Suzy Says

I woke up yesterday to sunshine and Roscoe cuddled up against me. It was the rare and delightful teddy bear cuddle, too, where he has his back to my chest and my arm is around him. For a while, I just lay there enjoying the purring and the fact that it was light enough to let the cats out right away. One of the many things I dislike about getting up early to go to the pool and/or work is having to keep the cats in until it’s light enough that the neighborhood thugs have retired to their lairs.

Speaking of cats, we got another update from Digit’s family:

I just wanted to give you an update regarding Digit. She is doing great. As I mentioned previously, we have two other cats, one outdoor (our long-hair grey polydactyl) and one indoor. She is very good friends now with both. She waits at the door first thing in the morning to go out and greet our long-hair grey cat. He waits for her outside the door, greets her with rubs and nose touches, then leads her off for a short adventure (he seems to really like showing her his territory). During the rest of the day, she often sleeps inside with our other cat (both of them in the big pad you gave us, which she very much likes again). All three cats really seem to like one another. So, all is well here and she is very much now a part of our clan. Thank you, Jane

Seems we really chose the perfect family for our sweet girl.

While I was making coffee, Megan stopped by on her way home from work. I really enjoy these little visits. These days, we rarely see each other, especially on weeks like this one where she worked four 12 hour night shifts in a row. I was worried about some things going on in my jobs, and she listened to my problems and helped me solve them. I realized how lucky I am to have a sister like her. She even came over last weekend and brought my laundry in and folded it neatly on the bed, and also took away my garbage and recycling. Best. Sister. Ever.

Later in the day, I sat out on the balcony:

with a drink and my latest library* book, admiring the last rose of summer:

and the golden light in the trees:

with my bare feet (toes adorned with the sparkly polish Erica gave me last Christmas) on the worn, sun-warmed wood, and thought how lucky I am to have such a wonderful, loving family and live in such a beautiful place. Whatever happens, we will always have each other.

*The library is now open 6 days a week. Huzzah!

I woke up to a 54 degree house this morning. I’m beginning to take the birds seriously.

First the migrating cranes have indicated that we will have an early winter – and unlike human weather forecasters, the cranes have never been wrong yet – and then there have been alarming reports of robins sighted locally.

Now, those of you who live in other places probably think of robins as a happy sign of spring, but here in northern California, they are a depressing sign of winter. These pretty (and possibly not too smart – why don’t they keep going until they hit Mexico? Or at least the OC?) avians spend their winters in Hooterville like more fashionable people spend them…well, in more fashionable places. The fact that they are already turning up is another sign that winter is coming sooner rather than later.

On Friday, I had my one day off of the week. I spent the time not wearing makeup or brushing my hair or talking to the general public, either by phone or in person. There was reading and movie watching, and that was about it.

I think the kitties – at least the boys, anyway – have missed me, because they hung out with me most of the day, instead of playing in what’s left of the summer/fall weather. Clyde sat on me and purred in his patented manner (always my left shoulder), and this morning, I woke up to find him sleeping on my head and Roscoe sleeping at my feet. As I write, Clyde is perched on me, purring and getting in the way as much as felinely possible.

However, when I finally got home yesterday evening, the boys were nowhere to be seen. They almost always come in around 6:00 to have their dinner, but not yesterday. I went out and called them to no avail. I was making my own dinner when I heard Clyde’s distinctive voice behind me. I picked him up, and instead of smelling like the woods, he smelled like rust and mildew, so who knows what he was up to.

I went out and called Roscoe, who finally appeared from the haul road, making his distinctive sound, which is oddly small and plaintive, unlike his rumbling purr (and giant personality).

Audrey, on the other hand, did not show up until 1:30 am.

I wonder if the cats all thought, “Well, if you aren’t going to be home, we won’t be, either! See how you like it!”

I definitely didn’t.

Over the past week or so, two of my dearest friends have lost two of their dearest friends.

Kelly’s Jazz, the most elegant and dignified dog I have ever met, left us on September 4 at the age of fifteen – a long life, but as we all know, it’s never long enough. Jazz was loved her entire life, from her first breath to her last, and how many of us, animal or human, can say that? Here she is in adorable puppyhood:

Patrisha, who gave me the priceless gift of June and Audrey (and who still has their mother, Quince), lost her handsome gentleman Hamish yesterday, also at the age of fifteen. I can’t imagine Patrisha’s vine-covered front fence without Hamish peeking through the bars, or her cycling down the street without him in her flower-decked basket. Of Hamish, Patrisha says, “Strong will & bold Scottish spirit to the last.”

Farewell, dear friends. You are missed. And loved.

Things have been busy in Suzy-land since I last checked in with you, faithful readers.

My blog was hacked, though I can’t imagine why, unless there’s a severe trivia shortage somewhere. The wonderful Candi of the appropriately named No Hassle Hosting solved the problem for me, restored everything, and implored me to change my password, which I did, though I have to say one of the things I like least about the modern world is having to have passwords for everything. Hopefully in the future they can be stored in one’s fingertips. I hope the Powers That Be are working on that, along with the Star Trek style of travel.

Because instant gratification isn’t fast enough for me.

The jobette moved. We have gone uptown, both literally (three blocks north) and figuratively. Our new space is bigger and much more attractive. We have added a retail element, selling local goods ranging from Seasoning Sand (as seen in Oprah magazine) to books, t-shirts, and mugs.

It looks pretty good, no?

Here is my desk, where all the magic happens:

I’ve started working longer hours, including the weekend, so the jobette is getting more and more job-like. I have never worked retail before, and was (and am) still baffled by the cash register when I made my first sale, to a darling 20 month old from Sacramento named Joshua:

His parents bought some sea salt and Joshua got a book about the Skunk Train, which he has already ridden twice in his short life. I gave them a deal since I couldn’t find a price on the book, and they were our very first retail customers. It was exciting.

Also exciting was the fact that jury duty, planned right smack in the middle of the move, was cancelled. I called in the night before and was delighted to learn that my presence was no longer requested and required. I have to admit that I would actually find serving on a trial interesting, but the timing wasn’t good. Hopefully my involvement in the judicial system for this year will be limited to my Grand Jury appearance in July and watching The Good Wife.

That reminds me: I can burn that August 15 “placeholding” subpoena. That will be fun.

Last week, I emailed the US Attorney’s Office to ask them about my expense check, which has so far failed to materialize. At first they told me they had no record of me, which made me laugh, since they had not only issued two subpoenas to me, but had paid for my airfare and hotel so I could testify for an hour.

Then they tried to tell me that they never got my expense report. Fortunately I had copied everything and sent it certified, so I could tell them that it had been delivered at 8:16 am on July 23 and offer to mail them the copies, even though the form says you have to submit the original receipts.

Eventually they admitted that I did in fact exist and that they had my expense report. Then they said they had an issue with my staying overnight in San Francisco on my way home. I had noted on a cover letter that the flight they put me on arrived in San Francisco after 10:00 pm and that it was after 11:00 pm by the time I got to my car. Since it’s a four hour drive from SFO to my house, after that long flight from Detroit, I stayed overnight.

I suggested that they just disallow that portion and pay me for the rest of it, but they said they’d try to get it approved. I sent them an email this week to find out what the status is, but I haven’t heard back yet. The wheels of justice, i have heard, move slowly.

I know you’re all dying to hear how Digit is doing in her new home. Since a picture is worth a thousand words, here’s a picture of Digit on her very first day in her new home:

Her new family emailed us with the following report:

Digit is doing great. She settled in surprisingly easily. She and our other 3-year-old cat surprised each other the first time they met (he’s the disabled one and he accidentally bumped into her), so they started out hissing at each other. After a few hours, though, they got into an easy truce, and now share almost everything. She seemed to have an almost immediate curiosity and affinity with our older polydactyl long-haired grey, which I found quite interesting.

So all’s well that ends well!

I slept in until 7:15 this morning! Audrey complained bitterly about the terrible service around here, but the boys decided to have breakfast before bounding out into the foggy morning.

Speaking of the boys: I may have solved the mystery of Roscoe’s head wound. The other day, I saw Clyde getting ready to pounce on his unsuspecting brother, and went to get the camera:

They play pretty rough, and sometimes one or both of them meows like it hurts, though I’m not sure that’s what it really means. The fact is they appear to bite each other, and their claws are pretty sharp, so my guess is that Clyde bit Roscoe, and Roscoe keep wiping at the wound with his wet paw until the fur came off and it got infected. The presence of a couple of claw-sized bald spots on his head and little puncture scabs on the wound area lend credence to my Poirot-style theory.

At least it’s healed up, and the fur is growing back. I wish they’d be more careful, but boys will be boys!

Digit’s new family is delightful. The daughter is eight years old and just fell in love with Digit, who is now “her” cat. I’m really happy for Digit, who is going to have the loving attention she deserves, but I have to admit that I had to go and sit in the car and compose myself before I could drive home after saying goodbye to her. I’m glad for her, but sad for me.

We had our last swimming class of the summer yesterday. Sallie is the best swimming teacher ever. I hope I can fit in more lessons in the fall, though it will be harder than ever since I will now be working on the weekends as well as longer hours during the week as part of Operation Save Suzy.

After class, Megan and I went to the old jobette office, where I picked up keys for the new office and was surprised to see that the phones were still there, along with all the plants and the outside garbage and recycling bins. Also there were a few bottles of wine and it seemed that the modem and its accessories were still there, too, though on arrival at the new office, it was clear that the interwebs were working there, so who knows?

Megan and I packed up her car with the plants and wine, leaving the phones and other equipment to the professionals. We spent about four hours unpacking boxes, breaking them down and stacking them in the alley, setting up my desk, the coffee area, and kitchen and bathrooms (finally, we will have men’s and ladies’ separate, and a janitorial service). The painter was there to touch up, and because it’s a small town, he is also the husband of Megan’s boss.

Finally, we got to the point where we couldn’t do more, so we locked up and went to the grocery store, where we picked up a few things for our brother as well as ourselves, stopping off at his place to deliver them and catch up, parting with hugs and “Love yous”, as we always do. As we headed home, I said to Megan, “We’re so lucky we have each other,” and she said, “You know it!”

I do.

Sprucing up

There seems to be some kind of bug that is making it impossible to comment. I have notified the Blog Doctor and he is on the case.

And now back to our irregularly scheduled program…

As I mentioned earlier, the jobette is moving. It’s only about three blocks, but as everyone who has ever moved knows, it’s as much hassle to move three blocks as it is three hundred miles. So I’ve been packing like mad over the past week in preparation for Thursday’s move.

The new office is a much better and bigger space, but it is in a much busier location. Right now, in the days about to become the old days, Digit hangs out in the yard most of the day, chasing butterflies and playing in the sun, but in the new place, there is just a sidewalk and a very busy intersection.

We are also expecting a lot more foot traffic and are even going to have a retail (t-shirts, mugs, etc.) area, presided over by Me.

You can probably tell where I’m going with this. We have had to find a new home for the lovely Digit.

Fortunately, we have located a family which has recently lost their oldest cat at 22 years old. The daughter is devastated and would like to have another cat, even though the family has two neutered males, a 10 year old who is polydactl, like Digit, and a 3 year old Siamese who is disabled due to a head injury but who is much loved and carefully cared for.

These people clearly know a lot about cats and love them. Digit adores children and is super affectionate, which will be great for the little girl. I have to admit that I have felt a little guilty about Digit being alone at night and most of the weekend, and I know she would be happier with a full-time family and that she would not be safe at the new office. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her.

But I have always kind of despised people who move somewhere which doesn’t allow cats or isn’t good for their cats and then give them away, and now I’m One of Them. I think this is kind of a hot button issue with me, since when John and I broke up, he kept the cats. I knew it was the best thing for them to stay together in their familiar environment and one of their people, but it was one of the most painful things I have ever gone through and it still makes me sad.

Still, Digit will be much happier with her new family, who are picking her up this week. I think it’s a good omen that their polydactl is named Clydesdale (for the horses with the huge hoofs/feet), but is called Clyde!

Well, I didn’t let the Bad Day get me down. Not completely, anyway.

On Friday night, we had a BBQ at the property with my siblings’ land partners, Jennifer and Dave* and our dear friend Lu, who brought her dogs Marco and Harlow, who is Star’s BFF. Marco has suddenly gone blind, so it was a challenge keeping him away from the fire, etc. When you have a 137 pound blind dog on your hands, everything suddenly looks like an obstacle course. He is coping pretty well, but at 6 years old, he is getting on in age for a Rottweiler and is also having a hard time with one of his back legs.

I think it was good for Lu to get out of the house and be with friends for a little while. As it was for me. We all toasted Mom and shared some memories. We all agreed that while our parents and their parenting style was somewhat unusual, we were lucky to have had them. And to have each other.

By the way: Roscoe is doing much better. I have stopped squirting him, and his skin is returning to its normal whiteness, with just a little bit of scabbiness. I hope the fur grows back – he looks a little odd with a bald spot. I guess I will never know what happened…a kitty mystery!

*I stopped in at the store after going to the post office, where I learned that Dave and Jennifer were here for two weeks with their three horses (I thought they only had two), and that my new neighbors had invisibly moved into Mark’s house. Good thing the store is there to tell me what’s going on in my life.

Fun fact: This is my 2,000th post! Is that an amazing achievement, or kind of sad? It did take me 11 years to reach this milestone, so maybe it’s more lame than amazing.

Faithful (and even casual) readers know that my sister really is amazing. On Sunday, she happened to be here when Roscoe turned up with a bird in his mouth. She immediately removed the bird, in case there was a chance of survival (there wasn’t – not even Megan’s considerable EMS skills are equal to resuscitating a headless bird), and while doing so, noticed that something was wrong.

Roscoe has a weird spot like a skinned knee on the place in front of his ear and above his eye where the fur is really thin. It looks pretty ooky, even a few days later. Megan went home and got some magic (and pricy) stuff called Vetericyn, which we’ve been spraying on him several times a day. I actually left him in the house one day with the doors closed, so he could rest and heal. Of course, it was about 80 degrees for the first time in foggy weeks, but he looks a little better.

Megan has been coming by to check on him in the morning on the way home, and calls in to see how he is at night, which I think is really sweet considering how crazy her job is and how long the hours are.

I’m a little worried that all this spraying and keeping inside will kind of ruin our relationship, but it has to be done. At least he cuddled up with me early this morning. I don’t know which of us was more alarmed when the alarm went off at 6:00.

Well, I’m back on the foggy Coast.

I left the jobette on Wednesday afternoon and stopped off in Willits to bring the Chamber of Commerce some brochures. I had never been there before and I was charmed by the fact that the Chamber is in an old train depot, which is still in use by the famous Skunk Train. I loved the antique clock in the Depot:

And the retro Rexall Drug sign on Main Street:

It was a magical microclimate tour: 60 at the Coast, 90 in Willits, over 100 in Ukiah, the county seat, in the 80s in Sonoma, and back to 60 in San Francisco. All this in the space of 150 miles. My last meeting of the day on Thursday was with some people from New York, who were completely mystified by how it could be 85 in Menlo Park and 60 in San Francisco. “All the way here I could see the temperature dial in the car dropping!” they marveled, as we sat outside under heat lamps at a bar downtown. The fog and chill did not deter them after the oppressive heat they’ve experienced this summer:

I got a lot of work done while I was in the city, but that was about it. The traffic was terrible coming home, jammed up for an hour and a half. I left the city around 1:00 and got home at nearly 5:30, greeted by Luna, Clyde, and Audrey. Roscoe, of course, was too cool to get all excited, or even show up until dinner time.

Megan said that when she came by to let them out that morning, they all raced outside (Yay! Freedom!), but then turned around and raced right back in (Hey! Pets!). I think they missed me.

Oh, those kitties!

The other evening, I saw Audrey trotting toward the open sliding glass doors with something in her mouth. I hastened to close the doors before she came inside with whatever it was – I have a firmly closed door policy on things like that – but she got in before I could stop her.

She had a snake in her mouth.

She tripped lightly up the stairs to the sleeping loft. I followed, and the snake was in a heap near my lovely floor lamp. I went to get the broom and dustpan to remove the unwelcome visitor, but by the time I came back, it was gone.

Audrey was sitting on the bed as if nothing had happened, having a bath with her snake breath. I looked cautiously around, but couldn’t find it.

This did not make for a peaceful evening, though I tried to lose myself in the complex Awake and not think about waking up with a snake on the bed. Or stepping on it when I got up, as I always do a few times a night.

Around 1:00 am, I got up and saw the snake in a pool of light by the front door (I have a little nightlight down there to light my way down the stairs and try and avoid further Calamity Suzy episodes while not making it too bright to sleep). I still had the broom and dustpan upstairs, just in case, so I advanced armed to meet the enemy.

Unfortunately, snakes are somewhat resistant to being collected into dustpans. Somehow I hadn’t known before that they can sort of slither sideways, which is what it did. I opened the door and swept it out into the darkness. Fortunately the cats were all napping and didn’t follow the reptilian terror into the outer darkness.

Let’s hope that Audrey doesn’t take up snake collecting in the way Roscoe collects lizards. And I’m glad that Clyde has yet to find a reptilian hobby.

The following morning, I thought I’d let the cats out at 6 and go back to sleep, leaving the glass doors open. I thought the cats could go in and out and leave the unpaid and underslept help to try and catch up on her much-needed beauty sleep.

This plan was foiled by Audrey, who came back in through the open living room door and came upstairs to claw at the closed balcony door. And also by Roscoe, who decided to stand on my head, waking me up from a dream with Dad in it, thus depriving me of a little visit with my favorite person in the world. When I heard Clyde messing around on the kitchen counter, I knew I was once again defeated and got up to give them breakfast.

Needless to say, they did not reappear again until dinner time.

My garden says “hello”

Thursday would have been a beautiful day no matter what, but it was a sunny one, too, without the bone-crushing heat’n’humidy of an East Coast summer day*. I sang along to the Beach Boys’ new CD as I drove past the vineyards and redwoods in the California sunshine. I yelled “Woo hoo!” as I passed the Mendocino County line. I wanted to hug the whole County, even Willits.

Well, maybe not Willits.

I stopped off to get my mail, rejoicing in the familiar sight of the hardware store owner’s old black dog napping in front of the store, the swallows above the post office door peeping merrily away, and the peaceful cows across the road wandering through their huge, golden fields.

Hooterville had never looked so lovely.

Pulling up at my humble abode, it was immediately obvious that Rob had been at work while I was away. The hose was looped up far more neatly than I can ever manage, so he had watered my garden in my absence. He had also removed two cans of garbage and two of recycling and repaired the cupboard door which had mysteriously fallen off one day while I was at work.

Before I left, I asked Megan to borrow some twine so I could tie up the Little Rose That Could. Strangely enough, feeding and watering it have made it much happier and bigger, but its branches were kind of flopping around:

Instead of tying it up, Rob wove the branches through the balcony slats:

So I’ll have climbing roses on one end of the balcony and jasmine on the other.

The cats definitely missed me. They all came running to say hello and be petted, and then wandered off, reassured that all was back to normal.

Megan and Rob arrived with a bottle of Absolut Mandrin vodka and pomegranate-cranberry juice, which, with a squidge of fresh lime juice and some ice, made pretty good faux Cosmos. Sitting in the garden with the sun gilding the tops of the redwoods, it just felt like heaven. I was (and am) so glad to be home.

*It seems unfair to survive 6 or more months of cold, snowy winter only to be rewarded by intense heat, humidity, and bugs. How can it be so hot and so cold in the very same place? Enquiring minds want to know.

There’s nothing like an unwanted trip looming on the horizon to make you appreciate your humble abode. Leaving all my doors open when I go to work! Driving to work beside the ocean! Having the adorable Digit (and my awesome co-workers) at work when I get there:

My beautiful, peaceful garden! My naughty kitties! It all seems like a paradise now.

As I set about packing today, I kept thinking about how much I would miss the kitties, the garden, and my hippie hovel. Not to mention the silence and the safety. I would venture to guess that Detroit is the utter antithesis of Hooterville.

The cats ignored the signs of my imminent departure and played outside under the big blue sky in the clean fresh air. It was about 70 degrees today, and I had all the doors open. Roscoe took advantage of this to import as many lizards as possible. He even went behind the pots and bowls in the kitchen cupboard, emerged with a lizard, played with it a while while I went to get the broom and dustpan to aid in lizard removal, and then vanished with it under the couch.

Under the couch appears to be the favored reptile repository around here. I figure by the time I get back from The D, they will have completely taken over, sitting on the couch reading and smoking a cigar and raiding the liquor cabinet*. They will look at me in disdain and wonder what on earth I’m doing in their house.

I took a much-needed break from stewing and fretting yesterday to have a Q with family and friends. Erica and Jessica were there with the Lovely Lucy:

as were Lichen and my siblings’ land partners, Dave and Jennifer. Megan had marinated a pork roast, which was slow cooked over the barbecue for hours. We made that into fajitas with grilled onions and peppers, as well as salad just picked from the garden and a cherry pie my brother made from scratch. As if that weren’t enough, we also had grilled fresh peaches, yet another delicious Erica innovation. You split a fresh peach, take out the pit, brush it with olive oil, dust it with salt, and put it on the barbecue for 5 to 7 minutes. Delicious!

Is it any wonder I’ll be homesick?

*Which is itself without a door, having detached itself from its hinges while I was at work last week. Mark and his family are in Florida at Disney Land (or Disney World), and when they get back, they are almost immediately moving to New Jersey for a year, so I’m not expecting it to be fixed any time soon. Oh, Rob….what are you up to in the next few days?

Rainy birthday to me!

I woke up to rain pattering on the skylight. I could hardly believe my ears. At first, I thought it was dreaming, but no. At least I won’t have to water the garden today.

Megan and Rob did a better job of getting the cats in at night when I was away than I have since I got home. The first night, Roscoe stayed out all night – I finally got him to come in at 5 am, when he came trotting home from the direction of Megan’s place. Last night, it was Audrey who stayed out until 3 am. Between waking up all night to call the missing cat of the day and having a horrible cold, I’m feeling that half century today.

I took the day off, as I always do, so the kitties and I curled up and watched Doris Day movies together. Megan and Rob stopped by, and Rob not only gave me a beautiful scarf/shawl that had belonged to his late Mother:

but he also installed my new “rainfall” shower head. I figure, if I have to have a shower, it should be as good as possible. He also is planning to fix the window in the shower to eliminate the draft – it doesn’t really close and the draft can be a little too drafty, especially in the winter.

Between the cards and presents and phone calls and Facebook love, I am feeling pretty spoiled right about now. And I haven’t even opened the champagne yet.

It turns out my feeling of doom on Tuesday was correct – Rob’s Mother died around 9:00 Eastern that evening.

I believe Rob was with her and his siblings. He called Megan last night from the Philadelphia airport between flights, and with the background noise of the airport and the always bad cell to cell reception, he kept cutting out, so they kept the call short. As I write on this sunny San Francisco morning, Rob is (hopefully) peacefully asleep at Clayton’s Garage Mahal* and Megan has probably let my cats out to play** and is waiting to hear from Rob on when to pick him up in Santa Rosa.

I’m glad that Rob reconnected with his sisters and especially his brother, Bill, who was just a child when Rob moved to California 30 years ago. They found that they had a lot in common, and Rob stayed at Bill’s house in Ottawa. I’m sure that they will keep in closer touch now, so something good came out of something sad.

*Clayton has a former, vintage mechanic’s garage which he used to live in. It has a little kitchen, bathroom, office, and a living space with a hammock slung under a skylight. He lives in an apartment around the corner, so the Garage Mahal is his guest house and party pad.

**Megan texted me last night to let me know all the cats were safely inside. Finally: an actual use for cell phones!

Weekends have a magical ability to disappear. They speed by with lightning rapidity – unlike work days – and by Monday morning, it’s like they never happened at all. All that fun seems so far away…

On Saturday, we had a BBQ at Jonathan’s place. The 80 foot by 80 foot garden has become the summer party pad. I owe you some pictures of the spectacular transformation from hardscrabble pygmy to flourishing vegetables. The latest enhancement is having both water and power piped into the garden, an endeavor which required some serious trench digging (and filling in).

Our friend Clayton, who hosted us in the city during last summer’s popular HospitalFest, arrived after dark and thought he was in the wrong place at first. Some of his friends came up the next day, bringing dirt bikes and a three month old baby girl named Josephine*, an unusual combination. They took turns babysitting and biking, and Josephine took it all in stride. I have rarely met a better natured baby.

After the biking, we gathered around the fire pit (made from a cement well ring) and had dinner while Josephine cooed and napped. It was a nice evening, and it was good to see Clayton again. Hopefully they will come back up again now that the summer visiting season is in full swing.

Also on Saturday, a hummingbird meandered into my house. I had all the doors open, so it must have come in to explore. I heard the distinctive buzzing before I saw it. It was iridescent green with a red throat. I should have taken a picture, but I was so worried about the little guy getting out of there safely that I stayed out of the way and watched him zooming around. Eventually, he went out the balcony door and I heaved a sigh of relief.

Good thing the cats were all outside.

On Sunday, I had yet another memorable encounter with my old friend the moon. That evening, she glided in front of the showier sun and eclipsed its blaze for a little while. Mark came by with his family and a welding helmet, so we all trooped through the house to the balcony and took turns peering at the eclipse through the helmet’s tinted window. It was amazing and spooky to see the sun covered by the moon. Eventually it became a “ring of fire”, and it was spectacular.

It was also eerie, the light becoming dimmer and with an unearthly quality that made me understand why it freaked out the ancient people so much. It kind of freaked me out, and I understood why it was happening.

The cats came in from outside, and Roscoe hid under the bed for the rest of the evening.

*As you may remember, I once had a beautiful Siamese cat named Josephine, after Jo March in “Little Women” (“Such a little name for such a person”), and an equally beautiful sliver-blue 1966 Mustang convertible, the color of my cat’s eyes. So I was delighted by their name of choice, as well as the name’s bearer.

I’m up earlier than I’d like. As usual. When I’d like: 8 am or so. When I am: anywhere from 4:30 to 6:00. If I don’t stop these bad habits, I will never attain my lifetime goal of idle rich. Also, a girl must surely need more beauty sleep as she gets older, not less.

The boys found a new and novel way to get me out of bed today (and more importantly, to get breakfast and then outside into the early morning sunshine). This one involved rolling around on top of my unsuspecting body, clawing and biting each other’s heads with accompanying sound effects.

At least I didn’t get a new bruise to add to my collection. The old one is still there, now turning yellow at the edges while retaining its alarming lumpiness. It’s about 6 inches long and three inches wide, with the power to frighten innocent passers-by and co-workers. At least it doesn’t hurt any more and will eventually vanish into the mists of time, unlike some of the other scars I still have:

• The triangular one on top of my left hand. I got this one while ironing my father’s shirts when I was home from college. His mother taught me the proper Victorian way to iron his shirts, so when I was home, I’d iron them for him, usually while watching TV. I think it was an episode of “I Dream of Jeannie” which led to my being distracted enough to mistake my hand for his Ben Sherman shirt (which I now have).
• The long, lumpy one at the base of my left thumb. For someone who’s right-handed, I seem to be unduly hard on my left hand. I broke a goldfish bowl in Megan’s room, again when I was home from college, and rescued the fish. I picked up the broken glass and it slipped. Instead of letting it go, I clutched at it and sliced open my hand to reveal its inner workings (there’s a reason why they hide all that stuff under our skin). I immediately turned into a six year old, yelling, “Mom!” She took me to the ER for several stitches, which surprised me by being black and wiry, and held my hand when they injected novocain into the wound.
• Above my – yes, you guessed it, left – eye is a small wrinkle which I acquired while Mom in the hospital in the final months of her life. There is no tired like hospital tired. The little line mostly appears when I am tired at a normal level, but I notice it whenever I put on makeup and think of Mom. Accessorizing the line is a scar mostly hidden by my eyebrow, which comes from having a few glasses of wine too many after sharing Christmas dinner with Mom at the hospital and realizing there wouldn’t be any more to come.

  I lost my balance – which I am perfectly capable of doing with no alcohol involved – and hit my head on the open door of Megan’s desk. I was slightly stunned. Megan cleaned me up and called our brother. We still laugh about her calling him late at night and saying, “I’m drunk, but Suzy’s drunker, and she cut her head open.” He sighed and came over, and by his account, “When I opened the door, the smell of vomit wafted out.” In the meantime, Megan had butterflied my eyebrow together really well.

  Not my finest moment, but as usual, I was lucky to have my family there to rescue me. I think I threw up all the next morning. Merry Christmas!

• The chicken pox scars on my legs. I had mumps twice, and I had chicken pox twice. Both poxes were memorable. The first time, I was 8 and my parents had taken us kids and Mom’s aging parents to England to visit Dad’s parents. On the way home, the flight was delayed at the airport for many hours. But that was the least of our parents’ worries – we had broken out in chicken pox that very morning. Mom was convinced that if the officials found out, we’d be forced to stay in England until we were healthy again. “Don’t you dare get any on your faces!” she said as we approached Customs. We didn’t, and after an overnight stay at Charlie Chaplin’s suite at the Grand Hotel in Eastbourne, we finally went home.

  The second time, I was 15 and spent hours lying in an Aveeno bath, complaining about the utter itchiness. Though I did get out of midterms.

Considering my ability to damage Self in nearly any circumstances, it’s somewhat surprising that I have never had major surgery, broken a limb (though I did break two fingers recently), and still retain my tonsils, appendix, and two of my wisdom teeth. I need all the help I can get.

It’s only 7 am, and Clyde has already driven me crazy. Here’s how he does it:

• Go behind the new couch.
• Start clawing at the back of it.
• When The Girl yells at you, go under the couch and start clawing there.
• When the girl moves the couch out to yell at you and/or grab you, sneak behind the heater.
• Mess around back there until the heater and/or phone go on and off, with accompanying beeping.

I ejected Clyde into the sunny morning, even though I suspect that he may begin to see clawing the couch as a doorbell substitute.

Any suggestions on how to eliminate the clawing problem?

Also in the Cats Behaving Badly department is Digit*, the office cat.

As you know, staff meetings at the jobette are frequently attended by our Director of Barketing. He turned up yesterday in a natty red plaid vest, tail wagging, only to be greeted by a hissing and puffy Digit. Erin removed Digit from the meeting, and was scratched for her trouble. The dog and his owner went out the back door after the meeting, and when we opened the conference room/kitchen door, Digit was curled up on a chair, looking like nothing had happened.

Hopefully, they can work it out. The CEO’s kids chased Digit all over the office on Friday, and she put up with that. She also had no trouble with his dog, so maybe she just needs more time to adjust and realize that she is safe in her new home.

*Megan stopped by the jobette yesterday after teaching a CPR class. She thinks Digit is a silver tabby, like Megan’s beautiful cat Harriet.

When I (finally) got home last night, I covered the outside couch with a plastic drop cloth, even though it was a beautiful, clear evening and the moon was smiling down on me:

The forecast said 100% chance of rain, and they were right: I woke to ran pattering on the plastic and the plants. I won’t have to water the garden today.

Speaking of the garden: Rob dropped by last night and we talked about making a bent wood trellis. I lent him the book, so I’m hoping we might get it done this summer. My idea is to have the trellis (and whatever I’ll grow on it) hide the decrepit trailer full of Rose’s pottery which Mark may or may not have time to empty out and/or move one of these days.

Rob also fastened some mesh to the underside of the balcony, so the jasmine that’s growing beneath:

can wind its way up to the balcony itself. I love the idea of a jasmine-covered balcony.

Last night, I suddenly realized that I had missed my own blogaversary! I even had to look back in my archives to find out what day it was. It was April 20, for those of you who keep track, and my blog is now 12 years old. Or my approximate mental age. Pretty soon it will be pestering me for a driver’s license and an overpriced prom dress and developing the surly attitude beloved of teens everywhere.

You have been warned.

Digit’s first week as our Office Cat was a success, at least as far as her human colleagues are concerned. I was happy to hear that everyone but Me stopped in to see Digit on the weekend. It turns out that our IT guy comes in pretty much every weekend (who knew?), so she will always have some company.

She is still completely uninterested in making a break for it, which is great considering how often people are in and out of there during the work day. She always greets me with a purr and rolling over onto her back to have her tummy petted. She’s good at playing by herself, chasing a toy (or her tail) around the office.

So far, so good.

On the Saturday after the Girl Day, we had the first family barbecue of the year. We had it in the huge (40 feet by 40 feet) new garden on the family property, which is an amazing work in progress. it’s taken a couple of months to get to where it is now, deer-fenced and gated and planted with fruit trees and almost every vegetable you can think of.

We were joined by friends, including Lichen, though it was unfortunately too windy to cut my hair. We perched on hay bales and drank wine and ate like kings and queens: turkey burgers; marinated, grilled peppers and summer squash; my famous potato salad (mayonnaise free for the picky eaters among us); as well as mixed olives and marinated artichokes.

It was a great evening.

Also part of our Girl Day was getting a new (to me) couch! I am hideously excited about it. I have been looking for a replacement for my battered old couch for at least a year, so imagine how thrilled I was to find the couch of my dreams for about $250. The store even threw in the decorative pillows for free, and you know how I’m all about the pillows (I think I have eight or so on my bed), especially ones like these, which are gorgeously beaded.

But we had to get the couch from the Big Town to my little house.

On Saturday morning, Megan and I went to our brother’s place and swept out Rob’s trusty old truck. Jonathan has been using the truck while his car is being diagnosed at the shop. We are all pretty nervous about this, because Jonathan couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and that means that whatever is wrong will be really expensive. The car has nearly a quarter of a million rough and tumble miles on it, so it may also mean that Jonathan will have to join Megan in buying a new (to him) car. I really hope these things don’t come in threes, because I’ll be next.

We also took a tarp from the hay bales and realized that we would need a tie down to keep the couch in the truck. Fortunately, one of the tie downs Rob uses for garbage hauling was still in the truck, though one of the hooks was missing. Jonathan sailor tied it to one side of the truck and hooked the other side on. We were ready to go.

Almost as soon as we did go, we saw that the gas gauge was empty. The light was on, but no gas was home. We drove the five miles to the store, hoping for the best, and I put in $45 worth of gas to get us to the Big Town and back, with enough left over for our brother to get to work on Monday.

Arriving at the furniture store, two nice young guys put the couch on the truck, tightened the fastenings, and removed the cushions, putting them inside the cab of the truck, observing that we wouldn’t want them to fly away on the highway, something I hadn’t thought of and was glad they had.

Boys rock.

We made our way slowly home, pulling over frequently, and arrived back at my hippie hovel with the couch still in place. Megan and I decanted the couch and the cushions, but we couldn’t move the old couch. Fortunately, Mark and his friend came over and moved the old one out (revealing a horrifying collection of dust bunnies, thirty cents, a lone pistachio, and a very small scorpion) and the new one in. It took them about two minutes all told.

Boys rock.

Megan suggested that I keep the old couch outside until it starts raining, and then we can take it to the dump, instead of doing it now. So now I have an outdoor living room:

And a much-improved indoor living room. Here’s how it used to look:

And here’s how it looks now:

You may also have noticed that I have new lamps, meaning that my whole house is now officially an IKEA-free zone.

The cats approve of the new couch. It now doubles as Audrey’s and Clyde’s bed (Roscoe still prefers the top of the armoire), and Audrey lounges on it during the day as well. I think she has noticed how well the beaded pillows complement her fur:

As for me, well, I think it gives the place some much-needed civilization.

And it’s pretty!

As for my own kitties…

We had a summer preview last weekend, with temperatures hitting 80. I dragged the fan out of the shed and brought it upstairs (it gets hot up there if it’s over 65 outside), and went to the Gro for Otter Pops. Needless to say, the weather changed to rain and cold before I could eat more than one of the Otter Pops, but when summer really gets here, I’m ready.

The kitties were outside rejoicing in the sunshine. Sometimes I wonder what they make of the fact that sometimes it’s raining and sometimes it’s sunny. Also, it must be weird to live with giant, dinosaur-sized creatures who can swoop you up anytime they want and whose language you do not at all understand.

Their new summer schedule is: outside most of the day, with occasionally coming in for snacks, pets, and/or naps. They also like napping on the disused hot tub and the balcony. Audrey in particular is good at finding sunny spots to lounge in.

The boys tend to be chasing each other around in the woods.

They come in for dinner and later come in for the night once it begins to get dark outside. Roscoe tends to go straight to bed and stay there until morning. Yesterday morning, Clyde was campaigning to go outside before 7:00, whereas Roscoe stayed in bed until 9:00.

Audrey, of course, still demands to go out early, meowing and clawing madly at the balcony door until I get up and open the @!%@#^@ door. For some reason, I seem to have decided that 5:30 am is the earliest she can go out, even though it’s still dark out. I guess I have faith in the undisputed winner of “Survivor: Hooterville”.

Clyde has been trying to win Audrey over. He keeps trying to play with her, and she actually seems to be playing with him for brief periods of time, until I catch her and she runs away. Clyde’s playfulness does seem to get frustrated. He’s always pouncing on Roscoe, who is completely unimpressed and acts as if nothing had happened:

Roscoe is always dignified.

The other day, Clyde pounced out of the bushes behind me and grabbed my leg, scaring the crap out of me, which must have been satisfying for him.

It is really cute to see the boys together, though. They often “kiss” and sniff each other when they pass or meet, and they like to sleep together. Audrey, of course, is remote and aloof, though she has been sitting on my lap nearly every evening since I got back from the City.

I know you’ve all been dying for more pictures of Digit, the office cat, and an update on how she’s doing.

So far, so good!

She hasn’t tried to escape, which surprised me. She lounges on her giant beanbag bed and watches the UPS guy, Roger the mailman, and miscellaneous visitors (some more miscellaneous than others) come and go without making a break for it.

Maybe, like my little Henry-Etta James, she has had enough of the Wide World* and is happy to have a warm, safe place to live with food, water, and pets on tap.

At first, I worried a little about her being alone at night and on the weekends, but I realized that most cats are alone 9-12 hours a day while their faithful servants are out slaving away to pay for food, litter, the vet, and other feline necessities. Then they come home and go to bed a few hours later. Digit may well get more company than most cats. Also, the CEO and our IT guy tend to come in at night and on the weekends, and the rest of us are often in the Big Town on errands, so I’m pretty sure she’ll get some weekend visitors.

She has a constant feeder and waterer, so we won’t worry about her being hungry or thirsty. She also has lots of toys to keep her amused. One thing we do need to buy her is a scratching post.

Erin took Digit to the vet for a wellness check earlier this week. You have to hand it to our local shelter. For $100, you get a cat who is neutered or spayed; has all of his/her shots; has been flea treated and microchipped and comes with a 5 pound bag of food (Science Diet, but still**). The shelter also pays for a wellness check-up with the vet of your choice within a week of adoption. Not bad.

So Digit is healthy and happy, though she objected loudly all the way to the vet’s office and back. The vet clipped her claws, and told us that we have to keep the claws on her extra toes clipped, since they don’t get the wear that the regular ones do and they can grow into her skin if we aren’t careful. So we’ll have to have a regular manicure appointment for our glamorous new girl.

I have to say, it’s nice having her there. I like it when she sits on my desk purring (Digit came fully equipped with Power Purr), and just having her around makes the place seem happier and more lively. She even helped me organize the wine rack in the CEO’s office this week (for which he thanked me with a bottle of wine). Sometimes I can’t believe that I’m being paid to play with Digit and mess around with wine. It’s a hard life.

*”Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World,” said the Rat. “And that’s something that doesn’t matter, either to you or me. I’ve never been there, and I’m never going, nor you either, if you’ve got any sense at all.” — The Wind in the Willows, Chapter 1

**We are mixing it with Taste of the Wild, which Megan and I both feed our cats, and will transition her to that over time.