Suzy Says

Note: I am now in Atlanta. Wrote the following at SFO last night.

I’m coming to you from the gate at SFO, waiting for my midnight plane to Georgia. Although there is an outlet at my seat, I can’t make the wifi work. You can’t have everything.

It was a long, dark drive here. I had forgotten how streetlight deficient the first part of the highway was, though it had an over abundance of blinding headlights: in your face, in your mirror, everywhere! But nowhere useful.

Before I had even left the county, I got a call from my bank’s fraud department alerting me to the fact that someone in Australia tried to charge $1,337 to my card (they were, thankfully, denied). After that, there was a series of $10 charges at Petco and $4.33 at an Apple store (what can you get at an Apple store for $4?) which did go through.

I pulled off the road to talk to the bank. They have put a hold on my account, so nothing can go out, and will reimburse me for any fraudulent charges. Once I get to Atlanta, I can stop in at an office and get a temporary card to use.

I was kind of shaken up, even though it turned about as well as it could have. I feel violated and wonder how on earth someone on the other side of the world got my debit card info.

Just what I needed before a trip across the entire country. I will arrive in Atlanta around 7:30 am and will hopefully have time to check into my hotel and fix my face and hair before facing the day’s meetings after little or no sleep.

On Saturday, I made a special appearance at the jobette. The guy who has taken over Saturdays from me was at a jobette-related event in the City. I made good use of my time by selling a piece of art for $150*. I seem to be good at selling expensive artwork on Saturdays (this summer, I sold a $500 painting from the window before I even had a chance to take my coat off).

While I was selling art and telling people where Glass Beach is, Megan was walking the beautiful and shiny Miss Star by Big River, one of our favorite places. It’s one of Star’s favorite places, too. She started squeaking with excitement when Megan put on her signal to turn off on the road to the beach.

They walked for five miles, and Star was “100% good”, not responding to barking dogs or passing bikes or horses. Megan texted me pictures during the walk, so I felt like I was there with them.

“I thought I would bring the walk to you.”

“Just had some water. I love it here!”

“Maybe I’ll find a four leaf clover! I feel pretty lucky already, though.”

“Where did the ocean go? It was there this morning.”

It really brightened my day, and Megan’s too. She needed it after a particularly tragic week at work in the ER. That night, I came by for dinner and of course, some Star petting. It’s great to see how happy and trusting she is now. It’s funny how love will do that.

*It was a beautiful hand made skirt which looked like delicate, multi-colored feathers. The guy who bought it was from New York and thought it was incredibly reasonable. He bought it for his sister Megan, who was baby sitting his dog while he was here on vacation at a friend’s house in Hooterville.

Travel has certainly ramped up during the last quarter of the year (can you tell I’m swamped with quarter-end tasks?). First there was the sudden, yet long (the driving part) trip to Reno, then a flying visit to San Francisco. Tomorrow I head to Los Angeles for a few days, and about a week after I get back, I’ll be off to Atlanta.

The Atlanta visit is mandated by our friends at the SEC – yet another gift from Bernie Madoff. I will drive four hours, then fly for five (overnight) to have a two hour meeting the following day. Unlike my boss/partner, I am not tough (or crazy) enough to turn around and head back to the airport the same day, like I did on that hell trip to Detroit last year, so I’ll stay overnight and fly to San Francisco the next day. Having an equal enthusiasm for the four hour drive following the five hour flight, I’ll probably stay in the city overnight and then head back to Hooterville.

Somehow I have to fit in both jobs and working on the smartphone app during all this transit. Wish me luck!

Just Being

I woke up to a beautiful morning in San Francisco. Not a cloud or wisp of fog in the clear blue sky, and the wild parrots wished me good morning in their inimitable, raucous voices as they soared into the sunlight.

A taxi ride took me through my old neighborhood, where I noted what had changed and what hadn’t, and ended up at a building right next door to the one I used to work in for so many years. My boss/partner and I were there to meet with a money manager we are considering hiring. The meeting went really well, and after business was concluded, our host showed us some of the art collection his company owns.

To my delight and surprise, the paintings currently on display in their gallery were by the great Gil Elvgren. I have never seen originals of his works, and they are stunning. Also much bigger than I thought. I asked, “Are these…original Elvgrens?” He said yes, and I think he was entertained by how impressed I was.

When our meetings were over, Boss and I had lunch and caught up with each other. It was really great spending some time with him, and we got a lot done.

On my way back to the modest motel, the struggling little urban garden above caught my eye. It was a day of unexpected beauty in unexpected places.

The other day, I came home to find an unexpected express mail envelope.

Sadly, there was no glamorous starlet to open the envelope and announce the contents – life is full of these small disappointments – but the contents were glamorous. A friend had sent me a gift certificate for two nights at a posh hotel, along with a day pass to the spa, $100 resort credit to spend on dinner or in the gift shop, and other delightful et ceteras.

The only catches were: the hotel is in Reno, a 6 hour drive from Hooterville, and the gift certificate had to be used by September 14.

I called to see if they had any availability at such short notice (and at the Labor Day holiday*), and they did, so I’m heading out of here on Tuesday (my brother’s birthday**) and coming back on Friday. I hope I can see something of Reno through all the smoke of the Rim Fire, which is still merrily blazing away. Oh, and it’s supposed to be about 95 degrees during the day while I’m there.

At first, I was all like “Finally, I’m going somewhere that has nothing to do with work! For the first time in about 10 years!” In fact, the last time I went anywhere not for work or with a work component of some kind might have been when I went to England to sort out my late father’s things, which no-one would consider to be a vacation.

Then I had a call with some folks based in Reno about a software product we may be interested in, so I’m stopping by their offices. I’ll have to take dress up clothes and pretend to be a grown up for part of my Nevada adventure.

I had about two hours after getting off the phone with the resort to enjoy my vacation glow before having a subpoena delivered to my door. What is it with me and summertime subpoenas? This is getting to be a bad habit.

This subpoena arises out of the fact that I tried to help out a neighbor who was involved in a domestic situation. I didn’t see or hear anything personally, but I still have to go to court. At least it’s just in the Big Town and doesn’t involve cross-country travel or the US Attorney’s office. I guess I was enjoying that vacation anticipation just a little too much.

*Needless to say, my sibs and I are working on Labor Day. That must be why they call it Labor Day.

**We are celebrating his birthday with a BBQ tonight.

Wonderful Wednesday was followed by Frantic Friday. I worked an extra shift at the jobette in the afternoon/evening, and had a few things to do before hitting the office:

• Stopped at the post office to mail a package. The woman at the head of the line left her wallet on the counter to get something she had forgotten in her car, and when she returned, the postmistress said that she probably shouldn’t leave her wallet lying around. The customer said that she didn’t worry in Hooterville, especially in the post office. The guy behind her in line said that he had found someone’s wallet in the grocery store the other day. The wallet’s owner was floored to have it returned, complete with $300 and all its credit cards intact. I said, “Welcome to our little corner of the world,” and we all laughed in agreement.
• Next stop was the gardening supply store. I recently acquired an acacia tree which needs to be planted in a wine cask, and there are (as always) other garden-related projects that require dirt. I asked if they could deliver some dirt, and the charge was about $120 plus whatever the cost is of three cubic yards of dirt, which even I could tell was way more than I needed. Instead, I bought two big bags of dirt which were on sale and which were very kindly loaded into my trunk.
• After that, I picked up balloons to display outside the jobette for First Friday, which is when shops and galleries stay open late and serve wine, beer and nibbles. I put them in the backseat and soon discovered that they completely obscured the view in the rearview mirror, so next stop was the jobette to unload them.
• Unloaded the balloons and chatted with co-workers before going on to the next stop: the town dump.
• Missed the turn off for the dump. Found it on the second try, but had a long wait to turn into the road from the highway with all the summer traffic. When I finally got to the dump, I wasn’t sure where to go, so I drove around until I saw a sign for Haz Mat, which is why I was there. For about three years, I have had some of those long fluorescent light bulbs which were dead, as well as the hideous CFL bulbs we are now forced to use since they are supposedly more energy efficient (though they are more expensive, ugly, full of mercury, and the light they give is hideous, as well as not being able to throw them away) and some dead batteries and old anti-freeze.

  I followed a trail of traffic cones, pulled up on a big sheet of plastic, and was told to turn off the engine and STAY IN THE CAR. Guys in space suits and covered shoes wearing masks removed the hazardous materials from my backseat. I guess it’s about the closest you can get to having guys come running out of the gas station, one filling your car up while the others wash your windows, the way they did in my long ago childhood. Speaking of gas: I filled up on my way in today and it’s $4.21 a gallon! Happy summer, y’all!

• Went to the Feed & Pet and got both canned and dry food for the cats, as well as a bag of grain free dog food for Monica. I always give her a bag of food for her rescue dogs when I bring her the fashion magazines I’ve finished reading.
• Put the pet food in the car and went to the hardware store across the street for a few things.
• Went to the library and dropped off a bag full of books and replaced it with a bag of new ones. Chatted with Wally the librarian, who thinks I have good taste in books.
• Up next, Safeway. It was an utter zoo, which I guess you can expect on a Friday afternoon in the summer. I was really glad to get out of there with my hard-won groceries.
• Stopped by Monica’s store. Gave her the dog food and took pictures of things she is selling to make money for the rescue dogs. On Saturday, I uploaded them to Craigslist, the local listserv, and Facebook. Little did I know that I’d spend the next two days answering questions from people who didn’t read the whole ad, like how much things cost and where to pick them up, all of which was clearly stated. ~sigh~
• Went to work for First Friday. Tried to keep track of the number of visitors, answer questions, and sell them things while attempting to be nice and charming. My co-worker handled the beer pouring and chatting with the beer drinkers, as well as staying until 8:00 and locking up. I think I got the good end of that deal.

I was pretty tired by the time I got home at 8:00 pm. I had left at 11:00 am.

As I write, it’s raining outside. And inside, too – I was temporarily blinded by cold rainwater dripping in my eye on the way to the coffee pot this morning. I can hear the soft plop of rain falling on the wood floor as I type.

Oddly, the kitties are outside. The boys will eventually come in with soaked, spiky fur and muddy paws, and Audrey will somehow be magically dry, slipping through the door with a noise that’s somewhere between a purr and a complaint. They will try the other doors and discover that the weather is equally bad through each of them, and then either sit and stare at the rain as if they can psych it out, or zone out. Megan and I think our pets do that when nothing is fun is happening – they turn off. Not really asleep, just kind of a dial tone.

The rain is very unusual for this time of year. We rarely get rain in the summer months. We hardly got any rain in January and February, the traditional rainy months, so maybe this is all part of climate change. The timing of the unseasonal and unreasonable rain does mean that I missed the Super Moon, a disappointment given my close relationship with the moon. I’m trying to convince myself that I couldn’t have seen it through the trees anyway.

At least we aren’t flooded, like those poor people in Calgary, and I won’t have to water the garden for a couple of days. I hate watering, unsurprising since I dislike anything dull and inconvenient. If someone could invent a hose that didn’t kink, they’d be my personal hero. Especially if it didn’t weigh about 5,000 pounds. My current hoses (one for the front, one for the back, and one on the balcony) are super heavy and not supposed to kink, but you know they do anyway, usually as far away from me as possible so I get to trek over, unkink it, and get sprayed by the end that’s suddenly working again. Until the next kink. I’m pretty sure my hoses’ kink is sadism.

On the bright (sunny?) side, it’s my Friday. We hired a new guy at the jobette who took over working on Saturdays, so my new schedule is Sunday through Tuesday, plus the first Wednesday of each month. We will probably close on Sundays during the winter, so I’ll go back to Monday through Wednesday and have weekends free. Whether it rains or not.

At the jobette, we feature a local artists each month. On the first Friday of the month, shops and art galleries stay open late, and in the summer, that’s when the farmers’ market is open downtown. So it’s pretty festive.

This month, our artists were a group of women who immigrated from Mexico. They live in a wine-making valley, and together they learned to read, speak English, and quilt. They call their group “Los Hilos de la Vida”, or “The Threads of Life”. Their quilts are remarkable.

Many of them show their immigration stories, and these can be joyful or painful. One artist told me that she carried her money in her hair to hide it from the coyotes who helped her across the border, and another woman told me that she was in labor during her border crossing and no-one believed her (both she and the baby are fine). This quilt shows a train journey, with the artist in a baggage car with her cats:

A woman after my own heart. There can’t be too many people who bring their cats on a journey like that!

This one would not be out of place in an art gallery in New York:

I’m not sure how she managed to transfer the wrappers from cigarettes and candy bars to the fabric, but it’s an amazing effect. She also has tiny wheels and other found objects. This part of the quilt represents the garbage piles in Mexico City – the city itself is in the background – where people live in huts. This is what she left behind to come to America.

I love it that these women came together to help and strengthen each other, to learn and grow together, and to tell their stories in such a beautiful and moving way.

I’m coming to you from the jobette, where things are more annoying than usual. I arrived to find that there is a car show blocking off the street, so I had to park elsewhere and then make my way through the maddening crowds to get to work. Not being able to park at work – usually, because some interloper has stolen one of the three spots allotted to us hard-working non-profit staff – always makes me irate. Maybe I need to learn to meditate or something so I can deal with parking banditos and people who drive below the speed limit.

The car show, for reasons best known to the motorheads in charge, is accompanied by blasting, bass-pounding music that reminds me of the bad old days in Oakland. I already have a headache and despite that, am contemplating an adult beverage when I get home.

Maybe I just need a vacation.

Last Saturday was Roscoe’s and Clyde’s third birthday. After my birthday Suzy Q, I came home and opened a can of tuna for the kitties to celebrate the boys’ birthday. Audrey jumped right in, but the boys sniffed at it, poked at it, and walked away in disgust. Now, that would be my reaction, too, but I never thought a cat would scorn tuna, especially birthday tuna.

Clyde sat hopefully next to the kitchen cabinet where The Treats are stored (Clyde lives for treats), and sure enough, he had trained me well enough to dispense treats to everyone. I put the rejected tuna away and Audrey ate the rest of it over the next few days. I have a year to think of a better birthday dinner for next year.

There seems to be a new cat in town. Last night, Audrey woke me up, growling in her “Get the hell out of here” way in the living room. I came downstairs and put on the outside light by the kitchen (I leave the outside light on by the garbage cans to deter bears and other undesirables. So far it’s worked, or Luna has kept them away). Anyway, Audrey and I both saw a light-colored cat slink into the trees in the direction of the haul road. It took her a little while to de-puff and de-grrr. She takes her territory seriously. I probably don’t have to tell her she’s in charge when I go away – she always is!

This morning, I saw the cat again. It’s a large orange cat with a striped tail, and once again he was heading to the haul road. Clyde was watching carefully from inside the house. I’m assuming it’s a male, since orange cats usually are. My sweet Sophie*:

was the purry exception to that rule.

I stopped by Megan’s place on my way home from work on Wednesday, and in the thirty seconds or so it took me to walk from her place to mine, the power went out. It was very windy, so that was undoubtedly the culprit, but it was surprising this time of year, and I was totally unprepared. It’s a different experience having the power out when it’s light and warm out, but I was still glad when the house started to hum again.

*She was Buddy’s constant companion, right until his last breath. She died of a heart attack on May 24, 2005. John said she looked very peaceful, as if she just went to sleep. She was the sweetest and shyest of our cats. Now only Jack, the adorably naughty Siamese, is left. John still has her and my mother’s cat Twice.

My birthday dawned foggy, but the sun began to shine as I stepped out of my taxi in front of the Four Seasons. The doorman said, “Nice to see you, miss,” which he probably says to everyone but which made me feel special. I have loved doormen since the one at the Huntington Hotel rescued me from an early morning butt grab several years ago.

I was there to attend a seminar. The seminar itself was preceded by lunch, which was quite nice: spring greens with strawberries, marcona almonds, and balsamic vinaigrette; salmon and beef tenderloin for those who like such things, and a tray of fruit kabobs and cupcake pops, surely one of the greatest of modern inventions. I soon learned that it’s a little awkward to make polite, work-related conversation with total strangers while attempting to eat a salad in a semi-graceful manner.

The seminar itself was interesting and I learned a lot. After the seminar, we piled into a Mercedes mini van that drove us to the ballpark in plush style. The company hosting the seminar had reserved a luxury box for that evening’s game, which was the Toronto Blue Jays versus the Giants.

I highly recommend the luxury box experience. You get ushered in past the lines of peons and into an elevator. Once you reach the box floor, you can look down on the little people:

The suite had comfortable leather sofas and chairs, a buffet, and was literally draped with bags of Cracker Jacks and plastic-wrapped candy. There was beer and wine and big bowls of popcorn and peanuts. Here’s a blurry shot of it:

You can watch the game from inside or outside, where the chairs are cushioned and there’s a ledge for your plate and/or glass. So civilized!

Here’s the view from the box. Note the Canadian flag. You will be glad to hear that I sang BOTH anthems.

Getting the field ready for the game:

That’s my favorite Giant on the right, the wonderful and wonderfully named Buster Posey. I love my Giants, but I hoped the Jays would win. I’m a Gemini, after all. I was thrilled to see Tim Lincecum, “The Freak”, in real life. Even though he’s been in a slump lately, I have always liked him. His pitching style is so unusual and balletic that it was a real pleasure to watch him. I’m glad for his sake that he got a win. I miss his hair, though. The long hair suited The Freak in my opinion. Those crazy, misfit, World-Series winning Giants.

Mid-game maintenance:

The Jays lost to the Giants 2-1, but on the following day, they got revenge on their hosts by beating them 4-0.

It was so great to be back at the ballpark after so many years and just revel in the experience.

Well, yesterday wasn’t Friday the 13th, but it was Monday the 13th. And we all know Mondays are worse than Fridays!

Things were crazy at the jobette. We sent out ballots for Board nominations last week, and this week people started calling to complain about not getting theirs, or not getting enough, or something. Anything. In all cases, they were wrong and we were right, but this is not much consolation after being called “incompetent” and other lovely adjectives. I mean, I am, just not in this particular case.

A woman also called to complain about a fortune teller in the Village. She and her husband were visiting for his 70th birthday and decided to stop in and see a psychic. According to this visitor, the seer was “verbally abusive” and told them they should get divorced immediately. The visitor said that she and her husband have been married for 44 years and took exception to this suggestion. “I mean, I didn’t expect her to sugar coat it, but this was insulting!” I ended up giving her the contact information for the county entity which issues business licenses (do psychics have licenses?) and the Better Business Bureau. I wasn’t clairvoyant (or competent) enough to think of anything else.

A guy drifted in saying that he had been released from the jail in the county seat that day and hitchhiked here. He was looking for a private investigator and a lawyer to help him with the restraining order which had been issued against him. I suggested that he check with the police station and the court clerk, conveniently located in the same building. He said that he had to check in with the police anyway, so I guess that worked out. I am a little uncomfortable with my growing familiarity with restraining orders and other depressing legal proceedings. My neighbor is in the midst of dealing with such problems, and we as a family are trying to help her to the best of our ability, but there’s no doubt that it’s upsetting. I definitely think ignorance really is bliss.

I had a few work-related errands to do on the way home, and when I finally got there, the Leafs were ahead of the Boston Bruins by 4 goals to 1 in Game 7 of the first round of the playoffs. The Leafs haven’t won Lord Stanley’s coveted Cup since 1967, thus achieving the longest drought by any championship team in the NHL while simultaneously being the most valuable, earning more than $1 billion last year. They haven’t even made the playoffs in 8 years, so the fact that they were still in there fighting and had actually forced a game 7 against the Cup winners of 2010 was huge and inspiring. By the time I had taken off my make-up, gotten changed, fed the kitties, started dinner, and, more importantly, poured myself an adult beverage, Boston tied the game in the last 90 seconds of the third period. Boston went on to win in heart-breaking overtime, and I’m still stunned.

The imperfect end to an imperfect day.

Well, the conference is over for another year.

It was interesting and I learned a lot (though some of it was a little depressing as far as a world economic view), but I’m ready to go home to the kitties and not have to wear uncomfortable dress up clothes for a while.

I meandered back to the motel through my old neighborhood. I had the foresight to bring sneakers to change into (and wear socks today), so I could wander in comfort. The sky was a cloudless blue and the sun was sunny enough that I really did not need the conference-mandated jacket. Despite this, I felt all sunny and careless, as Christopher Robin would say, and “just as if twice nineteen didn’t matter a bit, as it didn’t on such a happy afternoon.”

I popped in at the cheap and cheerful nail salon, where I caught up on gossip magazines and had my nails painted a sparkly gold while watching the world pass by. People watching is a lot more interesting in San Francisco than it is in Hooterville and environs.

My glittery nails and I explored some new shops and some old favorites. I picked up a couple of totally unnecessary, yet utterly delightful things, and noticed what had changed and what was the same. There is a new apartment building going up a block from my first* San Francisco apartment. The new apartments are about 750 square feet and will rent for something between $3,000 and $3,800 a month. I tried (and failed) not to think about how the mortgage (including taxes) on our condo was $1,400 a month for 1,500 square feet. Selling that place is a big regret.

Anyway…it’s good to see some new construction and positive signs of growth. Maybe the doom and gloom forecasts at the conference will be proved delightfully wrong.

Tomorrow’s somewhat ambitious program:

• Breakfast at Swan Oyster Depot (assuming manageable line)
• Pick up pizzas from Victor’s
• Pick up doughnuts from Bob’s
• Check out the Trader Joe at California and Hyde
• Go to the De Young Museum to see Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring and other treasures
• Drive home
• Pet kitties

At least I will have Friday off to unpack and get ready for Jessica’s birthday BBQ. Stay tuned!

*It was built in the 1890s and survived the Great Quake of 1906 (and the 1989 one as well). It had hardwood floors, a formal dining room with built-in china cabinets, and a wood-burning fireplace, as well as the worst landlord ever. It was $800 a month and I considered this insanely expensive at the time.

Well, today didn’t turn out exactly as planned…

I woke up before the alarm at 5:45 am and made some bad in room coffee, then repaired back to bed to read my fan mail and gradually come to terms with the horrors of waking up.

Eventually, I got in the shower, armed with Lush soap (Carmen Miranda) and fancy shampoo (Frederik Fekkai). I enjoyed having to actually add cold water because the hot water was hot. Not to mention no bugs or drafty window in the shower.

I enjoyed having lots of towels and a warm bathroom, applying makeup with abandon, until it was time to blow dry my hair. The dryer didn’t work, and it was applied to the wall, so I couldn’t try it in another outlet (my appliance version of restarting the computer). I shoved my feet into my heels and clopped over to the office to ask for a new hairdryer.

Alas, they didn’t have one, so I had to go to the conference and meetings with wet hair, which dried in the cab. Sort of. I had to put my faith in Angelika’s haircut and hope for the best.

On the bright side, I discovered that what used to be Cala Foods, where I used to buy my groceries when I lived here, is now a Trader Joe! So I can stop in there after getting pizzas for Megan and me from Victor’s instead of having to stop in Santa Rosa on the way home. Score!

At the Four Seasons, I enjoyed the attentions of the doorman and the view as always:

The conference was more crowded than I’d ever seen it, and I had to perch on a chair near the back without benefit of a table, which made it challenging to take notes. Not for the first time, I couldn’t help noticing that it was a very predominantly older white male audience. Finance seems to be an old boys’ network, at least in this town.

I had a couple of meetings after the conference, and as I sashayed down Market Street (San Francisco’s Main Street), I realized that I had forgotten to put on socks, since my feet began to blister. After the meetings, I limped to the St. Francis Hotel and was kindly handed into a welcome taxi by their doorman. Did I ever mention how much I love doormen and taxis?

Back at the modest motel, I kicked off the shoes from hell and tried to order Chinese food on line, which failed. I ended up calling them – old school, I know – and making a drink while watching the Giants game. Megan texted me that the kitties are in and fed, and tomorrow is another day.

It wasn’t all storms last weekend, though.

On Friday, I did an extra shift at the jobette to finish up a project. I finished about half an hour later than I expected, crushing my grandiose dreams of stopping at the nursery for more ground cover. I had an appointment with the wonderful Angelika that afternoon to get my highlights refreshed, so I called her to tell her I was running late and got there as soon as I could.

I love Angelika’s little salon in the woods. Everything smelled like lavender and all the rush went out of me as she “painted” my hair two different colors (she literally painted some of it with a brush) and put it in paper to process. She deep conditioned it when it was done, and even waxed my eyebrows. We chatted and caught up on each other’s lives, and before I knew it, it was almost 5:30!

The next morning, Rob called me around 8:30 to ask me if I was ready to go to our 10:00 swim class. Since I was still in my PJs, the answer was “no”. His plan, unbeknownst to me, was to go to the Gro for smokes, then the grocery store in the Village for a travel mug, his having disappreared, and then the coffee shop for coffee to put in the mug. I threw some clothes on, petted the kitties, and raced out the door.

We accomplished all the java-related chores before hitting the pool (on time) for the last lesson of the series. They start again in two weeks. Then Rob dropped me off at the jobette.

Megan met me there a couple of hours before we closed, and she did a great job of helping me when there were several visitors at once. In fact, our Chairman and his wife were completely charmed by her before they knew she was my sister. And speaking of charming: a visitor from San Francisco gave me the ring off her finger!

I admired it in passing while answering her question, and she gave it to me to try it on. Then she wouldn’t take it back*. It’s from SF MOMA and I am wearing it right now, the sun slanting through the colorful stripes:

It looks great with my sparkly gel manicure.

The benevolent visitor also wrote a Haiku in celebration of First Friday. Every month, we have a different theme, and this month it was Haiku. Our County seat, Ukiah, is Haiku spelled backwards, so they have a festival every year. We joined in with ikebana, an ikebana demonstration, and do it yourself Haiku.

The arrangements were beautiful.

This one reads:

This one says:

Parducci winery poured that night, and this arrangement cleverly incorporated their wine bottles:

This one was still in our conference room when I took the picture. I love the vase:

Having Megan there made it so much more fun, too.

*Megan told me later that she almost told her that she liked the bracelet she was wearing – leather with mother of pearl buttons – but was afraid the generous visitor would give that away, too!

The Inner Me

Well, the record remains unbroken. Two good pictures of me in half a century. If I were playing professional baseball, I’d be batting…something really bad.

I hate the pictures for the website, but I’m stuck with them. I think I look like a lunatic in them. In the first one, which the photographer selected, I can almost hear Jack Nicholson hollering, “Heeeeere’s Suzy!”

Hide the kids and sharp implements!

On the other hand, my blow out does look fabulous. Ditto the pearls John gave me for my long ago 30th birthday. And to think I felt old then!

Megan combed through the photos with me, agreeing that they are unflattering. Before you say that my sister is prejudiced, I will tell you that she is the first to tell me if an outfit is unflattering or I don’t look good, feeling, very correctly, that it’s better to tell me so I can fix it before unleashing it on the unsuspecting public.

We think this is marginally better:

They might let me out of the straitjacket in that one.

I hesitated to even show these to you, but as I said, I’m stuck with one of them (not sure which) on the website, and I made such a big deal about it that I felt obligated to unveil the denouement.

After I finished crying over the pictures and the fact that they would be out there for anyone who googles to ridicule, I realized that the two pictures of me which I do like were both taken by men who loved me: the first by my beloved godfather, the one and only Spencer Steele, and the second by John. Maybe that’s the real secret of a good photo: the look of love.

The other day I gave Rob a ride home from the Big Town. As usual, we had fun chatting in the car, and it was really hard not to look at the spectacular pink and gold sunset over the ocean. One of the many drawbacks of driving is that you can’t really admire the scenery, even though you’re driving right through it.

At Rob and Megan’s house, I carried in the Chico bags of groceries while Rob brought the dogs in. When I got home and started changing out of my work clothes, I discovered that my mother’s silver bracelets, which I wear every day, were missing.

My heart sank, and I looked through my pockets and handbag. Nothing. By now, it was too dark to look in the car or the driveway, but I thought that perhaps I had taken them off at the jobette and left them on my desk. I do that often when I have a lot of typing to do.

The next day, I looked in the car and the driveway and asked Megan to search her house and driveway. Arriving at the jobette, I rushed to my desk and there they weren’t. I asked my coworkers to keep an eye out for them, and called Starbuck’s, where I had met Megan and Rob the evening before. I talked to the girl who had closed that night and she said she hadn’t seen them. She checked the lost and found, and nothing.

Megan texted me later to say she hadn’t found them, either. I was surprisingly upset by the loss, and tried to tell myself that we shouldn’t get too attached to things and objects, but inside I just wanted to cry. We don’t have much left from our parents, so what we do have is especially precious.

Later in the day, I was putting things away in the storage room when I spotted my bracelets by the side of the sink. I had taken them off the day before when washing the dishes! I grabbed them and ran to show Erin, who hugged me and said, “Yay!” That pretty much summed it up for me.

Well, hello there!

Things have been really busy (and somewhat stressful) at the job and jobette ever since I got back from San Francisco. And as you know, work = no fun = nothing to blog about. I have the last three quarterly due diligence conference calls at 6 am on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday this week. Then I have to write up all ten of them, arguably the hardest and most time-consuming part of the process.

We had a little spot of rain the other day, but other than that, it’s been what my sister calls “Junuary”, sunny and in the 50s during the day, though cold and starry at night and frosty in the morning, the Ridge glittering with ice. I was surprised to see in the paper that we have received 27 inches of rain this season, versus 19 inches at this time last year – must have been those early season storms. Last night I noticed the first full moon of the new year beaming through the skylight of the sleeping loft.

I made a little time to head over to the property a couple of days ago. I realized that I hadn’t seen my brother for exactly a month, ever since Christmas Eve. Megan and the dogs came with me, and together we inspected the orchard in progress, which will be right next to the garden they created about this time last year.

There will be apple trees, peaches, and cherry trees. Olives and almonds are under consideration, as are raspberry bushes. Jonathan thinks they will have to electrify the fence, like the one around the bee hives. Otherwise, the bears will move right in and eat everything.

I picked up a hitchhiker this past week. I know what you’re thinking, but I only pick up people I know or the occasional woman. This was an older lady, who turned out to be a delightful German named Heidi, who has been visiting here since the 1970s. There seems to be a mystical connection between Germans and the County. My fabulous stylist is from Germany, as was Rose, my house’s previous owner and occupant. Even Rob was born in Germany. I asked Heidi what brought her here in the first place, and what kept drawing her back.

She said, “We Germans find all the best places. And there is nowhere on earth like Mendocino.”

You’d think I was still in Hooterville, getting up at 6 am for an 11 am photo shoot. But I had my reasons.

I am slow to get going at the best of times, and on this particular morning, I had to make Self look more presentable than usual, since the main purpose of the trip to San Francisco was to get professional photos taken of Boss and Self for our in-progress website. After putting on make-up and once again being thankful for learning how to do this quickly and well from makeup artists back in A’s modeling days, I called a cab and went out to meet it around 7:30.

The cab appeared sooner than I expected, and I was off to Drybar to get a blowout. I’m not that great at doing my hair, so I followed Megan’s advice and let the professionals do it. I figured, if I have to live with this picture for posterity – or at least the next few years – I should look as good as possible.

Drybar was delightful. I was immediately provided with cucumber water and taken care of by a fabulous gay guy, of which there is a total shortage in Hooterville. No-one can make a girl feel prettier – and in this case, look prettier, too – than a fabulous gay guy. I sat at a long white bar accessorized with dishes of candy and a flat screen TV playing “Dirty Dancing” (Jennifer Grey with her original nose! The ever-gnomish Patrick Swayze! Kelly Bishop before she was Emily Gilmore!) with captioning on, so you could follow the movie over the whir of hairdryers.

My stylist even hailed a cab and opened and closed the door for me, which I love. Talk about full service! My shiny hair and I made our way to BART. As I walked onto the platform, the train I needed was whooshing into the station, saving me a 15 minute wait. As I settled into my seat, I texted Boss to tell him my ETA. iPhones can be useful.

I knew I had an hour long train ride ahead of me, so I was equipped with a book, but when it went above ground, I looked out of the window from time to time. I have been away from Civilization for so long that burned out, graffitied buildings and swooping cloverleafs of highways and herds of cars and acres of cement are as foreign to me as the moon now.

Boss picked me up at the BART station and we drove to the photographer’s studio. She is Boss’s neighbor and a total sweetheart. She has been taking pictures since she was a child, and you could tell she really knew her stuff. Although I have known Boss for nearly 20 years, it was a total revelation to me when he told the photographer that his father was one of the very first medical photographers.

I don’t photograph well, in my opinion. I’m not saying that in the hopes of being contradicted. There have literally been two pictures ever taken of me that I liked: one when I was 3:

and one when I was 40:

This is not a good average. I hope these will turn out well, since as I mentioned earlier, they will be there for posterity, or at least the next few years, which may well be the same thing in internet terms.

As we left the studio, it occurred to me that this may well be the first time I have ever had a professional portrait taken. My parents may have done one when we were kids, but I don’t remember it, and I didn’t have professional photos of my wedding, graduation, or anything like that. Maybe having a professional is the secret to a good photo?

After our photo session, Boss and I went to lunch, and then stopped by to see his lovely wife at the hotel she manages. It was so great to catch up with them and spend some time together. We hugged goodbye at the BART station, and as I rode the train back to San Francisco, I thought how lucky I am to have a boss who is also my friend. I’m hoping this year will be kinder to us.

When I arrived at work on Wednesday, my co-worker Erin told me that when she arrived at work that morning, she found both front doors unlocked. There’s a door that leads to the lobby, and another door that goes into the shop/office. Erin went in and called out, looking for intruders. Fortunately, no-one had decided to set up camp in our bathroom or steal our computers – or the many bottles of wine in the conference room – but we both found it unnerving.

We had left together with a couple of the guys still there the night before, and apparently they didn’t think to check the doors before they left by the back door that leads to the alley where we park our cars.

Speaking of the alley: when I went out at lunch, there was a police car in the alley, blocking my car with its lights on and windshield wipers going. A glance down the street revealed the police themselves trying to wrestle a screaming person to his or her feet outside of a bar. By the time I came back from bringing Monica glossy magazines and a bag of food for the rescue dogs, they were all gone. I was glad that Megan wasn’t at work, since I’m pretty sure they were headed to the ER.

Then I got the email from my boss telling me about the repeat performance in the city next week (though having said that, he still hasn’t made the appointment with the photographer and/or told me about it, so stay tuned).

All in all, a pretty weird day, all the way around.

When my father died, all I wanted was to have him back. But I knew that if that wish were granted, it would be in a horrifying Monkey’s Paw manner – he would be an autopsied zombie knocking at my door instead of the delightful companion who walked with me on the moors, enjoyed the artwork at the Hermitage, cooked the best food I ever ate, knew his wine, and still told Pooh stories.

I have always loved children’s books where magic becomes part of the every day life of otherwise ordinary-ish kids, such as the wonderful work by E. Nesbit and Edward Eager, but even as a child (and while enjoying these books), the whole three wishes set up struck me as silly. All you have to do is wish for as many wishes as you want, and use the second wish to ward off the possible Monkey’s Paw consequences. Then you still have the third one in reserve, not to mention all the unlimited ones.

I’m sure there is some secret condition that makes sure you get the Monkey’s Paw and not the unlimited wish-filled life of bliss, though.

So, as the old saw says, be careful what you wish for…

When I said that I was having a hard time getting back into my routine, someone heard me and decided to throw me a curve ball, in the form of my boss/partner telling me that I have to return to San Francisco next week.

Since we are trying to grow our business, we really need a good website, and part of this new and improved website will be our bios and accompanying professional photos. Boss suggested that I get the photo taken this week. He was astonished to learn that there are no such photographers in the Big Town, which also has no dry cleaner, for example. He said he’d set up something in the distant East Bay town where he lives, so I will have to take a day off from the jobette (with no pay) and drive back to the Bay Area next week.

We’ll go together to the photographer, and it will be good to see him. We were supposed to get together when I was there last week, but his 90 year father had health issues and Boss had to fly to his bedside back East. So it will be good to see him, and I might get to see the exhibit at the Legion of Honor which I did not get around to last week despite my plans. I’m not looking forward to doing that drive again so soon, though.