Suzy Says

For some reason, the Powers That Be decided that it would be a good idea to show the latest season of Emily in Paris in two parts, one in August and one in September. Megan and I could not have agreed less. We had been waiting a long time to find out what happened with Emily and her friends, especially after the cliffhanger ending of Season 3. Also, I am not known for my patience.

But the Powers That Be seldom, if ever, care what I think, so we had to go along with their schedule. On the other hand, it did give us two chances to hang out and spend time together, which is always good.

Before settling in with Emily and pizza, we took a tour around the garden, which was looking lovely:

I checked in on Clyde, who is sleeping peacefully under the chinquapin tree, his spot marked by a beautiful hand-made yellow glass marker. In late January or early February, his resting place will be covered with a blanket of yellow daffodils planted by Megan. I miss my sweet boy so much.

Back at Megan’s place, we cracked open some very good local champagne:

and toasted Emily and each other. It was delicious. I love champagne.

Megan decided that we would move our Emily watching activities to the bedroom, where we could relax on the bed as we sipped our champagne and delighted in Emily. It was definitely more comfortable, though being somewhat height-challenged, I was less than graceful getting on and off the bed, which is much higher than mine.

We had a great time. I love sister time!

A YEAR AGO: Enjoying the Fair.

FIVE YEARS AGO: You guessed it: at the Fair!

TEN YEARS AGO: Fun at the Fair.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Fleeing the heat.

It seemed like Duchess had been gone forever, but I decided not to visit her while she was in exile, because I didn’t want her to associate me with the horror of being stuck inside at a stranger’s house, with seven kittens demanding constant attention. Instead, I would sweep in and be Hero Girl, taking her away from all that!

Finally, it was time for her to come home. I was excited to pick her up. I brought an arrangement of flowers for Shelley, who had cared for Duchess and her brood for so long, and had a chance to admire the beautiful kittens:

They were happy and healthy, and their Halloween colors made them extra appealing this time of year. Shelley thought there would no problem getting them adopted.

Duchess was glad to get home, though Dodge was less than thrilled to see her, which surprised me. They were such good friends before, and I thought he would be happy she was home. Maybe it was the smell of the strange house, or the post-baby hormones. Whatever it was, he gave her a wide berth.

Another surprising change was that she had no interest in going outside, whereas before, she would freak out if I tried to keep her in overnight. Maybe two months of being inside where it’s safe and warm and there is food and water and comfortable places to sleep made her realize that being inside isn’t so bad. There’s no fervor like the converted.

She wasted no time in rolling around on her back in her patented way:

You can see a little flash of her spayed pink belly. No more babies for Her Grace!

FIVE YEARS AGO:  Some culinary experiences, some more successful than others.

TEN YEARS AGO:  A great evening at the theater with the girls.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO:  Remembering my grandparents and their long and happy marriages.

The Grange Fire, July 25, 2024

July 25 turned out to be an eventful day. Just after I got home that day, still reeling from the news of Duchess’ litter of seven kittens, my sister texted me to say there was a fire in Boonville and that people were evacuating.

Faithful readers may recall that Boonville is where Erica and Jessica used to live (and where fire also claimed the life of Erica’s mother); where we go to the annual County Fair; and where I like to pick up pizza and sometimes scented candles and dessert. It’s about a 40 minute drive from my house, or about the same length of drive as my daily commute to work. It is around 30 miles from Hooterville.

Megan suggested getting ready to evacuate just in case, though our brother did not think it would be necessary and it seemed that the fire was moving east, away from us. Progress was made during the night, and the evacuation orders were lifted the next day, but it was too close for comfort.

A YEAR AGO:  Having some fun.

FIVE YEARS AGO:  Doing some cooking.

TEN YEARS AGO: Of backs and trees.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Taking a look at a new house (now my old house). So glad I moved to the country!

TWENTY YEARS AGO: O is for…

The Duchess of Navarro Ridge

I didn’t know which prospect was scarier: her giving birth outside, or in my house. I contacted a local cat rescue, and they said they would get back to me, but it took a while. As I waited, I got more worried.

I finally heard back from the Executive Director of the rescue, and she said that she herself would look after the Mystery Cat, who I had started to call Duchess. All I had to do was catch Her Pregnant Grace and bring her to the Village.

I managed this by putting a little dish of food in the cat carrier and then slamming the prison door as soon as she went inside to eat it. I expected her to complain the whole way, but she was completely silent. I, on the other hand, talked to her the whole way, just as I did with Clyde on our final drive.

Arriving at the foster home, foster mom Shelley was just coming out of her house. She was charmed with how beautiful Duchess is. She said that the vet was on vacation for a week and she would take Duchess in once the vet was back.

The appointment was slated for July 24, but Shelley couldn’t get Duchess into the carrier. She was finally able to catch her the following day, and while Duchess was waiting to see the doctor, she gave birth to seven – yes, seven! – kittens, five black ones (I knew it!) and two orange. Shelley is sure this is not Duchess’ first rodeo, but it will be her last.

My house is not equipped for taking care of kittens, especially while the other cats go in and out. So Shelley, who loves kittens, agreed to keep Duchess and her brood until they are weaned. Then Duchess will be spayed and come home to me. I won’t get her back until October, which seems like a long way away. I’m also not sure how to handle this with my landlord. Is it better to ask for permission or forgiveness?

All I know is, I can’t turn my back on a living creature who came to me starving and in need of help. She needs me. Dodge loves her. They used to spend time together and he would bathe her head. I know he misses Clyde. And the timing of her arrival and the fact that I had never seen a stray cat at my house the whole time I’ve lived here makes me wonder…

A YEAR AGO: I seem to be immature on the outside as well as the inside.

FIVE YEARS AGO: I went to the movies! I think that is the last time I went.

TEN YEARS AGO: It was good to be home. Side note: pictures of Clyde still stab me in the heart. I don’t think I will ever stop missing my beloved boy.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Remembering how I first became a coffee addict.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Farewell to the Hamptons! Unfortunately, the photos have been lost in the mists of time.

Happy Friday!

It was a happy Friday at the real Happiest Place on Earth. Megan’s, Monica’s, and my schedules all aligned and we met for dinner at our favorite seaside bar.

Those among us who are not fans of being slightly chilled, like a fine Chablis, decided that we should sit inside. We were delighted to see that the inimitable Aiyana was tending bar, and she both made the delicious concoction you see above and gave us big, wonderful hugs. It was so good to see her.

We turned our attention to the wine list, following Dad’s edict to choose the wine first and then select the food. Megan decided on a rosé that was new to me, from nearby Fathers and Daughters. Drink local! It was delicious, refreshing and bright, with notes of tropical fruit without being too sweet.

We shared a delightful cheese platter as we contemplated the menu:

That’s quince mebrillo in the middle, along with Brie, Shropshire Blue, and Gruyère. Monica ordered the salmon special of the day, and Megan had soupe au pistou, which reminded me of the long-ago summer when I was 17. I spent it on the French Riviera, where I first encountered soupe au pistou and pesto, not to mention other delicacies that it was better not to know what you were eating. After finding out that bouchées à la reine had sweetbreads in it, and further found out what sweetbreads were, I stopped asking.

My salad was garnished with beautiful, edible flowers from the restaurant’s garden:

And was the perfect accompaniment to the light gnocchi, garnished with pine nuts:

Somehow, we managed to save room for a flight of desserts to share:

It was so great to spend time together, catch up on each other’s lives, and just be together. More and more, I realize that time is the greatest luxury.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Settling in to the beautiful new house.

TEN YEARS AGO: How to make faux pho.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Heading back to the City from the country (where I now live).

TWENTY YEARS AGO: It’s harder to get a cab in New York than you’d think.

We had a heatwave that lasted an entire week. It was a nightmare. Seven consecutive days of it being 90 at my house. Every day, I’d open the doors first thing to attempt to cool the house down, risking Dodge’s life and limbs in the early morning darkness. I had the fan on while I got dressed after my tepid or cold shower.

I closed up the house before I went to work, and closed what blinds there are in the hopes of staving off the worst of the heat. I had two fans blasting on high by my bed, but it was so hard to sleep with the heat and without a blanket. After a few days of this, I was a sleep-deprived zombie, and with no end in sight, I just sat on the couch and cried, wishing there were someone I could surrender to who would make it stop. I would not stand up under torture.

Temperatures inland were horrifying: 112 in the County seat of Ukiah. My boss’ daughter was slated to fly from San Francisco to Palm Springs during this nightmare, and her plane was unable to take off because of the heat (Palm Springs was scheduled to reach 120 that day). I did not know that was a thing.

This is so scary. I thought I was old enough that the planet would start burning down after I had shuffled off this mortal coil, but apparently it’s ahead of schedule. At least there’s air conditioning at work, where I spend most of my time.

A YEAR AGO: Audrey turns sour (not sweet) sixteen

FIVE YEARS AGO: The magic of the circus.

TEN YEARS AGO: My drive to work.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Want to trade?

TWENTY YEARS AGO: My summer wishlist

As far as the eye can see

Traffic is not usually one of my challenges, though I drive 50 miles round-trip to work and back, five days a week. I’m usually more concerned with wildlife and visibility than gridlock. But now is the summer of our discontent. One of the eleven (yes, that’s 11) bridges I cross to get to work is being worked on for no good reason.

This mess started in the spring, with 300 trees being summarily destroyed, leaving a huge scar on the eastern side of the road, and no visible way of stopping it from becoming a gigantic mudslide when the rains start again. I’ll let a disgruntled writer on the local message boards fill you in:

This disgusting project is being done in order to widen Jack Peters Creek Bridge in order to add a bicycle lane, a safety barrier for that lane & a walkway on the west side for pedestrians. This is being done in order to facilitate bicycle tourists & pedestrians traveling from the Mendocino headlands to the Russian Gulch headlands. The walkway will also enable people to take photos of the Pacific Ocean more safely from the bridge.

In order to widen the bridge, it is having to be moved a bit to the west. In order to do this it is necessary to move some of the road itself, both north and south of the bridge. In order to do this, trees have to be removed & the slope cut back on the highway right-of-way. Since very large machinery is needed for construction, a new pole for the electrical lines going into Mendocino had to be installed. This new pole had to be extra tall in order to accommodate the machinery. I guess that anyone taking another meaningless selfie from the bridge will simply shoot to the side of it.

Tourist season has made traffic worse than ever, and since so many cars are backed up, when you get to where there are two lanes and it’s your chance to get past the people driving 30 on the highway, you can’t get past them all before the road narrows to one doomed lane again.

I am sorry to say that this is slated to go until September 2025. Yes, the end of NEXT YEAR. In the meantime, I have to find some way of being more zen about sitting in traffic. Or less homicidal.

A YEAR AGO: Megan was recovering from surgery and Jonathan was on the road.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Dodge defenestrates.

TEN YEARS AGO: A reading at the local bookstore.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A rude awakening

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Enjoying some eavesdropping.

Faithful readers (or even the casual ones) will not be surprised to learn that my attempt at growing a moss rose plant from scratch – I mean, seeds – was an epic failure. I asked Megan to see if she could grown some in the greenhouse for me to transplant, but instead, she brought me this plant:

It’s supposed to be deer and rabbit resistant, and this has proved to be the case so far. I think the sign looks perfect in the Clyde-shaped planter. The green is very close to the color of his beautiful eyes. It makes me feel a little better to have his plant close by and know that he is always remembered and always loved.

The Mystery Cat is still hanging around, and is still hungry. I feed her twice a day now. I am pretty sure she is a girl, since I caught her in flagrante with another cat and shooed her suitor away, hoping it was not too late. Like every other parent, I also hoped that they didn’t resume their activities as soon as my back was turned.

Here she is, lounging on the back porch where the Clyde Memorial Plant is:

Rolling around on her back remains her signature move, like Dodge’s hopping, and it is adorable.

I am able to pet her a little when I feed her, though petting makes her wince a bit and she seems to be unfamiliar with the concept. She definitely prefers wet food to kibble. I am now able to close the door when I let her in the house in the morning to feed her, though she does eventually get nervous and want to go out again. I have started to call her Duchess.

A YEAR AGO: The unlucky 13th.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Unboxing the ancient grandfather clock.

TEN YEARS AGO: A busy Sunday.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Things were less than exciting.

Since I had kind of pre-celebrated my birthday on Megan’s birthday, I didn’t really do much to mark the great day itself. I did give myself a couple of days off, though. My birthday fell, inconveniently, on a Tuesday, so I took Tuesday through Thursday off, working on Monday and Friday. I later discovered that this is pretty much the ideal work schedule.

Another drawback to the Tuesday birthday* is that many restaurants, including the beloved Ledford House, are not open for business, even for Me. But who wants to cook their own birthday dinner? I solved this problem by getting take-out dinner from Luna, which was, as always, magically delicious.

I finally had the sparkling wine my healthcare provider/co-worker/family tenant gave me back in February to mark the return of heat and light to my humble abode after 5 days of cold and darkness following an epic storm. It was still festively beribboned.

I wasn’t feeling all that festive, probably because Clyde’s birthday was just four days after mine and he didn’t live to see his. I miss my sweet boy so much. The house doesn’t feel the same without him. I still can’t believe I will never see him or cuddle him again.

Despite Clyde’s eternal absence, I enjoyed my days off, waking up in the light and not having to put on faux adult armor or drive anywhere. Sometimes Doing Nothing is the best.

*I was born on a Monday morning. Which explains why I’m fair of face. In more ways than one.

A YEAR AGO: An outdoor wedding.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Getting internet for my birthday was a pretty good present.

TEN YEARS AGO: Car repairs for my birthday.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: A round-up of fabulous handbags.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Defeated by a book.

Us Three, May 25, 2024

Years – well, decades – of Megan’s ER night shifts have gotten us used to celebrating birthdays and holidays on whatever day she is available near the actual day. So it was extra special and extra fun to celebrate Megan’s birthday on the day itself, May 25.

Of course, I was swamped with nostalgia, remembering the day she was born. I was called down to the office, and I was scared as I walked through the silent school halls, my shoes clacking on the shiny, waxed floors. As I walked, I mentally reviewed the things I had done that might have gotten me in trouble, and then divided them into the ones where I was likely to have been caught. As it happened, they told me that I had a little sister, which was a joy, and also a relief. I skipped back to the classroom, slammed open the big, heavy door, and breathlessly announced, “I have a little sister!” The girls all yelled “Yay!” and the boys all yelled “Boo!”.

Jonathan was definitely in the “boo” camp, then. He desperately wanted a brother. He said that in his school, they announced it over the PA, which I thought was pretty impressive.

More than half a century (!) later, I was wedged in the back of my baby sister’s car, as she and her husband of 32 years drove us to our brother’s girlfriend’s house to celebrate our birthdays. My baby sister usually drives when we are together these days.

We had a lovely dinner, and Jonathan and Rio gave us gifts, which we weren’t expecting (and which made me feel a little embarrassed, since Rio’s birthday is exactly a week after mine). They were really thoughtful, since they were aimed at helping Megan and me to deal with our work-related stress. Megan’s was some hilarious shower steamers, and mine was a massager gadget. You drape it where you want it to massage you and press a button. It is really great.

We had some of the cider that my siblings (and healthcare provider*) made last fall, and the Calvados Jonathan made about three years ago. It was delicious, and tasted to me as good as any I ever had in France.

After dinner, Rio took the photo above, capturing the love and happiness we all felt. Megan said, “It was a perfect birthday.”

*She rents the little cottage on Rio’s property. Due to Megan’s schedule, last year’s cider pressing happened on her day off, when I was at work. Yes, this is a really small town.

A YEAR AGO: A look around the family garden.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Moving day dawned bright and beautiful.

TEN YEARS AGO: Celebrating Megan’s birthday.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Planning a visit with my siblings. Littel did I know I would one day live in the same place!

TWENTY YEARS AGO: I was not looking forward to my birthday.

You may remember that the last time Megan and I went to our favorite seaside bar with our friend Monica, Megan temporarily lost her wedding ring. She found it right next to her chair in the garden, but it was clearly time to get it resized to avoid further, and possibly permanent, wedding ring loss.

She took the ring to our friend Chris, who has a jewelry shop in the Village and who also restrung my 30th birthday pearls a few years ago. It took him a little while to repair the ring. It turned out that the ring was no longer round after years of wear, and that parts of the setting needed to be strengthened and some of the small diamonds re-set.

It was worth the wait, though:

It looks better than it has in years. And like Megan, it is unique. We both really like it after all these years.

It was great to see Chris and catch up on each other’s lives. I admired the view from the shop on the way out:

It was such a lovely day that we decided to stop off at a café for a glass of wine and some nibbles. We were intrigued by the Honig Sauvignon Blanc, which neither of had tried before. Megan pointed out that two glasses would cost almost the same as a bottle, so we got the bottle:

It was delicious, and lived up to the description of “Bright, inviting floral, pear and citrus aromas lead to a lively and harmonious palate. Resplendent with jasmine and citrus notes that range from grapefruit to lemongrass and kafir lime, delightfully nuanced by tropical notes”. It must be be fun to be a wine writer.

It was so nice to sit in the pretty garden on a sunny spring afternoon, enjoying the flowers, sea breezes, and just being together.

FIVE YEARS AGO: In limbo.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Being stalked by a pigeon. Yes, a pigeon.

When I arrived at the family estate for dinner, Megan poured us a glass of wine and then took me on a tour of the garden. It reminded me of how Dad and I used to tour his garden before dinner, glass of wine in hand.

First, I stopped by to visit my beloved Clyde. He is resting peacefully under the chinquapin tree. There are still boards and cement blocks over him to keep the marauders out, but I think it will be safe to move those soon. I put his little yellow marker up, and it will be good to plant cheery yellow daffodils there this fall.

I miss him so much. Every day. I talked to him and told him how much he is missed and how much we love him, including Dodge. I just want to hold my Clyde once more and bury my face in his satiny black fur. I guess you always want more time.

Back in the garden, things are off to a great start:

Peppers are growing in the pepper houses:

Strawberries are flourishing in their (hopefully) raccoon-proof beds:

As soon as I saw this tool, I knew it was something Rob had made. Why not have something that is useful and also a work of art?

This year, my siblings are trying thornless blackberries for the first time:

I didn’t even know that was a thing.

The raspberries are already buzzing with bees:

And tomatoes and hot peppers are growing in the greenhouse:

Spring is such a beautiful time of year!

A YEAR AGO: The loss of a long-time friend.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A flood complicated my moving preparations.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The horrors of an SEC audit. I hope you never experience this.

It seemed like a long time since we had a family dinner together, so we gathered at Megan’s place for some pizza from Café Beaujolais and some delicious rosé from the winery where our friend Monica now works.

Maybe it was the approach of Mother’s Day, but we ended up talking about Mom. We don’t often talk about our childhood, and I have to say, it is only recently I have really begun to understand that it was a little odd, to say the least.

Mom was bi-polar, and also suffered from serious post-partum depression. Again, this something I figured out in retrospect. Mom stayed in bed all summer after Megan was born in late May. I thought she was sick. After all, she went to the hospital to get the baby, and that’s where sick people went. Keep in mind, I was 9 at the time.

Despite being 9, I somehow ended up helping to feed and change Megan, and did the laundry. I still remember thinking that the smallest person had the most laundry, as I folded the diapers and onesies.

Before Meg was born, there was an incident where Mom dumped Jonathan’s Spaghetti-Os and milk over his head and then stormed off. My major concern at the time was that the tomato sauce would irrevocably stain his platinum curls, and that I would never get the stain out of his hair. I now realize that was the least of what I should have been worried about in this situation. Jonathan asked me if I remembered what he did to spark this, and neither of us could remember. I just remember the clean up.

Even though Mom didn’t work and had a car, we always walked to and from the school bus stop. We lived in the country, and our driveway was a quarter of a mile long, so it was at least half a mile and maybe more to the neighbor’s houses where the bus stopped. Yet there was never the slightest suggestion that Mom should drive us to the bus stop or to school. This only occurred to me over the past couple of years. And if Mom was even up when we were getting ready for school, she wasn’t making lunch or helping us to get ready. She was sitting at the dining room table with coffee and a cigarette.

She was kind of a ghost in our lives. I don’t have a lot of specific memories with her. Even though Dad worked full-time, he was the one who made dinner and read us bedtime stories and took us to the library and grocery store on Saturdays.

But Mom could be charming. We all had the experience of our friends saying how fun she was. Even at the hospital where she eventually died, the staff (and Megan’s co-workers) thought she was charming. We all said to each other that we just agreed with anyone who said this. I wasn’t going to tell them how she used to tell me, “You’ll never amount to anything. You’ll be a clerk in a dime store your whole life”, or how she used to call me up and reduce me to tears for no reason, or throw the phone at my head when I came downstairs in the morning. There’s no point. Let them think what they want. Their truth is also true.

I do feel sorry for Mom and the pattern of abandonment that plagued her whole life, starting with being left on the orphanage steps as a newborn and ending with her second husband leaving her as she battled the cancer that would eventually kill her. She should never have had kids, and I don’t think she ever got the treatment she needed that would have helped her to have a happier life. It must have been really hard living inside that head.

But I’m glad my brother and sister and I have each other, and I think our childhood, though difficult at times, helped us all to grow up to be people who work hard and don’t expect the world to bend to our whims. We all just suck it up and deal, and that has stood us in good stead.

It’s not surprising that Mother’s Day is hard for me, though. I avoid Facebook not just on that day, but for days afterwards. All the fuss just reminds me of what I didn’t have and will never have.

FIVE YEARS AGO: A wonderful time at the circus.

TEN YEARS AGO: A field trip for garden supplies.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Of cats and dogs.

I was driving to work one day (aren’t I always?) when the engine light came on. Being the Worrier that I am, I spent the rest of the drive peeking at the engine light every few seconds. I called the dealership where I bought the car (and where Dodge used to hang out before I adopted him) and they were able to get me in on the same day.

Investigation showed that there was rodent damage (shudder). Apparently, the little miscreants had chewed through some wires, which sent a message to the car’s computer saying there was an engine misfire. It was fixable, but it cost $400. At least they could repair it the same day. When I went to pick up my car, I noticed that they had also washed it, which was a nice surprise.

I guess this is one of the hazards of living in the country. I bought some anti-rodent spray and sprayed the car with it. Hopefully that will help. It’s easier to deal with than what John has been dealing with down in Hayward:

Yesterday I stepped off the train at BART and discovered that some jerk drilled a hole in my gas tank to steal my gas. Apparently it’s a thing and it’s happening everywhere in this area. it gets even more fun. Because my truck is a 2001 Ranger, they had to call around to junkyards to find one and it won’t be delivered until the 25th. So I’m driving to dinky little Rent-A-Car, and I’m scared shitless that I’m going to scratch it and have to pay all kinds of extra fees. Even though it’s smaller than my Ranger, it’s still weird getting used to the dimensions of the car when I’m parking.

What makes it really insane is that I park right at the edge of a row of parking spaces. About 20 feet away from me is a sidewalk with heavy foot traffic and on the other side of the sidewalk is the main entrance entrance to the BART station so there’s cars and buses going by nonstop all day. And these assholes still have the balls to do that. It’s like the wild West in this area.

A YEAR AGO: Kitten cuteness!

FIVE YERAS AGO: I moved!

TEN YEARS AGO: Home improvements, thanks to Rob.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Enjoying the beauty of old movies.

I finally found a planter I liked for the Clyde Memorial Plant. It’s even shaped like he was:

The marker with his name on it is made of fused glass. I liked it so much that I ordered another one the same day I received the first one:

I thought it would look nice with the daffodils on his resting place. If you’d like to buy one for your garden – they have lots of different designs, all weather-resistant fused glass, you can buy it here.

I check on Clyde whenever I go over to the property, and he is safe and peaceful under the chinquapin tree. I still miss him more than I can say. I have dreamed about him several times since I lost him. Every time, I wake up wishing he were here.

Megan bought some moss rose seeds, and gave me some for the Clyde planter. I am dubious about my ability to grow anything from seed, but I have planted them and am hoping they will sprout and bloom. My Plan B is to get some lavender from the family estate and plant that instead. So stay tuned on my gardening adventures.

The Mystery Cat is still hanging around. She visits most days, and remains hungry. I feed her twice a day. I am beginning to think she really is a stray. If she had a home, she wouldn’t be so hungry.

I still don’t know if Mystery Cat is a boy or a girl, but I’m saying “she” for convenience here. The he/she thing is tiresome.

I borrowed a Hav-A-Hart trap from my siblings, but couldn’t figure it out, and it seemed so narrow. I couldn’t believe that the fluffy cat would want to squeeze in there after weeks of eating on my (relatively) spacious side porch.

Here she is with Dodge on the side porch:

She does wander in and out of the sliding glass doors if I leave them open, and I have seen her hanging out on both the side and back porches. I figure the least I can do is feed a cat in need. I don’t know what will happen in the long run. In the meantime, she brightens my day, and Dodge’s, too.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Learning about female lighthouse keepers. At a lighthouse!

TEN YEARS AGO: My cats drove their babysitter crazy.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Thinking about moving. Or not. Spoiler alert: I would escape Oaktown for good less than six months later.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: A sunny Sunday in San Francisco.

My blog turns 23 today!

Although that sounds youthful (especially to someone in her 60s), in blog world and internet world and the Google, it’s positively ancient. I think technology years are even more extreme than dog years. Maybe it’s more like one blog year equals one decade. So that would make this collection of silly, shallow musings a valuable antique.

Or maybe just obsolete.

When I first started writing my blog, encouraged by my fabulous friend Candi, who said, “You have things to say and you need a place to say them,” I wrote nearly every day. I felt like I was supposed to do that, for some reason. Now, I write maybe once a week.

My life is probably much less interesting to the average reader than it was 20+ years ago, when I lived in San Francisco in a beautiful apartment in beautiful Pacific Heights, worked in the Financial District, drove a 1966 Mustang, and was married to a really nice guy. Now, I live in a teeny town about 150 miles north of San Francisco, in a water tower in the redwoods, drive a 2013 Mazda, and am no longer married, nor will I ever be again if I have anything to say about it.

Though my life may be less interesting to others, I am happy living in the same town as my siblings, beside the sea and in the redwoods. I love the natural beauty around me and the clean air. I love my family, friends and remaining cats. I love how this little community looks out for each other. I would never willingly move.

When I first started this blog, I was such a city girl. I would never have imagined living in the country, or being so happy living in the country. You never know what’s going to happen, and that’s probably a good thing. As time goes on, I have learned to go with the flow and just deal with whatever comes along, always waiting to see what comes next.

Although Monica closed her shop a couple of years ago, she still holds pop-up events now and then. One of them coincided with a time that both Megan and I were available, something that happens all too rarely, given her ever-changing night shifts and my never-ending day shifts.

Monica has recently been partnering with a friend who has access to unique vintage items, which are artfully mixed in with new things. Monica has not lost her touch in arranging things beautifully and creating a welcoming and comfortable space that inspires one to linger:

In the back, she set up a little bar, with infused water and delicious wines from the winery where she now works:

Since Megan was driving, I got to taste the wine, and it was really good. Megan and I are beginning to plot a trip to Monica’s winery and a couple of others inland in the next few weeks, before it gets boiling hot. Stay tuned on that.

I was unable to resist a little turquoise ceramic bird, which is quite at home at my office:

and a little pine-scented candle for home, because you know how I am about scented candles.

We had a wonderful time before heading back to Megan’s place for pizza and GirlTV(TM). It seemed like a long time since we had hung out, and we enjoyed every moment.

A YEAR AGO: A wonderful trip to the Valley.

FIVE YEARS AGO: The horrors of being crowned.

TEN YEARS AGO: A busy and fun weekend.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: An Easter care package.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Judging the rather degenerate contents of my recycling bin.

So…

This little guy or girl (while I am excellent at detecting the actual sex of humans, despite their outward appearance, I am notoriously bad at determining the sex of cats, where I am consistently incorrect) just appeared one day recently.

In all the years I have lived in Hooterville, I have never had a stray cat show up at my house. It seems odd that about six weeks after losing Clyde, a cat turned up.

He or she is fluffy and pretty:

and a little shy, though s/he has an endearing habit of rolling around on his/her back, which also suggests a certain lack of fear. Dodge seems to welcome the newcomer. I have seen them sniff each other and touch noses, and Dodge will sit quite near the Mystery Cat:

Dodge clearly misses Clyde, and I think he would welcome a companion. He seems to like the interloper. But I’m not sure I want to take on another cat. It seems too soon after losing Clyde, and I just assumed that Dodge would be my last cat. I don’t want my cats to outlive me. Also, I’m sure my landlord does not want me to adopt this cat. Or any cat, for that matter.

You will not be surprised to learn that I have started to feed the visitor, who is very hungry. I am hoping be able to catch him/her and go to the Humane Society, where I can learn if he or she is microchipped or listed as missing. I have put out notices on the local listserv and Facebook with no response.

So we’ll see what happens. In the meantime, I will keep Mystery Cat supplied with food and water and hope that he or she can stay safe out there.

A YEAR AGO: A mid-week celebration.

FIVE YEARS AGO: An unexpected funeral.

TEN YEARS AGO: The horror of bureaucracy.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The horrors of house hunting. And traffic.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: The horrors of maintenance. They never end!

Sunset

and our drinks, of course:

It was peaceful in the garden, and the waiter was wonderfully attentive. Monica joined us after her hostessing duties were over, and we had a great time catching up. We also talked about Dad a bit, since it was his birthday weekend. Monica asked us what things we each inherited from Dad, but I had to tell her Megan’s and Megan had to tell her mine. We were both correct and didn’t even have to think about our answers. For Megan, it was her science/medical mind, and for me, it was a love of art and literature. It was fun to think about and share our memories.

When we got to Megan’s car, she put her hands on the wheel and realized that her wedding ring was gone. She ran back into the bar and looked through all the paper towels in the restroom trash before going back to our table. There was her ring, glittering in the gravel in the last of the sun’s rays. Whew! She put it her pocket and is going to get it sized as soon as possible. So lucky she found it!

A YEAR AGO: A beautiful drive to the South Coast. Is there any other kind?

FIVE YEARS AGO: Farewell to our beloved Erica and Jessica. I miss them so much!

TEN YEARS AGO: A local production of The Breakfast Club.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Thinking about moving.

Dad’s birthday weekend dawned sunny and surprisingly warm. It was the first really nice day of the year, and especially welcome after what seemed like a pretty tough winter, full of storms, power outages, and cold temperatures.

It happened that our friend Monica was hosting a wine tasting at a lovely inn in the Village:

Because this town so is small – sometimes, its teeniness can still surprise me – the inn used to belong to my friend Richard (the local one, not the San Francisco one*), but I hadn’t been there since the current owners took it over.

We were greeted graciously by Monica and the couple who I later learned owned the inn, and supplied with a glass of wine to go with an exquisite charcuterie platter:

I don’t think I had ever seen a salami rose before.

We headed to the beautiful garden:

which had a charming gazebo:

and enjoyed the wine and the sunshine and the view. We toasted Dad as he had asked us to, long ago: “The old man wasn’t so bad.” He wasn’t. And he would have loved to sit in the garden with us and feel the sun while enjoying a glass of wine. At least we have the memories, and he is always in our hearts.

*Though SF Richard is an older friend in terms of years of friendship, local Richard is older in years.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Celebrating Dad’s birthday.

TEN YEARS AGO: Enjoying time with friends.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The battle of the boxes.