Suzy Says

Despite having no maternal instincts whatsover, I seem to have been baby-sitting a lot lately.

On Friday, I looked after Star for about half the day, giving me time to get work out of the way before settling in to watch “Love Story”. Star and I agreed on how romantic the snow looked, not to mention how cute Ali MacGraw’s hat was, and wondered why they never put the top up on their convertible, even when it snowed. When I had one, I have to admit that I had the top down unless it was actually raining, but I would have drawn the line at snow.

When Rob came home, we all sat in the garden for a while and chatted in the sun before I headed home. If you’re wondering where Megan was, she was called in to work during the day on Friday. When I expressed dismay at her working so soon after finishing her 36 hours of night shifts on Thursday morning, she said it was “only for eight hours”.

Only?

On Saturday, Erica was working at a wedding, so Jessica came for a visit.

She was charmed by the balcony, and kept asking to go up there, despite the fact that there’s nothing on it. Jessica recommends that I get some lounge chairs and an umbrella for next summer, and if I can get Mark to move the wire that’s about a foot off the floor of the balcony, I just might follow her advice. We’ll have a stunning view of James’ junk collection from that vantage point.

We went to see if Mark’s daughters were home, but it turned out the entire family had decamped to the beach, so we played for a while on their playground, swinging on the swing, jumping on the trampoline, and giving Jessica rides on the tire swing zipline.

Back at my house, Jessica looked through my nail polish collection and selected my new favorite, Calypso (“it looks so good with my skin tone!”) and confided her ambition of being a spa scientist when she grows up.

Megan dropped by to say hello, and we all picked huckleberries, which reminded us of how much we all loved “Blueberries for Sal” and how at one point, it was the only book Jessica would have us read to her. I told Jessica that I learned how to read so I could read stories when Dad wasn’t around, but I always hid the books so he couldn’t catch me reading. In case he wouldn’t read to me anymore if he knew I could read by myself. As it happened, he read to me for the rest of his life.

We made muffins from the huckleberries, and in my responsible fashion, I let Jessica eat so many that she was pretty uninterested in dinner. I was concerned about this, and Jessica observed that “You’re the worrier in the family.” Even seven year olds can tell. Later, she asked me for a glass of milk, and I asked her about six times if she really meant it, the idea of voluntarily drinking milk being such a foreign (and disgusting) one.

We watched both Stuart Little movies, and found them charming. I’m sorry to report that Jessica was wide awake when her mother came to collect her sometime after 11:00. Jessica told her mother that it seemed like she was only at my house for seconds, words to gladden any baby-sitter’s heart.

First day at school!*

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

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

*Photo by Erica!

Bookends

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

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

Yeah.

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

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

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

Our spokesmodel is sporting a pink and white toile hat with wired brim made by her mother

Jessica stopped by Megan’s house of gimpiness yesterday (of the house’s residents, only Ramona the cat and Star the foster dog are not sidelined by some kind of injury) to bring a little sunshine and cuteness to our lives.

She’s getting taller – now “higher than my heart” – and is about the easiest kid to deal with you could ever imagine. She amused herself most of the time, picking blueberries and strawberries from the garden, reading, and playing a Mom-approved computer game with the greatest focus:

Of course, she did this while wearing a head ornament, “because it’s pretty”, which is always a good reason. She also patiently explained the game to me, possibly the only person in the entire US of A who has never played a computer game or X-Box or anything like that.

While Jessica was busy killing zombies, I was preoccupied with making yet another unnecessarily elaborate dinner dish: Poulet au Beaujolais. I used to make it for my Dad, and once I started the lengthy process, I suddenly remembered why I hadn’t made it in ten years. It might be another ten before I make it again. French food is not for the lazy Susan.

While making it, I tried an alternate method of removing the skin from pearl onions. Instead of peeling them raw, I blanched them. This did make it easier, but a couple of layers of onion went along with the skin, so I think that when I make it again in 2020, I’ll just peel them the usual way.

Jessica is over her dislike of onions. I always found it funny that she didn’t like them, since she’d eat (and critique) anything from oysters to lamb tagine to eel sushi. I used to tell her I’d make her onion sandwiches for lunch and she’d run around yelling “No!” Now she’s decided they’re OK, as long as they’re cooked and there aren’t too many of them. But I didn’t make her peel the pearl onions or eat an onion sandwich. I’m not (quite) that mean, no matter what they say.

Elizabeth Taylor wearing the diamond and ruby suite I admired at the Cartier exhibit last year

I seem to be an unintentional Elizabeth Taylor fan.

Last year, I read the extremely enjoyable “How to Be a Movie Star: Elizabeth Taylor in Hollywood”. Recently, I devoured the gorgeous “My Life in Jewelry” by La Taylor (one of the Suzy-est things ever), and waiting for me at the library – if I can ever get there when it’s actually open – is “Furious Love: Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, and the Marriage of the Century”. I read about in the latest Vanity Fair and it sounds like a fun read.

Yesterday, Megan and I immersed ourselves in the spectacle of “Cleopatra”, merrily commenting on the costumes, sets, and make-up, comparing the events* to the Memoirs of Cleopatra and sighing over Liz’s beauty.

Today, we have a special guest star of our own. Jessica is making a cameo appearance while her mother visits the dentist. I think I know which of us is going to have more fun today!

*Was Mark Antony really such a loser?

Yesterday was a fabulous girl extravaganza!

Erica called and said that she and Jessica were looking at a house about three miles down the road from my place, so they’d stop by and say hello afterwards. The house won’t actually be available to look at until next week, but they had a look at the outside and grounds, and it looks good so far. I would so love it if they were my neighbors! And it will be nice for Erica to have lots of help on hand if needed, instead of being all alone on top of the mountain where she lives now, with an hour’s drive to the nearest store.

They brought birthday gifts for Megan, including a mug which reads “My dog isn’t spoiled. I’m just very well trained” or something like that. So true! We sat in Megan’s garden in the welcome sun, looking like a huge Clorox stain against the greenery. I don’t know which of us is is the palest. Jessica sat on Megan’s lap and we made plans to go to the Big Fun Fair together next weekend. It’s Jessica’s favorite day of the year.

We’re still working on the June-a-palooza to celebrate my birthday, Lu’s, Erica’s, and Monica’s. Maybe a bonfire at Lu’s with a dessert buffet by Erica…

Yesterday afternoon, the West Coast SJP dusted off her diamonds and dove into some MAC for the first time in a while. Megan and I met up with Lu and Monica at the local movie theater to see the greatly-anticipated Sex & the City 2. We had feared a line, but instead we were the first ones there, and the entire audience consisted of maybe fifteen giggling girls (including us – four friends watching four friends).

We all enjoyed it tremendously. Everything that reviewers have objected to were the very things I loved about it: the clothes, the shoes, the fairytale location in Abu Dhabi, the pure escapism and beauty. Yes, I sighed over Carrie’s closet (and regretted that she and Big let that fabulous Fifth Avenue penthouse go in the last movie) and Charlotte’s matched set of Louis Vuitton luggage. I’m glad the ugliness of the recession and the drabness of everyday life hasn’t touched our glittering girls. Sue me. It was bad enough being returned to reality after two hours.

My only complaints were that there wasn’t enough Jason Lewis, who plays the swooningly handsome Smith Jarod, and there was too much Liza Minnelli (any Liza Minnelli is too much Liza Minnelli). Oh, and I could have lived without the karaoke scene. Other than that? Escapism at its best.

After the movie, we repaired to Silver’s at the Wharf in Noyo Harbor. Megan and I figured we hadn’t been there since Mom was alive (then remarked on how our parents’ existence or otherwise is now such a milestone in our lives). Lu, who is also an EMT, said the last time she was there was responding to a call for a patron with a heart attack. She said that the rest of the diners watched like it was a floor show as the EMTs worked on him. I wondered aloud what the correct etiquette is in such a situation. Ignore it? Watch and eat? Just watch, but don’t eat? Where’s Miss Manners when we need her?

The sun was slipping into the Pacific as I sipped my mojito and nibbled my award-winning crab cakes. I also kicked myself under the table for not bringing my camera so you could see it, too. We ate and laughed and talked until we were the last table standing – well, sitting. We all agreed that we must do this again, and soon. There’s nothing like spending time with the girls.

It’s 4:30 in the morning.

Do you know where your Suzy is?

Sitting by the heater with the radio on, blogging and wondering if the rain is ever going to stop. Not when, if. I passed when sometime in March. It’s not supposed to be raining this time of year, and we’ve had nearly 50 inches so far. Enough already. Is there some way to evict the weather and send it where it belongs? Say, Seattle or London? There are lots of destinations more exciting than Hooterville, my little low pressure system. Surely you’ve seen all the sights here by now.

I woke up about an hour ago and lay there for a while, listening to the rain slash the roof/walls and the wind howl through the trees, thinking how you’re supposed to find it all soothing and ponder the beauties of nature. But it makes me think unromantically about trees coming down and the power going out. Just the thought of the cold, dark boredom was enough to get me out of bed, especially since my brother had to repo the generator when his blew up. Might as well enjoy the warmth and light while I can.

We did have a break from the rain this weekend to celebrate Miss Jessica’s birthday en famille. I was once again the hostess with the leastest. Erica turned up with lasagna and a three layer cake. Not to mention decorations, a string of paper fairies wearing tulle skirts, which we fastened across the sliding glass doors. My brother turned up with little buns sporting chocolate icing faces. At least I had a present for Jessica, though (as usual) it was totally trumped by my sister’s.

Mark and his family came by for cake – Jessica loves playing with his daughters – and we all sang “Happy birthday” to her. I can’t believe she’s seven years old!

I woke up around 5:00 this morning. I tried to get back to sleep, but going back to sleep is not one of my fortes, so I decided to embrace the inevitable and just get up.

June and I came downstairs together, me in two sweaters and June in her always elegant (and not politically incorrect) fur coat, to find the heater already on, trying to keep the room at 52 degrees. As I write, June is sleeping on top of the heater and Audrey is still outside, getting into trouble somewhere. I turned the heater up and checked the temperature outside. It was 35 degrees and there is a frost warning until 9:00 this morning. Apparently, I put my orchid back outside a little soon.

It is April 15, isn’t it? The most important day of the year? I have a feeling I’m not the only one around here who was up early this morning.

Today, Miss Jessica turns seven, though you’d be forgiven for thinking she was about 30 if you went only by what I’ve written about her. It’s rare for a child to be precocious without being annoying, but she is a rare person. To celebrate this special occasion, she and her mother are going to San Francisco, where they will visit Lush and the Exploratorium and other cultural attractions before going out to dinner and spending the night at Jessica’s favorite hotel.

She’s a girl after my own heart.

Jessica takes afternoon tea

On Friday night, I put Megan’s laundry in the dryer and folded the clothes when they were ready, putting the basket in my living room. I figured it was the least I could do for my busy sister. She reclaimed her laundry early in the morning while I was still sleeping, removing a dead mole from the doorstep on her way.

I guess that makes us even.

Erica and Jessica came by and picked me up on Saturday afternoon. Jessica was dressed as Alice in Wonderland, which was only appropriate, since we were attending the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party at the historic Mendocino Hotel. I was surprised and pleased to find Megan waiting for us – I thought she was still teaching her class.

Meg and Erica headed off to the yarn store to buy knitting needles, while Jessica and I repaired to the Garden Room. There we selected tea cups from a selection of vintage cups, filled them with chamomile tea, and then filled a plate with heart-shaped cookies reading “Eat Me”, chocolate-covered strawberries, and cupcakes.

Jessica had her face painted (a little heart on her cheek) and we entered a raffle for a free ticket to the local production of “Alice In Wonderland” at the same theater where we saw the magic show. By the time the Storyteller started reading us the chapter with the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, I began to wonder where Megan and Erica were.

“It’s taking your Mama a long time to buy knitting needles,” I observed to Jessica.

“She’s probably distracted by gorgeous yarn, and now she’s debating whether to buy it or not,” she answered.

A few minutes later, Megan and Erica turned up. Erica was holding a bag containing not only knitting needles, but, yes, two skeins of gorgeous yarn. I told Erica about her daughter’s comment, and she said “Does my kid know me, or what?”

In the meantime, the Queen of Everything was drawing the winning ticket. Jessica won! She jumped up and down, saying “I’ve never won a raffle before!”

This drew the attention of a girl of about Jessica’s age.

“Remember me?”

“Are you Lily?”

“Yes!!”

The two girls hugged each other while simultaneously jumping up and down. They caught up for a few minutes, and then Jessica returned to us, saying happily, “It’s so nice to catch up with old friends.”

As you know, I’m getting pretty tired of being the cat doorman. Well, Audrey’s doorman, especially several times in the middle of the night. As a family, we tend to sleep poorly, so being woken up multiple times by the Audrometer in addition has led to chronic sleepiness for me. Last night, I decided to leave the balcony door slightly ajar, so Audrey could come or go as she liked. I expected to find the door blasted open in the middle of the night, but no. And it was great to get a real night’s sleep, such as it was. I imagine parents feel the same way when their baby finally sleeps through the night.

In other cat news, my brother has adopted a young black and white male named Jinx. He used to have two adorable tuxedo brothers named Thing One and Thing Two, but they disappeared (in order, actually). After One disappeared, he adopted Twilley, a handsome tabby who agrees with Audrey about the importance of hunting at all times. Twilley and Two spent a lot of time together until Two also vanished. Twilley has been very lonely, especially when Jonathan works overnight, so getting a companion seemed like a good idea.

Jinx was quiet all the way from the animal shelter to Jonathan’s place. Released from his box, he went crazy, racing back and forth in the (very) limited confines of the trailer, leaping up on the counters, spraying pots and pans everywhere. I just called to check on him and he is now hiding in the shower while my brother attempts to restore order to his domain. Twilley is bemused. Keeping them inside for the prescribed two weeks is going to be…interesting.

By the way: I forgot to mention that I finally remembered to bring Jessica her nicely wrapped Christmas present (either really late or really early – you decide) on Sunday. She was so impressed with the wrapping that she was reluctant to open it, probably a first for both of us. As soon as she took off the snowflake pin, she put it on her coat (and later, when it warmed up at the fair and she took her coat off, she put it on her t-shirt). I’m glad I was momentarily mature enough to give it to her instead of keeping it. The light-up snowman pen was a big hit, too. She used it to write down all our cell phone numbers and put them in her pocket in case we got separated at the fair. This was her idea. What else would you expect from a six year old who reads at an advanced sixth grade level?

*If I had been old enough to have my own place in the 1970s, I would have had an “etc” sign on the wall, just like Rhoda. I loved her apartment on the first couple of seasons of “Rhoda”. The terrace alone! I also loved MTM’s little studio apartment. I love mentally redecorating both of them when I watch those shows, too.

Orange trees at the fair. Note the blue sky!

Yesterday was a girls’ day out. At the 118th annual Citrus Fair!

Megan and I went to meet Lu in beautiful downtown Hooterville. While waiting for Lu, someone called out from her car, “Hey, Megan! I was never so glad to see you in my life as I was at that call!” It was the official paramedic from the call where Megan and Lu unofficially helped a week earlier.

We were getting a little cold waiting for Lu and reading the signs posted on the store’s bulletin board (do I really need a free, 14 year old ostrich who “like room to run”?), so we went in and chatted with the cashier. She regaled us with stories of shoplifters past, including a drunk guy who used to hide wine in his pants, deny it, and then get busted when the bottles fell out of the pants legs onto the floor.

Lu pulled up as we mused on how stupid you’d have to be to steal at the only store in town, and the only store for several miles, and we piled in.

In Boonville, we stopped off to pick up Jessica, who was anxiously awaiting our arrival. Erica was, too, because she had 200 pastries to make that day, and making 200 pastries is a lot easier when you don’t have to brat-bash, as my father would say. I traded her a “New Yorker” with an article on Neil Gaiman for her only child, and we both thought we got a pretty good deal.

Big news: Jessica is no longer subject to the indignity of the car seat! And she is tall enough to ride that ride.

Arriving at the fair, Jessica and I were thrilled by the sight of the Citrus Fair Queen in her red cape and sparkly tiara. We waved, and the Queen waved back very regally for a high school student. Jessica said that she thought she could be a Citrus Fair Queen one of these days, and I bet she could.

Even more exciting than the Queen sighting for Miss Jess were the rides, the more dizzying, the better.

All the grownups were either too scared (Me) or nauseous (everyone else) to accompany the kidlet on the rides. After all, I am the same girl who was horrified by the Ferris wheel at the Florida State Fair a few years ago. Though we did make sure that she was tall enough (she actually exceeded the height requirements) and that there were sufficient safety mechanisms in place. Then we just watched her be delighted. That girl is fearless.

She also caught a couple of toy fish, winning prizes, and wound up the ride experience with a relatively tame carousel ride (I tried not to think about that scene from “Strangers on a Train”, especially since they were playing the same song).

After that, it was time for a BBQ lunch with garlic fries while being serenaded by a mariachi band. Sitting at the picnic table in the sun, I said that I was actually afraid of getting a sunburn. Megan had a sunblock stick in her bag, and we all put some on. It was wonderful to bask in the sun and blue skies, which never did make it to Hooterville that day.

After lunch, we visited the pygmy goats, including twin babies:

We also petted the world’s softest rabbit. He felt like suede.

Megan and I went to a talk on beekeeping from a gentleman who has been a beekeeper for more than 60 years (his father was a life-long beekeeper, and so is his daughter, who gives classes we’re hoping to attend this spring). Among the many things we learned was that in the 1950s, the US exported 60% of its honey. Now it imports 60%. Also that most beekeepers are now 65 or older, so that just strengthened our commitment to truly learning this difficult art.

There was just enough time to watch Scotty and Trink juggle knives – and fire – on unicycles:

all while making the audience laugh.

It was a great day.

When we left Erica and Jessica, Jessica called after us: “Goodbye, enourage!”

Dazzled with glittery splendidness, I headed to 19th Avenue to start the trip home.

As I sped through the retro tunnel on Park Presidio, I tried (and failed) to remember the last time I had approached the Golden Gate Bridge this way. It was fun to take a different route, though it was sad to bid farewell to the beautiful city, gleaming in the pale, watery winter sunshine.

I have to say that it is so much easier and faster to go from Hooterville to San Francisco than it is to Oakland. Going to the East Bay adds anything from half an hour to an hour to the trip. And it’s much less scenic.

I stopped off in Boonville to give Erica and Jessica their long-delayed Christmas stockings and presents. Being Me, I managed forget my own gift for Jessica. Yes, the one I finally did a good wrapping job on. But she hardly noticed in the blizzard of gifts from Megan and Rob, Jonathan, and Lu. I noticed that she opened each one, spent some time looking at it and showing it to her friends who happened to be on hand, and then went on to the next one.

She also asked her mother if she could have a chocolate coin from her stocking, and then shared the remainder with her friends.

Their schedules are so hectic these days that it’s hard for them to visit. Meg and I are planning on going to get Jessica and keep her for a weekend soon.

Hugged and kissed, I went on my way. I noticed that it was not yet dark at 5:00, and that there were daffodils in the grass by the side of the road. The river had definitely receded.

When I got home, I was disappointed at the lack of greeting committee. Henry Etta didn’t bother getting up, and June and Audrey were nowhere to be seen (they didn’t reappear until 10:00 that night). I called Meg to tell her I was home, and of course her greeting and Rob’s made up for the cats’ lack thereof. Humans: picking up cat slack for thousands of years and counting!

We all enjoyed the extreme pizza delivery extremely. I think I’ll try and do that every time I go to the city.

My sister’s tree

Christmas Day dawned bright and sunny. I know, because Audrey woke me up so I could see for myself.

The first order of business was taking Schatzi for a walk. We went over to our brother’s place, checked on the bees, and let Schatzi run and roam to her heart’s content. It was warm enough that Megan and I took off our sweaters, enjoying the sun on our skin. When it was time to leave, Schatzi was nowhere to be seen. We called her and Megan whistled loud enough to summon a New York taxi, but no dog. Megan was ready to leave without her, but I freaked out, so we gave it one more try. She finally showed up then, covered with mud. Including her nose.

Merry Christmas!

After that, it was time to start on the feast, which somehow took up most of the rest of the day. Rob pruned an apple tree so he had wood to smoke the ham, which was basted for hours with maple-bourbon glaze invented years ago by our brother, a formerly professional cook. While Rob tended the barbecue, I made my famous cheese biscuits and gratuitous stuffing (at Megan’s request). I invented the stuffing and it turned out great: cornbread, multi-grain bread, pecans, apples, celery, onion, herbs from the garden, leftover wine, chicken stock, and butter.

I also made an unnecessarily complicated side dish of cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, and red onions with a seedy mustard vinaigrette. Add in my apple pie and Megan’s pumpkin pie, both adorned with stars in the pastry, and you have a festive dinner!

Unfortunately, Erica was too sick to attend, so that meant no Jessica, either. However, their presents and stockings are still under the tree, so we can have another celebration later.

Jonathan got off work early, so dinner was still hot when he arrived around 7. After dinner, we all opened our stockings. It’s so fun to see the person whose stocking you made opening it. I got Megan again this year, and a couple of weeks ago, she brought* a box from Sephora to my house, commenting that she wished it was for her. It actually was, containing a travel size skincare kit, and I was delighted to finally tell her that. We couldn’t stop laughing.

While we were opening our stockings, the cats were playing outside under the stars. Audrey showed up at the sliding glass doors with a live mouse in her mouth, clearly proud of her hunting prowess. Needless to say, I was horrified, and my sibs were amused at my horror. “Just wait until they figure out how to eat them!” they said gleefully, adding that cats don’t eat the legs or tail, so there’s always leftovers. Yay! I tried not to think about Audrey sitting on my lap later, licking my hand with her mouse tongue and kissing me with her mouse breath.

I didn’t let the cats back in until there was no sign of that mouse, or any other mouse, for that matter.

*We all share a post office box, so we’re always picking up each other’s mail. Also, all the Fed Ex and UPS packages for everyone on the property are dropped off at a little shelter near the road, and whoever sees the package first brings it to its recipient. It’s not unusual to come home and find a package on your table.

Improved tree

I’ve always been terrible at wrapping presents. You’d think I’d be good at it, given my expertise in applying make-up, love of all things sparkly, and generally trivial mindset, but no. The ends bunch up, the paper is unevenly cut and/or is too big or too small for the package, there’s tape all over the damn place, and the ribbons are knotted and bedraggled. I’m the anti-Martha Stewart.

This is another reason why our Christmas stocking tradition is so very kick-ass. Cheap; non-stressful; fun; and nothing to wrap.

Yesterday, I put together Megan’s Christmas stocking, which was made by Erica. Hence its awesomeness:

I’m pleased to report that it is jam packed with goodies. I actually had candy left over (for now).

The only present I had to wrap was for Jessica, and it’s the best wrapping job I have ever done:

I should get extra credit for valiantly giving her the fluffy snowman pen, especially because it lights up, and the snowflake pin, especially since it’s sparkly and would have looked excellent in my hair. Also festive. Don’t say I never did anything for you, kid.

I smugly put the elegantly-wrapped present and stuffed stocking under the tree. About five minutes later, it was brought to my attention that this was an idea worthy of International Stupidity Day. All the cats converged on the present and started playing with the snowman fluff. Sighing, I removed both items and hid them in the laundry room/pantry*. Oh, Nanny, where art thou?

Speaking of the tree, I ended up excavating a string of lights for it. This just encouraged me, so I added candy canes (in a classic flavor). The iridescent tree topper was half-price the last time I was in Rite Aid, so I had to get it. A little out of proportion to a Charlie Brown sized tree, perhaps, but so are showgirls’ headdresses.

*The washer is still leaking, but Rob put up my “Vertigo” poster, so at least it’s well-decorated. A girl must have some standards, you know.

I was awakened this morning by Miss Audrey, the dawn alarm clock. I think she’s figured out that I won’t let her out until there’s some light in the sky, so the minute blackness turns to grey, it’s time to wake up the doorgirl and start her day.

She does this by clawing at the door to the balcony. Cat claws on glass = nails on a blackboard. Eeeyagh! It would be better to have Dad yanking off the covers while yelling, “Wakey-wakey, rise and shine!”, his preferred method for awakening slumbering teenagers (parents take note – this is particularly effective in cold climates).

I let Audrey out without even putting my glasses on, and June went racing past as I fumbled for them in my sleepy, semi-blind state.

Like all my family, once I’m up, I’m up, no matter how unfortunate the hour or whether it’s the weekend or a work day, so I went downstairs to make coffee and start my day.

Henrietta wasn’t on the couch or by the heater. I looked around for her and found her sitting under the tree like a little present.

Yesterday, the guilt of the uncategorized became too much for me. The holiday layout makes it blatantly obvious that I haven’t bothered to categorize my immortal writings, so I’ve started to do so. However, I probably won’t go back and categorize eight years’ worth of drivel, but rather, try to categorize from now on. It can be my new year’s resolution, along with trying to be injury-free.

Anyway, I have categorized all the Jessica-related posts, for example, so you can easily read about your favorite girl. I still haven’t bothered with tags, because I really don’t understand them. So you’ll have to settle for categories for now.

Story time

Even though Thanksgiving is not generally considered a gift-giving occasion (to my mind, one of its more delightful aspects), Jonathan couldn’t resist bringing Jessica a book which gives the real dirt on the Three Little Pigs. It’s authored by the Wolf himself, and you can see that it held Jessica spellbound. She wasn’t the only one, either. Jonathan seems to have inherited our father’s gift for reading stories and doing all the voices. It was great.

When the story was over, Jessica went up to bed. She had permission to read as long as she liked on this special occasion, but spotted my jewelry box. Immediate exploration was called for, and here you see Jessica wearing the earrings I wore at my wedding (my dress was a 1940′s emerald green taffeta gown), along with a string of jade beads my Dad brought me from China and a string of rubies from India:

Sparkle time

In going through the collection with Jessica, I realized how many beautiful things he had given me over the years on his many travels.

While Jessica was being delighted and I was getting nostalgic, there was channel surfing going on downstairs, and we were alerted to the fact that the Rockettes were on. I dragged Jessica down the stairs as fast as I could, and sat with her on my lap as the Christmas Spectacular unfolded in front of us in all its glory.

During the first number, where the Rockettes were wearing their Candy Cane outfits, she observed, “They look like little Christmas presents.” After a while, she said, “They’re the most beautiful girls in the world!” I was about her age when I became enchanted by the Rockettes and the Weeki Wachee mermaids, and the enchantment has lasted all these years. It was so fun to share it.

The next day, Erica told me that Jessica dressed up in a leotard and danced around the house saying “I’m a Rockette! I’m a Rockette!”

Henry was nowhere to be seen when I went out to feed him this morning. I called him and called him, but he didn’t appear. I could have alerted the TV networks, but decided to go and pack some more and then look for him again. While I packed, I worried about not being able to find him on Wednesday. My plan was to lure him onto the screened-in porch with food in the morning, so he can stay there while we’re packing up the truck, but what if he isn’t there to be lured?

Henry was lying on his bed as if nothing had happened when I went to look for him again. He gave me a hushed meow of acknowledgement, but didn’t bother to get up. Cats need their beauty sleep, after all. I think I’ll try and get him onto the porch on Tuesday and just keep him there with his food and a litter box until my brother can wrestle him into his carrying case on Wednesday.

He’ll have to get used to the litter box in the short term anyway, since all three cats will have to stay inside for the first few days after we move so they know it’s their house. After that, I’ll let them all out and hope for the best. I’m planning to bring them in at night, but they may have ideas of their own.

At night I lie in bed and fret about things like whether the cats will fight all the time and hate each other, or how on earth I’ll get rid of all the boxes after I unpack, or whether I should buy a bunch of bottled water for my moving crew instead of having glasses to wash up and pack after we’re all done. These minor details which are probably making you laugh are making me sleepless.

I haven’t heard back from the people I risked life and limb to interview with, and since they said they’d decide by the end of the week, I’m thinking that no answer is a no. Looking for a job in the midst of moving really does add to a girl’s stress.

When the day’s packing is through and I’ve washed my ink-stained hands, I settle back with a glass or two of wine and an episode of Columbo. They are intriguing enough to keep my mind – or at least the surface of it – off my worries, but are delightfully lacking in the graphic grossness of the CSI franchise or the sadness of the Law & Orders, which make me despair of humanity much of the time. Also, they were shot in sunny LA in the early 1970s, and I have never much enjoyed the present. And then there’s the considerable charm of Peter Falk. I smile every time he introduces himself as “from the police”.

I’ve had to cancel all my Oakland library holds and return all the books I had checked out. So I’ve been digging in The Boxes for escapism. I can only read children’s books (Edward Eager*, E.L. Konigsburg, and Zilpha Keatley Snyder) and light fiction (Barbara Pym, Peter Mayle, and Miss Read). I can’t wait to get a library card when I move, and I have a list of books to request when I do. That’s a happy thought for sleepless nights. Or any time of day.

*Megan just bought Jessica her first Edward Eager! Also some of the delightful Great Brain series. She’s reading at a fourth grade level at the age of six.

Stormy weather

Wow! That was intense!

I must have aged ten years on the drive home today. Jessica will be even less complimentary the next time she compares the original to my decade-old driver’s license picture.

I was the most worried about Highway 128, whose curves make Marilyn look like Audrey Hepburn. It turns out that was the fun part. Both 101 and 580 were full of trucks whooshing by, or hanging out in front of me, so I was blinded by the mist in the their wake (is there a term for this?) half the time. Add in torrential rains, gale-force winds, a few flooded lanes, and people driving without their lights on, and you have a hell-a-palooza on your hands.

My Mouse must have been working overtime and wishing I brought its twin.

According to the radio, 280 was partly closed due to flooding, and 101 south of San Francisco was also flooded, backing up traffic for miles. About ten minutes after I passed Philo, I heard that a car had driven into a tree which had fallen across the road there.

I have never been so happy to see Oakland in my life.

As for the interview, also known as the stress-free part of the trip, I think it went well. One of the interviewers worked with Megan at the hospital for several years, so that was a point in my favor. She also remembered my mother’s long, painful illness and was really sweet about it. That’s a small town for you!

They are supposed to decide by the end of the week. If they make me an offer, I don’t know how I can fit it in with my current job, especially since they want someone 5 hours a day, 5 days a week. I’m not too happy at the the thought of driving all that way every day, but they do offer medical benefits and it seems like a great place to work. And if they don’t make me an offer, I’ll be all huffy because they don’t want me.

Being the Halloween Fairy takes practice.

Also blah.

So I have a job interview on Monday. It’s the first one I’ve had in nearly twenty years*. I suppose I should be glad that I haven’t had more interviewing experience, but on the other hand, I haven’t had more interviewing experience.

The interview is also 180 miles away.

I figured I’d go first thing on Sunday, so I could hang out with the sibs and play with the puppy, but no. The landlord** is showing the house again between 1:00 and 2:00 on Sunday, and she’s such a flake that I know she’ll let the kitties out and not be able to catch them. So I’ll have to stay here uncomfortably while strangers inspect my chaotic house and bad housekeeping and closet contents, and then spend four hours driving north. Hopefully I’ll get there before dark.

The interview is scheduled for 2:00 on Monday. I was thinking of driving back afterwards, but I realized that if I leave Fort Bragg around 3:00, I’d hit Santa Rosa at rush hour, and be immersed in rush hour the rest of the way home. So I think I’ll stay overnight, and have coffee with my sister when she comes home from work at 7:00 in the morning, and then head home. All this before moving next week.

To make it even more fun, there’s a storm advisory for Monday afternoon through Wednesday, so I’ll get to drive home in pouring rains and high winds.

Good times.

On the bright side, I’ll have an excellent Halloween weekend. Lu is giving a party on Friday, then I’l be part of Jessica’s Halloween entourage on Saturday (she might be a Halloween fairy), and Sunday we’ll be celebrating the Day of the Dead with Mark and Citlali and their family.

*In case you’re wondering how I performed this amazing feat, it’s because the two jobs I had before this one were temp to hire, and then my boss just called me and asked if I’d like to work with him again (we had worked together for years at my previous job). So no interview required. There’s a lot to be said for temp to hire, since you find out what the job actually is and who your coworkers really are before you commit.
**I told her about the water bill, and she just said “Oh.” That was it.

I’m kind of surprised by how upset I am over losing the original of this post. I had a hard time putting it back together. And it’s not as good as the original.

Also, since I had internet problems when I was up there last week, I got out of the habit of writing nearly every day. I find the more I write, the more I write. If I take a few days off, I have a hard time getting back in stride. Go figure.

Here’s the reconstituted post. Sigh.

Rose’s funeral fiesta was amazing. It was held at her former house, which will soon be my house. Dozens and dozens of people were there; kids ran around the garden and played on the trampoline. It turns out that I also have a swing, seen here being modeled by Jessica:

There was a buffet, and a bar with red and white wine, water, lemonade, and of course margaritas. Overhead, there were beautiful hand-cut banners with images traditional for Mexican Dia de los Muertos* (Day of the Dead) celebrations. Here you can see skeletons bearing a coffin, with lit candles on either side:

There were little shrines all over the garden, with flowers, candles, little sculptures, shells, and some of Rose’s work (she was a gifted potter and artist). I love the saw repurposed as art in the last photo:

There was an altar for Rose, covered with photos from every stage of her life. My favorite was one of her sitting happily in a hammock, beaming with joy.

All over the garden, there were notes and letters to Rose and her family pinned to the trees. We also wrote messages in a little book. I have to admit that I was as proud as a mother when I saw Jessica write “I miss you Rosemarie. Love, Jessica” in the book. She signed her name in cursive writing, a new accomplishment.

A mariachi band had come all the way from Santa Rosa, and serenaded us as we ate, drank, and talked. Erica set up a tip jar for the band before setting to work carving a watermelon to look like a flower.

Mark, who was Rose’s son-in-law, announced the last song the mariachis would play. It is a traditional farewell song, and sounded to my untutored ears like “Los Galindos”. Mark says the title means something like “Little Birds”. It was a lovely and moving song. As the artists took their leave (and their tip jar), we moved our chairs to the part of the garden where Rose’s altar was.

A microphone was set up, and people got up and spoke about Rose, including her granddaughters and, remarkably, their friends, all of whom were less than 10 years old; the woman who had introduced James and Rose many years ago in Baja; and James’s cousin. There were laughter and tears, and many shared memories. Rose’s daughter Citlali recited a poem, and played a tape of Rose’s brother Axel, who couldn’t be there, singing Charlie Chaplin’s Smile.

As the sun began to set, Mark set a large chunk of clay beside Rose’s altar and invited everyone to take a piece and make a bead, which would be fired in Rose’s kiln. I patterned mine with little dots in spirals, and Erica made hers look like a little face. Here are some of the beads on Rose’s altar:

The celebration went on long into the night, with impromptu music provided by the guests, playing guitar, harmonica, and conga drums. Candles were lit and flickered in the moonlight. As Mark hugged me good-bye, he gestured around the garden and said, “She is everywhere here.”

*It’s on November 1. My new landlords have offered to celebrate with us, so we can do something special for our parents. It’s the day after Halloween, when I will be the newest member of Jessica’s trick-or-treating entourage. Last year’s numbered six.