Suzy Says

Last week’s storm brought us 7.25 inches of rain in three days, along with the second power outage of the season. It’s hard to believe now, with the sun shining brightly and not a cloud in the sky. It looks like I may have to start watering the garden again soon.

Watering will be easier now, since Rob the genie granted my wish. I happened to mention that I wished I had a hose reel. I hate the way the hose looks, lying all over the garden when not in use, but hose reels turn out to be surprisingly expensive, like fencing of any kind.

About three days later, Rob turned up with a hose reel:

which he had found at “the mall”, aka the dump. He hooked it up and it works just fine. How’s that for granting a wish?

A few days ago, he appeared with a lovely metal candleholder in hand, which he had also found at the mall:

It seems to be in perfect shape. I can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out. It will be a nice addition to the tall yellow candelabras and the table-top one, though now I’m thinking I should spray paint the table top one to match the new one. I’m looking forward to sitting outside by candlelight this spring and summer.

There are already signs of spring as we slide into February. The tulips – the same bulbs from last year’s Christmas stocking – are poking hopefully through the soil:

And the orchids both have flower spikes (on the right):

Hope springs eternal in a garden.

Sorry, poodles, I was swept away in a tsunami of work, rain, and power outages. But I’m back!

I missed you, too.

Since we last saw our heroine, she has both recovered her beloved MacBook and acquired a brand-new Pee Cee. This seems very appropriate for a Gemini, and in fact it is completely in keeping with the way things have always been with me computer-wise: PC for work, Mac at home (or Real Life).

Why the Pee Cee, you ask? Are you mad?! It’s like having a small Egyptian curse in the house! This is true, but here’s the problem. The Powers That Be at the firm who maintain our database on line from the traffic wilds of Atlanta saw fit to “upgrade” the system so it only runs on Explorer, which does not run on Mac.

Has upgrading ever made things better?

So my hands were tied with respect to work until I got the Pee Cee. The delivery was complicated by the fact that the FedEx truck broke down on the Ridge about three miles from my house. Since I had already observed the only tow truck going the other way with a trashed white car on my way home, I knew the delivery would be late.

Fortunately, I had already put a note on the door of the shed where FedEx and UPS deliver to our property, so even though I was supposed to sign for it, I didn’t have to, which was good, since it was about 9:00 pm by the time it got here.

Now all I have to do is transfer the files from the Mac and catch up on all the work I have not been able to do over the past week due to technical difficulties.

As for the Mac, I picked it up from the nice local computer fixers embarrassingly cleaned up and working just fine. We bonded over our shared affection for Buffalo, with its splendid Victorians, Frederick Law Olmstead-designed parks, and actual record stores.

The next day, the rain started in earnest, and I do mean earnest. We have received four inches (or more than 10 centimeters) in the past two days, and are slated to get more over the weekend. Don’t get me wrong: we need it, but does it have to be so hard and heavy? It’s so loud in my wood and tarpaper shack that I can barely hear the cats complaining about being stuck inside. There’s something about the curved shape of the roof/walls that seems to enhance the sound. It’s kind of like being assaulted, with the wind howling and the rain smashing and battering against the house.

Needless to say, the power went out, and of course it went out when I was finally done with a long series of conference calls that had started at 6 am. I speed dialed PG&E, only to be greeted with a gloomy recording saying that there were widespread power outages and power could be out for extended periods of time.

Fortunately, it wasn’t out that long, though the house was instantly cold and dark. My brother called a few hours later to ask if the power was still out – his never goes out, since he has solar and wind power – so he could walk me through getting the generator he gave me going. I thought that was really nice of him. It also reminded me that I should get a big can of gas and gas stabilizer, just in case.

I’m pretty sure there are more outages in my future.

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!

Well, my fabulous week continues!

I was woken up by a power outage at 3:30 am. You may ask yourselves how a power outage can wake up someone who sleeps with ear plugs and a mask in the depths of the country, and it’s a good question. I’m assuming it’s a combo platter of my family’s innate inability to sleep through the night, the hum of the appliances turning off, and the crazy gene. Maybe even in your sleep you know things have changed?

Also the kitties were clearly confused and running around.

Fortunately, I had the flashlight by my bed (and another one downstairs), the emergency buckets were full outside, and there was a full Brita pitcher of well water as well as several bottles of water. I found my cheap plastic travel alarm, replaced the battery, and set the alarm. Also a little bit of coffee left over from yesterday. Hallelujah!

I could see my breath in the house, it was so cold. The heater needs electricity to turn on and off, though it runs on platinum propane. So it, like my computer, was a big pointless plastic box at this point.

I called the PG&E outage line – sadly, it’s programmed into my cell phone – and the recording said that it should be fixed by 1:00 in the afternoon. Not much help to me.

To further complicate things, I had a conference call scheduled for 6:30 am. Originally my boss was supposed to join me, but last night he called to say he couldn’t, but would email me the materials for the call. He didn’t send them by the time I went to bed, so I had to wing it on the call, which I did by the light of a flashlight, huddled in a blanket while desperately hoping my cell phone battery would last.

I tried to go back to sleep between 4:00 and 6:00, but it was hopeless. So I got up, heated up the remaining puddle of coffee on my gas stove, and did the call. Megan came by to see if the call was over so we could go to aquafit, so I rushed around in the dark, grabbing my swimming things and getting dressed. On our way down the Ridge, we could see PG&E hard at work on the downed power lines near the firehouse.

On the way to class, Megan told me that Monica invited me via early morning text to an emergency Daisy Davis meeting at 5:00 this evening. I finish work at 4:00, so it’s going to be a long day. It actually already is.

Megan dropped me at work and will pick me up tonight so we can go to the meeting together. I’m sure we can find a way to kill an hour. Maybe some Christmas shopping?

Surprise!

I came home from the pool* on Saturday to discover that the generator fairy had paid me a visit.

Those of you who live in civilization may scoff at the generator fairy, but when the power goes out this winter – and it will – it will be a lot more useful than that $20** the tooth fairy leaves or candy*** from the Great Pumpkin. Assuming he shows up, that is.

Someone gave this generator to my brother because it wasn’t working right, and Jonathan spent a lot of time working on it until it did. Now it can power my whole house, and more besides. It’s a reassuring thought as we slide slowly into winter.

Coincidentally, he gave it to me the day after the official start of Fall, and the day before the first rain of the season (a third of an inch). It inspired me to check my power outage drinking water supply (OK) and look for the buckets (where are they?). Oh, and I should put up the rain gauge my neighbor gave me after that surprise snow exploderated mine.

Be prepared, right?

*I still owe you a post or two abut swimming.

***Not that the candy would have lasted from Halloween until winter. Not around here.

Two webs are better than one

It was 44 degrees (or 6 degrees, depending on whether you’re an optimist or a pessimist) in the house this morning. A cautious peek at the thermometer outside revealed a discouraging 35 degrees (or 2 even more discouraging degrees). Not for the first time, I reflected that living in my house really is quite a lot like living in a huge, overturned rowboat. Or a tent.

The reason for the big chill was that I had turned off the propane heater the night before. Why, you ask? Well, it’s complicated. Go and get some coffee and I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.

Are you ready?

Last weekend, there was a power outage. By my count, that’s the third of the season, and hopefully the last. In the optimist column, none of them lasted overnight. In the pessimist column, there were three of them, it wasn’t raining, and it was April, for Pete’s sake.

It was, however, very windy, and wind, knocking trees and bushes into power lines, is what usually leads to power outages. As I heard the wind chimes jangling in the garden, I thought, “Uh oh. Wind chimes: the cheery harbingers of power outages.” This is one occasion where I didn’t actually want to be right, but I was anyway.

I called the PG&E power outage line, which is, sadly, programmed into my cell phone, and reported the outage. Then it was time to wait and hope it didn’t get too cold. The only heater in my house, though it burns platinum propane, needs electricity to be turned on and off and maintain its thermometer. So in a power outage, it becomes an expensive hunk of pointless plastic mocking me.

Eventually power was restored, but the light, clock, and heater displays kept flickering on and off. I called Mark, and he checked it with a little hand-held meter and said we were only getting 90 watts instead of 120, or something like that. He would call PG&E.

I called my brother, who inspected it and said the electricity was fine. The flickering continued, though, and it got scary enough that I just turned everything off that night before I went to bed and hoped for the best.

So far, it seems to be back to its old self. I don’t know if PG&E did something, or Mark did something, or it just happened, but I’m glad to sit by the heater with my coffee and enjoy the sunshine. Whatever temperature it may be outside, it’s warmer inside. The way it should be.

Before all the time change madness, it was clear that winter was slowly losing its grip on Hooterville. It was less dark at 6 am, the air didn’t smell like winter anymore, and things had begun to bloom.

It’s still raining, which is the number one sign of winter around here, and the frogs are still happy about it, but the robins are scarce and the whales have begun to migrate back from Mexico, where they wisely spend the winter. Last week, I saw a whale – well, its spout – on my way to work and it made my whole day.

I even emptied out the emergency water buckets on the back porch, since they were full of mosquito larvae. Let’s hope there are no more power outages!

I thought I’d share a couple of spring-y photos with you, in case it’s still winter-y where you are (and in case the groundhog turned out to be wrong this year). And as you see, it’s spring-y all over around here.

There are fifteen tulips coming up!

Keeping the orchids inside during frosts has paid off. They’re both covered in buds, which look like they’re going to bloom pretty soon.

I liked the texture of the wood. And how the new plant has sprung up between the two fallen logs. The circle of life and all that.

There you have it. Hope spring finds you soon, wherever you are.

Festive shelf in my living room. Megan gave me the lit-up wax bird, and Monica gave me the snowflake ornament.

My first complete calendar year in the country. It was a year characterized by loss and sadness, not just for me, but for nearly everyone I know and love. Here’s hoping the new year is kinder to all of us.

This year also marks the first full calendar year of tracking the books I read. I read 140 books this year.

And I started tracking rainfall for this winter. So far this season, which started early, in September, rainfall totals are 29.21 inches in Hooterville through the last storm. Yesterday the flooded Highway 128 (aka the Road to Civilization) opened after being closed for a day due to flooding. This happens every year, usually more than once, making us even more isolated than usual.

As for my resolutions for this year, I’d give myself a C. I tried to keep up with my emails, but mostly didn’t. I only had one Calamity Suzy incident, and it was pretty minor, compared to last year’s rib-breaking fall from the loft. As for unpacking and organizing, also nearly complete. Everything is unpacked, but the studio and pantry are still in need of organization. I’ve been good about categorizing blog posts.

Even though we all break our resolutions, I’m going to try and worry about the cats less (and walk the dogs more). I will try and be more positive, though overcoming my native pessimism, especially in the face of continued bad luck for the past decade, may prove too challenging for the slothful dilettante. Also work on the “garden” to make it a better outdoor living space.

Here’s a recap of the year that was. Wishing you all a happy and healthy 2011!

2010

January: The New Year starts off with a sob at the death of the Lovely Rita. I learn the terrible truth about Key lime pie. An earthquake reminds me who’s boss. So does a thunderstorm. The disgusting Compost Conundrum rears its stinky head. My house’s, uh, eccentricities. The first power outage of the year. Fourth Sunday breakfast (and book sale)! Escape to the City. Extreme take-out. The glitz and glory that is Cartier.

February: Dr. Karen opens her new office. The ailing Henry Etta. Banking bullshit. The haunting Gene Clark. A day at the Citrus Fair. Another power outage. The charitable yard sale. A successful adoption.

March: An evening of music and magic. Bee boots. Rain and storms, and lots of ’em. Dad’s birthday. A taste of summer. The beginning of the end for Henry Etta. New cat door. A tea party. hail storm. Henry’s last picture.

April: A sudden loss. Saying goodbye. A quick trip to San Francisco. A walk at Big River. The story of Henry. Suzy the criminal. My blog turns nine. Accidental activism. The great Dog Rescue adventure. The writer.

May: Birthday covets. Schatzi’s injury. Endless winter. Megan’s birthday. Girls’ night out.

June: My annual haircut. Megan’s knee injury. The terrible loss of the Beautiful June Bug on my birthday. Disastrous triplette to Santa Rosa to try and lift my spirits. Local bees take over our hive. The big driveway remodel.

July: The painting project begins. Megan’s knee surgery. A visit from Jessica. Ribollita soup. The slow recovery. Turkey enchilada casserole. Dream vacations substitute for real ones.

August: A room with a view. The driveway project is complete. Rhubarb and berry crumble. The high price of housework. New window. Unexpected visits. The arrival of the kittens! Naming the kittens. First vet visit.

September: Home improvement. Chicken Pilau. Megan is back at work. My house: before and after. Another visit from Jessica. New camera. A tour of my house.

October: New carpet! New plants! North Indian Style Spinach Chicken. Checking on the bees. Beautiful Audrey. Be Afraid. Kittens at play. The floor painting adventure. Anniversary. Audrey and Clyde get closer. More home improvements.

November: Halloween. The Giants’ World Series Champions Victory Parade. Day of the Dead. Solar panels at my brother’s place. Sausage and Bean Casserole. A breakthrough for Star. A trip to the city. An evening at the theater with Erica and Jessica. World’s most expensive sneakers. Back home. New Harry Potter movie. Hailstorm. The Thanksgiving that wasn’t. Thai Chicken Soup. A visit from Jarrett.

December: Holiday lights and storm prep. Meatloaf Suzy Style. Christmas decorations. New hose and rain gauge. The boys turn six months old. Curried Lentils. Sunlight and shadow. Un-Christmas presents. Paul comes to visit. Vertigo. The death of the phone. Parsnip Vichyssoise. Christmas.

Ready!

You will (not) be amazed to learn that the phone phixers phailed to call me, or show up. At about 6:30, I called their repair number to ask for an update, and was on hold through the entire length of “Sick, Sad World” (also known as the news). After about 45 minutes, I hung up in frustration. Cell phones do not slam down in anger as satisfyingly as the heavy old fashioned dial phones of my youth.

AT&T called a couple of days ago to say that they had “remotely” checked the phone and it was fine. I told them it wasn’t, and spent some valuable time confirming the appointment with them. Possibly I should ask Santa to put a lump of coal in their stockings when he water skis out of here, along with a clear definition of “customer service”.

I think the decision has been made for me – by them! – and they are getting the axe ASAP. Spotty and sometimes non-existent cell phone service is looking pretty good to me right about now.

It’s a gloomy Christmas Eve here in Hooterville, and the trees are tossing their heads in a way that always makes me think “power outage”. It’s usually the wind toppling trees into power lines that causes it. We’re slated to get rain for the rest of the year, to add to our already impressive total of 24.71 inches for the season.

I really shouldn’t complain compared to muddy and floody SoCal, who bore the brunt of the last storm, and where Paul is spending Christmas with his only child, her husband, and their two children. Yay for grandchildren on Christmas Day! They live in beautiful Pasadena, and Paul described his drive down there as “hellish”, and he is not a man given to overstatement about anything. He might come back up here for a short visit before he returns to the sunny shores of Florida. I apologized for the bad weather while he was here, and he said, “I’m here for the company, not the weather.”

The dizziness has, sadly, not abated. It has made cooking a little unnerving. Kneeling to light the oven, and cocking my head to see where I was applying the match, made me frighteningly dizzy, as did reaching down a box of chicken broth from a high shelf. So looking up too far or leaning down too far are as bad as turning on my side in bed. Got it. Maybe I should try applying a couple of Christmas cocktails and see if they cancel it out.

Yesterday, Meg told me that Lu had this for about a month. It was a virus, so there was nothing to do but wait it out. Even if I wanted to spend $75 and half a day going to the clinic, they would probably just take my money and say the same thing. So I’ll wait it out, and be careful in the meantime. I’ve managed to be pretty much Calamity Suzy-free this year. I have an image to protect, as well as Self.

Other than that, I really don’t have much holiday stress. The presents are wrapped, as you see above. The tree is from Mexico and has a candle inside. It’s the best I can do this year. Megan and I will put the stockings together today and hope for the kitten best. I’ll tidy up the house a little this afternoon or tomorrow morning. We’ll have dinner around 6:30 or 7:00 on Christmas Day*, and since my brother is dealing with the ham, all I’ll have to do is make mashes potatoes, steam green beans, and make my famous cheese biscuits. Erica is bringing a Yule Log she made for dessert, so the most exhausting thing I’ll have to do as hostess is open wine and decant my grandmother’s ivory-handled silverware from its velvet-lined chest.

I think I can handle it.

*I have never understood people who have Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner at some ungodly hour in the afternoon.

The other thing that happened on Weird Sunday was that the phone line expired. Or quit. Or went on strike.

Anyway, the phone didn’t work.

When Megan called me, it just rang and rang, so she came over to investigate and found me in the previously mentioned dizzy state. The power was already out, so she tried the Bat Phone (the see-through corded one I have for the inevitable power outages every winter), but got no dial tone.

She sent Rob over, and he spent some time checking things and stuff outside and inside, before finally saying that whatever was wrong was beyond his considerable abilities. This both surprised me and made me realize that I finally have the ideal phone: one that never rings.

So I fired up my cell phone, and have been using it ever since. The down side to this is leaving it on all the time, instead of checking it a couple of times a day for messages. It has a distressing propensity for ringing, usually at inopportune moments, since it’s my work phone. But at least I’m not totally incommunicada.

Someone is coming out to check on/fix the phone tomorrow, sometime between 8 am and 8 pm. If they get here during the latter part of the twelve hour picture window they have allotted themselves, they’re going to have a really hard time seeing anything out there in the country style darkness. Also, I hope they call me for directions, since there’s more than one house at this address.

At this point, though, I’m kind of wondering why I’m having it repaired at all. I haven’t really missed it, and it would save me $35 a month if I just cancelled it. And cell phones allow you to send a call straight to voicemail, unlike regular phones (why is that?). Does anyone really need both a cell phone and a landline?

The uninspiring view from my porch

It’s not even 9:00, and I’ve already had a lousy day.

Audrey woke me up around 5:30, growling at the kittens and bashing at the balcony door. I reached for my glasses on the bedside table, but couldn’t feel them anywhere. I turned on the light and “looked” as best as a girl can who is practically legally blind can do in the early morning darkness.

No go.

I felt around in my slippers before putting them on and feeling my way down the stairs, clutching the banister. I thought this had Calamity Suzy written all over it, but I made it safely to the bathroom, where I located my second pair of glasses. Thanks, Dad, for training me to put things away in the same place!

I let Audrey out into the howling storm, amazed that she actually preferred being out in the cold, rain, and wind than staying inside the (relatively) cozy house.

With visions of power outages dancing in my head, I grabbed a few buckets to fill with water, getting immediately soaked in the process. Someone had unplugged the hose, so water spewed out of the side of the house instead of the end of the hose. I squelched into the bathroom from the back deck door, and realized that the shower would never fill one of the buckets. I grabbed a pitcher and started filling it in the sink, emptying it into the buckets while the kittens got in the way and got wet.

After that, I decided to do the dishes, and discovered that the flash heater was out. No hot water for dishes or a shower. Rob should be coming by any time to work on the heater, so hopefully I can prevail upon him to help me.

I heard dripping. The tap wasn’t dripping. It was the roof, right in front of the couch. I got a pot and put it under the drip. I felt a drip on my head. Another drip, another pot. Then I noticed a huge wet spot right next to the TV. Yay!

I was running out of pots and patience. I called Mark, but got no answer and left a message. I can’t imagine where they could be at 8:30 on a Sunday morning. Kids and old people (as I learned in Florida) never sleep in.

While making the bed, the kittens clawed me so hard that I got blood on the sheets.

Add in a severe attack of the Evil Allergies, with sneezing, nose blowing, and itchy eyes and nose, plus the fact that Audrey hasn’t come home yet, and you have the perfect recipe for a rotten day.

[Later] She finally showed up, refused to eat, and bit me.

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.

As I write, the Amerigas truck is outside, filling the tank with gas and the house with a hideous smell. It’s supposed to smell like garlic, but it doesn’t smell like any garlic I’ve ever experienced, raw or cooked. Thankfully.

Audrey ate less than half of the tiny can of repulsive wet food I bought for her birthday. So much for celebrating. She did, however, manage to knock chunks of it on the floor while eating it, so I could have the fun of picking it up as well as putting it on the plate. The gift that keeps on giving…

Megan didn’t have a very romantic anniversary, either. We did the three hour tour during the power outage, and after we got home and decanted our respective groceries, I brought some wine over and we drank it in the garden. So there was some celebrating. They really liked the card, too.

Megan started her anniversary early with a trip to the store for coffee and the local paper, which featured my story about Star on page two. Page Two! I was very excited. You can’t see it on line, unfortunately, but I bought a couple of extra copies on our way to town. Let’s hope that Star finds a great home soon.

The mail was good to me, too: I got a postcard from Quince’s mother, who was visiting her native Scotland, and there was the Motel 6 voucher. Now I can stay for free at any Motel 6 in the country, though it’s most likely that I’ll stay at the one in a seedy part of San Francisco. At least I won’t have to drive a couple of miles to get coffee there.

And finally, my library haul was oh so Suzy, including “The Carrie Diaries”, the prequel to “Sex and the City”, and Elizabeth Taylor’s “My Love Affair with Jewelry.”

Hey! For the first time this YEAR, I don’t have the heat on. OK, I am wearing a sweater, but still. I consider this a personal triumph. Bonus points since the door was slightly ajar this morning and no untoward visitors such as raccoons, skunks, or mountain lions seem to have taken advantage of that fact.

As far as I know, anyway.

I left the door slightly open, even though it’s a foggy fifty degrees outside, so I can drink coffee and blog in peace. Sometimes a girl just needs a vacation from being a cat doorman, even if it’s a drafty one.

Last night, as you can see above, Audrey settled in on top of my father’s books. Maybe she’s absorbing knowledge just from sitting there. In the picture, you can see one of the two antique spoon molds I bought in Paris about a zillion years ago (the other is supporting my collection of cookbooks on the shelf above). The photo is of my Dad (on the right) and his friend Brian when they were kids, playing with guns they found in a downed German plane near their houses during WWII. They were friends from the time they were babies, when their mothers met, and stayed friends all their lives. Brian was the best man at my parents’ wedding.

I wish we’d found this photo when Dad was still alive, because we could have teased him mercilessly. He was so against guns in the home that he wouldn’t let us have water pistols. I guess living through a huge war when you’re a kid will do that to you. But it would have been fun to tease him about the picture.

You can also see my one and only Barbie, a cedar candle which I’ve been meaning to use while meditating, but have actually only used in power outages, and two of the three little hand-painted metal cups Hoho brought back from France after his service in WWI.

Behind the candle is an ashtray from the Sands Hotel in Vegas, which my friend Paul gave me a few years ago. Just think: Sinatra could have used that ashtray! It gives my hippie hovel a touch of class.

Lookin’ out my front door

Rain pounding on the curved roof/wall woke me up at 6:00 this morning. Since we haven’t yet been subjected to the absurdity of daylight savings time, it’s light-ish out. Light enough for me to turn off the mountain lion deterring outside lights, anyway.

Returning to bed, Audrey was curled up neatly on her side (she tends to sleep in a ball, whereas June tends to stretch out and cover as much real estate as she can) and June was placed exactly where my feet should go, pinning down the covers. Henry of course was in her bed by the heater, dreaming of sunshine.

I figured it was safe to shut the balcony door and go back to bed for a little while.

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the distinctive sound of the Audrometer, clawing madly at the recently closed balcony door. “Audrey, cut it out!” I yelled from under the covers. “What’s that you say? Ignore you completely and keep doing what I was already doing?” I tried to ignore her frantic clawing and clacking. After a while, I heard her quick, graceful steps on the stairs and then, you guessed it, more clawing and pounding at that door.

Giving in to the inevitable, I put my sleep mask and ear plugs away in a little brass box by my bed (so June won’t play with them into oblivion and/or eat the ear plugs). As I put on another sweater, I gazed at June, sleeping happily through the whole thing, then grumped my way downstairs.

I let Audrey out into the pouring rain, and as I write, she’s still out in it somewhere, even though it’s raining hard enough to bounce back up again. It’s dark enough to have the light on, which reminds me: why do TV shows and movies always have lights on, even when it’s broad daylight?

Visions of power outages dancing in my head, I warmed up coffee in my tiny, as-yet unbroken cup and turned the heat up from the night’s 52 to the day’s 62. This is the best part of Henry’s day, other than getting her Sea Flex treats. She melts out of her bed with happiness as the warm air toasts her tiny body. Bliss!

I woke up with a headache this morning. I’m not sure if it was the nearly sleepless night or the endless allergies or an unlovely combo platter of the two, but when I wake up with a headache, it’s usually my close companion for the rest of the day.

Thoughts of Advil danced in my head as I started the coffee brewing, but I have finally learned my lesson that taking anything to offset a headache results in what I refer to as “aspirin tummy” as well as the headache. Better to keep calm and carry on.

On the bright side, there was no Henry barf on the rug this morning. On the down side, the flash heater was out again and refused to respond to my lame-ish ministrations. I have to admit that I didn’t invest a lot of time in trying to resuscitate it, partly because I was uncaffeinated and partly because it was a two sweater morning and standing outside shivering and ineptly assaulting an inanimate object was not the most appealing prospect. I’ll call Mark later.

The night had started out well enough. I finally had the new Michael Connelly, which I requested from the library in October, and the reassuring thought that there is another one coming out this October. I had changed the sheets and fluffed up the feather bed and feather pillows, so the bed was a haven of comfort. I just settled down for a cozy read when I heard a tiny sound. I put the book down and listened. There it was again. I got out of bed and peered down the stairs.

It was Henry Etta, sitting on the stairs and sounding tiny and sad.

I called her and she came up the stairs slowly, then jumped on the bed (thank you, metacam and Sea Flex!). June, who was already ensconced in her usual place, gave Henry Etta the stink eye until I told her to knock it off. She turned her back on me and huffily resumed her beauty sleep. Henry sat next to me for a while and I petted her and talked to her while I read.

I must have bored her, though, or else the heat came on, because after half an hour or so she repaired to her cozy bed by the heater. It was nice while it lasted and I hope she does it again. She hasn’t been up there in months, as far as I know.

Sleep was hard to come by last night, and when it finally arrived, I was woken up by a heavy storm, slashing rain against the roof/walls and wind howling through the trees. I was almost sure there would be another power outage and waited anxiously in the dark, listening to the storm crescendo and thinking about the precarious electrical arrangements on the property and the foolishness of not clearing enough trees around the houses.

The power didn’t go out, though I eventually did. I dreamed of Dad. We were making dinner for a party of unknown dream people, and we were marinating fish in lime juice. One of the party goers asked Dad if he’d take a drink from his wineskin, which he offered. Dad laughed and said no, he’d stick to his 1952 Margaux. He would have in real life, too, since excellent wine rarely, if ever, comes out of a bag. Or box.

In my dreams, Dad is never dead.

I was awakened by the balcony door slamming open in the wind. I lay in the darkness for a long moment, remembering all over again that he’s gone. That’s the worst thing about dreams: waking up to reality.

I got up and closed the door.

What’s better than a yard sale? A yard sale which raises money for needy dogs, that’s what!

On Sunday, Meg and I went to help Monica, her partner in pit bulls, at her annual “purge party”. Monica has a store in town which sells flooring, carpeting and so on, but somehow also has fabulous items of cuteness, from candles to magnets to wallets and make-up. It smells like magic in there. Monica has great taste and always looks effortlessly stylish, which every girl knows is the hardest look to pull off. I totally Covet a lamp in her store, which is covered with vintage buttons. Every year, she organizes local merchants, among others, who bring things to sell and donate a percentage of the proceeds to the Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue. Together we raised almost a thousand dollars!

I held a board with pictures of different dogs on it and a sign saying “Can you guess the pit bull?” I’m sorry to say that I failed to identify the correct dog, but I was in good company – I’d say around 30% of the people got it right. The lucky few who did got a cookie, and everyone got a lesson in pit bull 101 from my dedicated sis.

I have to say I really enjoyed seeing her in action. Her passion just shines and affects everyone she talks to. She was able to correct a lot of misconceptions people have about pit bulls (the locking jaw, the pugnacious temperament, etc.) and even explained to one overalled hick that no, flicking a dog’s nose with a lit lighter is not a good way to stop a fight. Honestly, sometimes I despair of people. Today I was driving behind someone whose dog was hanging out of the back window to the point that both of his front legs were out. I beeped and gestured, but in vain. When I passed the car, I saw that the driver had another dog on her lap.

Whatever.

Meanwhile back at the yard sale, two of Harlow’s siblings were looking for homes. No takers yet, but we did give away some flyers about the puppies and Meg put some up at work. There is also an adoption day this Saturday at the Feed & Pet, so I might go with Megan and help out. You can see that her enthusiasm affects even the most slothful.

It wasn’t all work and no play, though. I did get a see-through corded phone ($4!), so I’m ready for the next power outage in style.

We had a power outage yesterday evening.

Megan was at my house, and we were making dinner from the Book of Dad*. I went to grudgingly throw my green bin contents into the woods (I still think it’s gross and will attract an undesirable animal element, but apparently it makes me a better person and I can use all the help I can get), and when I came back in, the house was dark.

“??”

“The power’s out.”

“Oh.”

I put on the battery powered lamps and Megan called Jonathan, who came over right away. He was slightly delayed by a freaky guy who walked right up to his gate and was ranting about nothing and everything. The guy wandered away, and when he described the guy to Megan, she knew who it was right away. Most of the local crazies end up in the ER at one time or another.

The oven, of course, was still merrily cooking away, being gas, but Henry’s bed, which was in the washer, was not.

Jonathan set up the generator, plugged things in, and soon we had heat and light. Then, like most super heroes, he was on his way.

The power came on before we went to bed that night. There was even enough time to finish washing Henry Etta’s bed and get her settled into it.

*Braised honey-mustard chicken, to be precise. Also broccoli and almond pilaf. It was great. Dad food is the best food.

High surf, Mendocino

I heard a strange sound.

At first, I thought it was one of the kitties scrabbling around in the pots and pans, but it wasn’t. I went over to investigate, and discovered that my roof/ceiling (it’s hard to tell when your walls curve up to a central beam and it’s kind of like living in a giant, overturned rowboat) was leaking.

It was leaking right onto the paper shade of the hanging lamp in the kitchen. You know, the one that goes on and off at will, making me think there’s a power outage coming.

I thought it was a good idea to leave it off for the time being, as I put out a pot to catch the leak. Before I could stand up, another drop of water hit me in the head. Maybe leaks are like mice, and there’s never just one. In the end, I put out three pots and hoped for the best.

Megan came by and asked me if I were blowing her off.

“??”

“Well, I’ve called you twice today and you haven’t answered the phone, so I figured you were blowing me off.”

In the interests of cheapness, I don’t have caller ID, so it’s a surprise every time I answer the phone (though to be fair, it’s mostly one of my siblings instead of secret admirers). I also don’t have call waiting. Partly because of the frugality thing, and partly because no-one ever hangs up on the other person to talk to me, so I’m kind of against it. So even if I wanted to blow someone off, I’d be hampered by not knowing who it was in the first place.

We checked the phone, and there was a dial tone. We called it, using my little purple cell phone, and it didn’t ring. Hmm. We notified Rob, and he came over to look into it. After a couple of minutes, he peered inside the glass doors and asked me if I knew the phone box was open.

Well, I didn’t even know where the phone box was (or, to be completely honest, that there was one), so I guess someone else opened it or maybe the wind blew it open. Anyway, the wires got wet, and when they are too wet, your phone won’t ring, though you can dial out. Almost an ideal phone situation, really.

But Rob did something, and the second call worked. So if you call me, I won’t blow you off.

Last night, I was sure that my dreams of the city would be washed away in the rain that pounded away at my roof as I prepared for a possible power outage and anxiously scanned the National Weather Service advisories.

When I went to bed, the power was still on, and the rain had stopped.

When I woke up, it still wasn’t raining! I called Caltrans and learned that the road was open. I threw a few things in a bag, did a conference call, and just after noon, I was on my way.

The road was still dotted with yellow FLOODED signs (probably staying nearby to be ready for the next one), and the Navarro river was pretty darn high. The brown, muddy waters reached high up the tree trunks on its banks. But the sun actually peeked out, and traffic was a breeze: I made the trip in three hours.

I have to admit that I enjoyed crossing the good bridge. Also that I feel like much less of a loser coming in from the country than I did from the suburbs. I’m now safely ensconced in a modest motel about a block from my old apartment (is it weird/sad/pathetic that I always stay in my old neighborhood?), enjoying the lightning-fast WiFi, Thai delivery menu at hand.

I called Meg to tell her that the Mouse had done its job and I had arrived safely. This is another of our family traditions, like waving until the departing person is out of sight. If one of us goes to the city, or, rarely, ventures further afield, we always call when we arrive.

Now neither of us has a thing to worry about. When I lived in Oakland, I was always worried about someone breaking in when I was away, in addition to worrying about the kitties. Now Rob is hanging out at my place during the day while Megan is sleeping. He can watch TV, play guitar, and listen to music with no fear of waking his sleeping wife. The cats have company, and so does Schatzi, since she goes with him. It makes me happy to know that Rob can enjoy himself there, since he does so much for me.