Suzy Says

Back in the pre-plague years, there used to be a farmers’ market in beautiful downtown Hooterville, on a scrubby bit of grass near the store. The plague stopped that, even though it was always outside, and at some point, someone fenced in the grassy former market area so it is unavailable to the general public. So another location had to be found.
Someone cleverly thought of the Grange, which hosts a monthly spaghetti dinner and pancake breakfast. It is located on my Ridge, just a few miles from my house, so I drove there one Sunday afternoon to check it out:

It was nice to chat with neighboring farmers, and I bought some beautiful lettuce that looked like a flower:

along with cucumber, raspberries, and some sunflower sprouts. I threw a couple of handfuls of sunflower sprouts in my watermelon salad for lunch the next day*.

It is a really pretty setting, with a peek of the ocean through the trees. It will be interesting to see if we get more participation there as time goes on. It’s definitely a nice thing to have so close to home.

*The dressing was 3 tablespoons of brown sugar, a clove of garlic, ¼ cup of soy sauce, 3 tablespoons of fresh lime juice, a pinch of cayenne, and a glug of oil. Other salad ingredients were crushed peanuts, fresh mint and cilantro, and fried onions. It was delicious.

A YEAR AGO: A lovely evening at the Symphony.

TEN YEARS AGO: My cats disapprove of their staff sleeping in.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The early days with Henry (who later turned out to be a girl and moved with me to the country).

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Some cat-related injuries.

Looking back over the years, it appears that having a heatwave on or around the Fourth of July is a tradition. Yet I seem to forget this every year, and am shocked and appalled in equal measure when the Evil Death Star sends its roasting rays down upon my unsuspecting head. Just like I am always surprised by how early it gets dark in the afternoons along about Fall, and how I have to start putting the high beams on when I go to work in August. “Surely this didn’t happen last year?” I always think, and yet…it did. Sometimes I think I am the slowest of learners.

Despite this unpleasant tradition, I was surprised and dismayed when there was a heat advisory for the weekend before Independence Day. Not for the first time, I wondered why heatwaves always seem to happen on weekends, rather than during the week when I am a) at the ocean; and 2) in air conditioning for 9 or 10 hours a day.

I sadly closed up the house before it could get too hot outside, and closed what blinds there were. Sometimes I wish I had blackout curtains to go over the doors, like I did in the old house. I also wish I had screen doors like I did in the old house, allowing the cool air in while keeping the kitties in.

At least this house, unlike the old one, has insulation and is not shaped like an overturned rowboat, trapping the heat where I’m attempting to sleep. I think having the big redwoods around the house and the water tank on the third floor helps to keep things cool.

Weather forecasts said that Saturday was supposed to be the hottest day. It was 85, which is about 10 degrees higher than my highest level of heat tolerance. I foolishly believed the forecast, even though I know there is no job that has less accountability. Imagine my dismay to discover that it was 90 on Sunday, aka the night before the work week starts. At least it does cool down at night to around 50. I’m already dreaming of winter.

A YEAR AGO: Fleeing the usually wonderful Flynn Creek Circus. I didn’t dare to go this year.

TEN YEARS AGO: Clyde and Megan were both feeling better.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: The joys of getting a mammogram. They are no more enjoyable twenty years later.

Birthday Girl

Some people turn sweet sixteen, but not the Imperious Empress Audrey. Is there such a thing as sour sixteen?

Audrey has definitely not mellowed with age or time. She is as grumpy as ever. She is an equal opportunity despiser, and spends a lot of her waking time atop Mount Crumpet, hating the Whos. Some of this is justified, because the boys both tend to take swipes at Audrey and try to evict her from the coveted spots next to me or on my lap. Sometimes I think they are jerks to her just because they can, especially Clyde, who has put up with Audrey’s grumpitude his entire life.

She is in full possession of her faculties, as far as I can tell. Her sight and hearing do not seem to be diminished. She is definitely getting that skinny old cat look, though, and her fur is not as elegant as it used to be. She does sleep a lot, but beauty sleep is essential, especially the more vintage a girl gets. Sometimes she ventures outside, but she doesn’t go far these days. She has definitely become less adventurous with time, and again, you could say the same thing about me.

Audrey has long outlived all six of her littermates and her mother Quince, who was a mere nine months old when Audrey was born, and who died a year ago, shortly before Audrey’s birthday. Quince is still much missed, especially by her guardian, my dear friend Pea.

I hope that Audrey still has some good years ahead of her and that we can share some sweet moments together, along with the sour.

A YEAR AGO: Audrey’s birthday, among other catty celebrations.

FIVE YEARS AGO: My DNA results did not reveal any answers to my family mysteries.

TEN YEARS AGO: Everyone was under the weather.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Waiting for the heat to pass and a miracle to arrive.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: My very first baseball game loomed. Spoiler alert: I loved it!