Suzy Says

This year was about change: getting the jobette; swimming lessons; having to make peace with driving a lot more. Change is good, right?

One deleterious effect of working more is reading less. I read 118 books in 2011, vs. 140 in 2010. The favorites of the year were Sue Grafton’s “V Is for Vengeance” and Candice Millard’s tour de force, “Destiny of the Republic”.

We are also getting a lot less rain this season. Last year, we totalled about 60 inches (or 153 centimeters), and already had half of that by December 31, 2010. This year, we’ve gotten about 11 inches (28 centimeters) so far. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here by saying there’s probably a drought in my future. Number of power outages: 3. So far this season: 1, and an early one at that.

It was a great summer, though: lots of sun, little fog, no heat waves.

As far as last year’s resolutions went: not bad. I did a lot of work on the garden, though there are more things I’d like to do, given time and money, always in short supply. I still worry about the cats, and probably always will, to some extent. The loss of the beautiful and beloved June was traumatic, and, as Jessica pointed out to me, I’m a worrier. Maybe I should just embrace my inner (outer?) worrier.

This year’s resolutions are to reinstate Thursday dinners for my overworked sister – they fell by the wayside with the increased busy-ness of my schedule – and to spend more time with my brother when there’s no project to be done or special occasion to be celebrated. I always have a great time with him, but I don’t see him often enough.

And, you know, keep working on the garden and trying to minimize Calamity Suzy episodes.

Let me know what your resolutions are. And thanks for reading yet another year!

January:

How to plant tulips. Logging road walk. A check-up for the kittens. A walk with Schatzi. The beginning of A’s life-threatening illness. Another vet visit. A walk through the Village. A surprise visit from Jessica! Falling off a log really is easy. Dealing with two broken fingers: not so much. They still look freaky and witch-like. A brief trip to San Francisco. A is improving.

February:

Back in touch with the outside world. A finally gets out of Intensive Care. And I get the jobette! The boys make a windmill. Week One at the jobette. A’s slow recovery continues. Beautiful new garden chairs. A rare and magical snow day!

March:

A quick tour of the jobette. A graduates from Intensive Care to the HIghly Dependent Unit. Tragedy strikes our sister city in Japan. Doin’ it Rob style. Signs of spring. My beloved father’s 80th birthday. It’s not snow this time, it’s hail! The painting saga. Flooding. The week in pictures. Spring arrives in the garden.

April:

The painting problem is solved – at least, for now. Power outages. Little salon in the big woods. A is finally in a regular hospital ward, while Clyde is a little limpy. A nice little burn to go with my broken fingers. Jessica’s birthday! My blog’s 10th birthday! First BBQ of the year. A sad and loving farewell.

May:

The fabulous circus. New contact lenses. A walk through town. Star’s birthday. My tulips in bloom. Countrified. Fabulous garage sale finds. Girls’ night out. A short visit to San Francisco. The magnificent Balenciaga exhibit. Back home. Megan’s birthday. Car troubles – and a birthday celebration.

June:

Car trouble and bad weather. Truly rural. Bi-coastal. Rainy birthday to me. Happy first birthday to the boys! Rob is scheduled for more surgery. An evening with Erica and Jessica. Rose’s chicken curry. Unveiling the clock of ages. Rob’s surgery is rescheduled. The operation. Back home. Houdini lives!

July:

Audrey turns four. Found poetry. Both Rob and A are on the road to recovery. Kitty updates. Home improvements. Jessica visits the jobette. Musical contrasts. Erica and Jessica move to Portland (~sob~). The last Harry Potter movie ever.

August:

Propane prettifying. Encore de car. A change of address. Garden updates. The tenth anniversary of my father’s untimely and completely unnecessary death. I love you and miss you, Old Bear. More car fixing (or not). The bliss of Brian. Star meets quail.

September:

Mark’s seizure. He has epilepsy and is taking meds for it. So far, so good. Thank goodness. Free palms. The Houdini dog expands her repertoire. Planting the palms. The joys of aquafit. The delights of the County Fair. Clyde takes it on the chin. A visit from the generator fairy. A total meltdown.

October:

The car is finally fixed. I hope. Swimming clinic doesn’t go quite as swimmingly as I’d hoped. Car-share begins (and is still going on). The plague descends. My second anniversary of moving to Hooterville. The arrival of Turbo, Mark’s horse.

November:

Pool problems. Feeding the family. Meetings in San Francisco. Too tired to shop. A delightful day. Back home. The lowdown on high beams. Star and Megan are both stars. Thanksgiving Eve. A happy Thanksgiving. An early season blackout.

December:

Sunny days and sparkling nights. A look around the garden. An amazing experience. Girls’ Night In. A sudden loss. Up with the tree! An adventurous evening. And a tree adventure. Christmas cheer. A magical evening. The wit and wisdom of Jessica.

That’s it for 2011. Wishing you all a happy and healthy new year!

Of course, what you really want to hear about is Jessica.

As soon as she got out of the car, she ran to me and I picked her up and whirled her around, to both of our delights. As I mentioned earlier, she is so much taller now – about chin height, instead of heart height. When I asked her how she got prettier every day*, she said, “I have no idea!”

Erica and Jessica gave me my presents before Jessica dived into hers in the way that only kids can. Can I just say? These girls know me so well. Jessica gave me a scarf she had woven herself on her fingers (!), and to go with it, there was a compact with eyeshadow, blush, and lip gloss which looks like a little Sephora bag. So I’ll always have some Sephora, wherever I am. Also – the sold out everywhere Miss Piggy inspired OPI nail polish, Divine Swine!

It turns out that Jessica is a Candy Land shark. Now, Megan said that Jessica is too old for Candy Land, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t. Jarrett and I played three games with her before dinner, and Jessica won them all. She also got Princess Frostine in every single game, which surely defies the odds, especially since Jarrett shuffled the cards.

Here you see her wearing my red suede shoes (and also my huge wedding earrings, which are clip ons). The shoes are Italian, but I bought them in Russia 20 years ago. Hooray for glasnost! Jessica was also delighted by my Manolo Blahniks and exhibited a surprising ability to walk around in high heels and platforms. Who knew?

Of course, there was time for a tour of my jewelry box. I was wearing Jessica’s favorite diamond necklace, along with a diamond bracelet and diamond ring, but she wanted to explore the rest of the Suzy Collection. She was very interested in where things came from, and once again I realized how many things my father had brought me from exotic lands like China and India.

Jessica was taken with a necklace Dad brought me from India. She told me about Indian kings and myths as she tried on the necklace, which I wear often. It’s made of ruby beads of different shades, along with ornate silver beads. Jessica said, “Everyone who touched this necklace left some of their soul in it.” When she and Erica left, I gave it to her on indefinite loan. I like knowing that my Dad’s gift to his girl is now being worn by another beloved girl.

While we were looking at the jewelry, Jessica said, “All you need to be beautiful is be yourself – and add a little bling.” She paused and looked at me and added, “But you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Later she confided, “Your parents make great kids. I’m so glad you’re my adopted family.”

I have to say, having a rental kid makes your entire Christmas.

*Yesterday Jonathan and I talked about how we should stop telling her how beautiful and smart she is, in case she gets spoiled and/or full of herself, but it’s really hard. As Megan said, “If you could guarantee I’d get a kid like Jess, I’d seriously consider it.” Me, too.

The day after Christmas, I was surprised to be the first one up. I had expected the eight year old to be hopping and popping in the way that eight year olds do. Sometimes I think we’re born with all the energy we’re going to have and just use it up as we go along, dying when we finally run out of the supply. Certainly I was less bouncy at 48 than I was at 8. At least at 8 am.

Coming quietly down the stairs from the sleeping loft, I could see Paul asleep on the air mattress and Erica and Jessica looking like angels on the bed of nails, also known as the sofabed. When I apologized for the bed of nails-ness, Jessica said, “It’s like sleeping on air! And air is so comfortable!”

I was just pouring a second cup of coffee when I saw Jarrett walking by the sliding glass doors with a mountain of laundry. I went to meet him in the laundry room/pantry/cat dining room and we chatted for a while as he started the first of five loads of laundry. Somewhere between the third and fourth loads, I wondered how and when I had become Mom. At least I did it without stretchmarks and exorbitant college tuition.

By the time I returned to the living room, a second pot of coffee was being made and Erica was dispensing toast. Jessica was definitely the most lively at that point, the grown-ups, the house, and the garden looking a lot like that Katy Perry song “Last Friday Night”.

Caffeinated and toasted, Erica and Jessica started to pack up and get ready for the 12 hour road trip ahead of them. I tried to hide their gorgeous dog Lucy to no avail:

They adopted her from the pound many years ago, but she turns out to be some fancy breed called Munsterhound. She may well be the most beautiful and softest dog I have ever seen. All I can say is if there were a whole breed of Lucys, they would all be made into fur coats. Erica had the same thought.

It was hard not to cry as the car packed with fabulous girls made its way down the driveway, but Megan and I are hoping to drive up to Portland this summer.

Jarrett headed home in the early afternoon with a car full of clean clothes, but Paul stayed for a day or two, definitely helping that after Christmas let-down. He might also come back next week, so there’s still something to look forward to.

Aftermath

Maybe I always say this, but it was the best Christmas ever!

I spent the morning making cheese biscuits:

And salad dressing, in the majolica jug to the right of Grammie’s silver:

Later, the cheese biscuits were in the Wedgwood biscuit barrel and the salad in the Wedgwood bowl with matching serving tongs. It was so nice to use them! Also on the table are my American grandmother’s, Nana’s, wine glasses. So both sides of the family were represented.

And setting out the Christmas crackers:

The morning clouds gave way to sun, so Megan and I brought the yellow Adirondack chairs and the wooden outside table out of winter storage. It occurred to me that we could use the metal stove I burn paper in as a warmation device, so we hauled that over to the chairs and collected some wood. This worked out great, and really helped with the seating issues, since some people sat outside by the fire and some hung out inside.

Paul was the first to arrive, followed by Erica and Jessica. Jessica has gotten so tall! She is now up to my chin. She gave us presents she had made herself. Megan’s came with a really sweet note:

[Dear Megan, I miss you a lot! My mom and I are basically living in Beezus and Ramona land! I love you lots and lots! See you at Christmas! Love, Jessica K.]

By the time Jarrett arrived, it was time for presents and stockings. Jessica’s present from Santa was discovered on my front porch. Here you see her opening it:

It was a digital microscope. Apparently you can hook it up to your computer.

Jonathan made the glaze for the ham from maple syrup, bourbon, apple cider, and a secret blend of spices. The ham was glazed and smoked over apple wood we cut that morning. It was magically delicious. With it, we had garlic mashed potatoes, cheese biscuits, and a salad. The salad had endive, frisee, and other bitter greens, along with roasted Bosc pears and fresh pomegranate seeds, along with a dressing of olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and honey. It was a real hit, and the perfect balance for the richness of the other dishes.

Lichen appeared in time for dinner, bearing little bottles of tonic and a flask of Bombay Sapphire gin to mix it with. Jonathan’s friend Michaela brought cookies and a bottle of wine, which vanished almost immediately.

After dinner and before the pies (one cherry and one lemon), Jonathan read out loud to us, as is tradition. Jessica said she wanted to do the reading this year, so Jonathan proposed he read one page and Jessica read the next. But once he started reading and doing all the voices like Dad used to, she forgot all about it and listened raptly:

Surrounded by my family and friends, I realized that Dad is still with us as I listened to his son read aloud the way he used to. And I felt so lucky and so happy.

It really was the best Christmas ever.

Guarding the tree

You are all familiar with the limitations of my kitchenette. So you probably won’t be surprised that last night I went to bed thinking, “OK. If I start the pie crust while the parsnips are roasting, then I can prep the pears and…”

You probably won’t be surprised that I woke up around 4:00 and lay there thinking about it in the cold and dark, sneezing away (having allergies to things like dust and pollen and trees makes living in the country a little trying at times). I decided to get up and deal with it instead of fretting about it.

The cats watched with benign curiosity from their post beside the heater. I put the oven on, then peeled and cut up all the veggies to be roasted (parsnips, potatoes, leeks, onions, garlic) for tonight’s soup, our traditional parsnip vichyssoise. By the time they were ready to go, the oven was warm. Then I peeled and cut up pears and tossed them in olive oil, ready to be roasted for tomorrow night’s salad.

It was time to start on the lemon pie. It soon became obvious that I had overestimated my lemon requirements, so I’ll have to start thinking of ways to use them up. Hopefully I won’t be up before dawn making lemon curd or something like that.

After five or so hours of cooking, I was more or less done when the phone rang. It was Paul, saying that he was unexpectedly in San Francisco and wondered if he could come up for Christmas. So it will be full houses for Megan and me: Paul and Jarrett, Erica and Jessica. But it will be festive!

Rob’s truck was still waiting by the side of the road yesterday. I couldn’t help thinking that if this had happened in Oakhampton, there’d be nothing left but a graffitied, possibly burning hulk after 24 hours. Megan told me that while she was waiting for Rob to rescue her on Wednesday, about a dozen people stopped to ask if she needed help, including an off-duty firefighter and a bicyclist. Again, not the Oaktown experience. Anyway, the truck is back home where it belongs, ready for the next adventure.

As for John, I’m not sure where he is, though I hope it’s his brother’s place in Ottawa. I followed his flights online, as he asked me to (the idea being that if anything happens to him, I will go and collect his cats), and was dismayed to see that his flight to Philadelphia was nearly an hour and a half late, leaving him 15 minutes to catch the connecting flight to Ottawa. He only had carry on, but I’m not sure I’d take that bet.

I’ll let you know when I hear from him. John’s father Ed’s memorial service is tomorrow at 1:00 in the afternoon. Oddly, tomorrow is also the day John and I met, way back in the 1980s, and also the day his brother Mike married his wife Charmaine, even more years ago than that. Mike and Charmaine have been at Marj’s side ever since Ed died. I know I will be thinking of all of them tomorrow, and I hope you will, too.

As for me, I’m making a special guest appearance at the jobette today. We are having a holiday lunch, followed by a holiday party in the early evening for our Boards and other well-wishers, so I wanted to help set up, host, and clean up. It’s going to be a long day.

Some people believe that things like eclipses are omens. Maybe they are.

When I was being awed by the lunar eclipse and the shooting star on Saturday, my friend and former father-in-law, Ed, died suddenly. He was walking with his beloved wife to the car to do some shopping, laughing and talking, when he suddenly dropped dead. John says he doesn’t think his father knew what hit him.

I am profoundly saddened by his loss, more than I would have expected, considering I haven’t seen him for several years. Ed and Marj, his wife, were never anything but loving to me. To this day, I could call Marj and tell her I needed a place to stay or bail money and she’d pick me up with a hug and a smile.

A few years after John and I separated, Ed wrote this to me:

“Susan, you don’t ever have to worry about Marj and I not caring for you, you will always have a place in our hearts. Things happen to people and that is just a fact of life, you pick up the pieces and carry on and sooner or later you will find yourself looking forward to getting up in the morning with a smile on your face and peace in your heart. It takes time to have all these things heal, but it will happen, believe me.

Keep in touch and take care of yourself and write anytime you need a friend. Marj sends her love and so do I.”

It takes a pretty generous guy to love his youngest son’s ex-wife. But he was always a remarkably kind, loving, and humorous man. They don’t make ’em like Ed any more. He was a gentle man and a gentleman. I am thankful for his friendship and love, and I will always miss him and keep him in my heart.

Our friend Lichen doesn’t do Christmas. This is hardly surprising considering that he was brought up on a Mormon commune by parents who tried to “beat the gay out of him.” Also not surprisingly, they didn’t succeed.

But what is surprising is that Lichen had never seen “Sex & the City”, and Megan and I decided it was high time we remedied this shocking oversight.

Megan was the hostess with the mostes’, picking up two packets of blueberry pomegranate martini mix and making Dad’s famous honey-mustard chicken, rice and roasted asparagus with lemon caper sauce for dinner. My contribution was vodka for the martinis and pitchers to freeze them in. And my sparkling presence, of course.

Somewhat embarrassingly, I ran into Mark on my way back home, carrying a giant family-size (and bright blue) bottle of vodka at 2:00 in the afternoon. We mixed up the martinis the day before and let them freeze overnight into grown-up slushies.

The mix came with blueberry flavored sugar to go on the rims of the glasses. It kind of made the martinis more SweeTart-like, but we have a boatload of it left over. I’ll have to ask Erica for bright ideas on how to use it up. Sweetening huckleberry pie? Weird sugar cookies? Who knows?

Lichen cut our hair before we started imbibing the martinis, so we looked fabulous for Carrie and friends. Lichen liked the show and found it funny, but was also repelled by the late 90’s conspicuous consumption and shallowness. It reminded him of why he stopped being hairdresser to the stars in Beverly Hills.

It was a great evening, and I set off for home around 11:00, flashlight in hand. Before I had gone halfway down Megan’s driveway, I realized that I didn’t need it. The moon was flooding the path with silvery, magical light. I was charmed by walking home on moonbeams, though I had no idea of the amazing experience in store for me in just a few hours. It was enough to just be in the moment, after spending a wonderful evening with people I love.

Another thing I never told you about the Surgical Mystery Tour in San Francisco was that I lost my address book. I still have no idea where. But it’s gone.

As people often say in these situations, it was old and the time had come. But it had also been given to me by my father, who has been gone for ten years this month. A decade!

It was from the National Gallery in London, blue and patterned with Raphael’s drawings of clouds. It was held together by a rubber band at this point in its long life, and it was full of Post-Its and scribbles and dead people.

I delayed getting a new one, since I wouldn’t be able to write Dad’s name in it, or my stepmother’s, for that matter, and the thought made me sad. I guess it’s always hard to face the truth, or reality, or whatever you want to call the unpleasant facts of life. And I am an excellent procrastinator.

But the time has come, the Walrus said, for you to email me your addresses and phone numbers, so I can send you Christmas cards and random postcards, as inspired by the lovely and creative Lisa*. It’s sjpeakall AT gmail DOT com. Don’t forget the J!

To further complicate this address book revamp, I just got my own post office box last week. Sharing one with the sibs was getting too crowded, and stressing out our ever-crabby postmistress**. So I got my own, a bigger one, too, with a wet bar and a pool. And it’s even in the same neighborhood.

My new PO box is 128 instead of 61. Everything else is the same. Make a note, and try not to lose it!

*I use it for a bookmark, so it makes me smile every day.

**But we bonded during the PO box rental experience, because she had her dog there, which I recognized as a pit bull mix. We happily talked about what great dogs they are as I filled out the paperwork, and I told her that my sister does pit bull rescue and activism, so hopefully she’ll get some of the new and improved attitude, too!

On Saturday, we had a farewell barbecue for Erica and Jessica. I’ll have you know that saying goodbye to us was important enough to delay their departure. Despite living in the middle of nowhere – or on the edge of it – it was the only day that week that all three of us could get together. We are surprisingly busy despite living in obscurity*.

Or so we thought. Though we had the proceedings at our brother’s place, he ended up getting stuck at work and still hadn’t appeared by the time E & J drove off into the darkness. He only missed them by a few minutes and was really sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. Being a grown-up: not all it’s cracked up to be.**

Lu and L were there, though, and Lu brought her dogs, Marco and Harlow, who played with their friend Star. I was afraid it would be hard for L to see all the dogs bouncing around happily when dear Padawan is gone, but he was his usual sweet-spirited self. He is even talking about getting another dog, which is good.

I was sad to say goodbye. Even though they are now gracing Portland with their fabulousness, it doesn’t quite seem real to me. I held Jessica on my lap a lot that evening, talking as always, but also resting my cheek on her bright hair or holding her hand and thinking of how I wouldn’t see her grow up and how she won’t be part of my everyday life any more. It was hard not to cry as I hugged them goodbye.

But they’ve promised to come back for Christmas, and we’ve talked about Jessica coming for a couple of weeks next summer. Megan is already saying that it’s really only a ten hour drive, not twelve, and we could make it in one day…

*Another of life’s mysteries is how we all work all the time, but never have any money.

**Jessica observed that I’m “not a real grown-up. You’re more like…an old kid.”

Camera Face*

I was lucky enough to spend a little time with Jessica this week – while I was at the jobette.

That’s one of the many nice things about working there. Everyone is pretty relaxed, and they often bring their kids to work as part of the after school/activities chauffeuring so familiar to every parent. So it was no problem for Jessica to hang out with me while Erica had a date with her dentist.

Jessica looked like a little princess and was carrying her current book, “A Little Princess”. We talked about that for a while, and I told her how I’d just read “The Wilder Life”, about a woman who went in search of the locations in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House” books. Jessica said “You’re just too fabulous to be a prairie girl”, which made me laugh. I had to agree that I wouldn’t be very good at the hog slaughtering, wagon training aspects of Laura’s life.

And then there’s the complaining.

Jessica was very excited about her upcoming move. Sadly for the fabulous factor of Hooterville and environs, Erica and Jessica are decamping to Portland, Oregon, where Jessica will attend one of the best schools in town, a mere three blocks from their house. Also there’s a Trader Joe’s about a mile away, a Lush store, and Jessica recommends the walnut prawns at Powell’s Seafood restaurant.

They are planning to leave next week, but Jessica says they still have a lot of packing and throwing out to do. “It’s stressful,” she said. Then she whispered behind her hand, “And my mama is not the best stress handler!” I’m not, either.

The time flew by, and suddenly Erica was there to pick Jessica up. We’ll see them tomorrow at their ~sob~ farewell dinner at my brother’s place. I wish Portland wasn’t a twelve hour drive away!

*Jessica said her mother doesn’t like her to do the “camera face” too much. When I asked her what it was, she demonstrated and then collapsed into giggles.

Rob is recovering well from his scary surgery. The hole cut into his throat so they could rummage around in his spine has completely healed, though he still has to wear the giant collar at all times and is not allowed to drive or do much of anything, which is driving him crazy. He has done little things, like mending the case of my grandparents’ fish set (the velvet piece holding up the serving pieces had come unglued), but you can tell he’s dying to actually do something.

I’m not sure how much he will actually be able to/allowed to do after he gets the all-clear from the surgeon sometime in September, though. I guess we’ll see. As I write I’m waiting for him to come over so I can drive him and Star to my brother’s place for a walk.

Speaking of walking…A has finally been released from rehab! She was staying there during the week and allowed home on weekends. When she finally came home for good, her husband C had filled the house with flowers and they had a huge party.

A still has no feeling in her feet and her ankles don’t really work. She says that if anyone pushed her chest, she’d fall right over. She is walking with the help of canes, but has plans to attend a family reunion later this month and the wedding of a friend in Albania in September.

She started back to work part-time this week, for the first time this YEAR. She has been in the hospital or rehab center for more than six months. Incredible.

Fortunately, there is a government-funded program that allows disabled people to take a free taxi to work and back. There’s no way A could take public transit in London in the shape she’s in. Apart from the balance/walking issues, she tires very easily. I think her body is recovering from its long ordeal and it will take a while before she feels like her former self again.

Although it didn’t happen to me – just like Rob’s surgery – both events affected me deeply. I still feel grateful every day that I can walk and breathe.

To continue our family timepiece theme, here’s a clock my brother made with nixie tubes and framed. It’s at the foot of his bed. I asked him if it had an alarm, but he said no. He added that he didn’t need one, which seems to be a family trait. I think I’ve been woken up by my alarm clock once since I started the jobette, nearly five months ago.

I noticed the clock while Megan and I were over there on Saturday. Dave and Jennifer, the co-owners of the property, were visiting from their home in distant Grass Valley. Megan catered dinner, making chicken tikka masala, brown rice, grill bread, cucumber salad, and an apple pie. Due to work, my involvement was limited to putting the marinated chicken on skewers (and later, on the barbecue) and holding the pie while we drove over there. Oh, and eating.

It was delicious, and it was nice to sit by the fire and catch up with Dave and Jennifer as the sun began to drop toward the ocean. Hopefully they will be back soon for another visit.

Jessica at dinner

Megan and I overcame severe attacks of The Sloths to meet up with Erica and Jessica yesterday evening in beautiful downtown Philo:

to have dinner at the always-delicious Libby’s:

Partly because Erica’s birthday is one day after mine (and ten days after Megan’s), and partly because Erica and Jessica are setting off on a great summer adventure in just a few days. After we hugged hello, Jessica noticed the scratch that Roscoe inflicted on my upper lip the night before. She said, “At first I thought you made a mistake with your lipstick. But I know you better than that.”

In preparation for the trip, Erica bought a van from our friend Lu. I’ve never seen inside it, but Lu, her boyfriend Rik, and Megan used to take it when they worked as medics at a reggae festival. It has a kitchenette and two beds and is supposed to be quite comfortable. Maybe it’s more of a mini-RV than a van. My knowledge of motor vehicles is pretty limited, and I like it that way.

The intrepid twosome is heading north, with stops in Portland and Seattle, maybe even venturing as far as exotic Vancouver*. When we asked Jessica what she was looking forward to the most, she exclaimed, “Science museums!”, bouncing in her chair with excitement. Later, she confided to me that “the scientific gears in my brain are always turning”. The imaginative one, she explained, holding her hands a few inches apart, was much bigger, but didn’t move as much.

She has just read the first Harry Potter book. She said that she hadn’t wanted to read it because of all the fuss about it. She “didn’t like it at first, but then I loved it!” From there, it was on to the joys of Calvin and Hobbes. I asked Jessica if she thought Hobbes was real. She thought about it, and then said “I think he’s real, but he turns into a stuffed tiger when people who don’t understand are there.”

Talk of the transmogrifier and duplicator in C&H led (naturally) to talk of time machines. I asked Jessica where she’d go if she had one, and she immediately replied, “I’d go and warn the Incas about the Spanish. Then I’d go and visit Laura Ingalls Wilder.”

Sometimes I have to remind myself that she just turned eight.

*J fans everywhere, rejoice! Jessica is going to start a blog while she’s on the road!

Birthday cupcakes!

Rainy birthday to me! Again!

Megan and I braved the rain on my birthday eve to meander some errands. I am pleased to report that Scarlett, my slightly battered but unbowed red car, behaved just fine. Thanks once again to the boys!

We started out at the farmers’ market, where we got cherries and peaches as well as multi-grain bread and a bag of mixed lettuce. Next, Dr. Karen’s office, for Schatzi’s pain meds and oh so expensive Advantage for my cats. Then we picked up a mocha Megan-style (extra espresso) and poked around the seaside bookstore. I finally used part of a gift certificate I got for my birthday last year, buying An Invitation to Indian Cooking and a set of stationery. The fabulous and talented Lisa really inspired me to start sending real mail and postcards. Thanks, Lisa!

Then we were off to Charlottesville for the less enjoyable errands: groceries, human and pet, banking, etc. We had a little extra time before we were to meet Lu, Monica, and Crissy for Girls’ Night Out, so we stopped in at My Beautiful Nails and got our nails all beautiful. Since it was my birthday eve, and therefore a special occasion, I went crazy and got dark red nails instead of my usual pale ones:

I feel like a femme fatale from a noir movie. Megan got a French manicure with a little flower on each thumb, complete with teeny pink glitter centers. Wow. I’ll have to take a picture for you when I see her later today.

Freshly fabulous, we met up with the girls at the Wharf. Monica, being Monica, brought the cupcakes you see above, along with the cake stand. Only Monica! Or maybe Martha Stewart. She also gifted us with cards full of wildflower seeds (to be planted later), a drawing each from her talented husband Joe (you may remember him from my new carpet delivery last year), and a set of ready-made mini-cocktails apiece.

Monica and Lu also have June birthdays, so we’re thinking of having a Girls’ Night In at Lu’s place later this month, where we all sleep over and have drinks and giggle. As Lu said, “No driving, no dogs, and no boys!” It should be a blast.

Our bees

Last week was busy, but between the job, the jobette, and a couple of writing gigs, I still managed to have some fun.

Megan and I attended a meeting of local beekeepers at the library one evening. The group meets once a month, though this was my first time, and they had a guest speaker, the well-known beekeeper Serge Labesque. It was a pleasure to listen to him and learn, as well as ask questions. It was two hours well spent.

From what Serge said, I’m guessing that we should divide our hive soon, or the bees will do it themselves. There’s been a lot of activity in the hive and there are definitely a lot more bees than there were last winter. I’m glad they made it through the winter and that we chose not to treat them for mites, especially after learning from Serge that the bees groom each other to get rid of them.

On Friday, Megan and I met Monica at the Wharf for drinks* and dinner. Here’s my delicious pomegranate margarita:

And the view from the table:

Between Monica growing up here and Megan being on the ambulance for so long and now working at the hospital, a lot of people they knew came in and there was a fair bit of table-hopping and catching up as the sun began to dip low over the ocean.

As we drove down the Ridge, the trees were suffused in a rosy glow, and I realized that living here has made me see the beauty in spider webs, plants making their tentative way through the earth, and other humble, every day miracles.

This week looks to be busy, too, with deadlines looming as well as a trip to the city. I’m leaving after work tomorrow and staying until Friday. So the next time you hear from me should be from the dreaming spires of San Francisco instead of the sleepy woods of Hooterville.

*Whenever we go on a girls’ night out (and when we went to see the SATC movie sequel), I always wear my mother’s bracelets, so she can be there, too.

Meet Jasper! I met Jasper and his steadfast guardian Rebecca last weekend. Megan and Monica have added community outreach to their regular rescue activities. Rebecca needed some help getting Jasper neutered. He has a heart murmur, so anesthetizing him for the surgery is complicated and expensive, and Rebecca can’t afford it on her own. In fact, Rebecca was unable to find a landlord in this county who would rent to her, because Jasper is a pit bull, so she actually lived in her car with him. She even approached a homeless shelter, but they wouldn’t let Jasper in the shelter and they wouldn’t allow her to park the car out front with him in it. This kind of discrimination continues to shock me, no matter how often I hear it.

I am so impressed with her love and dedication to her dog. I bet most people would have taken Jasper to the homeless pet shelter without a second thought. But not Rebecca.

She turned to Daisy Davis for help, and Megan and Monica located a vet willing to work with them on cost. It turns out that Jasper also has an allergic rash on his belly, so they also bought antibiotics for him. He can’t have the surgery until the rash clears up. But all’s well that ends well: Rebecca found a place that would accept both her and Jasper in a neighboring county, and Jasper should be able to have his surgery in the next couple of weeks.

Monica runs her own business – she has done so successfully for many years – is married, and has several dogs, in addition to founding and running Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue. Megan, as you know, works her long night shifts, celebrates her 20th wedding anniversary this summer, has her two dogs and two cats to take care of, and she and Rob both work on the property whenever they can. Yet these two women find the time not only to rescue and love dogs in need, but to reach out to our little community and help where they can. I am so proud of these two, and am so lucky to know them.

They are an inspiration.

Star meets Padawan, June 2010

Yesterday morning, I saw Schatzi go tearing past my house. Alarmed, yet impressed with her speed given her state of decrepitude, I hurried outside to make sure she was OK. Calling her is pointless at this point, yet I persist in doing it. I clapped my hands a few times and Star came bounding up, but no Schatz.

I accompanied Star back to her rightful residence, despite the fact that I was wearing PJs and slippers and the driveway was full of puddles. Somehow, the speeding Schatzi had beaten me there.

Megan was still up. And something was up. I guess a speeding dog can be an omen, just like a shooting star or a meteor.

When L cut our hair a couple of weeks ago, Megan thought his dog, Padawan, looked pretty bad. She was having trouble walking, and was panting, though it wasn’t hot. She persuaded L to take Padawan to the vet. It was nice Dr. Carl, and he had to tell L that Padawan had cancer in her leg. She is an 11 year old Rottweiler, and even if her leg was amputated, the cancer had spread, and was a particularly nasty and fast-moving one.

It moved faster than we expected. L asked Megan to call Dr. Karen and make arrangements. She waited until it was late enough to call – keep in mind that she had just come home from her 12 hour night shift – and got an appointment for 4:30. She relayed this to L, who said it would have to be sooner. So we settled on 11:00.

Megan took L and Padawan to the vet. Poor Pad yelped on the way there – it was definitely time. Dr. Karen came out to the car, parked beside the garden at the back of her office, and released Padawan from all that pain and suffering. She was very kind and gentle.

When it was over, Megan called Jonathan and me, and we met them at L’s house. The EMS workers efficiently and lovingly transferred Pad’s body to a wheelbarrow for her last journey. Jonathan took charge and I carried the tools. We made our way down the steep path to the spot L had chosen, overlooking his house, bowered in ancient trees.

It was hard work, but as I thought when we laid little Henry to rest this same time last year, it is somehow therapeutic to do this last thing with your own hands for a loved one. Padawan rested in the spring sunshine as we worked. We all bade her a final farewell as the birds sang and the water rushed by far below.

L asked to be left alone, and we all hugged him goodbye. It was hard to leave him there, but I know he is not really alone, and neither is Padawan. They will always be together.

Clyde and Audrey take a nap

Cats find the funniest places to nap. This is behind my bed in the sleeping loft. As you can see, part of the curved wall is made of corrugated plastic, which makes it warm for napping kitties, but makes rain noisier and is, as you can see, almost impossible to clean. Sometimes it’s so obvious that this house was built by and for a boy.

Clyde has been limping for the past couple of days. I’ve tried to keep him in more often, but it seems really mean to keep a 10 month old kitten in the house on a beautiful spring day, especially when his brother frolics around in plain sight through the sliding glass door.

Megan checked out both his front legs and paws – it seems to be the left front that’s the problem – and couldn’t detect any signs of breakage or injury. He didn’t cry out or anything, so we think he may have fallen out of a tree and landed awkwardly, or something like that. I’m keeping an eye on him, and he seems to be slowly improving.

Also slowly improving is A! She is now in a regular hospital ward, sharing her space with a 38 year old methadone addict with cirrhosis of the liver and a kid in jail and an ancient lady whose only means of communication is howling like a banshee. I imagine A has to keep reminding herself that this is better than Intensive Care, where she spent so many weeks.

I have been calling her once a week now, in addition to my regular silly emails which C prints out and brings her. I can’t tell you how wonderful it was to hear her voice. She still has no feeling in her hands and feet, and is learning to walk again with the help of physiotherapists and a walker. She is hoping to be moved to a rehab facility soon. Apparently, it’s like applying to college, with your first, second, and third choices, hoping that the one you really want will accept you. The one she wants is near Sylvia Plath’s final home, though we shouldn’t take that as an omen.

A says she is covered in scars from the tracheotomy, dialysis and so on, and that she bruises very easily now. It seems that spending three months in the hospital is not a beauty treatment. Also, she has lost huge amounts of time. She doesn’t remember anything at all from C calling the ambulance on January 7 to waking up in the hospital around the middle of March. Nothing. Medical comas will do that to you.

She’s in remarkably good spirits, though, and determined to get back to work this summer, maybe working from home starting in June, half a year after her ordeal began. I can still hardly believe it, and she feels the same way. I am so thankful she is alive and has no brain damage. I need to save up my pennies and get over there and hug her!

Well, break out the champagne and cue up the noisemakers: A is finally out of Intensive Care!

After two months!

She’s now in what they call the Highly Dependent Unit, which would sound scary if she hadn’t been in the ICU for so long. Anything sounds good after that.

Apparently she still has the tracheotomy tube, but they’ve put on some kind of speaking attachment. C said that yesterday he heard her voice for the first time in eight weeks. Yesterday was a busy day for C: he picked up A’s mother at Heathrow and received news that his own mother had surgery for a cancerous tumor, though the prognosis was good. He must be beyond exhausted. If A ever gets out of there, Dr. Suzy prescribes a couple of weeks of lying on a beach somewhere.

She is having physiotherapy to help her learn to sit, stand, etc. again. After two months of inactivity, her muscles have atrophied. She still has a long way to go, but I think we can safely say she is out of the woods now.

Hoopla! as C would say.