Suzy Says

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.