mailbox and my siblings’, and open my brother’s gate and front door. My doors don’t have keys. Or locks, for that matter.

Being swamped with work from both the Job and the Jobette has made me too sleep and time deprived lately to give you the lowdown on what’s been happening around here. Amazingly, things other than work and more work have occurred. Such as…

My neighbor Jim stopped by, bearing gifts. This is my very favorite kind of visit. We have been Facebook friends and email buddies for years, and he reads my blog (as all fabulous people do), as well as actual neighbors – he lives about three miles away from me – yet we had never met before in real life.

So it was definitely about time.

Jim arrived bearing a couple of calla lilies to add to the garden:

I will have to re-pot them, but apparently, they grow like weeds. I’m looking forward to their first elegant blooms.

He also brought me a fabulous outdoor candelabra, which might need a cup of Rob to repair it a bit, but it’s certainly a worthy addition to my ever-growing outdoor lighting collection:

I had a great time hanging out with Jim and I hope we get to spend more time together soon.

Megan woke up one day to find several thousands of dollars in her bank account. This what you call a nice surprise. I have heard of them, but seldom, if ever, experienced one in real life.

It was most of the back payments for Rob’s permanent disability. Apparently they give you some of it (after neatly removing the lawyer’s fees off the top) and then give you more six months later, for some reason. But what’s six months when you’ve already had to wait four years?

Now there are decisions and purchases to be made, notably a car for Megan, so we can stop sharing, and some kind of shelter for her and Rob on the family property, so they can stop paying for two places.

It’s happy and exciting news, but I haven’t found time to celebrate with her yet. One of these days…

The splendid pool closed last month. They ran out of money to operate it, despite cranking the water temperature down to 77 (from 85), and I sure felt every single one of those degrees. They also saw fit to keep the exercise rooms open while keeping the locker rooms closed. So – you could go to Zumba or spinning class, but you couldn’t shower afterwards. So that’s out. Basically I am exercise-free until I a) find some time; and 2) find somewhere to do it and get cleaned up afterwards.

On the bright side, Measure A passed last week. It ups the sales tax by half a penny, and apparently the half pennies will add up enough to reopen the wonderful pool and keep it open forever. At least, that’s the story. However, it will take until at least July for enough pennies to accumulate to reopen the pool, so it’s kind of a good news/bad news scenario. I will definitely have to come up with a Plan B if I ever find the time.

The hospital where Megan works is also having financial difficulties. Like pretty much every other company or corporation in America, it’s the worker bees who have to bear the brunt of it. At first, they actually considered closing the Emergency Room at night – yes, the dark hours when babies are born and car accidents and heart attacks tend to happen – but they soon realized the error of their ways.

Unfortunately, their Plan B is for Megan to work three 10 hour shifts one week, and four 10 hour shifts the next, instead of three 12 hour shifts in a row. So it’s more inconvenient; for several hours she will be the only person to answer phones and admit patients and deal with paperwork and transfers. Oh, and she gets less money because she’s not working 12 hour shifts. Pretty much a lose/lose.

On the other hand…we are lucky that we are employed at all in this day and age. As my boss says, this is the new normal.

Well, Le Bug has finally begun to loosen its Vulcan death grip. Sure, I cough myself awake a couple of times a night, and am still the major Kleenex consumer on the west coast, but I was well enough to go back to the jobette this week.

It was a week that reminded me just how petite this town really is. On Monday, I saw my brother and one of his charges emerging from the health food store across the street. I called out to him, but he didn’t hear me through the wind and traffic. By time I could get across the street, he was gone.

The next day, I was just starting up the steps of the office when I heard a horn honking. It was the lovely Monica, waving good morning as she drove past on her way to her store, two blocks away. Daisy, of course, was smiling from the passenger seat.

On Wednesday, I was getting in my car when I noticed a dog across the street who looked a lot like Star. A closer look revealed that it was in fact Star, whose excitement when she saw me too could barely be contained. I honestly think that no-one on earth is as happy to see me as Star is.

It turned out that Rob was walking her while he waited for a new tire to be applied to his trusty truck. When you start seeing metal poking through the treads, it’s time to invest in a new one. We hugged goodbye, and he and Star trotted off to pick up the new and improved truck.

It’s a good thing that I’m feeling better, because my house turned into Grand Central Station last night. Rob stopped by to work on a couple of projects, and Mark called. He needed to borrow a cup of internet, so I told him to come on over with his computer.

It turns out that Mark has a YouTube video of Lucky the deer and Luna the dog which is so popular that he gets little checks from them every couple of months. Who knew? Also, he’s going to New Jersey on Friday to start a huge project: overseeing the dismantling of a L’Oreal factory and moving it to its new home in Mexico.

I missed a lot while I was sick.

Then Mark’s wife (and Rose’s older daughter) Citlali came over to check her email on Mark’s computer. Citlali said that it’s still a little strange for her being in her mother’s house, even though it’s been nearly three years since her death. “But,” she said looking around, “you have really made it your own. Everything is so beautiful.”

It really was: friends and family together in my little house, with the rain falling outside in the darkness and love and laughter within.

The phone rang at almost exactly 2:00 on Friday afternoon. I knew the appointment with the judge was at 1:30 (the meeting with the lawyer was at 1:00), so I didn’t think it could be Megan.

But it was.

Me: “Hello?”

Megan: “It’s over! We won!”

Me: “What?!”

It was almost the same kind of stunned feeling I had when she called me to say Dad was dead. I heard the words, but there seemed to be a disconnect between my ears and my brain.

Eventually I learned that they had gotten a really nice judge, and that their lawyer had read all 600 pages of Rob’s medical records and condensed them down into two pages of notes. She had every fact about Rob’s medical condition at her fingertips.

The lawyer led with the three spinal surgeries, the last of which has failed and must be repaired within 6 months. The judge asked Rob a couple of questions, and then made a bench decision, granting him permanent disability payments, as well as back pay – this process has been dragging on for four years. He should start receiving payments as early as next month.

This will enable Megan and Rob to move onto the property with Jonathan. We are hoping that Jonathan can start working a little less once the money starts coming in. He works 60 hours a week to keep the mortgage paid, and lives on $200 a month in a 29 foot trailer, with water from the well he dug and electricity from solar panels he bought and bartered and installed. There aren’t too many people who could or would live so austerely, all in order to save the family land.

On the way home, Rob confessed that it was a little painful to be officially disabled, instead of unofficially, even though it didn’t really change a thing about his physical condition. Still, it’s a little hard to celebrate being officially too damaged to work ever again, when you are still in your 40s.

Still, the relief of the long ordeal finally concluding in the best possible way overcame the sadness, and it happened that the Vintzes, who are buying the property with my siblings, and Jonathan’s old friend Carrie happened to be here that day, so we all gathered at Megan and Rob’s little house, where so many celebrations were held in the past; where Mom lived out her final illness; where Dad visited and Jarrett lived for a while – so many happy and sad memories in one little place. We toasted the future in Champagne, and while remembering the past, looked joyfully toward the future. Together.