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!

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:

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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.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

It’s the first cloudy day in a month, or longer. All the better to have Christmas lights on, my pretty.

Once I finish caffeinating, I’ll tidy up the house and start on the final dinner prep. Jonathan is dealing with the ham; Megan’s making the cherry pie, so all I have to do is make salad, my world famous cheese biscuits, and mashed potatoes. I think I can handle it.

At some point today, Paul and Jarrett will arrive from the south and the north respectively. Erica and Jessica will be here sometime this afternoon, and Lichen will come for dinner. Still not sure if my brother will be bringing a guest. But I kind of love it that all these people are drawn to my home and feel comfortable enough to be flexible in their plans. And I love having my house full of people I love.

Last night, I brought the pot of parsnip vichyssoise over to my sister’s house with some whole wheat dinner rolls. Jonathan joined us, and we enjoyed dinner together and then watched “A Christmas Story” and reminisced about our own past Christmases. It was so nice to be all together in that little house in the big woods where we’ve spent so many Christmases over the years, knowing that there are more to come.

I wish you all a joyful holiday. May you be surrounded with loved ones and happiness!

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!

Clyde in a tree

At first, the kitties ignored the tree. Seriously. They came in from their outdoor play, sniffed at it, and repaired to their usual evening spots: the couch by the heater (Clyde); the bed in front of the heater (Roscoe); nested into the pillows on the bed (Audrey).

But as time went by, they got more interested. Most mornings, I’d wake up to find an ornament or two rolling around on the floor. Maybe it’s because yesterday I added a star, some clear snowflake ornaments, and a string of white lights:

Here’s a close-up of the snowflake ornaments:

The star and snowflakes were half price at Rite Aid, probably because they figured most people weren’t still decorating their trees a few days before Christmas. But they reckoned without my amazing procrastination talents.

This morning, while waiting for it to get light enough outside to let the boys out, Clyde decided to get in some indoor tree climbing practice. I think it’s a credit to Rob that the tree stand could stand this.

The belated tree

So I finally decided to put up the vintage 1950s Christmas tree. I was helped in this decision by Rob coming up with a stand for the tree. I should have taken a picture of it for you before I installed the tree and covered the stand up with a towel, but you’ll just have to take my word for its ingenuity.

As usual, it was made out of found parts. It has a wide base to keep the tree steady and withstand kitty attacks, while having an opening narrow enough to hold the svelte tree.

As you can see, the tree is kind of minimally decorated. There are lights on the banister and outside the sliding doors where the tree is, so it seemed a little too Vegas to light up the tree. Then someone told me that if cats eat tinsel or icicles, it can kill them, so that was out. Rob said he might make me an origami star for the top, and Megan and I might string popcorn and/or cranberries for it. Or not. We’ll see. In the meantime, the halls are about as decked as they’re going to get.

Tonight my brother is coming over for dinner with a friend who is visiting from Syracuse. Syracuse, the city of my birth but otherwise undistinguished, has been rearing its sooty head lately. It turns out that our friend Clayton, who kindly put us up during Rob’s surgery this summer, also hails from that eastern town, and at our Christmas lunch on Friday, I learned that our CEO went to college there. Small world, no?

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.

This morning, Audrey woke me up about ten minutes before six. I went downstairs to let her out, put on the outside lights, and ventured out into the chilly, pre-dawn darkness.

One of the few good things about my old nemesis is that it makes it possible to see about 1000 times more stars than you can in the city. Sometimes there are so many stars that they are a huge hazy galaxy instead of individually set sparkling diamonds.

This morning, however, the sky was studded with about a million and a half stars, the perfect setting for the eclipsing moon, which I could see through the black trees.

The moon was a rich, luminous orange as it reached the total eclipse. As I gazed in wonder, a shooting star streaked over it, leaving me gasping in amazement. A little white trail briefly lingered, and then vanished into my heart and memory forever.

I stood there stunned for a little while, hardly able to believe what I had just seen. Hours later, I am still deeply moved. Something happened to me on this early winter morning, as night turned to day. But I don’t have the words to express it. I just have the feeling. And the memory of something incredibly special.

Audrey relaxing

It’s a beautiful, sunny day here in Hooterville. Audrey is basking on the back porch – surely a grandiose name for a bunch of unfinished wood slats nailed together over the dirt – in the sunlight. No-one knows how to relax like Audrey. And look good doing it.

We all had a good Thanksgiving, even the kitties. It already seems so long ago, even though this morning, I was using up leftover cranberries by making cranberry mustard (excellent for turkey sandwiches).

Jarrett arrived on Thanksgiving afternoon. One of the great things about traveling on Thanksgiving Day itself is the fact that almost everyone else is already where they’re supposed to be, already in a turkey-induced stupor. We eat dinner at a civilized hour, holidays or not, so we were still conscious and happy to see Jarrett when he arrived.

Dinner turned out great, though, as usual, I didn’t want to eat it once the time came.It must be smelling it all day that puts a girl off. However, the boys pitched in to make up for that, and I did try everything. The beans were good, though it made me laugh to think that we took the only healthy thing on the menu and fried it. The batter was really light and crispy, and I’m already thinking of other things to fry in it (Zucchini! Shrimp!).

There wasn’t even a mess to face the next day. My kitchen is so small that you pretty much have to clean up as you go along. I have seen New York City apartment kitchens that are bigger. So we all piled into Miss Scarlett and headed out to the annual craft fair in the Village. We did our best to support the local economy and get a jump on Christmas shopping.

We persuaded Jarrett to stay one more night, so we happily ate leftovers after the craft fair and he headed back home on Saturday morning. It was great to see him, and he’s planning to come back for Christmas. It should be a good one!

Cranberry relish in my grandmother’s dish

Well, it’s late afternoon, and the turkey breast is in the oven, the green beans are prepped, ditto the Yukon Gold potatoes. Megan volunteered to make the two pumpkin pies. I made about 5,000 pounds of stuffing this morning, regretting my choice of chestnuts about ten minutes after starting the interminable peeling process. Hopefully, it will be worth it!

The house is about as clean as it gets during the muddy winter, the cats are out playing in the sunshine, and best of all, Jarrett’s on his way from Eureka and should be here at any minute. Huzzah!

In the meantime, here’s the recipe for my famous Cranberry Bourbon Relish, with apologies to Alison, who lives in real bourbon country. The only other option was Makers Mark, and it seemed like a waste to use that. Though, come to think of it, if the alcohol burns off and all you’re left with is the flavor, shouldn’t you use the best booze to cook with?

Cranberry Bourbon Relish

1 cup bourbon (I admit it: I used Jack Daniel’s!)
1/4 cup minced shallots
Grated zest of an orange (I used two tangerines instead)
One 12 ounce package of fresh cranberries
One cup of sugar (I used slightly less)
Freshly ground black pepper

Combine bourbon, zest and shallots in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over moderate heat, then simmer, stirring occasionally, until reduced to a syrupy glaze, about 10 minutes.

Add the sugar and cranberries, stirring well until sugar dissolves. Lower the heat and simmer, uncovered, until most of the cranberries have burst, about 10 minutes.

Remove from heat and stir in pepper to taste. Allow to cool before serving.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. I am thankful to all of you for being my friends and always encouraging me, no matter what. I hope those of you who are celebrating the holiday are doing so with your family and loved ones around you.

Well, things are pretty much under control here at Thanksgiving Central. Over the years, I have learned that the key to surviving the holidays is to do as much ahead of the Big Day as possible. Which is why I was repulsing myself with the smell of Jack Daniel’s at 9:30 this morning.

The smell of alcohol is as undelightful in the morning as it is delightful in the evening. Not for the first time, I marvelled at serious drinkers like F. Scott Fitzgerald and Patricia Highsmith, who were able to merrily imbibe from the morning onwards. And write some pretty good stories in between shots.

In my case, it was to make my famous Cranberry Bourbon Relish while Pie One (non-traditional cherry, for my non-traditional brother, who does not enjoy pumpkin pie, despite the fact that my mother used to insist every year that he did) was baking. Unfortunately, Pie One will never win a Beautiful Pie Contest. And I had the tiara all picked out, too. But I tore the crust while rolling it out and had to do a patch job.

As the house filled with the conflicting aromas of pie crust and Old Number Seven, I started to mix together the pumpkin pie filling. As I shudderingly opened the second can of evaporated milk (and re-re checked* the recipe to make sure you really need two), I thought that it looked like a lot of filling. The small print on the can of pumpkin says “Makes two pies”.

Well, it was too late by then. Also? You can’t really use half a can of pumpkin and keep the rest for later. It’s the kind of absurd supermarket math that decrees that hotdogs and buns be sold in unmatching, pre-packaged quantities.

Tomorrow, I’ll just have to roast the turkey breast, mash the potatoes, and maybe make stuffing. I’m also attempting a recipe Megan found in Sunset for fried green beans with shallots.

It will be a quiet-ish dinner, since Lichen is braving his crazy Mormon family in SoCal, Jarrett has other plans in Eureka, and Erica and Jessica have decamped to Portland, leaving the fabulous quotient of Hooterville and environs seriously depleted. But E&J (who is now fascinated by Indiah and learning Hindi) will be here for Christmas, and our good friend Paul will be here between Christmas and New Year’s, so there’s a lot to look forward to. And a lot to be thankful for.

*I hope I’m not getting obsessive-compulsive disorder or something. Lately I keep checking a million times to make sure that I have my keys and the oven is off and things like that. Surely I’m too young to be a crazy old lady!

A beautiful day for a fair

First things first: happy birthday to Rob! He stopped by this morning and when I wished him happy birthday, he looked surprised. I hugged him and told him I was glad he was born. He took a couple of things to repair and vanished after he hugged me back.

We’ll have a birthday barbecue next weekend. This one was busy! As I write, Star is at her second Canine Good Citizenship class (she did great last week). And yesterday, Megan and I went swimming (more about that later) before we went to the county fair.

A quick review of my blog shows that I haven’t been since 2008, so it was about time. As you can see above, it was a beautiful day. Megan found a secret parking space, and off we went.

It was hard to decide what to do first, so we had some garlic fries while we walked around and scoped out the possibilities. We made a mental note of the sno cone truck for later:

They really are the most refreshing drink you can eat. Though, disappointingly, they did not have blue raspberry. Even though everyone knows that blue is the best flavor for anything frozen (other than margaritas).

Sno cone in hand, we went to admire the livestock and the kids who handle them. This little dappled cow with its freckled girl was my favorite:

Did you know? Cows are covered with a sort of pomade at these shows, which makes them look all shiny and pretty, but makes your hands instantly filthy and kind of gross. Worth it, though. Also, there were hand-washing stations everywhere.

I resisted the temptation to run my hands through these sheep’s curly fleece:

And I kind of had a crush on this handsome boy:

Ever wondered how to shear a sheep? Now’s your chance to learn how:

It was strange being in the building with all the fleece and hand-spun yarn and beautiful scarves and things without our Erica*. And not seeing any of her work entered for prizes (and winning them). But I got over it long enough to buy a hat, which turned out to have been made by a woman who lives about two miles away. She spun the wool herself, knitted it, adorned it with a unique abalone button, and voilà:

It was hard to believe I’d ever need that hat on a sunny day in the 80s, but I bet I will be glad I got it in a couple of months. And I got to meet a new neighbor!

Some apple (and cider) tasting later:

we were admiring quilts:

flower arrangements:

and some of the biggest pumpkins I’ve ever seen:

The day flew by. Suddenly, it was time to head home, full of fair food and happy memories. Until next year…

*We had a great chat today. They are definitely coming for Christmas. And Jessica loves her new school.

Welcome to Napa

So I actually left the county for a couple of days. My passport remains dusty and sad in a drawer, wondering what happened to our relationship. “You used to take me out all the time – now we never go anywhere. I hardly ever see you!” it reproaches me. I think it expires next year, and for the first time in my life, I may not renew it. Why spend $100 on something I never use?

It’s a good thing I have a GPS*, since I’m geographically and map challenged. To me, it looked like you went to Healdsburg and took a left and that was it, whereas in reality you have to go south of Petaluma (about 40 minutes from San Francisco) and then take a labyrinthine highway, where there is road work (see above). It took almost as long to get there as it does to get to the city.

Also, for some reason I thought I was going to Sonoma, not Napa. Sonoma has the biggest public plaza in California and the northernmost Mission of the string founded in the early 1800s, like the one that starred in “Vertigo”. Napa seems to be nothing but wineries and overpriced antique stores. If you’re not into daytime drinking or overpriced antiques ($85 rusted metal garden chair, anyone?) or $25 plates of pasta, there’s not a whole lot to do there in the oppressive inland heat. Oh, and visitor guides cost $5.

However, all this was more than redeemed by the reason for the trip: seeing the legendary Brian Wilson in concert:

I happened to walk by the theater the morning of the show, and caught the roadies unloading the equipment for the show:

The concert was held in a beautiful old movie theater:

It was a great show. From the first notes of “California Girls”, the crowd was on its feet and Brian held us in his spell.

It was worth the drive.

*Jill, the GPS voice, does not enjoy those wacky foreign names. It’s hilarious to hear her pronounce things like “Carneros” and “Embarcadero”.

Well, Erica and Jessica are settled in their new (to them), century-old house, merrily ordering delivery dinners. Jessica has already made friends with the kids on her block. It makes me happy to know she’s going to grow up like Ramona the Pest, in a happy neighborhood with lots of kids and adventures to be had on her very own Klickitat Street.

Besides the farewell barbecue for the Dynamic Duo, it’s been hard for us to fit in seeing the new Harry Potter movie, even though we’ve been looking forward to it since Part I ended. Typically, we fit it in between errands on Friday. Rob tagged along, though in the way of many men when confronted with extended periods of shopping, he tended to bail on us when we were actually in the store.

We went to Safeway before the movie, loading up Miss Scarlett’s trunk while Star patiently waited in the backseat. She also had to wait in the car during the movie, but I think that dogs would rather wait in the parking lot than at home, since being in the car means a) being with the people; and 2) the possibility of fun. Also, Star hasn’t read the books.

Our timing was perfect, though: we arrived in the theater just as the last trailer ended, and the opening credits started just as we took our seats. I noticed that there were only two other people in the theater besides the three of us, and that was almost certainly a unique experience among viewers of this movie.

I enjoyed the movie very much, despite the darkness noted by critics. The one thing I really didn’t like was the epilogue, which I also disliked in the book. I think the three friends should have been left at the end of their victorious battle, on the brink of adulthood with all the rest of lives before them, rather than having their dull domesticity spelled out for us.

But that’s just me.

After the movie, we emerged blinking into the sunshine to take Star for a walk in a nearby field. Then we finished our errands, came home, and unloaded the car. Back to reality. It was nice to have that little break from the real world. That’s the magic of movies – and books.

The stage is set

A huge white tent is a familiar sight on the headlands of the Village in the summer. It’s the home of the annual Music Festival, now in its 25th year. It has a stunning setting by the ocean:

As you can see above, it’s surprisingly nice inside. I guess they have it down pat after a quarter century. And it makes for an intimate venue.

I was there to see the Great Lady of Soul, Bettye Lavette, one of the best-kept secrets from the golden age of Motown. Although she’s been singing for almost 50 years, and had her first hit record at the age of 16, somehow fame managed to elude her. But recently, it’s begun to catch up.

Miss Lavette performed at the We Are One inaugural concert for President Obama, at the Kennedy Center Honors in 2009, and has been nominated for two Grammy Awards. She joked “I ain’t won nothing yet. But they had to say my name before the said the winner’s name.”

She appeared on stage in skin tight black pants, a sleeveless black top showcasing her enviable arms and cleavage, and set it all off with her sky-high sparkly stilettos. Hard to believe she’s 65 years old. Especially when you hear her sing.

She held us all spellbound with the passion and fire of her voice, which reminded me of Janis Joplin’s – that same intensity and fervor and strength. I think my favorite moment of the show was when she sat cross-legged on the stage (“I’m having a senior moment”) and sang Dolly Parton’s “Little Sparrow”. You can see her perform it here.

Wow.

I was kind of stunned with glory as I made my way back to the car. The following morning, I was stunned by the untimely death of Amy Winehouse. Surely there could be no greater contrast than these two women: one who never gave up despite the lack of fame and fortune, and is one of music’s great survivors, and the other, who achieved great success very young, yet was destroyed by it.

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!

Megan’s gorgeous nails, complete with flower. And no, they are not fake. Apparently she’s been asked that a lot.

And the pie she made me from the farmer’s market peaches:

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.

Because nothing is too good for you, Faithful Reader, I have spared you the grumpy mood I’ve been in over the past few days. The unseasonably rainy weather did absolutely nothing to improve said mood.

Today it’s merely grey and depressing. For some reason, when you get a long weekend, it feels like you get an extra Sunday instead of an extra Saturday. I really should be getting ready for the week ahead instead of blogging about what a crabby little crab cake I am, but one of my few talents is the ability to complain about anything, any time, anywhere.

There was a break in the rain yesterday, replaced by cold winds which sent the windmill spinning and the clothes I hung outside to dry into various parts of the yard.

We decided to have Megan’s birthday barbecue anyway, huddled in our winter coats by the fire. We had sausages with fire roasted peppers, salad, and a cherry pie made from scratch by our brother. He even has an elegant stainless steel cherry pitter. Imagine.

Of all her presents, I think Megan’s favorite was a “city” or “traffic” leash, handmade by a local artisan. It’s about three feet long, and just the right length to get Star from the house to the car and back.

Speaking of cars: as soon as I pulled up at my brother’s yesterday, he came running over to see what on earth was wrong with my car. It did sound quite a lot like the Waltons’ truck, which was forever needing parts from Charlottesville. It turns out my car also needs a part from Charlottesville: a water pump. Apparently I was five or ten minutes away from the defective water pump destroying my engine. So I left the car there and hitched a ride home with Megan and Rob.

Of course, today is a holiday, so I won’t be able to get the part until sometime tomorrow. Jonathan works from Monday through Wednesday afternoon with no break, so hopefully Rob can install it or they can work on it together on Wednesday afternoon.

In the meantime, Megan goes to work tonight as usual (there are no holidays in the ER). She’ll drop the car off here at 7 am, I’ll drive it back where it just came from about an hour later, and return it to Megan in time for her to do the same in the evening. Poor little car. It’s a good thing we learned how to share all those years ago.