Suzy Says

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.

A beautiful cake for a beautiful occasion

In the midst of all the sadness that has come our way this August – the Official Month of Death has really outdone itself this year – there was joy. I attended the wedding of two friends who have been together for a quarter of a century, but are finally free to marry.

I was honored that they asked me to help them plan the wedding, which was held at their lovely home in Hooterville. They wanted to keep it simple, and invited just close friends and families. One of the grooms has wedding longevity in his family: his parents have been married for 58 years and his sister and her husband for 21. The wedding was held on his sister’s birthday, so it was a joyous occasion all around.

The sun peeped out, and it was a perfect day. As I arrived at the grooms’ home, I met the sikh who was presiding over the ceremony. He is a warm, humorous and wise man and I was delighted to meet him.

The wedding theme colors were white and purple, as you can see on the wedding cake above and the rustic flowers on the lawn:

Zoe, their plushly soft 15 year old Australian Shepherd mix, was the honorary maid of honor:

The sikh gave us some opening words of wisdom before starting the ceremony, which was held on the deck:

The couple exchanged their vows:

And exchanged their rings, made just for them by the local artists at Old Gold:

Then smashed the traditional glass for luck:

And finally sealed their vows with a kiss:

It was a deeply moving ceremony, and I was honored to be there.

After the ceremony, there was a free-form garden party with lots of music and fantastic food made by one of the grooms, who spent a week making it all. The feast included Moroccan bistilla, a puff pastry extravaganza, both chicken and vegetarian; Moroccan olives with mint, lemon and cayenne; pate en volaille, Fijian Kokoda, a sort of seviche with bay scallops; and tiny, moist corn muffins. There was wine and beer and laughter and tears. It was a truly special occasion.

Little River Sunset

Everything is more fun with my sister. Even babysitting. Or “brat bashing,” as my father used to say. He also referred to school as “government sponsored daycare.” Come to think of it, he had a pretty cynical attitude for someone with several kids. Maybe that’s no coincidence…

Not only are we kidless, it’s been a while since I babysat. I never really think of spending time with Jessica as babysitting (especially since she’s a lot more mature than I am in many ways), more like hanging out with a really fun friend. So I can’t actually remember the last time I actually brat bashed.

So it was probably good that Megan was there as the token grown up (and emergency services personnel, if needed).

We headed to my friend’s house earlier than usual, due to the construction on the iconic Hooterville bridge and the thrilling repaving of the Ridge – at least part of it. I can’t tell you how excited I was to discover that they were paving the rough, potholed road from near the store almost to the firehouse. I could practically hear my tires sighing with relief, and I was positively happy to sit and wait in the one lane traffic.

We arrived in good time and met our charges for the evening, two boys aged about 6 and a girl about 4. They are really sweet kids and were no trouble at all. We shared a pizza while we watched the movie “Cars”. Despite the stellar cast (Paul Newman; Billy Crystal; George Carlin), it was pretty boring for the female contingent of the audience. When it was over, we asked the little girl what she wanted to watch, and she chose “Winnie the Pooh.”

The boys loudly decried her choice, but Megan and I thought that she deserved a turn after sitting through the boys’ choice. About five minutes into “Winnie the Pooh”, the boys grumbled, “I guess we should just watch this stupid movie,” and within another few minutes, they were laughing and totally absorbed in the humor and charm. Megan and I were both amused by this.

I took a few minutes to snap the sunset over the foggy ocean – the house has a lovely view of the Pacific from its setting among the redwoods and sipped the rest of the wine thoughtfully left by the parents. It was a really nice evening. Everything’s more fun with my sister.

Here’s a quick recap of what happened around here lately besides the Great Schatzi Search. I have to admit that I still drive our part of the Ridge really slowly, scanning the roadside, even though I know perfectly well that Schatzi is gone. My heart is even more underachieving than my head (and that’s saying something).

Clyde:

Even though my heart-broken sister was spending almost every hour of every day looking for Schatzi, she managed to find time to tend to Clyde and check on his progress. After a week of house arrest while the horrifying Slobber Monster wound drained and finally healed (he still has a bald spot the size of a quarter on his neck), I let him out before taking Star to the beach, with stern warnings to pace himself. There’s no need to use up all nine lives at once. Don’t fill up on bread before the entrée arrives! He really put me through the mill with the Mystery Illness and the Attack of the Slobber Monster occurring within a three week period.

He seems to be staying closer to the house lately, and I’m hoping that he is avoiding the Slobber Monster’s lair. I thought that the constant spraying and medicining would damage our relationship, but he is as cuddly as ever with both Megan and me. Last night he fell asleep on me while I was watching the final couple of grueling* (yet gripping) episodes of The Killing and I could hear him snoring.

Megan:

Besides getting a pay cut, the hospital no longer allows its employees to cash out their accrued vacation time, which Megan used to do every year. To make it more fun, they are so understaffed that it’s really difficult to take the time off that you can no longer cash out.

However, Megan managed to take two weeks off, during which Schatzi disappeared and her car was out of commission until a couple of days before she had to go back to work. She spent most of her hard-won time off looking for her lost dog and borrowing rides. As she said, “Worst staycation ever!”

Friends:

Our friends (and my sibs’ land partners) Jennifer and Dave came for a visit. They are planning to start building a house on their part of the property and are slowly working toward that goal. They brought their horses:

and two miniature ponies with them. That’s a lot of weight to haul on our narrow, curvy roads!

Megan was able to spend some time riding Bella, the spotted horse on the right.

We had a really nice dinner down at their place, admiring the view:

They are such wonderful people.

After dinner, we played Bananagrams, a sort of free-form Scrabble without a board. I discovered a hidden talent for this game. Like most of the things I’m good at (accurately guessing the price of antique estate jewelry in The New Yorker, for example), it has no practical application, but fun all the same. I never said I was practical.

Megan and I ventured to lovely Anderson Valley on a lovely summer day:

We meandered past vineyards and farms, stopped in at the farm stand looking for Megan’s favorite Pink Lady apples (not ready yet), and poked around the cute little shops. We met up with Erica and Jessica at Libby’s for dinner:

I finally gave Jessica her Secret Society of Paper Cuts book as well as a copy of the cult classic Pee Wee’s Playhouse, just what a girl needs when recovering from limb breakage. As it happened, Jessica had just gotten a walking cast, which looks something like a giant ski boot, that very day. She prided herself in her ability to get around with crutches and accomplish things like getting in and out of the car by herself – no easy feat.

It was great to see them. Erica was a great comfort to Megan in her time of loss, and Jessica was as delightful as ever:

We are planning to go to the County Fair in mid September. I’m hoping to switch my work schedule so I can go to the Sheep Dog trials on the Sunday – it’s the most exciting part of the fair!

Mark and his family are back home after a year in New Jersey for Mark’s job, dismantling a factory and shipping it to Mexico. He said if he ever gets offered a job like that again, he won’t move his whole family to do it.

While in New Jersey, they survived Hurricane Sandy and an epic winter. They took Route 66 home, and had lots of adventures along the way. They went to Toronto so the girls could see Justin Bieber, and fell in love with the city, its diversity, culture, friendliness, and energy.

They stopped in Flint, Michigan and a Good Samaritan, eying Mark’s out of state plates and family of women, advised him to stop elsewhere for the night. Later they learned that Flint is the most dangerous city in America. They settled for the less hazardous Detroit that night.

The highlight of the trip was the Grand (or as Mark called it, the “Great”) Canyon. When they described it, you could see the look of awe on their faces.

We sat in my garden and had some wine and caught up. I’m glad they’re home.

I love our friends. What would we do without them?

*Episode ten was the most harrowing thing I’ve ever seen on TV.

Or how to make the world’s most expensive peach pie!

First, you plant the peach tree:

Keep in mind that this simple statement includes:

• Getting your friend and neighbor to come over with his heavy machinery
• Scrobbling up all the brush and bushes
• Removing hundreds of rootballs by hand (the very definition of back-breaking labor)
• Buying truckloads of dirt
• Spreading out truckloads of dirt by hand
• Spreading hay all over the dirt and planting vetch so it won’t blow away

  Easy, right? And this list does not include minor details like installing a drip system to keep the trees watered; installing and cementing heavy fence posts; deer fencing the entire operation; and rabbit fencing, another grovelly step done on hands and knees.

  Once all that’s done, you just have to wait for the tree to bloom:

  

  Fortuately, the strawberry plants at the tree’s feet bloom and fruit before the peach tree. This year, there was even a second crop of strawberries, so we had peaches and strawberries at the same time.

  Finally, the tree begins to fruit:

  

  And then the peaches are ready to be picked:

  

  Megan and Jonathan made eight pounds of peaches into jam, with roasted almonds and lemon thyme. It is amazing!

  I settled for making a pie with the remaining peaches:

  

  It’s wonderful to pick fruit and make it into pie within an hour. It doesn’t get fresher than that!

We love you and miss you, Dad. You are always in our hearts.

On Saturday, I took Star to the beach. Megan felt that her remaining dog was being neglected during the Great Schatzi Search and was overdue for some fun.

Star hopped happily into Miss Scarlett – I remain convinced that she remembers this is the car that rescued her – and sat beside me in the passenger seat. It was great to have a living, breathing dog beside me after so many days desperately searching for one who wasn’t, and Star was wonderful company. The only drawback was her tendency to lick my face, which can be hazardous while driving.

We stopped at the hardware store to see if they could copy the flyer I had made. They could, but only in black and white. Better than nothing, though, so I asked for 20 copies. The cashier had had the same experience with her own dog many years ago and sympathized with what we were all going through. I have to say that this crisis has really made me appreciate our neighbors and little community more.

Back in the parking lot, our postmistress – who brings her own brindled pit bull Ginger* to work every day – was washing the post office windows, even though they are officially closed on Saturdays. She said, “I think I have a package for you” and went in to get it. She returned with my package and a cookie for Star. I said that she probably wouldn’t eat it, but to go ahead and try. As predicted, Star rejected it, being used to a much higher caliber of treats (I kept this comment to myself). A neighbor came by and petted Star through the open car window, and I could tell she was enjoying the attention.

We headed to Big River beach, the site of my brother’s fearlessly frigid Polar Plunge a few months ago. It was early enough that we had the beach almost to ourselves. Star was incredibly excited when we turned off the road toward the beach. She wasted no time in exploring:

leaving Star prints in the sand:

She happily sniffed the beach flowers:

We admired the tide pools as we headed toward the bridge:

This is where the river meets the ocean, and the water is so clear you can see all the pebbles and seaweed:

Star avoided the water itself, but she was definitely happy to be at the beach. I really enjoyed my time with her. I should do it more often.

*Ginger may well be Hooterville’s most popular resident. Megan and I often stop in just to pet Ginger, and we are far from the only ones.

Megan and Schatzi at Little River Inn, December 2012

Schatzi disappeared two days before the eighth anniversary of our mother’s death. Is there significance to her leaving on the 8th day of the 8th month near the 8th anniversary of Mom’s death? Or that the 8th plus the 10th equals the 18th, when we lost our father?

Or is it all meaningless?

That day dawned like any other. I was on a conference call when I heard Megan clapping for Schatzi, the best method of summoning a nearly deaf dog from the quiet woods. When she was still clapping after the call, I went over to Megan’s house. Schatzi was conspicuous by her absence, and Megan had a bad feeling.

We spent the rest of that day and all of the next literally and figuratively beating the bushes, clapping and calling until our hands were sore and our voices rough. Schatzi was never gone for more than an hour, and she normally made a loop from Meg’s house to mine and through the haul road behind my house and back. We soon discovered that the other people on our property rarely saw her.

The next day, a clerk at the store told us that she had seen Schatzi about 9 am on Thursday morning, trotting down the Ridge heading toward our brother’s place. Another person said a friend of his had seen a dog matching her description that morning. We went back and searched the area again, and I made a flyer which we posted at the store and post office.

Megan and our friends Jennifer and Dave searched all day on Saturday. All we found was that our neighbors are super nice and helpful. Everyone took a flyer, and everyone called their local friends, relations, and neighbors to put out the word. The kindness of our little community was a ray of sunshine on these dark days.

The search goes on today, but after so many days with no food and no meds since Wednesday night, it’s only because our hearts can’t catch up with our heads. That’s going to take a long time, if it ever happens.

We hope that she chose to leave us rather than thinking that she got lost. She rarely left the property, and she has lived here for 12 of her 15+ years. She knew it like the back of her paw. And she was always a very stubborn dog, as well as one who was always more of a wild animal after her difficult start in life, abandoned in the desert, so it makes sense that she would follow her instincts to die alone, however hard it is for us to accept. The lack of crows and other such birds leads me to believe that she is resting peacefully in a little nest under brush so dense that no-one can find her. She knew those woods so well.

The first night she was missing, Megan dreamed of her all night, and Schatzi was happy in every dream. I think it was her way of telling Megan she is happy where she is. It reminded me of how I dreamed of my grandfather laughing after he died, glad to be reunited with his adored wife of more than half a century. John always said that dreams were visits.

It’s been all Clyde, all the time this week.

If I’m not fussing over him in person, I’m worried about him while I’m at work.

I’m lucky that Megan is off this week, so she has time to pay house calls to her fuzzy patient several times a day. By the time I came home on Tuesday night, Clyde had been washed off and compressed as well as dosed with antibiotics. Megan also fed him probiotics in wet food, which is supposed to help with the intestinal side effects of the antibiotics.

I had difficulty getting him to eat the wet food this morning, but in this case, the antis are more important than the pros, much like it is in Congress these days. He was notably improved this morning, brighter eyed and more alert, and grooming his fur, which was notably less caky and gross.

Clyde was also more interested in outside, sitting by the sliding glass doors instead of hiding under the bed.

The whole episode has been a strange mix of good luck and bad luck.

Bad luck: Clyde was attacked by a mysterious slobber monster in broad daylight.

Good luck: He got away. Looking at the wound and its location, the monster was clearly trying to kill Clyde. I’m thankful for whatever or whoever distracted the monster or scared it off.

Good luck: Megan is not working this week, so she’s available to take care of Clyde while I’m not there. Not to mention calling the vet and dealing with medication and all that.

Bad luck: Part of the reason she is on cat call is that her brakes are being uncooperative so she has no car until the boys can operate and check it. So she’s been grounded for her “vacation.”

Bad luck: It’s been foggy all week and doesn’t look like we’re going to see the sun any time soon. Audrey and Roscoe are stuck outside in the fog while I’m at work and they have no doorman.

Good luck: It’s cool, so I don’t have to worry about the house being stuffy and hot when I get home.

I have decided that the mysterious slobber monster is a one off and will not bother us again. After all, my sister’s cats are 12, my brother’s cat Mars lived into his 20s, and Rose’s cat Gertrude lived to be almost as old on this property. I’m sure it will be a little worrying when Clyde ventures out again, though I’m pretty sure he will avoid wherever he ran into the monster.

I’m just glad the little guy is recovering. I feel like I can breathe again.

Who needs Bonnie when you’re Clyde? He can get into enough trouble on his own, thank you very much!

I had the day off on Saturday, time to hang out with the kitties and catch up on my reading and watching mindless TV. About noon that day, I noticed that I hadn’t seen Clyde in a while. Normally, the cats come in and out during the day, even when it’s sunny. They have a snack, get some pets, and have a nap. Audrey in particular is a notorious daytime sleeper. The other day she meowed in her sleep and woke herself up, then looked around all confused before going back to sleep, thinking it must have been a dream.

About an hour later, I noticed a lot of noise from crows and turkey vultures. The only reason for crows and vultures to be partying is because they are excited about eating. And the only thing they eat is dead animals. You can see where I was going with this.

I put on shoes and ventured to the haul road, where I saw the sad remains of a fawn – nothing but skeleton, head and legs, bless his little heart. The birds took off in horror at my arrival. Roscoe appeared, making his plaintive sounds, but no Clyde. I called Clyde a few more times during the afternoon, but no response. Roscoe followed me inside and napped on the armoire while Audrey dozed on the bed.

Megan came by around 3:00, and I said, “There’s still no sign of Clyde.” She said, “He isn’t that black cat?” pointing into the garden. It was. I picked him up, so happy to see him, and thought, “Wait a minute.”

The fur on one side of his neck was wet and slimy and spiky and smelled weird. Megan investigated and found a big bite on his neck. She went home for Vetericyn, and when she came back, she put him in the sink and washed him down like she did with Audrey when I first moved up here and Audrey pooped and peed in the carrier and then rolled in it.

She toweled him off and sprayed the wound with Vetericyn. He was immediately grounded, so I went and closed the many doors. Clyde hid under the bed, but emerged for treats when Audrey and Roscoe came in for the evening. He sat on me and purred, and slept on the bed that night. He seemed fine in himself, and unconcerned about whatever had happened, but Megan thinks he used up one of his nine lives.

Cats really need to work on their communication skills. I still have no idea what his mystery illness was only three weeks and $200 ago, and then there was the chin abscess. None of us can figure out what would have caused all that foul-smelling goo and slime, which is weirder than the bite itself.

Clyde was still grounded on Sunday. I felt bad that he was trapped inside and also that Audrey and Roscoe were stuck outside, with no access to food or the comfy bed. Megan came by before I left for work on Sunday and washed him off again. The wound was draining into the fur and making it all sticky and gross. It’s good that it’s draining and getting the bad stuff out, though. Megan made a couple of more house calls during the day to hot compress the wound and respray with with Vetericyn. She has done the same thing yesterday and today, and also called the vet, who is prescribing antibiotics for my bitten boy. He still looked pretty sad when I left for work this morning. Think good thoughts for the baby boy to get well soon!

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.

A day off is a rare thing. And yesterday, it was also a beautiful one.

Megan and I both had the day off yesterday, and the weather was beautiful. Warm enough that we didn’t need the sweaters we brought, but not too warm, since we could walk around without sweating. There was a lovely breeze off the ocean, and the Village looked like a postcard:

We stopped in at The Attic, a little shop filled with wonderful things. I know the owner and he happened to be there that day, so I introduced Megan and caught up on his news. He is moving after Labor Day to a house on Main Street which was the village dentist’s home and office until the 1920s, right next to the wine shop. I think that will be a great location for them.

Next we meandered around the bookstore. I had forgotten my birthday gift certificate and made a mental note to carry it in my wallet from now on. Not only does the bookstore have a resident cat, Catsby, it also has a lovely view of the ocean:

I just adore a bookstore view!

We took Star for a walk along the Headlands. I am proud to say that our CGC accredited girl was perfectly good when meeting yapping, barking, out of control dogs and didn’t react at all. Are tourist dogs as annoying to local dogs as their humans are to us?

Here is Star posing like the good girl she is in a field of ice plants:

Megan’s sharp eyes spotted a bird having a very enjoyable bath in a tidepool:

He or she was having a wonderful time, splashing around, ducking under the water, and preening.

The rocky, wild coast looked beautiful:

Looking toward Big River Beach, where my amazing brother took the Polar Plunge earlier this year:

Driving across that bridge always lifts my spirits. There’s something serene and special about that place. Maybe it’s the meeting of the ocean and the river?

After our walk, we went to the grocery store and picked up a few things. We stopped at the deli in Little River for lunch. It’s one of the best-kept local secrets. They make the best BLTs, and you can eat them overlooking the ocean:

Usually, there are horses in the paddock, but yesterday, they had the day off, too.

It was a perfect day.